Band On The Diaper Run : mates of state

Bite Me

korkor — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 17:37:00 GMT

The last thing Mags said to me when I put her to bed two nights ago: "Bite me, Mom."

But, before you jump to conclusions of any kind you should know we were joking around earlier in the day about biting people. I "pretend" bit her on the arm. Then she thought that was extremely hillarious. I vowed that there will be no more biting (even pretend) because not only does it just seem not that funny to me all the time, but also, June would have a real hayday with that one if she caught wind of the game.

I did however get a good laugh out of our parting words. "Bite me, Mom." "No, you bite me, Mags." Actually, we were both laughing, but I think we found the "bite me" comments humorous for different reasons. (Had this conversation happened today after our little post-school, fatigue-induced arguement over being nice to her sister, it might have carried even more laughable weight).

First day!

She had a great first couple of days at school, as a kindergartener, and as a new Montessori kid. So far, she has told me about every person who had to sit in the peace chair, a couple of the jobs she did and then, "That's all, Mom. The rest is a school secret."

I remember my mom pulling information out of me after school. I didn't always want to give it up but then other days, I'd spout off about everybody in my class. So, I guess I'll be patient for the days she is in the sharing mood.

June and I got to enjoy some mother daughter coffee time while Mags was as school-it's kind of like it's her turn now to hang solo with the folks for a few years. She's seriously the happiest kid. Her new thing: "Mom, watch this!!" (it doesn't matter what she's doing) Love it.

And to all lovers of this uber connected era, if you want to follow me, here's my twitter. If you want to follow Jason click here. (I find out more about him on Twitter than in the same house sometimes) Should I start a separate one for "band on the diaper run?" No. It would be redundant. (Although isn't that what the tech world is becomming anyway?)

On a more serious, more important note: A woman in Tibet sent us this video she made. I love when people find this kind of connection through music Also, you can show it to people who know something bad happened in Tibet but they aren't really sure what and they don't want to ask because they feel stupid or whatever...this pretty much sums it up.

Peace out.

Last Exit

editors — Thu, 31 May 2007 21:06:00 GMT

We left a thank-you note on the counter bidding farewell to our friends. I also left a couple pairs of underwear, which I've done on so many occasions traveling that it's become my tour trademark. We also left some toys, some books and my camera. Magnolia's been crying lots and lots at night, so none of us has been getting much sleep. Jason and I have vowed to do the cry-it-out method of sleep training when we get home. We did it when Magnolia was five months old and although it didn't make her sleep through the night, it did help her fall asleep on her own. Lately, nights have been as hard as when she was a newborn. So, I think we need to go back to the methods we used during her baby year. She is literally waking up all night long, unable to calm herself down. She's also only able to sleep in between her parents — who, I might add, haven't had a night alone in a long time, even though they spend every waking minute together.

The plane ride home, with a stop in Charlotte, was easy. I had to give Maggie my earplugs when her ears hurt and there was a little turbulence, but I only needed to take half my flight pill. There was a little baby in front of us. Her parents held her up over the seat facing us so Magnolia and the baby could entertain each other. This was a great time-waster considering we sat on the runway for an hour. Still, Mags kept saying, "How come we aren't flying yet?! I want to go in the air or get off of the plane!!" Could you imagine if she was on that Jet Blue flight that sat on the ground for thirteen hours? She would have freaked out. Or, maybe she would have just started singing, I have no idea. She is utterly unpredictable.

After we landed, we grabbed our suitcases, equipment and boxes of T-shirts, and took the train to the long-term parking lot at JFK. The parking lot felt like home. Magnolia really wanted to push the cart with her dad. So, the cart, with all ten bags piled on was pushed by Jason and a little squirt of a kid underneath him. I took a picture with my phone from behind them. (That's it, above.) And just then, feeling worn out and relieved to be home, I heard Magnolia singing, "How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man? / The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind / The answer is blowin in my wind." It doesn't get much better than that.

See this post in its original format here.

Unplugged

editors — Thu, 24 May 2007 21:01:00 GMT

We took Magnolia to sound check with us. This was the first time we didn't have anyone to watch her while we sound checked. Originally my mother was going to come to Texas with us, but since her mother passed away, we made other plans. We'd bring her along to the show until right before we played, and then we'd drop her at the house we were staying at. We were lucky that Sharon and Troy (our Dallas friends) were willing to babysit after having us wreck their house for three days.

At sound check, we got Mags an apple juice, put her headphones on and told her to sit behind us on the stage. She started coloring while we set up. She was great. Only, we had another problem to deal with: the organ was nowhere to be found. It was not shipped to Dallas as it was supposed to be. After a few phone calls, we found out that there was some bad communication with the shipping company and our organ was still sitting at the theater in Seattle. No one picked it up. So, as my family likes to say, we were up shit creek. We found a piano keyboard and quickly tried to learn a bunch of organ and bass songs on the piano. We had already worked up some unplugged songs from the This American Life Tour but there were about twelve more we had to pull off if we wanted to get paid that night, not to mention avoid ridicule for sucking. Normally, if this had happened, we would have spent hours practicing and working out the songs. But our little girl was sitting on the stage behind us, finishing up the third Dora the Explorer picture in her coloring book. So we knew we had limited time.

We've been contemplating losing the 200-pound beastly organ for some time. The problem is, it's our signature sound. Although we know we can make music without it, it might take listeners some time and some very open minds to get used to it. We realized we'd find out soon enough later that night. Throughout the sound check, we'd occasionally have to pause because a little person was tugging on my shirt from behind. We'd offer snacks, a headphone break, and of course Gummi Bears, if only she would allow us to do "one more song." I felt a little guilty until I looked back during the piano rendition of "Fraud in the '80s," Maggie's favorite song by Mommy and Daddy. She was swinging her hips back and forth. So, I figured if she was dancing, fooled into thinking the song is normal, then maybe everyone else would accept the new, organ-free Mates of State as well.

We left, a little insecure but with positive outlooks and headed to a horrible Mexican restaurant called "Taco Diner" in Dallas. They gave me a side of grease with my tacos. I'm not kidding. We all tasted it. Grease. After lunch, we drove around the outskirts of Dallas for an hour so Magnolia could finish her nap. Then we let the kids put their bathing suits on and pretend to go swimming since the pool wasn't opened yet. Before we left for the show, I kissed Magnolia goodbye and she said, "Don't worry, Mommy. I will not cry when you leave. I will be a good, big girl." I love her.

I'm not sure how the show went. (You can see clips here, here and here.) I think we pulled it off okay. It was kind of fun to be put in a situation that we might have thought unsalvageable in the past. Now that we're parents, I feel like we just accept situations with shitty circumstances if there is nothing we can do about it. That's Zen, right? Maybe that's what parenting gives you, Zen capabilities. Despite all the new worries, sleep deprivation and responsibility, you can shrug your shoulders when there is nothing else you can do about bad luck. Plus, another band's van got stolen after the show with all of their equipment inside. So, if anyone was standing around saying how we sucked without the organ, they forgot when the chaos surrounding the van theft began. I tried to offer the bummed-out band some money, but my money was just not gonna help, considering someone took their entire van with suitcases, amps, computers, guitars and all. I hope they find it — although the police in this neighborhood in Dallas completely ignored us when our van got broken into a few months ago. Might not be the best area for a rock show. Oh, well. Tour is over soon.

