Soft Legs Tour One Archive

Soft legs Tour: DC Beltway

The turning leaves in Virginia were otherworldly as we drove up to Philly.  They rolled out strong as far as could be and seemed to hang with us forever.  In hindsight nature seemed to be singing our medullas into submission in preparation for the hellfire of the DC Beltway.  NEVER GET ON THE DC BELTWAY.  The jam of the fall was not written by any member of the Soft Legs Troupe.  We were part of it, though, stuck under the leering credit castles and military contractor complexes.  Commercial banking logos irradiating the sky with cartoon missiles.  We knew we'd never make the show in time, as we watched The Last Waltz from beginning to end in gridlocked purgatory, and Lockheed Martin remained vigilant over our tiny fragile lives.

Buluski

Soft legs Tour Two: Knoxville, TN

Before work we ate at this quasi Italian place that didn't seem to get it right.  The winter-root lasagna was heated under a salamander for 15 minutes, giving its contents the texture of uncooked winter-roots.  Not saying any names, but the place rhymes with NOODLES.  Another noisy crowd this time.  The venue was decked out in Where The Wild Things Are art, with murals in the bathrooms and a huge backdrop on the stage.  Vines hung down over the bar.  At one point there was a howl from the stage in honor of that.  We were sharing the town with Willie Nelson and got to play to some of his fans after he was done.  Nice people, but extremely trashed.  Packed up and got out of there pretty quick.

Soft legs Tour One: Jackson, TN

Most of us were familiar with the noise and telepathic shrugging of the crowd at the open mic.  Some friends stopped by to say hello, wish us luck, and overall it was about as good as a small local thing of that sort could be.  It was really great to be reunited and play together after roughly two months.  All that time between seemed to sneak off into the cellar of the place and go to sleep for a while; dejected hibernating loneliness.  Knocking the dust off songs again, trying some new jams out, having a few beers and watching the 1994 American Gladiators in all their Aquanet-encased glory on a plasma behind the bar never felt so good.