2004 Gig Archive

2004: Mostly close to home...

Date	City	Venue

11/19/04	Seattle, WA	Best of the Northwest Holiday Craft Fair
10/24/04	Seattle, WA	Bethany Presbyterian Church
10/21/04	Lacey, WA	Panorama City
9/18/04	Seattle, WA	Olympic Hills Elementary School
9/4-5/04	Richland, WA	Tumbleweed Music Festival
8/20/04	Seattle, WA	Puget’s Sound Meadowbrook Series
8/1/04	Moscow, ID	Unitarian Universalist Church of the Palouse
7/22/04	Seattle, WA	Conor Byrne’s Pub
5/29/04	Seattle, WA	Northwest Folklife Festival
5/3/04	Seattle, WA	Hop Vine Pub
4/30/04	Seattle, WA	Best of the Northwest Spring Craft Fair
4/23/04	Seattle, WA	Richard Hugo House
4/18/04	Spokane, WA	Nacho Celtic Hour
4/13/04	Vancouver, WA	Washington State University- Vancouver
3/28/04	West Seattle, WA	West Seattle Unitarian Universalist Fellowship
2/26-8/04	San Diego, CA	Folk Alliance Seattle Sounds Showcase
2/6/04	Leavenworth, WA	Leavenworth Community Coffeehouse
1/23/04	Seattle, WA	USA Songwriting Competition Showcase

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Performance Notes

November 19, 2004
Seattle, WA: Best of the Northwest Holiday Craft Fair

After what must have been a flourishing set at the spring event in April, Adam Carlson has brought me back for the Best of the Northwest Holiday Craft Fair at the old Naval Station by Sand Point Magnuson Park (in the cavernous airplane hanger again!). Pleasant place to spend an hour on a brisk November Friday, playing a sort of ‘paid practice’ gig for luncheaters doing their respective parts to keep that economy humming this holiday season.

October 24, 2004
Seattle, WA: Bethany Presbyterian Church: Sunday Nights in the Parlor (SNiP)

Chris Glanister does a tremendous amount of sound/technical work to maintain both Puget’s Sound concert series, and tonight I’m excited to play for the series he co-produces, Sunday Nights in the Parlor (SNiP) at historic Bethany Presbyterian Church on Queen Anne Hill. The fourth-Sunday series features a musician and an artist each month, and tonight I share the room with the appealing, local-color photography of Eric Stern, an accomplished Seattle doctor and professor. The room is cozy, the cookies and coffee ample, and crowd favorable—and willing to sing!—as I strum along, enjoying the sight of Chris relaxing somewhere other than behind the mixing console. Chris adds pre-planned vocals and whistles to several tunes, and his wife, Jan, joins for the final two participatory numbers: “How Can I Keep From Singing?” and “Name of the Lord is Music.” Fun to find yet more instances of comfortable community music!

October 21, 2004
Lacey, WA: Panorama City Retirement Community

Panorama City Retirement Community is a spacious estate in Lacey with a tremendous amount of on-site resources for its residents—travel, financial, recreation, etc. The story, as I understand it, is that a resident caught the Seattle Post-Intelligencer story that ran this summer and walked into the office, paper-in-hand, to request that Panorama City hire me. &nbspSo here I am, the entertainment for the monthly birthday celebration!

Everyone’s good to me as I quickly set up and accept an invitation to join a table (near the back by the bar and TV so I can keep an eye on NLCS Game 7!) for the dinner. True to senior from, the meal—which’d begun at 5pm—winds down shortly past six and, just as I’m starting to set up a CD/info display, the emcee announces me! Guess I’m on... It’s fun to play some of my songs for this attentive and appreciative crowd and its generational perspective (ages range from late-50s to 103!), and I’m touched by many of the friendly and thorough responses afterward (we end early, too...in time for me to catch the last three outs). Many suggest I come back, and It’d be my pleasure!

September 18, 2004
Seattle, WA: Olympic Hills Elementary School

A li’l appearance at Visions Toward Tomorrow, a community event sponsored by the City of Seattle’s North District Council, North District Stewardship, & Department of Neighborhoods—a bunch o’ committed and well-meaning folk.

September 4-5, 2004
Richland, WA: Tumbleweed Music Festival

Richland’s Tumbleweed Music Festival, organized by the Tri-Cities’ Three Rivers Folklife Society (three cheers for John and Micki Perry!!), is one of my favorite annual folk-rituals. Whether relaxing in the generous performers’ hospitality area (which, as usual, includes free massages in the instrument-check room!) or scurrying to one’s next engagement, Tumbleweed maintains a feeling of openhanded comfort—a true performer’s festival (though audiences enjoying a sunny holiday weekend in a lovely riverfront park surrounded by good music and community seem content, too)!

Saturday begins (‘performance’-wise) with John Nelson and me helping Nancy K. Dillon with her harmony workshop. I take a considerable amount of grief throughout the day for being the “First Alternate” in the songwriting contest—a title the festival has published! (‘Eleventh-best song out of ten,’ I tell many...) Though Nancy, whose taken-squarely-from-behind picture will appear in tomorrow’s newspaper (we chide her about the photos the paper wouldn’t touch that you can find at Folkbutts.com), had sliced her finger earlier in the week, no one bails from the contest and I keep my ‘Alternate’ status. (I was unsuccessful in my attempt to hire someone to hide behind a dumpster with a tire iron and strike another contestant in the knee; and the intense psychological warfare that I employ during the contest—“You feeling okay?! You suuure?? ’Cause if you’re not, you know, I can step in...you should rest, it’s a long festival... ”—fails me as well.) Joe Jencks secures his Tumbleweed dynasty with a second consecutive win, barring him from future contests and promoting him to ‘Judge’ status.

I’m on as ‘Wes’ shortly after the famous Performer-Brunch on Sunday, and I’m pleased to see a nice noon-time crowd gather, many of them discovering Wes for the first time (and liking it!—as several share with me after the set). Joe joins me for the first three songs, before shuffling off (in true Tumbleweed spirit) to join another act for the last few songs of her concurrent set. A later workshop on “Inland Northwest Historical Songs” produces a wonderful in-the-round that could have lasted another hour-plus, and I’m glad to be a part of the regional celebration. My on-stage duties conclude with a guest-mandolin spot during John’s set, and another Tumbleweed Festival winds itself down in another tornado of contentedness.

August 20, 2004
Seattle, WA: Puget’s Sound: Meadowbrook Series

I’ve really enjoyed putting this show together with Joe Jencks, a Seattle expatriate now living in Cleveland (not to mention a tremendous singer and gifted songwriter); as much work as it’s been coordinating all of the various particulars, it’s been fun watching this come together. I’ve also really enjoyed the chance to learn some of Joe’s songs, teach him some of mine, and play together, and (as I told the Seattle Post-Intelligencer) I can’t think of a better person to help me celebrate the start of the second Puget’s Sound season than Joe, who shares my vision of community through music in a comfortable, compatible way. In fact, we spend a considerable portion of time discussing this in a live, on-air interview with Puget’s Sound partner KSER-Everett in the morning—bless the heart and soul of community radio!! (KBCS also had us on yesterday.) [Note to those keeping score: Though Joe is not technically a ‘local act’ anymore, he qualifies for this appearance in a Puget’s Sound series because we had not originally planned for an August show and he is thus not taking another truly-local act’s slot...much as I would not have allowed myself this appearance under different circumstances.]

