Outformation has been "full-time" now for almost 6 months. We've been working very hard on all the different aspects of this business. There are so many things that need to be addressed on a daily basis, that sometimes the music takes a backseat to the more pressing issues that confront any small business. Add to that the extra complication of the band members living in different states, and it can be hard to improve as a band. In fact it's damn near impossible.

We are extremely fortunate to have a luxury very few bands have, and it's almost single-handedly shaping the music we play. It has helped make our songs stronger, and has helped us learn to be better players. It has been critical for the development of the songs themselves. It has made us try to play every night like we are in front of thousands when many times there are only dozens. It has given us a mirror that we can hold up and really take a close look at ourselves, as a band, and as individual players. The "it" I'm talking about is the taping community.

Many bands shun the idea of live taping. It definitely cuts back on CD and record sales, they say, and some people claim that fans won't come out to see a show if they can just download it the next day. Some bands just can't stand to hear the way their music actually sounds in a live setting. Those are the bands that could benefit the most from live recording, but instead they vehemently oppose it. Then there are times when the venue won't allow taping. I still haven't figured that one out.

For me, and for Outformation, the tapes keep us honest. Even if there's only one person in the crowd, and he's recording the show, it pushes you to perform better for all the people that will (hopefully) hear the recording for years to come. It takes away the temptation on a rough night to just "phone it in".

I have downloaded every show that has been recorded this year (which is almost every show we've played), and have listened very carefully to each and every song. When you take things out of real-time and into your living room, where you can pause and rewind and replay, you can learn a ton about what is and what is not working. Is the piano part too busy? Should the organ be lighter in that one part? Should I even play organ at all in this song? Did my vocal harmony work in that verse? Was the band listening to each other? What the hell was I thinking when I played THAT?? There are so many minute details about any one song that it is imperative to know the nooks and crannies inside and out.

I personally have spent hours combing through the recordings, taking notes about changes, ideas, and things that work. By the time the band meets again for the next tour, I have dozens of new things to try. I'll try those things for a few shows, see if they feel right, if they work with what the band is playing. Then I can download those shows, while I'm on the road, and I can instantly tell how the new changes are working. It's an instant and powerful tool for improvement, because the tapes never lie. The difference between the songs in January and the same songs in May is that they're more defined, more themselves, just plain better.

The tapers themselves are a breed all their own, like the musicians in the band. They spend unbelievable amounts of their own money and time for all the travel, equipment and expenses they have. They are as passionate about the music as we are, and fiercely proud of what they do. Not only do they keep the hours we do in the band, they have day jobs as well and somehow find a way to balance a straight life with the circus atmosphere of live music. The recordings are made available almost immediately, and free, to anyone who has an internet connection. If you buy one of the tapers a drink or two, he (or she) might even burn you a copy of a show onto a cd.

Like any successful venture in life, you need to have plenty of support, internally and externally. Outformation has been blessed with a devoted core of tapers across the country. We have been extremely fortunate to have fans and friends that have taken on the roles of publicist, webmaster, graphics artist, merchandise person, and a million other tasks. We're very honored to have a fansite devoted exclusively to our setlists, with links to music archives and band member websites. The tapers have provided us with a way of improving and learning after every show. In this insanely chaotic and random world we call the music business, it is nice to have a little comfort in the knowledge that we're not just out here banging around in a van all alone. I feel more like all of us together make this giant iceberg - the five guys you see on the stage every night are merely the visible tip of the giant organism that supports it. And thats a damn good feeling.

Here it is, Friday April 13th. The last 4 months has been a rolller-coaster ride of epic proportions. The year started out with a visit to Philly, spending New Years with Liz and the family. From there, a week in Nashville recording the first album together (they already had a full-length, and an EP, but it was my first time recording with them). Then back to New Orleans into a whirlwind of turmoil when Liz's parents decided they wanted us to postpone the wedding, and expressed concern over her choice of marrying me. In the end I was asked to not live in their house anymore (a fair request, given that I had never intended to stay there anyway, and I had been there for about 2 months at that point). I moved to Frenchy's, where I slept in the papasan chair and played piano every day for three weeks. Vernon allowed us to start working on the house, so I left Frenchy's and "moved" to the Claiborne house to start the process of repainting/cleaning/replacing/fixing up the house. Every spare moment was spent on the house. I basically put piano on hold to get the house done in time for the wedding.

