And so I'll travel...

I've been a bad blogger. I apologize to the Rot-heads of the world. I'll pick up the pace.

Anyway, last weekend was another savage journey into the heart of American music, cutting a wide swath through three geographic states and many more mental states to see the two best bands in the land, Marah and the Avett Brothers (unfortunately, not together, which would have saved me some time and earned me some sleep). What follows is a partial rundown of the fun.

Friday, 1/13/06, 6:38 p.m.:

Hello, Newark!

The trip begins at Newark Penn Station, currently battling the Port Authority Bus Terminal for the title of "Official James Sigman Travel Starting Point." But I don't think it will get it. The Port Authority and me have something special. I'll see you soon, baby.

I board the North Jersey Coast line train, heading for Asbury Park and The Stone Pony, the legendary club that I have somehow never stepped foot in (or, really, any part of my body). So it's a doubly exciting night--triply exciting actually, as I will be in the Stone Pony for the first time, seeing Marah, and seeing Maybe Pete open for Marah. It's the perfect storm.

Friday, 1/13/06, 7:52 p.m.

Hello, Asbury Park!

The train arrives in Asbury Park and I commence my walk to the Pony. A thick fog adds to the atmosphere as I make my way down Cookman Ave. I am impressed with the fact that I am, in fact, able to find my way to the Pony even though I've only been near it once. I know it makes for a better story if I get lost and/or attacked, but, you know, sometimes it's nice to just have no obstacles. Sorry to let you down.

Friday, 1/13/06-Saturday 1/14/06, 8:30 p.m.-1 a.m.

The rock show takes place. It is a good time. The first band frightens me, as I'm not sure if the lead singer is parodying a cheesy Scott Stapp-like lead singer or actually being one. I think it was the latter. You may think I'm not mentioning their name out of kindness. Nope. I've just wished it out of my head. And I don't feel like doing research. Unless you feel like paying me to write this blog. Then I'll do whatever you want.

Anyway, Maybe Pete puts on a real good show, another one you didn't see, you lazy bastard. It's nice to see them play to a decent-sized crowd, particularly after being at two shows last year where I was the audience. That's awkward. We've discussed the proper audience etiquette in that situation. Does me clapping make them feel better? Worse? The band is undecided, and so am I. Hopefully, we will not face that dilemma in the future. And based on their new stuff, I doubt it. They're real good. Check them out, OK?

Marah comes out (not sexually) after a set by their rhythm section, Adam and Dave, and, as usual, the next 90 minutes or so go by in a happy blur. The soundman at the Pony apparently likes the drums to sound real bass-y and is not averse to putting an echo on the vocals at odd times (I swear I heard that; I hope it's not my own hearing loss). But, ultimately, Marah prevails, with help from the Shalitas and Christine Smith. There was a point at the end of the show where they played "Catfisherman," "Head On," and "The Closer" back-to-back-to-back that made me realize why I took a train to a show 90 minutes away, by a band that I have seen somewhere in the range of 30-35 times. During "Head On," I was screaming a lot. See, now, isn't that reason enough to see a Marah show--to hear me scream real loud during "Head On"?

1/14/06, 2:33 a.m.:

Hello, Jersey City!

I arrive back in my apartment (aka Disgraceland), courtesy of my friend Mark and his lovely wife Kerri (Mark's in the Hudson Falcons. You'll want to go see them, too...I hope you're taking notes). I have to get up at 6:30, so I can get a 7:32 a.m. train to go to Trenton, where I will pick up a train to Philadelphia, where I will change to a train to Wilmington, Delaware, where my friend Pat will pick me up and we will head to Maryland, so we can meet up with my friend Jesse, who will attend a Marah show in Arlington, Virginia, with us Saturday night.

Surprisingly, only when I write this down does it seem like anything out of the ordinary. And that's what separates you from me. Well, that, and you probably have someone willing to sleep with you.

1/14/06, 7:32 a.m.:

Hello again, Newark!

Made it. And I don't feel like I'm going to pass out. And I had time to buy breakfast. Who's the man? What? Not me. Oh, I see.

1/14/06, 10:21 a.m.:

Hello, Wilmington!

