That’s a wrap. My last day of tour, and my birthday, was unforgettable. I was never big on birthdays, but about five years ago I realized that aging is a privilege: the alternative to growing old is not living. Since then, I’ve learned to welcome the love that comes my way every November second. The day started with a flood of calls and messages, a run, and a great breakfast with the band. By load-in, I already felt beyond lucky. Even more so when my partner arrived, just as

I spent today in amazement. Yesterday I had set an intention to maximize enjoyment for these last two shows. Tonight I was rewarded: people who I hadn't seen in a while came out, I ate great food, I was with my friends as their team won the world series. We also had the best crowd of the tour, and every band was on their A-game in response. It's the kind of night you can't plan, you can only hope to be there when it happens. We played at a House of Blues venue. I was telling

After eighteen days we finally had a proper day off. No shows, no driving. Vegetating, hanging by the pool. We shut the operation down. Off. This has been my longest tour since covid. I remember the last day, of the last tour we did pre-shutdown. I stared out at a hill in Italy for hours, savoring the view. After that day I wasn't able to perform again for two years. That memory has stuck with me. You never know when the last time you'll do something is. We have two shows lef

Today felt like three days in one. Day one was all uphill: A six hour drive from Phoenix to California. We rolled up to the venue trading fist bumps with the other bands. A sneaky feeling of relief behind everyone's ears that we'd all made it there safe. "Did you see the burning car on the side of the road?" "Fucking crazy." Day two was the show: Landlocked at the venue. Living in our little universe. By now, everything's on autopilot; load in the gear, set up the merch, soun

Part of being out here is the search for release. We endure the aches, exhaustion, and sacrifices of the road because we crave a break from the constraints of normal life. On tour, everyone has to find their own way to let things out. Some private outlet before we do it together on stage. If you’re new to this and keep it all bottled up, irritation sets in quick. I’ve seen people snap and book flights home. I’ve sent people home. For me, running has become my escape valve. It

Three people drove from Northern Mexico to see us play in Tucson tonight. Lately, I have been thinking a lot about art and purpose. Since covid, I have learned to treat my art practice as a partner that I don't ask much of, I just give. But I'm human, and I still want more. On this tour, I have seen three Frank LLoyd Wright inspired houses; two in California, one today in Arizona. Decades after his death people are still building in his likeness. That's remarkable: Being mark

After six straight shows, today we had a day off. My friend had loaned us his Air BNB and we checked our tired limbs in after the gig. Because I'd arranged this with him months ago, I'd been looking forward to this stay. On paper, the plan was solid: Catch up on sleep, rest, eat, pool, and leisurely make our way towards Arizona in the evening. Then the water went out in the apartment complex. With that, the script.I had imagined was trashed: no home-cooked meal, no early show

Yesterday while driving to Vegas I listened to a podcast on the mechanics of social media addiction. We're fucked. Part of why we keep reaching for our phones is because of the randomness the engineers have sprinkled in. They'll boost our reach on certain posts and not others to keep us hooked on the promise that our next post could be the one that blows up. It's hard not to chase those flames. The quick reward that this engagement creates is a direct hit of sugar to our pre-

Today was proof of how lucky I am to be this busy. I’m two thousand miles from home, but that just meant the day started with a jog along the Pacific coastline. I treated myself to coffee and breakfast on the beach, then later, a killer vegan Mexican dinner. We’re running this tour with no crew, just the five of us, pulling all the weight. That’s the flip side of my lucky coin: the work is nonstop. Over breakfast, I squeezed in ninety minutes of emails, balancing protein and

I talk about community every night; about the current plight of immigrants, about the diaspora, about taking care of one another. Zoomed in, my community right now is the twenty or so musicians and crew across four bands, that are a part of this tour package. Clusters of people whose day revolves around making it to a predetermined location to perform in front of people who gathering to watch. How long have humans been doing this for? And here we are still. And here I am play