Next, the winter tour began, and we played some shows, I'd fly back to New Orleans on Sunday for the Maple Leaf gig, then back to meet the band on the road. I did that two weeks in a row, then left the band on the road again to go back to New Oreans for Mardi Gras and our "bachelor/bachelorette" party. In the meantime, every moment I spent in New Orleans was with a paintbrush in my hand, diligently working to get it done.

Immediately after Mardi Gras it was back on the road, this time for over three weeks. I came back to New Orleans after that tour and immediately got to work on the house, putting in 16-hour days for three straight weeks. With this work, we completed the living room, dining room, kitchen, downstairs bathroom, upstairs bathroom, foyer, and upstairs bedroom. All-in-all, 13 gallons of paint, 30 sheets of sandpaper, one small spackle can, three tubes of caulk, 20 outlets with plates replaced, 10 switches with plates replaced, assembled a futon, entertainment center, two beds, a ceiling fan in the bedroom, a caterpillar infestation, a gas-line emergency (two, actually), a new gas meter, problems with receiving mail from the post office, cable installation, moving and unpacking all our belongings from Napoleon to Claiborne, and still trying to play the random gig here and there. Did I mention we were also planning a wedding at the same time? Complete insanity, and throw into the mix a new band struggling to stay afloat and set up a solid business foundation.

Now here I am, on the road again, 13 days until the wedding, traveling to another show. Tonight is a post-rehearsal dinner show (should be interesting). Tomorrow night post-Panic in Huntsville, AL. Back to Nola Sunday, then back on the road Tuesday for four more days. I'll come home Saturday before the wedding, and have 5 days to complete our house, make sure the Napoleon House is ready, and prepare for the biggest day of my life - the wedding.

This has all been daunting - we've bitten off more than we can chew, both Liz and I. We left our comfort-zone in Denver, where we were both making good money, surrounded by friends and support, familiar with our surroundings. We arrived in New Orleans, me with no car, both of us with no jobs, Liz living with her parents (!), me back to "couch" surfing. I left a band that was successful for one with a ton of potential, but at the incubation stage of development. We're moving into a new house. Not new, old, but new for us. For over 20 years it was a college-student crash pad, and taken care of the way you'd expect from students. It was a disaster, and we needed to make it ours, and livable, within 3 months. Then there's Liz's new full-time job, and my touring so much in this first year of Outformation's full-time commitment. We really took on four major life-altering things that normally you tackle one-at-a-time. We decided to do them all at once. It is nothing short of a testament to our love and support for each other that we got through all of this, love and respect intact.

Now that things are coming together, I've allowed myself the luxury of thinking about the near future. The house is almost done, the band is getting more stable, and running more smoothly. Liz is settling into her new job and loving it, despite being overworked due to under-staffing. We will be married, moved into our new house. It makes all the impossibly hard work worthwhile, rewarding, even not-so-impossible. In two short weeks we will have conquered all of our goals, four huge ones, and literally be living a completely different life. I've never been more exhausted, and I've never felt more fulfilled and satisfied in my entire life. I wouldn't recommend how we did this to anyone - give yourself a fighting chance and only do one or two of those things at a time. But now that it's almost all done, I'm glad we did it this way. We're excited. I'm giddy with the knowledge that I can actually now, finally, live the life I always envisioned for myself - writing and playing and improving musically, with the time and resources to work on new and old material. Having a true companion in life who loves and supports me, and who I can be there for as well. The future is bright, and the last year of excrutiatingly hard work and stress is melting into a new landscape of reward and promise.