Once we came back from the show, Magnolia was up twice that night, balling her eyes out. She can't handle this whole sleeping-without-her-pacifier thing. I'm so tempted to go buy her more pacis and let her keep them another year, but Jason would kill me.

Next time: There's no place like home!

See this post in its original format here.

Lone Stars

editors — Thu, 10 May 2007 20:56:00 GMT

Magnolia sang the whole time on the flight. We recently learned some Bob Dylan songs back home. She likes to change the words to "Blowin' in the Wind." Her version goes something like this: "How many roads must Rhue (our cat) walk down, before you can call her a cat . . . " It's the never-ending version. She can substitute in everyone she knows. And those are her favorite kind of songs, the ones where she can include every name she can think of in the lyrics. She sang loud. She sang proud. I think I could see some passengers' eyes rolling after ten minutes, but there was no way in hell I was going to tell her to stop singing. Because that would mean the whining and crying would start. I tried to teach her what "inside singing" should sound like. But, come on, she's seen us sing inside a number of times. And there is no whispering involved when we sing. So those people had to deal with a a helium version of Dylan for a portion of their plane ride. Big deal. We thought it was funny. We are annoying parents.

In Dallas, we stayed with a friend Jason grew up with. His family has a huge swing set, tons of toys, princess dress-up clothes, smoked food and a nice house. They also have a mini four-wheeler, which their kids actually ride it in their fenced-in backyard, with helmets. The best part, though, was the Texas heat: when we walked off the plane, it felt like we were going on a spring break vacation. You could even smell flowers.

The oldest child there took Magnolia under her wing and they pretended to be sisters the whole weekend. The little boy, who changed his clothes every five minutes, drank syrup from the fridge and had more energy than anyone I'd ever met, filled Maggie's head with all sorts of new ideas. We really loved having her around two little ones, albeit a brother and sister who have night and day personalities. We debated adopting a six-year-old girl after spending the weekend there. I forgot that kids can go play in a totally different part of the house, while the adults sit around and talk. The idea of another child is starting to settle with me more now. However, touring with two kids? Impossible, I think. Although I know Kristen Hersch does it. And I know Low does it. But I wonder how hard it is.

Next time: We play our first acoustic show!

See this post in its original format here.

Redemption Song

editors — Thu, 03 May 2007 20:49:00 GMT

My close friend and our road nanny, Suzi, took a couple days away to fly to Seattle and babysit Magnolia for the night. All of us went to sound check. Magnolia met all of the This American Life folks: Ira Glass, David Rakoff, Chris Wilcha and her favorite, Jane Feltes, who seems to be running the show around here. At one point, David invited Magnolia onto the stage, front and center, to sing and dance. She got a little shy, although she loved standing up there. She loves performing even more. When she makes up songs or dances, she doesn't just sing and dance. She makes this intense face with her eyebrows creased and she holds her arms out as wide as she can. She gets into singing so much that if you interrupt her enough times she says, "Just a minute! I'm busy singing." I hope she never stops feeling it like this. I think we all felt it like that at some point in our lives. It's that meditative place that making and playing music can take you. I still feel it, most of the time, but we have so many other things floating around in our adult minds, we can't escape that easily while we sing.

I woke up the morning of the show with a migraine headache. Then my mom called to tell me that my Gramma had just passed away. I didn't cry. Something is wrong with me, surely. I cry at the thought of losing people. I even make up horrific stories imagining how my perfectly healthy family will die, and I cry about it. But I spent all morning trying to make these real, grief tears come out and they wouldn't. I was close to my Gramma. I am a lot like her and my mother, but I'd save the crying for later, I guess. I did feel different playing the show that night. I never played better actually. I hit every note perfectly, I sang on tune (I think), I didn't get nervous, and I nailed all of Ira's cues for the first time. I think my Gramma was watching us play. In fact, I think her and my Grandpa were dancing on the stage, or maybe up in the rafters while we played. I do believe in that kind of thing happening.

We had to change our flight plans. We were going to stay and extra day in Seattle to record a song. But, the funeral... So, we paid our 2,000 bucks (yes, 2,000 dollars) to change our flights plans from Seattle to Dallas (stopover) to Kansas City (funeral) to Dallas (to play a show) to New York (mom's house). We got up early, drank two coffees each, Magnolia had an organic chocolate milk and we split a Starbucks muffin. We lugged all of our suitcases and equipment (minus the organ which will be shipped to Dallas), pleaded with the cab driver to take us to the airport five minutes away even though we didn't have a carseat, and we convinced Mags that another plane ride would be fun since she's sooo friendly now.

This plane ride, broken into two separate plane rides, was a little harder for her. At one point we put every barrette we could find in her very fine hair and took pictures. She loooves taking pictures and looking at them. Who knew the digital camera age would be so helpful for parents trying to buy time on airplanes with their young children? On a side note, Magnolia now has a mullet of the variety that is usually seen on young babies. She is quite aware of the fact that now she has hair. In fact, she was fully aware when she was bald that she did not have hair. Although we convinced then her that bald is beautiful, we're happy to report the hair on the back of her head is growing strong. The hair on top is of the slow-growing variety. Throughout the flight she did continue to tell people hello, and then shout, "See how friendly I am! I'm such a big girl, everyone!" while wearing lipstick and ten to twenty sparkly barrettes in her wispy head of hair.

For the funeral service, my two sisters and I decided to talk about our grandmother. We put together stories and poems and lists of things she loved that will always remind us of her. I was torn on what to do with Magnolia when we got to the church. An aunt of mine volunteered to babysit. But Jason decided that there was nothing wrong with bringing her into the service. I was just worried about a two-and-a-half-year-old seeing all of her favorite people blubbering and sobbing. But she was totally entertained throughout the funeral. She sat on Jason's lap and loved hearing Mommy, her aunts and her grandparents get up and "tell stories on the microphone." And when a soloist sang "How Great Thou Art," my Gramma's favorite song, Magnolia sang with her (with her own unintelligible words, of course).

An old, dear friend of mine came to the funeral and luncheon. We were in a band together ten years ago. She doesn't play much music anymore because she has three kids. But I still think of her as one of my musical soul mates. When she unexpectedly walked into the service, I cried hard. It's amazing what an old friend can bring out in you. Then I hugged my mom, although not long enough after all she's been through this week, and we were off again.

Next time: Our Dallas show unexpectedly becomes Mates of State: Unplugged!

See this post in its original format here.

Fly Girl

editors — Thu, 26 Apr 2007 20:41:00 GMT

Sometimes, your kids surprise you in the best ways. On a recent flight to Seattle, Magnolia suddenly became "friendly airport kid." She made her way around the gate area, making observations about everyone. "Hey, she has flip-flops on . . . it's not really time for flop-flops yet!!" "Look, Mommy, she's laying down on the floor!" "Hey, he looks like Daddy kind of, except he's bigger!" Everyone laughed. Clad in her silver fluffy skirt and bright red tights and radiating her new "love everyone" personality, she was named "Little Miss Sunshine" by the flight attendants. She was so good, even I couldn't believe it — especially after the hell we've been going through with the whole paci thing.

