Brooklyn based band Salt and Samovar is on tour as they make their way down to Austin for SXSW (where they will be playing The After the Jump Backyard on Friday March 14th and the KCRW showcase). Last week, singer D.S. shared with us tales of their travels in New England. This week, the band heads south for country fried foods, benefit concerts and a look at the small town meth scene in South Carolina...We were honored to show to play a benefit concert for local farming in DC. Our dear friend Pablon a farmer just outside dc, coordinated the event which included food, art, + music. All the proceeds went to the Crossroads farmer's market. They provide fresh local food to a low income ethnic community in the DC area + provide all kinds of discounts + rewards.
Playing benefits is the best. Everyone is in a great mood + excited to be part of helping out a project. Ears are often open to new sounds. The local cider was generously poured out with refreshments.
The fresh, crisp air of georgetown was refreshing after leaving a new york riled up by a bomb uptown (what happened?). DC always seems like a city in the woods to me. Patches of trees weave through the long boulevards giving you the feeling that you are in a forest. Everything is clean. It's kind of like living in an L.L. Bean catalog.
We played in a small theater, the Letelier, which called for light amplification. We used this to our advantage + were able to hear every nuance of the songs- a nice departure from the too-often blaringly loud stages we are used to. We taped t-shirts on the drums + napkins on the cymbals. I was also able to sing with no microphone at the quieter parts of our songs which always helps to get in touch with the crowd (especially since they were seated). We were without our female singer/keyboardist, so we had to fill in the parts.
Pablo, our farmer friend played as well. He sang songs about the farming life, which offers great + simple insights about pastoral. Both Dane + I agreed that his music was like that of a plantation worker who had been discovered by john hammond. Except pablo, sings in an almost bob-marley-on-acoustic-guitar-wail.
The next morning we barreled down the virgina highway in. Once you head southwest on 85, the charm of virginia announces herself. The long skinny pines create a forest tunnel dotted with red bushes + an orange-red forest floor. I can't help but imagine the soldiers of the civil war marching through the cherry groves in the snow on the way to musket battles.
Luckily we were not on foot when we hit torrential downpours through all of north carolina. I couldn't see a thing. At one point, we put on Beethoven's 5th as the white spray from truck's tires clouded our every move. It made the situation into a furious battle. "Dum dum dahhhhh!". We were furiously battling mother nature to make it on time for our show.
Our only respite was a quick stop at the Cracker Barrell for some country-fried cuisine. I was glad to hear some country music in the bathroom because then I realized: we had crossed the Mason-Dixon line. I love to drive in the south + listen to the radio. It is like a different world. There are so many bona fide classics that everyone down here know + I have never heard. You don't hear much country growing up in Boston.
We got to Spartanburg in the nick of time. The venue was an artist residency (the Hub-Bub) that provides ample space + living quarters to young artists from all over. It is housed in an old brick car factory. The room to play in is huge + modern. We set up quick + played to a dead silent but responsive crowd.
The band after us, was a rootsy charolette band called the new familiars. They played great bluegrassy + country tunes with tight harmonies.
2 of the artists at the Hub kindly let us stay in their apartments. It turns out that we had mutual friends, and that one girl had lived in nyc just before arriving at the art space. I was excited at the proposition to sleep on a couch, as I had slept on the floor the night before + sat in a car for 9 hours.
Before bed though we hit the local 24 hour diner. Papa's whose sign advertises "the best chef salad in town" + offers "livermush" is known for their crispy waffles. We murdered a few doused with syrup + eggs (not in the same bite). I also had my first sweet tea of the tour-the ubiquitous southern drink of lipton, lemon, + lots a shooga'. Aside from the late night meth scene, the place was tops.
We are now on our way to alabama to hole up for 2 days + eat fried catfish with my close friends parents--some of the most hospitable people I know! We just realized that we prepaid $50 of gas at the last gas station + forgot to get our $24 change (the price of a s+s t-shirt + cd!). The clerk didn't bother to tell me when I was buying my water. + Fio said when he was buying his water he heard the clerk talking to his boss on the telephone: "yeah we were $20 short last night, but we're $24 over today." All this + we all forgot to get our change-including that lucky clerk who has at least enough dough to buy 6 waffles at Papa's or maybe even a rock of cheap meth!
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