An observation about airports, 2/21/07

Airports. I have finally figured out what it is I hate so much about airports. Think about it. Long lines, rolling eyes, no smiles. Screaming kids, exhausted parents, fighting siblings. The vapid look of resignedness, like a million dead diamonds, in the eyes of the masses. All that waiting to reach the check-in counter dragging awkward bags and luggage to the indifferent and annoyed airport employee who couldn't possibly be more put out by your presence.

Then on to another long line, this time TSA security friendliness. Here you meet the look and exasperation of an overworked and underpaid government official who just happens to have the right and power to force a search of your bags and person if they're having a particularly bad day. More awkward fumblings of bags and carryons to get everything through the xray machine, and GOD FORBID you might have a lighter in your pocket as you walk through the metal detector.

Once through that gauntlet, you arrive in the Tokyo-like atmosphere of the terminal train, to take you to the proper concourse. Don't dare block the door or those dead diamonds will become weapons, shooting daggers into your head as you try and squeeze yourself into the sardine can which is the train car. Up the escalator with the rest of the slow-moving herd to a long line to grab a bite to eat. Sorry sir, cash only. But I've been in line for over fifteen minutes and all I have is this debit card. More daggers and dead diamonds.

Then on to the gate itself. If you're unfortunate enough to have forgotten to get a seat assignment, you may have gone through all of that to hear the word "overbooked" and be put onto the "standby" list. That's the airport equivalent of Limbo. I'll see ya in St louie, maybe by Tuesday. Wait now until your proper zone is called. Jockey for pre-position, inching closer to the doorway without looking like you're inching closer. No eye contact at this point. This is the flash point, the searing tip of the entire experience. After all those steps, no one is going to relinquish their position in line, even though it doesn't even matter at this point. Finally hand the boarding pass over, then enter the little tunnel thing which is backed up to the doorway, dragging carryons and dropping cellphones and keeping a firm eye on the guy at the front of the line who doesn't seem to be moving. What could someone possibly be doing on that plane to take this long?

Finally you reach your seat, hopefully there's room in the overhead bins or you gotta "gate check" your bag which will send it into it's own Limbo Zone. If you've got a middle seat, Lord Help You - at that point anything that could happen, will. I swear Murphy himself designed those middle seats, and I even think he may assign seats based on size and weight of the people sitting on either side of you. Some day I'm gonna give Murphy a piece of my mind, if only I could get him off my back.

Plane loaded, door closed, please pull away from the gate. This is all an experience where almost everyone who is here is going on vacation, or coming home from vacation, or going somewhere fun and exciting or otherwise different from the mundane experience of their normal everyday life. Well, with the exception of business travellers. Like professional truck drivers, these travellers actually have the right to be annoyed or frustrated by the rest of the vacationing class. Imagine this scenario a few times a week... no wonder they spring the triple cost of the ticket for first class. I used to be jealous of those guys, now I understand.

Now, replace "Airport" with "mall". Replace "check-in" with "The Gap". Replace "security" with "Tower Records". Replace "food line" with "food court". Replace "traveller" with "shopper", what do you have? Christmas shopping. The airport experience is identical to the experience of Christmas shopping in the mall. At a time when people should be their happiest, Christmas and vacationing, they turn into something entirely different and completely unattractive. In essence, since I fly a few times a month, I'm actually reliving the experience of shopping for Christmas, time and time again.

This came to me in Charlotte, entering my 10th hour in airports that day. Three cancelled flights at three different gates to fly to DC out of New Orleans left me stranded there for 8 hours before finally the flight to Charlotte opened up, with the promise of a connecting flight to DC 15 minutes after landing in Charlotte, at a gate on the clear other side of the airport. I sprinted, literally, the mile to my gate, to see that it had been delayed 30 minutes. Wish they would put that info on the Departure board. I wanted to be sure the plane was flying to DC - at this point if the flight left on time it would mean I'd get into DC at 9:05pm and had to get to the show to start playing by 10. And there was a nasty ice storm falling in DC so planes weren't landing there and traffic once you got there was reduced to a snails pace on ice-covered surfaces.