She might have pissed off one passenger, though. On one of her many walks to the bathroom (remember: she was just potty-trained, which means she feels she must sit on a public toilet every ten minutes), she started a sunshiny conversation with the lady in front of us.

Magnolia: "Hi!"

Lady in front of us: "Well, hello."

M: "Um, this is my Daddy. Do you have a Daddy?"

Lady: "I used to, but he's not here any more."

M: "Oh, well . . . when are you gonna get a new Daddy?" (Nice to know she sees parents as totally replaceable). The woman chuckled and we started to feel a little uncomfortable, so we started trying to reel in our friendly little daughter.

But, before we contained her in our row she had one last thing to say/shout.

M: "You know what? Your hair is kind of messy!" And she laughed and pointed at the lady's hair!

Humiliating or hilarious? I'm trying to figure it out.

I did have a little talk about saying the right things to people when you notice things about them. That conversation totally confused our two-and-a-half-year-old, so I wish I had just left the situation alone. Luckily, the hair comment was made in the final thirty minutes of a seven-hour trip. And, the woman's hair was pretty messy. Maggie tells us all the time when our hair is messy and we all laugh. So I think we're in a new phase of parenting: the phase where our child might be cute and friendly, but also could occasionally be rude and forward and embarrassing. Either way, she ruled on the airplane. She only said she wanted to get off two times. And she wore her seat belt. And she fell asleep in my arms before we landed.

See this post in its original format here.

Pacified

editors — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 20:31:00 GMT

The snowman is melting. If we let her, Magnolia would watch the snowman melt all day long, like old people on their porches watch the grass grow. She explains to us over and over that he will melt all the way down. It will get warm and the snowman will melt. Once when we were driving in the tour van and she was watching the Frosty the Snowman movie with her headphones on, she suddenly started crying and screaming. We couldn't figure out what was wrong until I looked at the DVD player and realized that Frosty had melted. This might have been a little traumatic for her at the time. But now somehow she is able to make the connection that sun melts snow and snowmen are made of snow. And she is totally enthralled in this process. She is similarly fascinated when butter melts on toast.

Magnolia decided last night (a.k.a. the day before we are due to fly to Seattle and go on tour for a week, sleep in hotels, fly on airplanes, etc.) that she wanted to mail her pacifiers to babies who need them. She said she was ready to start being a big kid. In the past month, she has potty-trained herself and now, after a year of our unsuccessful attempts to remove the plastic from her mouth, she has decided it's time. The binky has been causing her front two teeth to stick out and has been making her breath smell absolutely foul in the morning (the smell is termed "paci breath" in our family). And we've gotten pretty sick of other parents passing judgment when they find out our very verbal two-and-a-half-year-old still uses a pacifier.

We were pretty overjoyed that she came up with the notion to get rid of all pacifiers on the spot and to mail them in an envelope to "babies everywhere" last night. At the time, she seemed to clearly understand that once she sent them away, they would not come back at bedtime. But of course, now the withdrawal has begun. Last night, she had to sleep in our bed (something we gave up a year ago due to severe lack of sleep on my part), and she woke up every hour and cried. So you can imagine the amount of crankiness we've been dealing with today. Plus, I didn't sleep at all. If I don't get any sleep, I am capable of adult tantrums. Then when I just put her down for her much-needed nap, she screamed, pounded the floor and acted like the baby that she doesn't want to be anymore — for over an hour.

What Magnolia didn't know yet was that, when you give your pacifiers away, the paci fairy comes. So Magnolia earned some new dress-up princess clothes from the "paci fairy," and she spends her overtired minutes putting them on, taking them off, putting them on, taking them off, etc. And although she needs help, she thinks she doesn't. So I get yelled at every time I help her pull the pink taffeta fluff over the princess tiara. At one point, Magnolia broke down and told me to "go find more pacis in the house right now!" And when I came back, she had already cried herself to sleep. I might go buy a pacifier for the plane ride tomorrow. No one will be able to bear an overtired, paci-grieving toddler on a six-hour flight.

Oh, and we bought a house! We thought about going back to San Francisco, or moving to Chicago or Austin, but we came to the conclusion that touring on the east coast is easier, it's nice to have grandparents nearby (free babysitting) and we can't quite afford living in the heart of any big cities yet. So we're still in Connecticut, only a lot closer to New York. And now we're off to Seattle.

Next week: A very surprising plane ride.

See this post in its original format here.

Fur Real

editors — Thu, 12 Apr 2007 20:18:00 GMT

PETA asked us a year ago if we wanted to be part of their anti-fur campaign. We aren't vegans, so we aren't perfect animal rights activists, but we do believe that the fur industry is really unnecessary and cruel. (Watch a video of me and Jason talking about this here.) So we finally got around to posing for a picture for them. We posed naked, or rather, almost naked — our pants were pulled down but they were still on. It was funny. The photographer felt uncomfortable telling me when to cover my "er, um, nipples". We really thought no one would even notice that we did this, but we had a lot of backlash, as well as many supportive comments. I guess that means the effect was positive, since it got people talking. Plus, this might be the first time in history that people talking about our band focused something other than our marriage. Some of the mean comments have included how we look like trolls, and how we are hypocrites because I have a diamond on my finger and the diamond industry is equally as horrible. I don't remember the good comments. That's a fault of mine. I hear the negative ones over and over but I can't remember the nice words. Whatever. . . we were trying to do something we felt strongly about.

As we're debating our nude PETA photo, we notice something ironic in the very room we are sitting in. We're staying with my parents until our new house is ready, and Magnolia is eating her breakfast next to something she (and her parents) are a little frightened of. Hint: it's not the TV or the enormous Elmo. Check it out.

We never got asked to advertise our objections to hunting, so for the record, we object. And also for the record, my father hasn't shot anything in a long time. He has finally started leaning toward us "bleeding heart liberals," right Dad? Anyway, if we took naked pictures in protest of everything we didn't agree with, we'd be walking around buck naked all the time.

Next time: Magnolia faces her pacifier addiction, and we get ready to rock the west coast!

See this post in its original format here.

This American Life

editors — Thu, 05 Apr 2007 18:47:00 GMT

We are playing with the "This American Life" tour at the famous and beautiful Chicago Theater. It is beautiful. Last night, we played an equally incredible theater in Minneapolis. The whole time we were in Minnesota, all anyone could talk about was the four feet of snow expected to start that evening, which would supposedly lead to our being stranded there and having to cancel the Chicago show. I asked Ira Glass what he would have done if no other performers had made it through the snow. He simply replied, "I would have done the show by myself."