The show itself draws a nice-sized, animated crowd that enjoys Joe’s and my efforts to make the evening more than merely two white-guys-with-guitars separately playing their own music. The highlight for me comes in the middle of “Ballad of the Whitman Greeks” as a siren screams by outside just after I’ve delivered the line: “None of his laws would land coeds in jail.” Serendipity... Joe is truly a remarkable performer, and I’m pleased to have been part of such a pleasant evening...and one that will likely yield future co-performances. Stay tuned!

August 1, 2004
Moscow, ID: Unitarian Universalist Church of the Palouse (Gospel Sunday!!)

Now in its sixth year, Gospel Sunday at the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Palouse in Moscow, ID, and its prodigious hosts—‘Reverend’ Jim-Bob (my father, Jim Weddell) and his faithful sidekick Tami ‘Faye’ Moore—have become quite the annual spectacle one choice summer Sunday a year in my hometown Palouse hills. (They’re even playing out some!—the UU church in Coeur d’Alene, ID, had ’em up earlier this year...) The Gospel-uninitiated feel more comfortable each time (the first time Dad, a failed Southern Methodist, called for a spirited “Amen!” in this setting many years ago you could hear crickets...), everyone sings along, and more often than not the clapping falls on the two-and-four beats! I’ll lend my musical facilities to this wonderful, feel-good event any time!

July 22, 2004
Seattle, WA: Conor Byrne’s Pub

I’m delighted to see more folk pushing the cause of the local musician—as Eva Tree and Anna Coogan have begun by offering these monthly local-songwriter in-the-rounds at Conor Byrne’s Pub in mighty Ballard—and just as thrilled to accept an invitation to perform for such an event. With me this evening are Puget’s Sound veterans Eva and the peerlessly-passionate Bob Antone, along with Bill Lavoie and Val (why don’t she and her powerful voice ’n’ guitar play out more, darnit!) D’Alessio. We’re good for five times ’round the horseshoe, and the impromptu accompaniments begin almost immediately: Bob adds some of his spirited fiddle to my songs “Every Now and Then a Sunset,” “Left Me With No Choice,” and my new, Washington-focused re-write of “I’ve Been Everywhere,” which continually proves a nice addition as we work out in the sweltering July heat. (There’s a convenient fan right at the foot of the stage, which makes things bearable—but, unlike Eva, I don’t have hair enough to take advantage of its potential ‘singin’-in-the-wind’ visual effect...) Fun times chasing each others’ songs, jumping in, and kicking back with a nicely appreciative (and sweaty) house. Hope Eva and Anna keep these up!

May 29, 2004
Seattle, WA: Northwest Folklife Festival

Memorial Day means camping to some, barbeques to others, boating, sleeping in, working in the yard... In my circles, however, Memorial Day weekend brings the all-consuming, over-stimulating fracas that is the Northwest Folklife Festival. My main set comes on Saturday this year, kicking off the “Life Beyond the Cascades” stage...at 11:00 AM. Hosts Carlos Alden and Dan Maher—both playful musical nemeses from my eastern-Washington past—do their expected and collective worst to incite the emergent, not-yet-drizzled-upon crowd. All in all, this proves a very comfortable way to play Folklife, and I feel good enough to debut my new re-write of Geoff Mack’s great trucking song, “I’ve Been Everywhere,” which exclusively features Washington State place names: I’ve been to Pasco, Tenino, Potholes, Indianola.... It goes over very well, and I wonder if my half-hour on the Fisher Green stage might emerge as one of the more relaxed moments of the weekend...

May 3, 2004
Seattle, WA: Hop Vine Pub

For six years the convivial, kind, and eminently approachable Kurt Myhaver has run the Monday singer/songwriter showcases at the Hop Vine Pub; and now, with a move to Maine imminent, I’m honored that he’s asked me to play the penultimate show (with Steve Key—seen a lot of him lately...though he, too, will be skipping town in a week’s time—and Amy Roberts). Amy opens the show with a nice set of tunes, eventually yielding to Steve, who, as he’s done once before, has asked me to join him on mandolin (we’ve never sat down and really worked through any songs...). His set also finds a nice rhythm and all (including Steve—which is important!) seem to enjoy my on-the-fly accompaniment. My set’s last, and I break out a few that I haven’t tried in a while to close the nice evening of Monday music. Best to you, Kurt!

April 30, 2004
Seattle, WA: Best of the Northwest Spring Craft Fair

While the airplane-hanger site of the 2004 Best of the Northwest Spring Craft Fair at Seattle’s old Sand Point Naval Station is, one must admit, pretty cool, the air inside on this gorgeously hot-’n’-hazy Friday afternoon is not. I had accepted the two-hour slot (from my friend and former UW T.A. turned Contra-danceband-booking-magnate Adam Carlson) thinking that the second hour would be a great chance for my accustomed Friday-afternoon hobbyband (never named, though we briefly toyed with the idea of Hasselbeck) to make its public debut. (The now mostly-defunct ensemble included fellow Pullman-bred Travis Luther, lately of Ultra Find and other projects, and David Bush, another good friend and intermittent collaborator with his hand in at least a half-dozen other musical adventures around town.) With Travis off to Colorado, however, the two hours were mine alone (though the posted schedule wistfully announced the presence of “Wes Weddell & friends”—perhaps the transitory audience took ‘friends’ to mean ‘harmonicas’...).

The set sounds and feels good, many in the non-committal audience respond positively, and the ensuing ice cream bar from Scotty’s Northwest Cuisine is one of the best I’ve ever had. Just another grand spring day in the neighborhood...

April 23, 2004
Seattle, WA: Richard Hugo House (S5)

Having spent so much time of late pushing the cause of the local musician with the Puget’s Sound series and related endeavors, I’m excited to remember the performer and songwriter in me (my real calling, darnit!) with an appearance in mover-and-shaker Steve Key’s S5 series: the Secret Society of Seattle Singer/Songwriters (don’t tell). Steve has done a nice job pairing able local acts with traveling singer/songwriters, and I’m honored to split tonight’s bill with an award-winning Bay-Area gentleman named Christopher Smith.

Steve opens the show with his trademark affability and a few great tunes, soon handing the stage to Christopher for a set of well-crafted songs. I begin to see some why Steve might’ve billed us together—Christopher’s clever wordplay and clear, versatile expressiveness remind me of many of my aspirations when writing. The cafe/bar finally opens, and I go on after a short intermission, playing to a nice, familiar crowd of appreciative listeners and enthusiastic clappers. An emotional and fragile as-yet-untitled song (someone else’s personal story) that’s been over a year in the making makes its debut, allowing me to meet a goal I’d set of having this one done by this evening...which feels pretty good! In fact, the whole durn evening feels pretty good!!