I waited at the gate for the USAir rep to look up and pay attention to me. Which was obviously not in her job description. So I finally asked her if the plane was going to actually leave and go to DC. She shot me a couple daggers, and in the sweetest, most venom-free voice (sense the sarcasm?), said "well you can see the plane out the window, can't you? Of course it's going to DC" and looked back down at her cell phone text-message. Merry Christmas. At least I made the gig.

Wed 1/17/07 Claiborne Ave. New Orleans, LA - CR's New House

I'm sitting here right now in my new house, where I've now been living for three days now. For three weeks before this I've been sleeping on Frenchy's papasan chair in his gallery. He has a futon cushion I could put on the floor, but if you saw the size and agility of the cockroaches in New Orleans, you'd understand why I prefer to sleep at a higher elevation. Sleeping in a papasan chair is like sleeping in a satellite dish - you've gotta curl up in the fetal position and hold that position all night. Plus the angle of the chair puts your spine in a little comma-shape, which makes your back feel great in the morning. Man was not designed to sleep in a papasan chair. This is just one little part of the glam and glory of the music business.

The new house is great. Especially now that the heat works. The first two nights were so cold I could see my breath thick in the air. I slept in an arctic-type sleeping bag on the carpeted laundry room floor - the only carpet in the house. This is a HUGE improvement over papasan, even with the frigid temperature. I've been painting the walls, and it has almost been too cold in the house for the paint to go on right. I never guessed New Orleans had this in it. The warm "tangy lemon" color of the newly-painted walls has gotten me through the worst of it. That and the constant ladder movement. Sometimes I'll walk up and down the steps a few times in a row just to get a little warmer.

Meanwhile the music thing is in a "pounce" stance which is exciting but nerve-racking at the same time. I know there are good things ahead, just around the corner. I'm getting married in less than three months. I'm an honorary member of the new "Crescent City All-Stars" which is being touted as the "New New Orleans" sound, creating new songs for a new post-Katrina city. I keep meeting new and influential people like Robert Walters and Chief Monk Boudreaux. I played the entire second set with Jerry Joseph at his Maple Leaf solo show this past Monday. It was just him and me, acoustic and piano, and it was great. I've been learning a ton, every day, and my playing is improving alot. But moving to a new place is a financial challenge, to say the least, so I'm back to Ramen-style budgeting and accomodations. I'm practically one friend away from being homeless down here - a slight exaggeration, but it can get tough grinding it out day to day. They say it's always darkest before the dawn. and I think beyond that, the brighter the dawn the darker the night. Maybe sunrise is just around the corner... this is the story of the poverty of the blessed.

With all that being said, I am a blessed human being. The absolute dichotomy of my life is what makes it so exciting, terrifying, rewarding and exhausting all at the same time. This is truly the best time in my life, and equally the most difficult. Dicken's said in one of his novels "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times". I never quite understood the true impact of that statement. It's powerful, and I am beginning to grasp it's true meaning. Whatever comes of it, dynamic change always occurs in these conditions. Big, life-altering change. This wouldn't be so rewarding if it weren't so difficult. I'm truly living my dream, and things just keep getting better on so many levels. It's a race between getting off the ground or being crushed into it. Well, back to painting - break time's over.

To be a part of someone else's epiphany's, or to be there when one happens, is part of the true joys of life. A small moment of ecstasy. A reason to believe. Almost as good as having your own epiphany, especially if it's one that you've experienced yourself in life.

Asheville NC, a place where we've had some particularly eventful and encouraging nights, would be the stage for such an epiphany for Grady. It was another frigid night, one more in the string of bitter winter nights on this first leg of our early 2007 tour. Richmond, Philly, NYC, NYC, DC, now Asheville. Each night colder than the one before, even encountering the NorEastern onslaught of a full-fledged ice storm in DC. Perhaps in these cold snaps we enter a place of mental hibernation, where the subconscious and conscious can mingle. Perhaps it was the 450 mile drive combined with a rushed load-in and a 50 degree dressing room. Perhaps it was just a moment of true vision.