(Jason and me in the Chicago Theater)

The authors on this tour are now my favorites. They are all a little older and more experienced than I am, and they all have the social gift of restraint and quick wit. I, on the other hand, blab until (with luck) something interesting comes out. Dan Savage is funny and sweet and has given us parenting advice (he says to have a second baby soon). He notices pretty architecture even though he has a near-broken leg from snowboarding. David Rakoff is the most friendly. He's also highly intelligent and I hope he never catches me reading People. David even carried my heavy bag one night when we all walked from the venue to the hotel and we talked about how musty-smelling thrift stores make people like myself have to uh . . . use the bathroom. I'm tempted to tell him I love him. Sarah Vowell is quiet, but I love her dry wit. When I do hear her talk, she always has something witty and memorable to say. On the first page of her book Assassination Vacation, she talks about the assassination of Abe Lincoln by the slave-lovin' John Wilkes Booth. I am actually related to John Wilkes Booth. Seriously. My Gramma studied our geneology and, along with the guy who invented Morse Code, we are in the same family tree as Lincoln 's murderer. I considered mentioning this to Sarah in hopes of sparking a conversation, but then I realized that it might be what people call a skeleton in the closet. Jonathan Goldstein is laid-back. He's off the tour now, but I feel like if he were still here, we'd be friends by now. I liked him. Oh, and Chris Wilcha rules. I think that guy is the most like us. He's the producer of This American Life, the TV show. He's nervous, too, to be in front of this audience. But his work is brilliant and he has a daughter a year younger than Magnolia. (Could he be a Mate-ster?) He mentioned he'd like to do a video for us and we about wet ourselves.

Eventually, this tour will make us feel smarter. It's like playing soccer against a better team; you play better defense and you are more calculated in your offense because the stakes have been raised. We feel like we will make better music and perhaps tell better stories.

I am backstage and I just got off the phone with Magnolia. Here is our conversation:

"HI Mommy. What are you doing?

"I'm getting ready to play music. What are you doing?"

"I'm playing with Beat. (Beat is her aunt, my sister Kristin, who has a slightly small head and was nicknamed Beetlejuice and then Beat for short)."

"What are you playing?

"ARE YOU THERE, MOMMY??" (She likes imitating the cellphone generation and shrieking, "Can you hear me now?")

"Yes, I'm here. Can you hear me?"

"Yes I can hear you. I was just checking if you were still there. ARE YOU STILL THERE, MOMMY?"

"Yes, I'm still here."

"Oh, actually I'm hungry and I"m gonna go eat right now."

"What are you gonna eat for dinner?"

"Um, spaghetti and then Beat will give me some candy . . .

"Oh, you must have been a good girl."

"No, I'm a good boy. Say I'm a good boy, Mommy"

"Good boy. I miss you."

"I miss you too. ARE YOU THERE, MOMMY?"

"Yes. I'm here still. Do you want to say hi to Daddy?"

"Yes. I want to talk to Daddy now."

"I love you. I will see you tomorrow."

"LOOOVE YOOOOOUUUU. SEE YOU TOMOOOORROW!"

Then she had the exact same conversation with Jason.

Next time: we pose (naked) for PETA!

(David Rakoff, Jason, Dan Savage, Chris Wilcha, Jane Feltes and me (looking fat, I might add) on the "This American Life" tour)

See this post in its original format here.

Mate-sters

editors — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 18:39:00 GMT

We got up at 7:30 with Mags, made her scrambled eggs and played hide-and-go-seek. Then she washed her hands for fifteen minutes while I took a shower. She said she'd like to go to the mall playground today (not many options aside from that when it's so damn cold out and we are staying at my parents' house); I guiltily informed her that Gramma will have to take her since we'll be in New York playing music. We really wanted to bring her to the show, but realized this was for a selfish reason: to show off that we have a child to these people who don't know us. This sounds weird, but for some reason, people are nicer to you when they know you are parents. Whether I'm trying to cross the street or eating at a restaurant, people are more frequently rude to me when I don't have Magnolia.

Speaking of rude, I just read this New York Times article that a certain judgmental, conservative guy wrote about "hipster parents." His argument is that these parents, like "the rock mom that writes blogs on Babble.com," are trying to make their kids just like themselves instead of letting them be normal. Here's what the rock mom has to say to him:

We are normal people. We happen to like music that you actually might have to go to record stores to find. Getting into music is a great hobby — it's more fulfilling for us than, say, getting into sports — but we also take Magnolia to museums and concerts, basketball games and parks. Our friends knit her things and give her designer clothing occasionally, but we also buy her Elmo toys and Old Navy T-shirts and let her watch the Wiggles daily. I don't think singing Bob Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind" with my two-year-old or buying her a great pair of headphones so she can see bands play should really bug anyone. And furthermore, I see my more mainstream parent friends dressing their kids just like they dress, in J. Crew sweaters and khakis. So if my kid wearing a Beatles T-shirt (that you can buy at Target, by the way) means that she is being forced into some horrible, hip lifestyle, then so be it. Actually, by choice, she wears a bathing suit over her clothes right now. And I know that she didn't get that idea from me; she's not a bathing-suit-over-clothes-wearing, mini-version of me. I let her have the freedom to choose how she looks and what she does with her free time, and it's not always what I like.

Reading the article and discussing it with friends led to an entirely different conversation about how no matter what subculture you identify with, there will be backlash. The Mates of State are considered among the rock community to be a sweet, wholesome family band, and many times people assume that we must be inexperienced, cheesy lovebirds: un-opinionated, conservative and Christian. We can't seem to shake the "too normal for rock" image in our own "hipster" genre. And now, as you can see, in the other subculture we fit into, the one of parents, we bug people, like this man, because we actually like our jobs and we pursue our dreams and our kids think that's normal. It seems we can't make the rockers happy because we are happily married, and we can't make the normal family people happy because our kids might know what a soundcheck is.

We would like to invite others who don't fit into to either side of the pendulum into our new genre. The one called "Mate-sters." Yep, that's it. It's a horribly appropriate title for our kind of peeps. We've met them all over. In fact, on this tour, we've seen parents bringing their kids to shows, kids making T-shirts for bands, and next month we're going to see a couple family bands that play for other families. In this subculture, you are allowed to put your kids in Chuck-Ts, hand knit ear muffs and ironic skull T-shirts. You are also allowed to take your kids to McDonalds, even if it's just to go on the playground. We won't give up the rock, and we'll keep our kids safe and happy.

But tonight, Magnolia will be happier making snowmen with her favorite person, Gramma, instead of backstage (although the green room at Lincoln Center is nicer than our living room at home). And we'll be better off knowing she is tucked into bed while we walk onto one of the biggest stages we've ever played, nerves in full form.

Next time: Playing the famous Chicago Theater with our new friends from "This American Life"!

(Mate-sters Jason and Magnolia build a snowman)

See this post in its original format here.

Training Day

editors — Thu, 22 Mar 2007 18:33:00 GMT

The question of the week from our friends and family: "How did you guys get this gig?"

We feel the same way. How the hell did we land this tour with This American Life host Ira Glass and some of the most talented, funny and inspiring people we've ever been around? We'll be playing Lincoln Center, The Boston Opera House and the famous Chicago Theater, to name a few. So with that come the perpetual insecurities about our performances and the idea that if we mess up, no one will ever ask us to do thisagain. We can't possibly be professional enough. We have been basically shitting bricks between every song and cue from Ira — who has, by the way, one of the most engaging voices I've ever heard. He can say something off-the-cuff that you totally believe in and want to build a religion around. And he's witty and articulate while somehow making everyone present feel included in the joke. (We feel dumb.)

The question of the week from Magnolia: "Do I get a gummy for going poopie in the potty again?" She has potty-trained herself.