April 18, 2004
Spokane, WA: Nacho Celtic Hour

Three years ago, while deeply immersed in The Project, I appeared on Carlos Alden’s Nacho Celtic Hour, a great weekly radio program on Spokane’s NPR affiliate, KPBX. Carlos interviewed me some, I played a couple of tunes, and then we opened the phones to listeners who might have ideas about local songwriting topics as I used their ideas to write on the fly—‘Folk Radio on the Edge,’ we called it. Knowing I would be in the area over the weekend, Carlos, himself a fine Celtic player (with the Celtic Nots) and songwriter, has invited me back and, after a brunchtime taste of Spokane’s inaugural Dim-Sum enterprise, we again challenge listeners to do their worst/best. The ensuing medley this time includes a probing, Western-identity-soul-searching treatise on folk who move to the Methow Valley (or like areas) looking for that elusive ‘something’ and a showtuney coda remembering grand Lake Missoula and her impact on our landscapes and lives today. Maybe you’ll see part of this again...

April 13, 2004
Vancouver, WA: Washington State University-Vancouver

WSU-Vancouver twice had me down last year—both great visits—to present songs and materials from The Project, and I’m happy to find myself guesting for Susan Tissot’s Senior Public History class once again. This time, however, I’m not battling food poisoning (as I was when I appeared before this class last April!), and the results with regard to my disposition are manifest. It’s rare anymore that I play the entire Northwest Home set, and I enjoy digging out some of the songs I don’t play very frequently (“Row, Row Your Boat, ” “We’ve Got Stories”...), but some of my rhetorical gimmicks suffer from having the lyrics simultaneously on display (like watching a sitcom in closed-captioning—the timing’s lost). I also salt the playlist with some relevant Woody Guthrie (who, Susan tells me, is largely an unknown among her current students; bummer...), James Stevens, etc.

The first musical voyage in the new-used car goes quite smoothly (though I should do something about the carnivorous tape deck; I did a lot of yodeling on the way down...); farewell Blue-Beauty-cum-Dented-Dinghy: you served me well! Also great to see good, old friends and catch up.

March 28, 2004
West Seattle, WA: West Seattle Unitarian Universalist Fellowship

This was supposed to be Steve Key’s gig, but he had to run to Portland on short notice and graciously referred me. After years of experiencing the (Right) Reverend Jim-Bob’s grand UU revivals—my father’s triumphant Unitarian guest-appearances across the Northwest, to the uninitiated—I’m well prepared to address this gathering of delightful, community-minded West Seattleites, and they seemed equally predisposed to welcome me and my two tunes: David Mallett’s masterful “Garden Song” (for the kids); and Josh Ritter’s “Snow is Gone”, a fitting and uplifting spring melody to preface Rev. Peg Boyle Morgan’s service entitled “The Abundance of Invitations.” Many smiling, enthusiastic faces, and a pleasant social hour afterward!

February 26-8, 2004
San Diego, CA: International Folk Alliance Conference - Seattle Sounds Showcase

How does one begin to describe to the uninitiated the over-stimulating fracas that is the annual International Folk Alliance Conference? Or, perhaps more challenging, driving rain in San Diego?? I pause during a quiet Wednesday dinner in San Diego’s Old Town with co-Seattle Sounds-mates John Nelson and Nancy K. Dillon to breathe the fragrant, floral air and enjoy the peace while I have it. By the time I’ve begun putting up posters the next morning, it’s gone and, as I write this, I’m still searching for some of it!

Jenn Adams remarks that the conference is like “kid-in-a-candy-store” time for her, and I wish that my deeply-committed organizing drive allowed for more of that feeling in myself. I come close sharing bawdy jokes (when I ought to be networking with folk-radio DJs!) with Tom Paxton, Steve Seskin, and dear friend David Maloney, but too soon I’m back to fretting over the upcoming Seattle Sounds showcase, which’ll feature thirty individual performance slots and four in-the-round sessions over the course of two late evenings; further, I board a plane for Portland at 6:45 Saturday morning—merely five hours after my last performance!—to drive out to Astoria and attend a relative’s wedding...and I’ll end up wasting my first-ever first-class upgrade (for weight-and-balance purposes, they tell me, though I’m not sure that I’m the best choice given my wiry body-type) fast asleep over the slowly waking western coast.

Despite a pretty major hotel screw-up (not the only one, I hear...and that’s not even counting the serious fire in one of the showcase rooms!) that booted us from our original, advertised room (sigh), the showcasing plods along at its spontaneous and serendipitous best, complete with requite drop-ins, drama, jams, stress, and occasional smiles all around. And good coffee—we take representing Seattle very seriously! More physically and emotionally taxing than last year for a variety of reasons, but I’ll catch back up. And, sometime MUCH later, I’ll also think about whether I want to take this damned thing to Montreal next year...!!

Fri., February 6, 2004
Leavenworth, WA: Leavenworth Community Coffeehouse

I’m starting to think that I could settle in Leavenworth, the little Bavarian hamlet in the Cascade foothills. Behind the faux-Alpine Dairy Queen and Rodeway Inn lies a wonderful, vibrant community of good folk surrounded by stunning mountain and river-valley vistas that are as awesome in today’s heavy snowfall as they are on a clear summer day. Jessica and I have come over the pass the previous night in order to make my early-morning radio spot more doable, and I’m out the door of our delightfully-energetic hosts’ house as the snow’s just starting to pick up. The KOHO studio is always cozy and welcoming (donuts!), and I’m happy to swing by even for the smallest of radio spots, which this morning yields.

With a full, free day looming before the gig, Jess and I set about snow-romping and visiting the wonderful little shops that dot downtown and beyond (the new guitar store, Hi Strung Music, proves to be a real treat!!). After a great home-cooked dinner back at Alex’ and Amanda’s (I love homestays!) I’m off to the Grange Hall for the gig, long a coveted performance by Northwest artists given the Coffeehouse’s loyal following and spirit (one of my inspirational templates for the Puget’s Sound series). Though I hear that audiences have been slower of late, I’m still happy to play to a modest gathering of enthusiastic concertgoers (next time, I’ll have to make sure not to schedule myself opposite a home basketball game at the high school—you’d think I’d’ve figured that out by now given the number of small towns I play... Pleasant weekend, as expected; gonna have to make it back.

Fri., January 23, 2004
Seattle, WA: USA Songwriting Competition Showcase

The true ‘thrust’ of this gig—booked/coordinated entirely via e-mail (not unusual)—has remained somewhat murky in the weeks leading up to it (I’m ‘required’ to provide a certain number of audience members at a showcase for a contest I never entered...), and things don’t exactly come right together as I enter the downtown Borders on this drizzly, traffic-heavy evening. Shea, a personable Borders employee, explains to me that the host for these monthly showcases never comes (?!), but that folk usually pay mild attention. As I begin to fill in the (considerable) blanks in the sound system with pieces I have brought, it appears that neither of the other two musicians scheduled—fellow Seattle Sounds showcaser Kathryn Mostow and Texas refugee Michael Hill—are coming in addition! (Maybe they know something I don’t...or at least learned first!) I really didn’t sign up to play two hours to apathetic book/record-browsers, and I’m ready to burrow full-bore into my grumpy-pants when Kathryn and Michael arrive five minutes past scheduled start time. Friends arrive, too, and we make a perfectly pleasant evening of sharing tunes—proof what groups of good folk can do with a little time, space, and good-will! Coulda been a whole lot worse, but not how I’d hope to kick-off the new performance year... And I don’t imagine I’ll enter the USA Songwriting Competition (a Florida company, I hear...) anytime soon!

