More Guitar Trouble- and Get the Fuck Out

It was a good thing that Paul was at the show last night- he was able to jimmy Dave's National between sets! The cone dropped again part way through the set. Funky, with the 6th string sitting right down against the fretboard... For the second set it had held up nicely, but we were back to Underdog Music this morning for another round of repairs. A little Viagra under the biscuit this time, and now the strings are up and sounding good. Good and loud! I think the guitar is probably better now than it was when we started the tour. Or mine's getting quieter!!

While the Blues Society had put us up in a fairly nice hotel, we had the day off- so back to Bud's on Broadway where the owners extended another night's hospitality to us. We hung out in our rooms, slept, played some guitar. I thought I'd work on some new songs- and did- but was pretty much too tired to do much except noodle. Still, that was fun- I have not had much noodle time over the last two months of hard travel. It's Halloween Night and the band downstairs kicks off with "Spooky" (by the Classics IV?), closing their first set with "Monster Mash." I rolled out of bed and came downstairs to catch the last set, meeting Dave, Harmonica Donna and some others in the bar. There were a few folks out in costume, but generally it seemed to be a pretty quiet night.

After the show Donna took me down the street to visit a club called Lydia's. I was told that this was a pretty good local venue, so I thought I'd check it out with an eye to coming through solo in a few months time. When we entered Lydia's a big guy with a shaved head came running up and screamed in my face "who the fuck let you in here??? get the fuck out!!!" He meant it, too. So apparently customer relations are not necessary at Lydia's. They didn't know who the fuck I was, and it didn't fucking matter. When a club runs it's fucking business this way it probably won't be in fucking business long. Not with help like that, anyway. Lydia's, Saskatoon, Canada. Fuck 'em, too. The only unpleasant moment in 25 thousand km of touring this great land, so natch it made the blog.