I swear, if you don't pressure your child into this milestone, you are better off. She watched this '70s-style video called Once Upon a Potty and she was hooked. She does still get gummies for pooping in the toilet, but we are weaning her off the sugary reward this week. The only downside to her training is that she wakes up at three in the morning to take a dump. And you can't just say, "Nope, not now, please just do it in your diaper this time, potty training doesn't count at three a.m." You have to be encouraging, even if it means waking up in the middle of the night only to sit next to your two-year-old in the wee night hours, grunting and standing up after every grunt to look if anything came out. For twenty minutes.

Up next: Lincoln Center, and a new rock-and-roll parenting manifesto!

See this post in its original format here.

Home At Last!

editors — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 19:30:00 GMT

We're home!

Here's our advice for any parent in a band considering bringing a small child on tour:

1. Stay in hotels near the club.
2. Put diapers, peanut butter and bread on the rider.
3. Get some good, junior-sized headphones for hearing protection. They're available at gun shops, not music stores (wtf?).
4. Put the car seat in the first van row of seats. (We used to think our little girl never got car sick, too).
5. Bringing Grandma might actually be a great idea, even though you are embarking on a rock and roll adventure. (She'll let you sleep in.)
6. Get a DVD player for the car — yes, those ones you hate seeing in SUVs.
7. Stop for a few days in kid-friendly cities (San Francisco, Chicago), and anywhere with a beach.
8. Don't schedule drives for more than a few hours between shows unless you have a day off.
9. Let your child be a part of what you do. I never knew what my dad did at the office. Magnolia knows how to set up a drum kit. And she writes songs for us!
10. Don't let anyone tell you that it's not right to do what you are doing to your child. Trust me, we've had everything from someone telling us the music is not good for her little heart to someone waving the "tsk-tsk" finger at us for having her up too late. (We were still on New York time in Amsterdam and she was hungry, so we were out feeding her.)
11. Enjoy spending more time with your child than most people get to.

"Band on the (Diaper) Run" will now take a short hiatus. Thanks — and get some sleep — Kori, Jason and Magnolia!

See this post in its original format here.

Homeward Bound

editors — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 19:26:00 GMT

Dallas, Texas

Sons of Herman Hall is haunted. So was Tucson's Hotel Congress and the shower of that English sea town we stayed in, but those ghosts were nice. Here, I think I pissed off the ghosts because we stole their fake campfire to use as a stage prop. Our car got broken into while we played. Luckily, the alarm was set, so the only damage done was a broken window. Nothing was stolen. I wasn't even really in a bad mood while I swept all the glass out of the van at three a.m. We rode on the highway with a cardboard window the next day. Because of the snow storm, our T-shirt shipment didn't make it to us in time. We make our money from merch sales. After realizing that using a sharpie pen to design some new shirts to sell wouldn't quite cut it, we just shrugged our shoulders one more time and said, "And so it goes on the road." (Big Star) That was the soundtrack to the load-out tonight.

Austin Texas Airport

There's a TV in the background showing a choir of girls ooohing the song "Silent Night." There's something about the first time I hear Christmas carols every year that warms my heart. I could cry, but I'm suffering from exhaustion and almost anything makes me cry these days. It's the end of tour. A long year of tour. Magnolia's been home for a week. I won't do that again -- be away from her for so long. She had to go home because tour got too hard for her . . . the long drives, the adult world, the constant motion and unpredictablility. All I can think about is getting home to her and being Mom again. Silent night, I can't wait. We decided she can sleep in our bed tonight. Even if she moves around, flailing arms and all, she is welcome next to us.

See this post in its original format here.

Lubbock Or Leave It

editors — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 19:10:00 GMT

Lubbock, Texas

A girl came up to me tonight after we played and asked if she could touch my nose. Weird. I let her. But then she traced the length of my nose to the point where I realized she had a nose fetish. I watched her do the same thing to Jason. The crowd in Lubbock is the kind that cheers after organ solos in the middle of songs.

We called Magnolia tonight, as we do every night. She asked if I was gonna bring her anything. When I told her about the Native American necklace and coyote book I bought her, she said, "What else are you gonna bring me, Mommy?" This continued for ten minutes. I miss her. I will buy her more gas station treasures.

The roads from New Mexico (where we played last night) and Lubbock are closed. There was a blizzard and a twenty car-semi-truck pile-up on the highway. Asobi Seksu was behind it and they sat on the highway for nine hours, stopped. We told them to find a hotel and meet us at the next show. The next show was canceled because the storm reached Oklahoma. We were stuck in Lubbock for an extra night.

Suzi (nanny/tour manager/stylist/lifestyle consultant) and I went to the only store in town and bought new wardrobes. At Old Navy, one of the workers had been to the show, so she gave us a discount. If only there was an H&M.

At the hotel, there was a jacuzzi right next to the bed. There was also a bathtub in the bathroom, but they wanted to make it a bridal suite or something and just installed the jacuzzi right next to the king-size bed. More people should play in Lubbock.

See this post in its original format here.

Insane Clown Posse

editors — Tue, 06 Feb 2007 19:06:00 GMT

Phoenix, AZ

The best thing that happened tonight was James from Asobi Seksu agreeing to be pied in the face with the cake in the green room. We ate half of it first, and then Jason smashed it in his face. That's one of those clown tricks that is actually hilarious in real life. We tried to stage a big fight between the bands on camera, but we were having way too much fun with the cake-in-the-face idea. Early on in the day we stopped at Jimmy Eat World's studio and recorded some backing vocals for one of their new songs. They are super nice guys and even though we are so not pro in the studio, Jim was patient with us while we sang a bunch of oooohs. Twas cool. We talked about our kids with them. It's always nice to find people doing this music thing with kids. I want to start some sort of petition to insist on rock clubs making accommodations for family bands. Like, a little clean play space, a breastpumping area or a free, background-checked babysitter. That would be so rock and roll.

See this post in its original format here.

L.A. Story

editors — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 19:01:00 GMT

Los Angeles

We've played the Troubador a million times. This time, we moved to the El Rey. We were stoked. It's bigger and nicer and something new. Unfortunately, the staff was weird. I heard them being rude to people in line outside. I heard them treating Asobi Seksu (the opening band we are touring with now) with less than acceptable kindness. The monitor guy messed up at the end of the set, so we couldn't play one of the songs we had planned on playing. None of us even met the promoter until the end of the night. When we complained about the attitude of the staffers, he went and bitched them all out while we were still there, so we left feeling like everyone who worked there not only didn't like us but thinks we're divas, too. Oh, L.A.!

(With Asobi Seksu and The Botticellis.)

San Diego

The first time we played the Epicenter, we were opening for Mars Volta on their first tour with The Anniversary, who broke up years ago. It was 2001. I had an eye infection that night from dropping a booger in my eye in bed the night before. I haven't told many people. It's so embarrassing. We had been on tour for three months straight without a break. We were pissed at The Anniversary because some lame tour things happened and we felt slighted. We bonded with Omar and Cedric from Mars Volta. They bonused us money because they thought the guarantee from The Anniversary was insulting (which it was). Jason's kick drum wouldn't stay put, so he asked if anyone could sit in front of it (he was kidding). This man of short stature (I am politically correct and don't use the m word) volunteered. So this man of short stature sat in front of the drum for half the set. It was a sight. He also had a big afro, as many At the Drive In fans had at that time. He did some freestyle rapping in the parking lot after the show, too. He ruled.

