Jacksonville, Oregon Saturday July 27

The Britt festival is a beautiful place to play and it was so great seeing Leo Kottke! My friend Patrick and I used to listen to him and to John Fahey in high school, but I always liked Leo Kottke better. I always remember his comment about his voice sounding like “geese farts on a muggy day”. He is still very funny and dry in his humor. Great to listen to him play -- he had a new piece called “Te Veo” which was beautiful.

I taught a “master class” this afternoon to some aspiring songwriters. It ended up being more of an anecdote-sharing hour but it was fun to think back on everything that has happened in my life and career, and look at all the obstacles I overcame, and for so many years. I enjoyed hearing about their aspirations and their strengths and weaknesses.

The audience felt very far away during the show but afterwards they bought 60 CD’s, and formed a long line to say hi and get stuff autographed, so I was happy about that.

Unfortunately, one older lady came up to the stage after Blood Makes Noise whispering at me, “We can’t hear YOU!” which irritated me. It’s a song about NOT HEARING, lady! Get used to it!

They have a full wall of signed 8X10’s in their office. The one from Jewel said, “Sorry my music sucks!” What a weird thing to say.

On the way down to San Francisco we had some problems with the bus. It was 102 degrees in Medford Oregon today at 7:30PM so it was probably 110 when we left in the afternoon. We drove for several hours and the air conditioning grew less and less. Finally we were really sweltering, sitting in the dark with the windows closed and the shades drawn.

We tried to watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas but watching people take drugs and other people turn into reptiles was wearing thin in the heat. Finally we turned it off. It was over a hundred degrees inside the bus.

We complained to the driver that he might want to check the freon. He told us that we were welcome to get a trailer and a van if we didn’t like it. This didn’t sit very well with us. We started to feel sick from diesel fumes.

Finally in the middle of our heat induced stupor during which Timothy Mitchell, our replacement backline guy, wondered aloud if he could get naked because it was too hot, I happened to look out the window as we crossed one of the bridges into SF. I saw a man dressed in leather pants with a lightweight down jacket on, riding a motorcycle. How can that be? I wondered. He must be boiling, like an egg! Roasting like a chicken! Then I saw someone else walking down the street wearing long pants and a sweater.

Could it be? Was actually COOL outside? I cracked open the window, and cool air burst in through the screen. It had dropped down to about 59 degrees once we got over the mountains! Mike our bass player pressed his face against the window and screamed and shouted ecstatically. The rest of the band came running from the back. What happened? COOL AIR! we shouted. We ran around opening all the windows and gulping in the air. Hopefully this won’t happen again on the overnighter to Las Vegas. We will fry like eggs in our bunks.

[Next: Modesto, CA - July 28, 2003]