2003 Gig Archive

2003: From Nashville to Frisco to Duvall

Date	City	Venue

11/14/03	Seattle, WA	Puget’s Sound
8/30/03	Richland, WA	Tumbleweed Music Festival
8/26/03	Portland, OR	St. Francis Park
7/31/03	Denver, CO	Swallow Hill Cafe
7/25/03	Vancouver, WA	Washington State University- Vancouver
7/18/03	Bellevue, WA	Crossroads
5/30/03	Seattle, WA	Meadowbrook Community Center
5/26/03	Seattle, WA	Northwest Folklife Festival
5/17/03	Mountain View, CA	Red Rock Cafe
5/15/03	San Francisco, CA	Papa Toby’s Revolution Café
4/25/03	Duvall, WA	P & G Speakeasy Cafe
4/22/03	Vancouver, WA	Washington State University- Vancouver
2/13/03	Kirkland, WA	Intermission Pub & Parlour
2/7-8/03	Nashville, TN	Folk Alliance Seattle Sounds Showcase
2/1/03	Bainbridge Island, WA	Pegasus Coffee House

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Performance Notes

I have had several different requests over time to return to posting journal
entries—as I did during the Project in Spring, 2001—so I have
decided to offer ramblings about each performance, starting...now.
                       WW   5/21/03

Fri., November 14, 2003
Seattle, WA: Puget’s Sound

One reason that my performance schedule has relaxed some in the latter half of this year is that I’ve used the time to focus on getting my new concert series off the ground. I’ve always been a big fan of local, community music events/gatherings—concerts where people go because they want to ask the artist a question or hope to run into old friends in addition to just wanting to watch the performance; places where folk can get there, park, bring whomever (kids!), and then afford to continue through the door. This idea that live music need not entail a hundred-plus dollar-investment and an epic drive to the oft-not-local mega-arena, coupled with my desire to see the many talented musicians of the area have a stage where they can share their crafts with folk who want the same, has driven me to organize this Puget’s Sound series...and, now in its third month, I have accepted an invitation from my featured act to share the bill.

In some ways the doubled production and performance duties prove oddly soothing. After the first two Puget’s Sound shows, I have discovered that I have a dreadfully hard time sitting still once the show actually begins: I’m used to ‘my time’ being the performance itself, not the prep! Carol Crowell (who also teaches flute lessons at Meadowbrook, the host community center) opens the evening with a nice selection of Irish, popular, and show-tune music for solo flute, and then I’m on. My parents, sister, and second-cousin-ish once-removed are here, and it’s nice for me (and for them, I think) to see me on a stage I’ve created. My indispensable sound/light man, Chris Glanister, dials in his usual solid sonics, and his brilliant, Ernst plumbing hardware-supported lights keep me from really seeing who’s out there. I play a shorter-than-usual set—helped through by a two-quart pitcher full of water (there’re really no decent-sized drinking glasses at Meadowbrook!)—deciding to leave more time for MJ Bishop and her great band (whom I join for four songs on mandolin). Nice crowd, nice night, nice progress for what I hope will become a solid and accessible series for performers and audience alike!

Sat., August 30, 2003
Richland, WA: Tumbleweed Music Festival

There’s a core-group of folk who tend to do all the local festivals, and for a few months we reconvene periodically in places like Yakima and the Tri-Cities to catch up. Tumbleweed is sort of the end-of-season blowout, the last great local-focused festival of the summer, and the folk who put this thing on do fantastic work: feeding us; keeping us cool; and giving us great audiences. I do love this festival!

My set is a short one on the River Stage, and I always enjoy playing to the Columbia in addition to the beaming faces in front of me (I also sit-in with Jon Pfaff and serve on a Northwest Historical panel workshop that plays futilely to a handful of people during the dinner hour!). Lots of ‘how-ya-beens’ and ‘sometime we oughtas’ throughout the day, with the added (sometimes heckling) bonus of my folks, who’ve made the 2½-hour drive down from Pullman. As always, the first day ends with the evening concert sending pleasant sounds into the cooling air, and the second day offers more of the same great, relaxing event. ¡Adiós al verano!

Tues., August 26, 2003
Portland, OR: Saint Francis Park

I’m splitting tonight’s show with Jon Pfaff (“the notable exception”), a self-proclaimed refugee from Seattle 1960s folk scene and a long-time coffee buddy. We’ve talked for months about playing some together, and tonight we’ll finally get to. Jon is one of those delightful enigmas who I probably would not find so engaging if I knew all of the answers to the various questions that readily raise themselves in his company. Today ought to be a hoot!

We start our trip down circa 7:30 AM: Jon has several errands to run in Portland, and apparently the G.I. Joe’s in Seattle simply won’t suffice. We bounce from CompUSA to Circuit City to Car Toys (we’ve got those up here!—though we do have to pay sales tax...) before really entering Portland proper, where we proceed to price (and sometimes purchase) books, vitamins, wine, microphones, sandwiches, potential performance venues, and more. In the midst of our conspicuous consumption, we meet with the fabulous folk at St. Francis who run a remarkable outreach program, serving daily meals from their facilities—a great, maze-like churchhouse and the adjacent, charming little park in which Jon and I will soon perform.

Goods procured, we find a lawn to put in a quick rehearsal, the Hanes that Jon uses to soften the sound of his little nineteenth-century banjo flapping in the steady breeze (hey, it quit drizzling!). From there it’s back to the park, where the parish sound system sputters and fails, leaving me to piece something together from my good Portland-friend Leb’s borrowed Marshall guitar amplifier (which I had planned to use for monitors..). It works, somehow, and we’re off and running, trading barbs and tunes to a nice-sized and nicely enthusiastic gathering of folk. We close with Mary Garvey’s poignant “Astoria Bar,” basking in the sounds of the crowd singing in the closing darkness. We’re back to Seattle before 1:00 AM...

Thurs., July 31, 2003
Denver, CO: Swallow Hill Cafe

Odd experience it is to have an airport layover in the city I’ll end up in by evening, but my travel plans have my flying to Colorado Springs to drive to Denver. The wait for the rental car is so long that I receive an “upgrade,” so now I’ll use twice as much gas in my mammoth Isuzu XL-7 on the drive up. (The odometer in this car displays “HELLO” when I turn the power on and “SEE YOU” when I turn it off, which creeps me out—I’m terrified that when I really need to get somewhere, like the gig, it’ll merely read “I’M SORRY WES, I CAN’T DO THAT...”) I take only one wrong turn—and I think I was instructed to do so—before finding the Cafe and meeting an old friend for a pre-show drink.