This time around, we realized how nice everyone in San Diego is. We chatted with some kids after the show, and they talked about how they think our music is happy on the surface but dark if you analyze it. I liked them.

The saddest part of the day was taking Magnolia and my mom to the airport. They are going home for a week. They need a break. So do we, but we have to make our mortgage money. I went into the airport with them. There were lines everywhere. That feeling of saying goodbye to your family in an airport has always been hard for me. I walked with them all the way to the security gate. Mags kissed me and we said, "I love you," to each other. Then I started crying while I hugged my mom and said, "Take care of my baby." My mom knows we're tired. She knows we've worked hard. She knows I'd rather be home with my kid. She has always been happy for us that we're "following our dreams," but as I get older, I realize my dream is just being a good mother, daughter, friend. Music is the soundtrack, not the goal.

See this post in its original format here.

Love-In

editors — Mon, 22 Jan 2007 18:53:00 GMT

New York City — V Magazine party

Jetlagged and on the go again, we got free, swanky hotel rooms and a thousand bucks to play in front of models, magazine people and designers. I felt short and ugly when I walked into the party room at the W hotel. But people listened when we played, and we got to invite twenty of our ugliest friends (just kidding; all of our friends are hot) to mingle with fashionistas. The V people are sweet.

San Francisco (our favorite city in the world)

There is no better feeling on tour than returning to San Francisco. When people ask Magnolia where she is from, she replies, "Tan Pranpeepco" (San Francisco). She has never lived there, but maybe she just feeds off of our desire to return.

We played two nights at the Great American Music Hall. When the crowd sang along to the line "tired of singing" at the end of the first night's set, it almost made me cry. It's like all of our hometown friends were saying, "We know, we get it, this is where you are loved. We'll take care of you and we'll sing with you to make it better." I'm so cheesy, but I just f'n love this place.

Another holiday on the road, Thanksgiving. We went to a co-op preschool with some friends and ate the best turkey molé sauce I've ever had and watched Mags play with kids in the Bump a Dump room of the school. This is a room covered in mattresses: a huge, floor-level bed to jump on.

We took a morning to visit the Habitot Museum in Berkeley. Mags couldn't get enough of it. Clay, face paint, a spaceship with tons of buttons, and music. Given its multiculturalism and welcoming vibe, I'd buy a yearly pass if I lived here.

Speaking of which, we looked at a house in Berkeley for sale. Still too expensive here. Maybe someday.

See this post in its original format here.

14 Things We Hate (And Love) About You

editors — Tue, 16 Jan 2007 17:41:00 GMT

Things we like about England

1. Hobnobs (good oatmeal cookies).
2. Boots brand chapstick. It's way less waxy than ours.
3. Clotted cream and scones (our nanny can't get enough)
4. Real BBC news television. The news seems a bit more realistic and less sensationalized than let's say, um, FOX.
5. Television actors aren't as overpaid as Hollywood ones.
6. Bollywood.
7. Indian food. You can find it everywhere, even at rest stops, even at McDonalds. Except, of course, when you are really hungry.
8. The way the one pound coin (quid) feels. It seems like you are holding a piece of gold from the olden days. It rules over the quarter, nickel, dime, penny and especially the paper dollar . . . and not just because it's worth more.
9. The old ladies. Older English ladies are sweet and offer you tea. They're not as snotty as the younger generation of English women. Plus, they're such bad dressers that it's cute. All those crazy hats and horrible floral dresses.
10. Fireworks day. They don't have July 4th over here, of course, but that didn't stop the Brits from finding some reason to have a national day for pretty bombs bursting in air. No one can convincingly explain the reason behind the holiday.
11. English commercials. They have made us cry and laugh.
12. It's not that far from New York.
13. Borat is actually English when he's not in Borat get-up.
14. The lottery TV show. We are addicted. They give you the first part of a word and if you can guess the second part, you can call in and win 20,000 pounds. It's so stupid but so good. (The first one was: head____). I tried to call in to guess "headless" (the clue was Halloween), but they make it kind of hard to get through.

Things we hate about England

1. Snotty people.
2. Baby-talk sayings ("mushy peas," "cheeky monkey," "nappies," "nobbly")

3. Skinny roads not meant for anythings bigger than a mini.
4. Lack of street signs.
5. Rules, and the undying need to make everyone follow them. It makes me love not being proper. Live free or die!
6. The weather. Why would you live here if you know how great the sun feels on your face?
7. The food. How come these limeys aren't all fat? All we can find to eat is biscuits and chips.

8. NME, the weekly music mag. It sucks. But we like trying to find people we know in the pictures.
9. The feeling of entitlement. Everyone feels compelled to tell you what they think.
10. Where are the king size beds for families to sleep in?
11. Hotels are too expensive. (Hence, the RV.)
12. Why does every American who comes here start adopting the Brisitsh accent? It's catchy. I hear my friends starting to end their questions in an ascending fashion and feel concerned.
13. Assigned seating in movie theaters. So you still have a first-come, first-serve situation, only people take time picking their seats with the ticket window guy. It makes no sense. And if you want 'posh" seats, you have to pay extra. The posh seats are just a little bit cushier and a little farther away from the screen.
14. Catherine Tate, some British comedian. The only reason I say this is because people keep telling me I look like her and I've gotten the feeling she's not very attractive.

See this post in its original form here.

Ready For Her Close-up

editors — Tue, 09 Jan 2007 17:29:00 GMT

Nottingham, England

We've played this town a bunch. The first time we played here at Rescue Rooms, some kids blew bubbles at us while we played. The second time, the kids who were blowing bubbles at us played in the opening band. The third time, we opened for the New Pornographers and no one posted that we were playing. This time, again with no promotion, we played in the much larger, 2,000-capacity venue, opening for We Are Scientists. They're Americans, but huge in England. It's so weird how spoon-fed the Brits are with music. There are a million dude bands that all sound alike. They all have one hit and they play these massive tours here, and NME, the weekly music rag, just goes on and on about how hot they are. Who cares? Well, just about everyone in this dreary country.

We've been a band for nine years. We booked our own tours all around the world for a long time. We've packaged up cds for mail order in our Motel 6 rooms and slept on nice peoples' floors. We toured in a minivan and finally graduated to a full-sized van when we added two crew members to make us a total of five people on tour (including Magnolia). Our four records, six singles and some other EPs were all released on independant record labels. We've always made the music we wanted to make and at one point I think we believed that we would be widely appreciated for doing something genuine and original. Not in England. I don't think we'll ever come back here.

Sorry to be so Debbie Downer. I got in a fight with some slimy little guy at the merch table. I was our selling T-shirts and cds (trying to, anyway). This guy got angry that he stood in the wrong line and when he realized I was in the opening band he proceeded to tell me what was wrong with our band: we needed to play a little more variety of songs, blah blah blah. I blew up. We had a "discussion" about the way people listen to music and where they get music from. He did admit that he mistook me for the other opening band and that he'd buy a cd for half price. I told him that this was how we made a living and that there was no way I'd give him a cd that cheap, especially after what he said. He felt he bought his right to tell me what he thought since he paid for a ticket. Well, I guarantee that his twenty pounds didn't reach our pockets. We will actually be losing money on this tour. The funny thing is — and I know I sound conceited here — we freaking kicked ass tonight. Sadly, no one noticed. Tomorrow will be better.