I was having such a great day. Woke up in the sunny Bay Area after sleeping in. Ran three miles to a canyon. Ate clean. Even had time to relax before the show. “I’m looking for a problem but can’t find one,” I joked to my bandmate Tour will humble you. The gear issues that haunted me all week struck again. I’d been bragging about being the only one on this tour using analog amps. Everyone else went digital; lightweight, convenient, sterile. Not me. I carry my forty-pound beas

I felt recharged today. Two straight days of being able to sleep-in had me running a few laps around the hotel parking lot this morning .I followed it up by eating clean from a whole foods salad bar. Got to the venue feeling energized. "35 Years" reads the banner the headlining band puts up on stage each night. That's how long they've been at it. Whenever I catch myself wanting to complain about lack of rest I think of that banner. I take the longview. My drummer puts it be

When I got to the venue today, the guys selling merch for the other bands were taking bets on who would make the first sale of the night. "Not gon' be us," I declined, and continued setting up. We're first and the most unknown. We usually sell after we make our impression. Later, while I was away from the merch table, one of them called me. "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." He hung up. One of my bandmates had made not the first, but the first couple of sales for th

Today was a day off from shows. Off doesn’t mean rest. We had a ten hour haul down the highway to California.  We’re a week in. All our bodies aching. Begging for sleep. Close proximity every day. Neck and neck.  I could feel the need for a little more room. Maybe it was just me, and that’s ok.  We stopped for gas in rural towns in South Oregon. They looked to be up to no good. Burnt around the edges, like they’d been blown up decades ago and are still plotting their revenge.

Here's a list of things that went wrong today: I was awoken at 5 am by loud banging coming from the floor above our shitty hotel room. I didn't eat anything until three pm become a barista in Portland gave me a bacon and egg sandwich instead of the vegan food I ordered. I lost my beanie. I can't find my ear buds. My instrument cable crapped out during our set, and I couldn't play the last song. Later on, the cashier at an Italian restaurant in Seattle also misplaced my order.

Who most needs to hear our message?  The message itself is simple enough (I think): Hispanic immigrants (or anyone) in the United States should not be subject to racial profiling and the absence of due process.  It’s what this whole mass of land is supposed to be about. At least it’s what’s advertised.  I say it through the microphone everyday and I’m wondering who needs to hear it the most. Is it the crowd like the one in Portland tonight? Completely on board and ecstatic th

We asking a lot of or bodies. We've been getting 4 to 5 hours of sleep a night. We drive most of the day, perform, then we drive some more to steal a few miles from tomorrow. Touring is demanding like that. Yesterday's miles no longer matter today. While my body takes a hit, my minds has to sharpen. It's unforgiving. I listened to a podcast on I-84 today. It was about resilience. I'm keeping it close to my chest. They said you gotta believe you can do hard things, and stack

Today we played in Salt Lake City. I know this town from a movie; SLC punk. Before I ever came here in person, I already had a sense for it, I had a script about it in my head based on the film. A person came to the merch table tonight to compliment our set. He mentioned how excited he was when he saw we were coming to town. “ Huh? Us?” I asked. He smiled and pointed out how he’s bought records from us online. I looked him up. Sure enough, I have personally packaged and ship

On the third day after leaving Chicago we finally played a show. Everything about Today was a success and I want to breath those wins in slowly.  First I ran 3 miles with two of my bandmates. At altitude, I was slower, but I finished. Success. Then came a reunion. We linked up with the headliner;  Strung out. These are guys I met over 20 years ago when I was still a kid living in the Island. I felt their love for me and my crew. Genuine care from your peers is a precious gem.

The me from ten years ago wouldn’t understand the me from today.  We had another respectable drive today, 6 hours from central Nebraska to Denver. That's already pretty brutal, yet I willingly agreed to add another hour past our destination, then to backtrack an hour to Denver, where the tour finally starts.  Why?  To go visit Rocky Mountain National Park. That's why. It made no logistical or financial sense, but that wasn’t the point. The point that the me from today wants t