Seattle songwriters meet monthly (or, at least, they used to...) to discuss how the community might develop a venue like the Swallow Hill Cafe: what a treat! (Interestingly, Ed, the pleasant fellow who booked me, tells me that the organization has trouble getting people out to take advantage of the very resource that some of us feel Seattle sorely needs...) Denver’s acoustic music society, the Swallow Hill Music Association, which offers classes in addition to producing a notably-large number of shows, has at its disposal a wonderful, intimate cafe setting to showcase acoustic music nightly in addition to its large concert/class space upstairs, and I’m stoked to share this evening’s bill with the Coal Creek Bluegrass Band. I’m on first, and I quickly learn that even a Denver audience can appreciate a good Walla Walla song. Five tunes in, I realize that I’ve played only songs in the key of E—a serious set-list foul—but I come clean and the crowd seems forgiving. I close with a tune in A and another in B-flat and retreat to the back to enjoy some fine bluegrass picking by three tall gentlemen named Dave, a extraordinary sixteen-year-old fiddler, and bass player who croons randy Appalachian numbers with a hint of British accent. Another very nice evening—I’ll have to make my way back!

Fri., July 25, 2003
Vancouver, WA: Washington State University-Vancouver

Apparently satisfied with my ‘guest-lecture’ performance in April, the delightful folk in WSU-V’s History Department have asked me back, this time as the dinner program for their Engaging the American Past summer institute for secondary-level history teachers. A catered barbeque at the Fort Vancouver Reserve is an awful nice place to set up and play some tunes (or daydream about leaving early with the rented sound system, as this those in charge hand me my check early and then leave me alone on site—such wonderfully trusting folk!), though most of the audience elects to sit inside the picnic shelter instead of on the grass, as we’d expected: the result is a pleasant performance...with more of my audience to my back than in front! Nice evening.

Fri., July 18, 2003
Bellevue, WA: Crossroads

Ah, Crossroads: one of the last remaining havens for local, acoustic music in the area—and a great food court to boot! This evening I am the Featured Songwriter for the Victory Music open-mic, a title that nets me an hour-long set perched in the midst of a couple dozen two-song performances. The quality of musicianship at Victory open-mics is notoriously high (not to mention the confidence of the organizers—one ought never to hand a musician his check before his performance!), and tonight’s performers uphold this standard easily; they’re friendly, too, which is always nice. The real challenge comes from trying to win over the fleeting dinner crowds, though the setup is designed to place determined listeners close.

I have, I realize two songs in, left my large, carefully-filled water glass well out of reach, and for some strange reason I elect to stay fastened to my stool and ride it out. All continues to go well enough, however, until my last song, a quiet number that I frequently use to close, when loud yelling from the bar area off to my right steals everyone’s attention (including my own); in my limited view of the television I can tell only that Ichiro Suzuki has homered for my beloved Mariners (who, last I checked, had been trailing the upstart Kansas City Royals), so I can’t stay steamed for long. (I am reminded of a performance I gave last fall at the Fiddler’s Inn in Seattle on the same night as Game 2 of the World Series—I needed only to absorb the vociferous, awed commotion that interrupted another quiet song to know that Barry Bonds had homered...convincingly.)

Turns out Ichiro had hit a grand slam to win it. Good for him. The rest of the evening passes in relaxing fashion listening to the other open-mic participants and ad-hoc combinations thereof. Glad we have Crossroads.

Fri., May 30, 2003
Seattle, WA: Meadowbrook Community Center

In an exciting development, I have recruited North Seattle’s Meadowbrook Community Center to sponsor a once-monthly local artist showcase on the second Friday of each month beginning in September ’03. I have booked this show in order to ‘feel-out’ the hall and offer another low-key Wes-stage with time and space for storytelling . . .‘Test’ remains a good word for the evening, though I wish for a simultaneous opportunity to test the center’s distinctly-shaped and prominently-windowed Multi-Purpose Room with a greater density of audience...Guess that’ll teach me to play in town twice in the same week! Fun, unusual set, though, and many belly-laughs to go around.

Memorial Day: Mon., May 26, 2003
Seattle, WA: Northwest Folklife Festival

Good ol’ Folklife: family, houseguests, chance encounters, and hopefully a set or two somewhere in the mix... My set this year arrives on Monday, so most of the over-stimulating craziness brought by sixteen-person Dim Sum breakfasts and rendezvous plans for seven festival wanderers is fading by the time I amble up to the stage in the Liquid Lounge, the bar housed in Paul Allen’s grand Experience Music Project and serving as my venue this year. Funny: for a popular hangout in a museum dedicated to music, the Lounge doesn’t seem to have been built with comfortable concert attendance in mind...though it does offer one a candid view of the unique construction of the building (the inside appears to be the largest papier-mâché-covered chicken wire structure I have ever seen!).

Folklife sets are always an adventure—more often than not wild attempts to establish a groove in twenty-five minutes—but I find much help from the growing crowd of good friends and supportive faces. Seems like most everyone who has vowed to catch a show ‘one of these days’ has picked this one! I am, of course, feeling nicely warmed-up and ready to really settle in when the jovial soundman’s voice announces through the monitors that I have four minutes remaining, so I close with a plug for the upcoming Meadowbrook series and an upbeat tune, pleased with the responses both receive. New and old friends linger for handshakes and more information (just the way I like), and I felly pretty durn good about this one, fleeting as it may have been.

Folklife seems back on its feet some this year after last year’s post-festival fallout in parts of area music communities. Also helps to have the grounds back!—the noticeable lack of construction at Seattle Center this year provides some comfort and elbow-room that, all agree, has been missing the last few years! So much great music and spirit—good ol’ Folklife!!

Sat., May 17, 2003
Mountain View, CA: Red Rock Cafe

Ah, the self-promoter’s grand dilemma: employ the literary airbrush in order to present an image of success always, or level with the audience that values your honesty? My fortune cookie from the pre-show Mongolian barbecue tells me to “☺Be direct, usually one can accomplish more that way ,” so here goes:

This one proves to be a real bummer, amplified by the lengths to which my staggeringly-gracious hostess, Colleen, has gone to smooth the wrinkles that had already appeared in my transportation plans (as if maintaining a hostel in her apartment while her beau and my old hometown buddy, Spencer, flies to Vegas for his brother’s bachelor party isn’t enough!). Colleen’s slick, borrowed Jetta gets me to the South Bay with no problem, and I stumble into the midst of Mountain View’s A la Carte and Art street-fair. After checking in with the venue, I wander through the blocks of merchants and artists, finding gifts for those who deserve ’em (Colleen appears first on that list) and enjoying some sunny northern-Californian niceness. After dinner (and a fortune), I return to the venue to find two messages waiting for me: a thoughtful ‘sorry I can’t make it but wanted to check in’ note from the son of good family friends; and news of an inopportune decision by the cafe’s owner to close early due to the street closure. Mountain View is a long way to go to be told, forty-five minutes before you plan to go on, that “We’ll close in an hour or so, so you might as well start playing.”

