OR, THE WHALE

WEST COAST TOUR, AUGUST 2008

Or, the Whale is a seven-piece Americana band from San Francisco. In August of 2008, we set out on a two-week tour that brought us to the Northwest, through the Rocky Mountains, down to the Southwest and back to the Bay Area. Along the way, we encountered huge redwood forests, fantastic thunderstorms, long stretches of bare desert, craggy rock formations and the beautiful California coastline. We played with great bands from all over the Western U.S. and met lots of generous, gregarious and all-in-all good people. Here are images of the trip and some thoughts that represent what touring in a band with seven people can be like. We hope you enjoy it half as much as we did.

There are two places that make me feel like I am right where I belong – the arms of someone I love and on the open road. These are the only two places, and I have found one to be far more reliable than the other ... I heart you, Tour!

-Julie Ann Thomasson (keys, vocals, toms)

There are times when you show up to a venue and see your name real big for everyone to see. It always makes us feel proud to see our name up big like that. Even if it’s a dive bar, there’s a feeling of success that rides along with having your name in lights.

After a fun but vacant show in Coos Bay, the band empties a bottle of whiskey and together drunkenly shrugs off the lack of attendees.

There’s something completely intimidating and frightening and disarming about driving hundreds of miles, through strange towns and down dirt roads, to unload awkward mountains of instruments and amplifiers; to shuffle onstage in front of drunk strangers interested only in finishing their conversations about how their jobs suck and their significant others nag; to sweat, yell, thrash, sing and play songs that you wrote with your friends; to crash on kitchen floors; and to get up at seven in the morning the next day to do it all over again. The drink tickets are nice, though.

-Alex Robins (acoustic guitar, vocals, banjo)

Every night, no matter how good or bad the show is, we’ve got to unload and load the trailer. Systematic and dialed, we constantly quiet naysayers with our science. Here are the proving grounds for carrying your weight.

It was as if we were fired out of a cannon. First thing I remember is trying to get a decent picture of me at sunset while sipping bourbon. Seattle was awesome – skip to Denver and the Southwest where it was hot and shows were fun and the desert was bright green. Listened to REO Speedwagon as we rode out the storms. Back in California, saw some fake boobs on the beach in San Diego and some old friends, and played into the ether of Sunday night.Had a few days off to reload the cannon. Discharged it at the Great American, loaded with all the emotions of two weeks. Still upset that I missed the DQ in Tucson.

-Tim Marcus (pedal steel)

Sharing the road with some of your best friends raises all the low points up a few notches. There are fights, of course, but sometimes a couple slaps and a few words will take care of the tension. If not, then there are the baptismal-like moments of being onstage together that manage to wash away the tension when we play.

The theme song to this tour was The Felice Brothers’ “Frankie’s Gun.” I wish I could live in Portland’s Doug Fir! Seattle has the best veggie sausage with cream cheese and sweet chili sauce in the whole world. Boise is pronounced with a soft “s.” The Hi-Dive in Denver is the shizzz. Tucson has a silent “c.” Phoenix should implode itself. Held a revival meeting with The Silent Comedy at The Casbah in San Diego. Cousin Roy at The Echo in L.A. is like a COUSIN to us. We love you, Roy! Screw Disney, the Great American Music Hall is the happiest place on earth.

-Lindsay Garfield (vocals, percussion)

We found a great BBQ joint on the road between Santa Fe and Tucson. One of the things about tour is that you get to try all kinds of new food. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes not – but it’s good to be adventurous. A lot of time is spent eating road-food crap, so when you find a place like this, it’s an oasis.

The price of gas.

Alex gabs it up with The Silent Comedy outside Modified Arts in Phoenix. These guys play a hell of a show. We were lucky enough to play two shows with them – the other in their hometown of San Diego, where it's always a pleasure to share the stage.

A clean-carpeted floor is the most we could

ask for while crashing with strangers. If we’re

lucky, there’s a couch or a spare bed, but for

the most part, we’ve grown accustomed to

layin’ our heads on the ground.

It’s not so bad.

There’s always those moments before the show – you get into town early and have hours to kill. Sometimes you spend it in a cafe, sometimes a bar shooting pool but most of the time you just sit outside and wait.

Justin [Fantl, bass] takes a breath after the chaos in Phoenix. It was a six-band bill, 90 degrees at night, and the sound system wasn't fit for karaoke – somehow it's still worth it.

Tour: A place to sleep at night. Enough booze and smoke to shut the brain off for sleepy time. Hearing my lady’s voice at the end of the night. A decent place to take a shit. A good sound guy, hopefully with working stage monitors. Charged iPod for the 10-hour drives. Cool local bands. If at least a few of these fall into place, what more could you ask for? The tour is a success.

-Jesse Hunt (drums)

There is such an enormous amount of energy that surrounds the 35 or 40 minutes you have onstage. The fact that you’ve driven eight hours, slept on a floor, carried your amps up stairs and shat in some of the nastiest places imaginable prove that the fleeting moments onstage are worth it.

-Matt Sartain (guitar, vocals)