Somewhere else in England

We are at a camp site. There is a playground here. Magnolia played this awesome game with some little red-headed English boys. They made her a sword (a stick) and told her to point it at them and change them into different animals and characters. She giggled the most when they pretended to be old men. We showered at the camp site because the showers here are far better than the ones inside the club. I haven't washed my hair in days, but it kind of looks better that way. Magnolia talks in her sleep like her father. She woke up and reached her hands up in the middle of the night and said, "Uppy, uppy, uppy" before going back to sleep. It's not as bad as when I woke up to find Jason barking like a dog at the end of the bed in his sleep. I'm a light sleeper. I wish I could be such a heavy sleeper that I turned into a dog in the middle of the night. We all decided that the highlight of the day is seeing what kind of songs Magnolia comes up with when she plays her little guitar. She's fixated on this one called "Goodnight." We decided we might work that song into a new one we're working on.

Mags took her bath in the backstage sink after making her first on-stage debut.

We Are Scientists do a cover of "End of the Road" (yes, the Boys to Men '90s hit) as an encore and all the bands return to the stage to sing the chorus with them. Since Mags was with us watching from the side of the stage, we brought her out with us. She waved to t he crowd at the end of the song and then immediately after leaving the stage, she shouted, "That was fun!!" Jason and I have this conversation all the time: We don't want her to be in band unless she fully realizes why it's not the best thing to do with your life unless you are absolutely passionate about it and can deal with all the bullshit.

See this post in its original form here.

British Invasion

editors — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 17:03:00 GMT

Iceland Airwaves Festival

This year has been packed: record-release stuff, touring non-stop in this country, Europe on our own, then with The New Pornographers, then back home for a tour, then selling our house, or trying to, then going back to England. By far, Iceland was the best stop we've made. Have you heard of the Blue Lagoon? I believe it is the fountain of youth. It's a giant hot springs with healing blue-green algae and possibly radioactive water. We felt younger after being in it. Rumor has it that Lou Reed was here a couple of weeks ago. Supposedly he hates sight-seeing and only wants to stay in his hotel when on tour. After being coaxed into visiting the blue lagoon, he apparently got up every single morning he was there and took a dip in the world's biggest bath tub. It is seriously addictive.

England Tour with We Are Scientists

Last night we tried to give Magnolia a proper Halloween in a London airport hotel. She wanted to be a tiger, and she wanted me to be the mommy tiger. So, I brought the costumes and whisker make-up and got excited with her as we paraded around the hotel lobby as the only Halloweeners. Then we all decided to take a bus ride to an indoor shopping area. Magnolia managed to get a few packs of gummy bears trick-or-treating the hotel staff when we got home.

The next morning, I woke up suddenly and reached for the phone. Then I realized it was not the phone making all the insanely loud beeping. Perhaps it was the bathroom light? So I ran for that. I didn't want our very tired toddler to wake up. Hitting every button in the room, it dawned on me that it was, in fact, the hotel smoke alarm. I opened the door to the hallway with one eye still closed and saw this sweaty little bellboy running down the hall. He nearly pulled me out of the room, shouting, "Fire!"

I mumbled, "Let me get my baby." He shouted back, "Hand me the baby! Let's go!" Um, no. She was awake at this point and I didn't need him to make things worse by carrying her. She's scared of strange men. So am I. We headed downstairs in our pjs only to find out that it was, as I expected, a false alarm. The showers apparently set off the smoke alarms due to too much steam or something. I also realized at this point, standing there in my black boots and pajamas (sans bra) that I had the flu. Throughout the ordeal, Jason was busy getting the RV. Suzi, our nanny, was downstairs waiting for the amps and organ to be delievered to the front desk. Thankfully, some genius parent thought to add a toddler gym to the hotel lobby here. I can blow my nose in peace and save my singing voice for tonight while Magnolia plays on the gym mats and makes faces in the funhouse mirror.

And so begins our fourth overseas tour this year. We promised each other last time that we wouldn't stand for the chaos associated with U.K. touring this time around. But, hey, here we are again.

See this post in its original format here.

Even More Tour Kids!

editors — Thu, 28 Dec 2006 17:00:00 GMT

Minneapolis!

Jason has wanted to play here at First Avenue since he was a young skater boy discovering punk rock and early indie bands. His entire family showed up tonight. Magnolia gets to stay at Grandma and Grandpa Hammel's house for a few days and play with her cousins. We like staying there too, of course. At the show, I mentioned something about dancing. Before we knew it, thirty-plus people climbed on stage to dance. It was chaos. Just amazing. Those moments playing live are the ones you remember. When people just want to join you, to be a part of it. And even though I worry about chords getting unplugged, and even though I wouldn't welcome it every night, tonight it felt so right.

See this post in its original format here.

More Tour Kids!

editors — Thu, 28 Dec 2006 16:49:00 GMT

On tour with the Starlight Mints

We're heading out for a three-week tour with Starlight Mints. Magnolia can't wait to do sound check and play Daddy's drums. She also loves Ryan, our sound guy, and has informed us she will be playing hide-and-seek with him every night. The best part is: the Mints have a daughter, Penny, who is two. We love that they will have playdates on tour. Sound check used to mark the most annoying hour of time each day. Now, it's Magnolia's time to perform. Mags likes the drums the best, but only if she can sing into a microphone at the same time. She loves sound check. She also loves Penny.

Highlights from the Starlight Mints tour (Boston-Montreal-Ann Arbor-Minneapolis-Philly-Lancaster-New York and a bunch more places in between)

1. Magnolia making best friends with Penny, Marion and Andy's daughter. Gotta love the tour kids.

2. Penny and Magnolia chasing each other for hours, sound-checking with the parents and hiding in the gear cases.

3. Watching Marion dance while the Mints played every night. I have no idea where she gets her energy.

4. Deciding that Lancaster, PA, is eerie. People have a glaze in their eyes there. Not too far from Three Mile Island. Of course, the people at the show were all completely sane and an amazing crowd. But our suspicions about creepy Lancaster were confirmed the next day when that horrible shooting at the Amish school happened. We felt the sadness in the air before anything even happened.

5. Sold out Irving Plaza in NYC for the first time. After playing the Big Apple twenty times in our lifetime as a band, we were stoked.

6. Dancing on stage for that "Woo-hoo" song by the Mints.

7. Okay, this sounds absurd for a highlight but . . . Magnolia threw up for the first time on this tour. Motion sickness in the mountains while driving. Even though it was heartbreaking, it was a lifetime first — a milestone, if you will. We moved her car seat up a row in the car and told her not to watch the trees out the window anymore. Right after she ralphed she said, "I really didn't like that." Smart girl.

8. Jam session in the old rectory-turned-band-housing at the Parish in Pittsburgh. We used the piano and some old, out-of-tune hand drums and world instruments. It ruled.

9. Playing Mafia with everyone on tour. Mafia is our favorite parlor game. You try your best to lie to your friends. You learn a lot about your friends' dark sides.