Often when a gig turns slightly sour—which can happen from time to time, for any number of reasons—I adopt the attitude that I can’t undo the travel, etc., and though I’m entitled to grumpiness I might as well play since I enjoy it and it just might distract me from whatever frustrating circumstances have emerged. (If there’re any ruthless promoters lurking in my website traffic, forget that you read that Wes plays in any weather!) But tonight I don’t even really have the option of playing, though I hammer out a few tunes for a handful of coffee drinkers, meaning to quit before Jessica (who flew down Friday) and her friend Lizzy arrive, learn what has happened, and force me to sing to angry-yet-sympathetic pouts. (Jess and Liz do catch a number or two after all.) The three of us grab a drink down the street afterward, where I find some consolation in a Centipede video game machine that is giving away free plays, while the sidewalks bustle with people who probably would have loved to duck into a coffee shop for a little music—though by now I’m past resentment. Turns out it’s prom night (such events, which no one thinks to mention while booking me!, frequently distract from attendance—homecoming in Centralia, the great Thayer Barn auction/fundraiser in Duvall—but this one may have been lucky had it had the chance). Well, shoot...at least I’m staying right on the wharf!

Thurs., May 15, 2003
San Francisco, CA: Papa Toby’s Revolution Café

I should learn not to make such grandiose and stoic statements as ‘whatever happens with the gigs down here, staying with friends on Hyde Street two blocks up from Fisherman’s Wharf will make anything seem pleasant in hindsight.’ Perhaps I’m too prophetic: hanging those thoughts in the ether seems as good a way as any for one to find himself full of hard luck and song ideas (see Day 1 of the Project Journal for a perfect example). I arrive at Papa Toby’s Revolution Café (and ArtBar) in the Mission District only to learn that the police have recently cited the establishment for failure to procure an entertainment license. (Scoping the place out yesterday, I arrived in time to catch an especially heated conversation between a passerby and a staff member; perhaps I won’t stop by tomorrow.) This development, I learn, means that the shop cannot furnish my small guarantee. Seems unfair...

The show itself is one of those nice, unamplified, mostly intimate gatherings that I really like, though I wonder during “Carpe Diem, Carpie” what must be running through the heads of the few people who have just walked in to a Revolution Café and ArtBar to witness a young man singing a song about an elderly fish while seated below an enormous print of playful, topless women. The ethereal, trance-like vibe of the evening continues as we all break and head outside shortly into the second set to watch the breathtaking lunar eclipse, framed in splendid summer-in-the-city fashion by one of San Francisco’s mighty hills on the right and a glaring adult-entertainment sign urging one to call 647-BUTT on the left. Great to play for some old friends and an appreciative clerk. New tunes sounding better with more work (and getting good responses). Nice show, long story.

2002 Gig Archive

2002: Reaching further...

Date	City	Venue

12/8/02	Hood River, OR	Mid-Columbia Folklore Society
12/7/02	Moscow, ID	Palouse Folklore Society
11/15/02	Portland, OR	Portland Folklore Society
11/14/02	Astoria, OR	Cafe Uniontown
10/20/02	Seattle, WA	Fiddler’s Inn
10/19/02	Yakima, WA	The Coffeehouse at Tim's Basement
10/18/02	Chehalis, WA	Matrix Coffeehouse
8/31- 9/1/02	Richland, WA	Tumbleweed Music Festival
7/12/02	Yakima, WA	Yakima Folklife Festival
5/26-7/02	Seattle, WA	Northwest Folklife Festival
3/2/02	Moscow, ID	Bookpeople of Moscow
2/1/02	Leavenworth, WA	Leavenworth Community Coffeehouse

2001 Gig Archive

2001: Project Tour & more!

Date	City	Venue

12/15/01	Tacoma, WA	House Concert
12/8/01	Seattle, WA	Grateful Bread: Album Release
12/1/01	Seattle, WA	Seattle Folklore Society
11/28/01	Bellingham, WA	Boundary Bay Brewery
9/13/01	Tacoma, WA	Washington State History Museum
7/13-4/01	Yakima, WA	Yakima Folklife Festival
6/2/01	Seattle, WA	Seattle Folklore Society
5/19/01	Port Angeles, WA	Mermaid Cafe
5/11/01	Bellingham, WA	Stuart’s Coffee House
5/5/01	Seattle, WA	Seattle Folklore Society
4/28/01	Walla Walla, WA	Hot Poop
4/21/01	Moscow, ID	Bookpeople of Moscow
4/20/01	Pullman, WA	Daily Grind
4/13/01	Spokane, WA	The Shop
4/7/01	Yakima, WA	Inklings Bookshop

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Performance Notes

Performance-day entries from the Project Journal follow:

Day 65: Seattle
Sat., 6/2/01

From a phantom blown head gasket and heartless speeding ticket to this: the final day arrives. Most of my time is spent arranging myself for the evening’s show: preparing a set, trying to learn the last few songs (!), reminding myself to share last-minute story details... As showtime approaches, I chat with Seattle Folklore Society folk about studios and the upcoming CD. A very healthy crowd shows up, full of college students, registered folkies, old friends, advisers, and an Assistant Dean. The set progresses splendidly—the ultimate validation for a spring’s-worth of itinerant musing; nights like this, after all, are why I do it. As I look out among the smiling, attentive faces, I become all the more excited to record the songs and dispatch them back into the wonderful communities that were so generous to share them with me. This stage of traveling and composing may be finished, but The Project certainly is not. What a kick!—Idaho next?

Day 51: ‘Inn Eeee,’ Port Angeles, Olympic National Park
Sat., 5/19/01

Looks like the lack of solid cloud cover might actually extend beyond my line of sight out the windows in Inn Eeee this morning, and I take a chance and get a bit excited. Arriving in Port Angeles, I visit Strait Music again to pick up my rented amplifier and once again chat with staff (who) promise to suggest the show to everyone who stops in. One of the customers in the shop is a music teacher, and our conversation continues once the others tail off. It’s set-up-and-go-as-usual at the Mermaid (with another fantastic sandwich thrown in), and I’m pleased to see a rather full (and gracefully aging) house greet me as I climb on my astonishingly comfortable stool to begin. I see many nodding heads and gentle smiles, but my risky decision to take a short break proves unfortunate, although many of those departing approach me to express regret at “having” to split. The second set proceeds on a far more intimate level, and Jay and Robyn, who are joining us for the weekend at the cabin, finally arrive a few songs into it (Jess and I learn later that they watched two ferries leave in Edmonds before finally making it onto one!).

After takedown and more handshakes, the four of us head into Olympic National Park for some hiking up at Hurricane Ridge. The view of the Olympic Mountains on this unusually clear and sunny day is absolutely astounding, and many of the trails are still snow-covered at 5,200 feet above sea level (downtown Port Angeles, for comparison, is probably around 25 feet above the strait...). Several deer and one frighteningly-large crow greet us as we descend from the mountain, and we head back to Discovery Bay after a quick stop to gawk at a boat named “Fat Bottom’d Girl.” Jess and I (mostly Jess) provide dinner, and subsequent beachcombings yield an expensive-looking bicycle lock and a half-dozen more vibrant golf balls.