1/14/06, 11:30 p.m.

Hello, Chesapeake House Rest Area!

1/14/06, Some time after the last

Hello, Wherever the Hell I Am, Maryland!

1/14/06, 8:35 p.m.

Hello, Arlington!

After an afternoon spent bowling, watching the Redskins lose, and creating lewd double entendres out of situations involving the word "nuts," Pat, Jesse, and I arrive at the Iota in Arlington. Boy, that wind sure did pick up. Boy, I wish we hadn't parked a half-mile away.

1/14/06, 10:30ish until whenever it ended

Marah again brings the rock. And they're even better than in Asbury Park. The only downside to the show is the inability of several members of the crowd to (a) go without a drink for any period of time greater than 10 minutes or (b) not go to the bathroom. If I own a club, everybody gets fitted with a catheter when they come in and they can't order drinks during the actual performance unless they're standing next to the bar. How do we enforce that? We'll put an invisible electric fence around the bar, put dog collars on the patrons, and, voila!

And that's why I will never own a club.

I would run down what makes a Marah so brilliant, but the Tinsel & Rot devotee has heard it all before. I'm just saying, it's a good time. You like a good time, don't you?

1/15/06, 6:30 p.m.

Hello, Annapolis!

After still more football, a few spirited games of "Horse" on a three-foot basketball hoop built for toddlers, and a brief moment of confusion in downtown Annapolis, Pat and I (Jesse had a prior college basketball commitment) walk into the Ram's Head Tavern. I waited so long to get tickets that I thought we were out of luck in getting into this show as late as last week. But then, God took pity and provided two seats during a random, "well-I'll-give-this-one-more-shot" check of the club's website. I'd never been to the place, so the seating chart really didn't make much sense to me, though it seemed like we'd be reasonably close to the stage.

So, we go in, the hostess takes our tickets and directs us to a guy who will show us where our seats are. And they're, literally, right next to the stage. Maybe five feet away. Nice.

The husband and wife seated at our table ask me if I've seen the bands, and it turns out that they've never seen the Avetts, but are big fans of BR549. So I try to explain what the Avetts sound like (I've settled on "punk bluegrass," because I can't think of anything else...it's not accurate, but it's accurate enough in a pinch). They seem OK with that. We talk about the Gettysburg Bluegrass Festival and Trace Adkins and Marty Stuart and then I realize how nice it is to talk to people who like country music. That doesn't happen much in New Jersey.

So, we order some food (exciting culinary discovery made possible by a limited menu: I like crab cakes) and soon the Avetts take the stage. They start off with a slow(er) one, "Pretty Girl from Annapolis" (naturally) and then move into "Please Pardon Yourself," and we're off. Now, I'll admit a bias here, but I really do think the Avetts are on the brink of something huge. Every Avetts show seems likes they won't be satisfied until everyone at the show who didn't know them coming in leaves blown away. The guy at our table was hooked by the third song, and there was a healthy line for buying CDs during intermission. Hooray.

The highlight of the night--and probably the weekend (if you don't count the purchase of Philadelphia soft pretzels before the train ride home)--was at the end of BR549's set, when they brought the Avetts out to sing the Bob Wills song "Stay A Little Longer." Now, bringing out the Avetts would be cool enough; it's always good to see the headliners sharing the spotlight with the openers. But "Stay A Little Longer"...first heard by me on Willie Nelson's "Willie and the Family Live" album (and I mean actual vinyl album)...it was all I could do not to jump out of my chair, throw it against the wall, and start dancing like Pappy O'Daniel in "O Brother Where Art Thou." Luckily, I was able to prevent that from happening. But it was awesome.

Their new CD comes out on February 7. It's great. I'll tell you all about it some other time.

1/16/06, oh, I don't know, 7 p.m. maybe?:

Hello again, Jersey City!

I'm staying awhile this time.

Until tomorrow, when the Sigman family heads to Mohegan Sun in Connecticut for more Avett fun. And then back to NYC on Saturday for even more fun. Yes, my sickness has spread to the rest of my family. Be careful. You're next.

So, what are you doing on Saturday?