There have been moments playing music where I've lost time, gone to a different place in my head, entered some kind of catatonic-like state. Those are the moments that make me believe in life, in death, in God. When you play the best show of your life (listening back afterward) and don't remember whole sections, you realize something else is at work, something is guiding your hands more than just mere muscle memory. And beyond that, how can I possibly take the credit for musical ideas when they come from somewhere else, somewhere big and beautiful and perfect. I'm not any of those things. In those moments of "loss and bliss", I've had some strange memories of early childhood or adolescence, like the time I got stung by a bee on my Big Wheel, or making crabapple jelly with my Dad when I was six, or the first time I held a girls hand. That last one really stands out, sweaty awkward nervous excitement at the age of 9 that you've never felt before. I used to think it was common for musicians, that when you went to "that place", you'd find yourself remembering things you never had remembered before.

Grady had his first night like that in Asheville, and as he's telling me about it I realized that it isn't common, it's powerful and important, and it's something that really does speak volumes for the power of music. Somwhere, somehow that night while playing, he went into a state that allowed his concious mind to let go and slip into the uncouncious, where those memories are invariably stored. It was his first foray into that territory, but still a big one. It affected him so much that it was the first thing he said after getting off the stage. It'll happen again, it has happened for me alot, and each time you can get deeper than the time before. The power of music for me lies squarely in these moments. It's why I play music. It's why I've sacrificed everything in my life to keep trying to have those moments. If you can tap the subconscious, what's to stop you from tapping the collective subconscious, the very core of our connection in this universe. I've felt it - it's powerful in a way that makes you feel equally and immediately insignificant and omnipresent. Call me crazy, but I've felt some big things inside the music. The word "religion" means, literally, "connection to". These experiences are exactly that, religious. It's easy to doubt yourself when you feel like you're the only one who feels it, but Grady felt it, for the first time, and that alone is affirmation enough that the portal is there. Welcome to my church, Grady.

Claiborne Ave, New Orleans 2/1/06

I'm sitting here right now in my new house, where I've now been living for three days now. For three weeks before this I've been sleeping on Frenchy's papasan chair in his gallery. He has a futon cushion I could put on the floor, but if you saw the size and agility of the cockroaches in New Orleans, you'd understand why I prefer to sleep at a higher elevation. Sleeping in a papasan chair is like sleeping in a satellite dish - you've gotta curl up in the fetal position and hold that position all night. Plus the angle of the chair puts your spine in a little comma-shape, which makes your back feel great in the morning. Man was not designed to sleep in a papasan chair. This is just one little part of the glam and glory of the music business.

The new house is great. Especially now that the heat works. The first two nights were so cold I could see my breath thick in the air. I slept in an arctic-type sleeping bag on the carpeted laundry room floor - the only carpet in the house. This is a HUGE improvement over papasan, even with the frigid temperature. I've been painting the walls, and it has almost been too cold in the house for the paint to go on right. I never guessed New Orleans had this in it. The warm "tangy lemon" color of the newly-painted walls has gotten me through the worst of it. That and the constant ladder movement. Sometimes I'll walk up and down the steps a few times in a row just to get a little warmer.

Meanwhile the music thing is in a "pounce" stance which is exciting but nerve-racking at the same time. I know there are good things ahead, just around the corner. I'm getting married in less than three months. I'm a member of the new "Crescent City All-Stars" which is being touted as the "New New Orleans" sound, creating new songs for a new post-Katrina city. I keep meeting new and influential people like Robert Walters and Chief Monk Boudreaux. I played the entire second set with Jerry Joseph at his Maple Leaf solo show this past Monday. It was just him and me, acoustic and piano, and it was great. I've been learning a ton, every day, and my playing is improving alot. Outformation has some serious momentum, which could be life-changing. But moving to a new place is a financial challenge, to say the least, so I'm back to Ramen-style budgeting and accomodations. I'm practically one friend away from being homeless down here - a slight exaggeration, but it can get tough grinding it out day to day. They say it's always darkest before the dawn. and I think beyond that, the brighter the dawn the darker the night. Maybe sunrise is just around the corner... this is the story of the poverty of the blessed.