Day 43: Bellingham, Seattle
Fri., 5/11/01

Roche has limited work duties today, so I’m the first up and about this morning. My interview on KUGS (“The Morning Show with Nathan”) goes quite nicely, and I am pleased to hear an impressed caller respond immediately after we go off the air. Heading back, I find that I’m temporarily locked out until the two other sleeping beauties rise (we’re all sharing Brian’s key, as Angela has his spare), so I wander back to campus to write a bit more.

Upon emerging from the libraries after another round of covert computing, I run smack into another Pullmanite from the netherregions of my past, and, for a moment, I feel like I’m back at Wazzu. It’s now past noon, and I’m still locked out of what clearly appears now to be a vacant house, so I begin checking back under the scattered bricks (our agreed key-hiding place) for means to an entry. Again, no luck, so I check under a few more various objects by the doorway, striking out there too—Roche’s buddy and friend must have taken it with them. The remodeling crew next door looks curious with regard to my various efforts to penetrate the fortress, but the workers keep the probing questions to themselves. If they were concerned before, however, the scene of me slithering through the cat window must have really raised the eyebrows—thank goodness for my “lanky, bespectacled” frame, as the Walla Walla Union-Bulletin observed. Casualties to my extremities are kept to a minimum, and soon I’m back to full strength.

* * *

Deciding that I should stick around (since I have no way of locking the door...and I’m not particularly eager to adopt the window as my primary means of building entry), I begin work on the Bellingham-area song. One of my personal goals for The Project is to have a song completed in time to perform it in its ‘home region’—something I’ve yet to accomplish this spring—and thus I’m thrilled when, shortly after everyone arrives back nearly at once, an ode to the clock tower’s storied past entitled “Time Kept on Moving on Without Us” sits complete in my notebook. The high comes crashing down, however, when Brian’s buddies reveal that they’d left the key under a flower pot, not the specified bricks (and perhaps the one place I didn’t look!), therefore my strained shimmyings were of no apparent necessity! We all chuckle for a good deal of time. “These guys are high elevation mountaineers,”Roche tells me later: “Their brains function best at fourteen-, fifteen thousand feet.”

The winds out on the bay look like they could become fierce at any moment, so I respect Brian’s second thoughts about sailing (he did snap two masts in one week last summer) and we head off to roam around inside a local record store instead. Back in downtown Bellingham, I marvel in the familiar, home-like spectacle of trendy clothing stores across the street from Clark Feed and Seed. This, after all, is just the diversity I’m hoping to lend a voice to.

The evening’s show [Stuart’s Coffee House] proceeds splendidly, with a nice crowd on hand to bear witness. Among the audience members are Carl Allen, a gentleman who tours the region (and beyond) with an educational Woody Guthrie act, and Linda Allen (no relation), the exceptional woman whose project I am unintentionally emulating. Several Pullman expatriates are also on hand, as are others who’ve made the trip up from Seattle. Angela’s roommate, a camp-counseling ex-co-worker of Brian’s, sneaks a picture of me circa age thirteen into my line of sight early in the show. A photographer from the Herald snaps pictures throughout the whole first set and much of the second, throwing a few questions my way during the break. Other spectators offer the tremendous encouragement and support that has followed me everywhere I’ve been this spring, and another gentleman offers his poetry to me. After an encore of two songs, I pack up ready to split, but end up reacquainting myself with some of the ex-Pullman crew before setting off far too late into the night.

It’s scary to think that this first, total-immersion stage of the project is nearing its close—everything’s going far too nicely!

Day 37: Seattle
Sat., 5/5/01

For the first time in my UW career, the weather is borderline seasonable for the opening day crew races on the Montlake Cut in the Lake Washington Ship Canal. Friends Jay, Jill, and I are willing to remain stationary to cheer on boats in the dozen or so races, but the ensuing boat parade isn’t really for us—we love boats, but aren’t really cut out for what we can make of the yachting lifestyle. I wonder how many folk musicians yacht...

At the Grateful Bread—where I’m still technically considered an employee—I meet Bob Fox, the English gentleman for whom I’m opening, and marvel at the amount of Seattle Folklore Society volunteers here to help set up. I refuse, however, to just sit by when there are chairs to be moved and wire to be run. Highlight of the evening comes when Bob, SFS president Mary Lytle, and I are chatting close to showtime. “Where’re you staying tonight, Bob?” Mary asks, to which he replies, in his majestically powerful Northeast-English accent: “Ah thawt ah was stayin’ wit’ you.” Bob finds a home without incident, and I am once again charmed by the friendly graces of the folk network.

Although my set is particularly short, the good-sized crowd is very receptive and tolerant during the public debuts of “Carpe Diem, Carpie” and “The Ballad of the Whitman Greeks” (which may not be ready for public consumption quite yet). Just as I walk off stage, a fellow who had seen the Seattle Times piece arrives with a personally-revised take on Woody’s “Roll on Columbia” (“Roll on Columbia 2001,” he calls it) that he has come to share with me. Bob’s set is marvelous, and the evening ends just as delightfully as it began.

Day 30: Walla Walla
Sat., 4/28/01

As I begin my strummings at Hot Poop, I’m pleased to see a near-respectable amount of people who look intent on finding someplace to settle in among the racks of CDs. The first set—which includes the public debut of “Lakeside Summer Home”—progresses quite nicely, and I close it with Bob Dylan’s “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” advice that I urge the audience take to heart in order to avoid a repeat of my Yakima ‘break.’ During the interval, I chat with several audience members who confirm my suspicions that they’ve been enjoying themselves. Although not everyone obeys my musical plea to stick around, I do return this time, coercing several Aerosmith ticket buyers into lingering for a few songs. Afterwards, Jim and I shoot more breeze, and I leave with a take $4 greater than in Yakima and a slick-looking Hot Poop T-shirt (“It’ll brand you for life,” Jim says). Once again, a thoroughly enjoyable experience that yields an open invitation to return.

Chris happens to be the only member of the Whitman rugby team who lives off-campus, and thus the traditional post-game ‘Drink-Up’ must always occur at his house. I swing by for a quick (yet resilient) burger, and head to the library for a little more work. Upon returning, I find myself the focus of several intriguing conversations. On a campus of only 1300 students, it’s clear to most that I’m an outsider, and I jokingly inquire whether purchasing a Whitman T-shirt from the bookstore and wearing it would help. The consensus is no: everyone’d just think I was a high-schooler visiting the campus... Then, after explaining a bit of what I’ve been up to over the course of the past few days, I find myself confronted by a defiant sorority member who stands by the suburban legend in question. I encourage her to help me verify it, but she too finds it difficult to disprove the resolute opinions of the city attorney and the housing office. Later, the plot thickens as a few of us leave the hearty singing in the basement to visit a party at house occupied by five girls who affectionately refer to it as “The Brothel.” Most everyone there wonders who I am.