10. Playing a modified version of Mafia with just Jason and Suzi. We lied to each other and tried to see if we could detect any subtle face movements. You know those people who can detect liars 99% of the time? We're working on that skill. We just took turns lying to each other over and over as Magnolia slept ten feet away.

11. Ryan from the Mints coming on stage during "Running Out" and pretending to play bass. He "plugged-in" to a suitcase.

See this post in its original format here.

Tour Kids!

editors — Thu, 28 Dec 2006 16:46:00 GMT

On tour with Death Cab for Cutie

When Magnolia walked into her first arena venue she did not want to talk to anyone. We tried our best to get her to say hi to the band and crew but she got shy. We were a little overwhelmed too. This place was meant for hockey games. And here we are with Death Cab, a band we've know for seven years. We watched them play at Bottom of the Hill to 300 people. We went on tour with them three years ago on their first bus tour. We were eating sushi one night with Ben and his girlfriend when we first announced we were pregnant. We watched them go from being this respected indie band to superstars. And you know what? They are still the best band ever. They know how to treat an opening band and they know how to put on a show in an arena. Magnolia had to take her naps in the dressing rooms backstage, so we brought a little mattress for her and put a "shhh, Magnolia is sleeping" sign on the door. The Death Cab crew gave her her own dressing room after a few nights. By the end of tour, Magnolia started pounding it out with the boys. Every rock kid should know how to give knuckles.

See this post in its original format here.

Down Under

editors — Thu, 21 Dec 2006 16:41:00 GMT

Part 2: Brisbane, Australia

As I waited in line to hold the koala, I noticed all the band photos on the wall. Every band that comes through the koala sanctuary is asked to leave a signed photo of the group holding a cute little marsupial. I realize that no one ever wants us to do that — leave a band photo. Not that I care; it's just another moment where I realize that we do not fit the mold. We don't look like a rock band. We don't act like a rock band. We're just this couple who makes music together. We tour around the world making this, I'm told, joyous music with an organ and a drum set. We sing really loud and look at each other because we want to make sure we are tight and people mistake that for lovey glances. We're dubbed as this cutesy pop band because we actually like each other. And here we are, getting ready to hold a koala as a couple, not as a band, even though you can't really separate the two. Anyway, who wants a normal American couple on the wall of pictures of hipster bands holding a furry beast?

Anyway, just so you know: male koalas stink. They emit a foul oil from their chest glands. It rubbed all over me. My koala was named Fabio. My entire suitcase smelled like Fabio for the rest of the trip. He certainly left his mark.

On the way to Australia, we filmed a video for the song "Like U Crazy." We basically got to play dress up and lip sync all day. By the time we were filming the last scene, we were supposed to be in the car on the way to the airport. I could tell Jason was stressed out about being late. You can tell by his face — at the end of the video, he's ready to go. In the scene, we're lost in space and we're still playing together with this lost-but-blissful feeling. Check out his expression. You can totally tell we're afraid we're missing our Australia flight and feeling threatened by the smoke machine.

Also in Australia: we played a few shows, played on a few radio stations, walked over some bridges, went surfing, dug a piece of glass out of Jason's foot with a needle for two hours, DJ'd at some dance clubs, and somehow lost my pillow, my favorite jeans and our DVD player. And somewhere in there, we fell in love with the whole continent.

We celebrated Magnolia's birthday when we got home. Her party was a "green party." Everyone wore green, her favorite color, and we ate green beans and green cupcakes. She got way too many presents and ate way too much sugar and threw her first full-fledged tantrum in front of the whole party. It was her party and she cried 'cause she wanted to, to the point where people said, "Oh, wow, I've never seen her like that."

A week or so later, we had to put our seven-year-old cat, Shadow, to sleep. We sang "Amazing Grace" to her while she left this world. She was a sweet cat, never hissed at anyone. She had a tumor in her mouth and couldn't eat. She was in our video for the song "Fluke” — she's staring out the window in the living room scene. We'll miss her.

See this post in its original format here.

Pack and Play

editors — Mon, 11 Dec 2006 16:38:00 GMT

Hi, this is Kori Gardner. Jason Hammel and I are married, and our band is called Mates of State. This year, we put out our fourth full-length record, said goodbye to our family cat, sold our house and toured the world. We played Coachella with Madonna, swam in the fountain of youth in Iceland, covered Kenny Loggins and David Bowie, and had our car broken into more than once. We did it all with our two-year-old daughter, Magnolia. And now you can read all about it in weekly installments! First, a quick compare-and-contrast:

Touring before you have a child . . .
An hour before you leave, pack backpack with three outfits. Sleep on floors. Party every night. Get a cold. Take two-hour nap in the van before the show. Drive ten hours a day, get to the club, eat. Wait. Wait. Wait.

Get very bored. Load equipment into club. Wait. Wait. Wait. Get even more bored. Find clean place to use a public bathroom in private. Go back to stage. Wait wait wait. Read books like The Dirt by Neil Strauss. Search in vain for a TV. Talk to other bands (who are also bored). Smoke cigarettes. Sound check. Kiss sound guy's butt so his attitude doesn't ruin sound for the night. Eat again. Drink. Wait. PLAY! WOO-HOO! ROCK OUT! Unplug. Load equipment out. Drive and find cheap hotel. REPEAT.

Touring with a child...
Find hotels ahead of tour with adjoining rooms and a pool. Rent van, pick up nanny, sound guy and merch guy. Drive no more than four hours to first show while child naps and then watches The Wiggles DVD in the car three times in a row. Check into hotel. Let child ride on luggage rack and make loud motor-type noise while pushing her and ten pieces of luggage into hotel. Walk around hotel and race with child to let her burn off energy. Find pool. Go swimming. Bribe child out of pool with gummy bears.

Find good restaraunt while others load in equipment. Convince child to sit down and eat noodles, because she's a noodlehead and that's what noodleheads do. Go back to club, do soundcheck while nanny plays hide-and-seek around dirty rock club with child. Stop sound check for a minute while child plays drums and sings songs for the opening band, who think it's amazing. (It is amazing. She sings about the birthmark on her ankle to the tune of "Where is Thumbkin?")

Take nanny and child back to hotel for bath and bed time. Get dressed. Do not wear sweatpants, as husband says no more blaming sweatpants on "I just had a child." Kiss daughter goodnight. Melt as she says she'll play here while mommy and daddy go play music. Tell her you will crawl in bed with her in a couple of hours. Get to club. Squeeze in fifteen-minute nap in van. Wake up, eat a banana or chips and salsa so you don't pass out while playing. PLAY! WOO-HOO! ROCK OUT! Unplug. Load out.

Go back to hotel. Oops, wake up child. Get her back to sleep. Shower. Fall asleep with ear plugs in and eye mask on. Wake up bright and early to hear, "Mommy, I want to get up now and get some apple juice." Bring child to nanny's room. Go back to sleep for two hours. Wake up. Chase child outside for a while while the rest of the crew gets all ten suitcases, toys and stroller-type items packed up. Bribe child into van with new gas station toy.

REPEAT. Except add in dirty diapers, car-seat-in-rental-van problems and the occasional bookstore, library or playground stop.

Next week, we go to . . . Australia!

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