With all that being said, I am a blessed human being. The absolute dichotomy of my life is what makes it so exciting, terrifying, rewarding and exhausting all at the same time. This is truly the best time in my life, and equally the most difficult. Dicken's said in one of his novels "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times". I never quite understood the true impact of that statement. It's powerful, and I am beginning to grasp it's true meaning. Whatever comes of it, dynamic change always occurs in these conditions. Big, life-altering change. This wouldn't be so rewarding if it weren't so difficult. I'm truly living my dream, and things just keep getting better on so many levels. It's a race between getting off the ground or being crushed into it. Well, back to painting - break time's over.

01/20/07 - House Of Blues, Orlando, FL

This one was something else. I've been playing music and touring for years now. Nothing I've done could have prepared me for this. Even after being in a band that was signed to Arista records and doing an opening tour for Matchbox20 (story for a later time...), I've never had this kind of weekend.

I arrived on Friday morning, and rode from the airport to the hotel in the private "JB & Friends" shuttle with Jimmy Herring and his tech Eric, Lopez, Grady, and Trey Allen. We pull up to a resort-style hotel. One of the biggest hotels I've ever seen. It seems Orlando is like Vegas light. Huge buildings, debauchery and excess of enormous proportions (with a family twist, the real difference between Orlando & Vegas). This hotel was massive. It had 5 restaurants inside. 5-star restaurants with the best food money can buy. For the very first time in my entire career I actually got my own hotel room. It may sound surprising, even pathetic, but I've never had my own room on the road before.

JB would prove to be an even more gracious host (I thought the room was enough) by treating about 40 of us to dinner. A full 5-course meal with all the acoutrements of a fine-dining experience. Sitting around the table, surrounded by members of Panic, ARU, Code Talkers, and their friends and family, I got the feeling that this was no ordinary weekend. It had already become special.

Saturday was no disappointment either. The music started out with the unique musical stylings of Mike Nickle - a rare treat. JB & Sam took the stage next, playing some great tunes as an acoustic duo. The moment the curtain opened, Hannah and her family were onstage as JB introduced Hannah to the capacity crowd. They went nuts, sceaming their support and love to the smiling faces onstage. He gave her a birthday cake (the second one - some of you know what I'm talking about), and to see the smile on her face made the trip worthwhile alone. It could've ended there.

But it didn't. Sam and JB played a set of music as a duo, JB on acoustic and Sam on electric. It was great to see Sam up there, helping the whole thing move along nicely. It's really quite a treat to see a good friend like Sam up on stage, holding his own with those in the "Big Leagues". It gave me a little glimpse into the possible future of Sam, and Outformation.

We were next to take the stage, in the prime slot. Although ARU was the "headliner", the slot we got was actually better, since most of the audience had been partying on the golf course all day (or the hotel rooms the night before), and couldn't last the entire night. They were primed to rock.

And we had our best set to date. Outformation seems to have this knack of bringing their A-game to the table on the most important nights. Not all bands I've been in has been able to do this. Outformation did this night, and the energy in the room lifted the roof off. It was a true moment of bliss, with our energy and their energy feeding off each other to an all-time frenzy. It was a short but powerful set, and I walked off stage trembling with adrenaline and excitement.

Instead of hiding backstage, like we do sometimes, I had some friends in the audience and went out to hang out with them and watch the ARU set. What followed was like something out of an MTV story. I couldn't walk five feet without someone stopping me and getting a picture or autograph or telling me how much they enjoyed our set. Icing on your cake, sir? Yes please. The best damn icing I've ever had. Again, I've been in bands and played in front of thouands before, but doing it on our own terms and playing music from the heart, and having people "get it" like this, truly outstanding.

I basked in this glow all the way back to New Orleans, and still take that feeling from the House of Blues into every show I play now. Our confidence is building, and we're getting the right gigs. Maybe persuing this career isn't so completely insane after all. (Who am I kidding?)