Day 23: Moscow (ID), Genesee, ID, Pullman
Sat., 4/21/01

Jessica, bless her heart, has scheduled a massage for me this morning, and I submit to the therapeutic whims of Greg, a Moscow School of Massage student, for an hour as he reassembles my gawky frame. We head out to Genesee, ID, for some small-town lunchings (we both agree that something on the Washington side would make more ‘academic’ sense, but time and hunger constraints prevail). Saturday dining options in Genesee—whose 750 residents represent a population 50% larger than that of Mossyrock!—appear rather limited, however, and we end up gorging ourselves back in Moscow. I toy with “The Genesee Waltz” and “The Genesee Stud” for a bit, deciding that such thoughts deserve more attention...but later.

The crowd at Bookpeople in Moscow is smaller, older, and mellower, and we spend a nice intimate evening singing and interacting together. To add a bit of Idaho focus to my exclusively-Washington project, I play the songs from Carlos’ radio show last Sunday, which bear heavy contributions from Idaho callers. More old friends and a few new fans offer a wonderfully relaxing and constructive contrast to last night’s show at the Daily Grind. John Elwood, a close friend, exceptional luthier, and fellow “Grapes of Wrath” veteran, tells me to be wary of ‘modern-day Woody Guthrie’ comparisons: “I think you make a better modern-day Wes Weddell,” he says. Thanks, John.

Day 22: Pullman, Moscow
Fri., 4/20/01

I’m becoming quite comfortable in KUOI’s ‘Master Control,’ I realize, as I settle in for another pick-’n’-chat session, this time with DJ Battleship Galactica. Noticing my guitar on the way in, the station manager (I presume) suggests that I become a part of the KUOI live compilation CD. I express no aversion, and he laughs and explains that such a recording has been a KUOI pipe dream “for about twenty years now.”

From the studio it’s load-up-and-go, and I begin the endearingly-exhausting process of setting up the same sound system that I schlepped about several times a month back in high school. Someone asks if I have any roadies on this tour, and, looking down at my arms, I reply: “Yeah, two.” Once finished, I take a moment to assess the crowd gathering at Daily Grind as showtime approaches, and I’m touched to see old teachers, friends, acquaintances, and nearly everyone’s parents (Mom’s Weekend at WSU begins tonight...). Some friends from the Seattle Folklore Society even stop by, in town to bring their dog to WSU’s excellent veterinary facilities. Matt’s set is great, and I’m quite pleased with my own. The sea of attentive, familiar faces grows as the songs continue, and “Fat Bottomed Girls” steals the show at the end. Just as I’d hoped! After takedown, I linger with the Pullman Faithful, signing CDs (wow...), catching up, and even taking notes from some great local stories. The saga of Carpy, a two-foot-long carp caught in the Snake River in 1922 and kept in a horse trough from 1924 until his (her?) death in 1996, makes a great case for claiming my Palouse-region song.

Great turnout and response—what a flattering homecoming!

Day 15: Seattle, Spokane
Friday the 13th!! of April, 2001

The lyricist in me fears that I may be overusing the word ‘delightful’ in my descriptions of all of the fascinating and wonderful people that I am meeting on my adventures, but there is just no other word I can think of to capture the essence of my hosts here in Spokane. After a brief how-do-you-do with Carlos Alden—member of the Celtic Nots and local radio personality on NPR-affiliate KPBX—it’s off to meet Jessica (the girlfriend!!—who has lovingly reduced the frustrating-yet-soon-to-be-admonished distance that often separates us by making the pilgrimage up to Spokane from Moscow, Idaho) for a brief reunion before soundcheck. While waiting for Jess at the cafe in Auntie’s Bookstore, I read about “Wes Weddell Wandering a la Woody” in The Spokesman-Review.

The folks at The Shop, a converted auto shop featuring several wonderfully-welded creations fashioned by my sound-tech for the evening, welcome me warmly and prove a joy to work with, continuing a trend that I’m really starting to enjoy. The crowd, however, kicks Yakima’s butt (thankfully!!), augmented by a significant number of ex-camp staff from my summer days spent entertaining youngsters on nearby Lake Coeur d’Alene. My folks (two parents, one sister) also come up from Pullman, and my father exhibits surprisingly good behavior all show long. So nice to play to a good-sized, receptive crowd in a creative, competently-staffed little store! (I was, however, scared to take a break, fearing that the crowd would pull a ‘Yakima’ and disappear.)

After the set and some catchings-up with old friends, I return to the Alden house, where Carlos’ and wife Janine’s stories of their house and its past engage my attention and curiosity as the night progresses. Just as I’m heading down to ‘my’ basement, Carlos produces a journal dating from 1906-1910 that “came with the house,” and my slumbers are delayed further as I skim through this candid snapshot of a life lived nearly a century ago.

Day 9: Yakima
Sat., 4/7/01

Now this is interesting: I’m colder waking up in the motel than I was in the tent yesterday morning. I suppose that’s why I’m paying what I’m paying...

I can think of one occasion where I’ve had a smaller crowd—if you can call it that—than shows up at Inklings, and I shudder to think what might have happened had the newspaper not devoted so much space to me yesterday. Those who stick around, however, seem to really enjoy it, and several approach me afterward (I’d meant only to take a break, but the whole group disbanded!) to chat (one gentleman talked with me for nearly an hour, suggesting in jest that I write about the ‘Palm Springs of Washington’ sign) and wish well. “Mossyrock, Lewis County” finds a particularly warm reception: “They’ll love it!” one older gentleman exclaims. Considering the size of the gathering, I collect a respectable amount of folk-funding from the afternoon, and I spend some of it downstairs taking in a local musical act over dinner (at the place that would have booked me first had I been more openly ‘loungey’). At this time last year, I’m told, Glenwood Square (the collection of shops I’m enjoying) was an apple warehouse.

After dinner, I drive out along Tieton Drive just to explore, and the view of the hazy near-full moon hovering above the city warrants a few moments of still enjoyment by the roadside. Although it would be easy to get down about such a relatively-poor showing this afternoon, I’m not—it was, after all, a ‘folk blind date’ in an area where I have few close contacts, and the staff at Inklings were downright pleasant to work with. This should serve as a nice warm-up for upcoming shows back homeward.

The 'Project'

In the Spring of 2001, I undertook a self-designed independent-study project through the University of Washington for which I traveled around Washington State researching local history and composing original folksongs based upon my findings. Three weeks in, I was awarded the inaugural Venture Fellowship from the Mary Gates Foundation at UW to aid in my efforts and in releasing a CD of the songs, My Northwest Home.

From the NW Home liner notes:

While I anticipated none of the publicity and folk-fanfare that accompanied
my travels...I did presume that communities around the state would open
their arms and share their stories. Yet I was rewarded with hospitality and
honesty that far exceeded my expectations and that touched me beyond words.
These may be ‘my’ songs on paper, but they owe everything to the generosity
and accessibility of the residents of Washington State.

You can read my proposal for the project:
Woody Guthrie 2001?: Preparing a Musical Neo-History of Washington State

or view samples from my daily journal entries here.


And, of course, I also offer presentations of Project findings/experiences for a variety of ages & settings...

___________

My Northwest Home - Lyrics

Battlefields and Broken Deals - Lyrics