Australian singer-songwriter Marcus Blacke is currently on his first tour of the United States. He’s checking in with us from the road to share some of his adventures on the American road. Read on for the latest update, plus a featured song from his new self-titled album.
From a small quaint backpacker lavatory in Burlington I write you.
We booked an air B&B close to Vergennes outside of Burlington. Jared was less than impressed with the cow shit smell that had enveloped our whole sense of being for a good 45 mins to an hour on the drive there. It was inescapable. I was less than overjoyed myself, it resulted in a series of vocal monologues to pass the time. Upon arrival at our really quite wonderful accommodation, which was much further from town than we had anticipated, we picked up our things and headed to the cheapest place in the city of Burlington; the hostel. I really don’t like “hostels.†I kind of moved on from my early 20’s about ten years ago. I’m more a cup of tea and go to bed kind of guy now, but Jared coerced me into this. So we get to Burlington (and escape the smell of cow shit) which is nice and the city is absolutely stunning. Lake Champlain in the background vista, mountains the whole deal. The hostel seems ok.
So we go to check out some of the things around town and the venue called Radio Bean. I’m instantly aroused by the super dive bar atmosphere — this venue looks amazing. We meet a few folks in the evening and coerce them to come to the show the following evening. Along our travels this night are more than a few over poured whiskeys. We venture with our new found friend Vanessa to a guy’s house who owns a junk shop in town because she wants some 420, she seems nice so we walk her there so she gets in safely. I couldn’t help but notice the unshaved legs on the girl in the lounge room of this particular establishment; gross but liberating. The guy jamming in the lounge room was singing some kind of impromptu song about not killing the good vibe, which I could relate to in my own way. It was quite poignant in relating to my own situation, however it then became a bunch of crap stoner shit, laced with bad rap. They were nice folks but I was glad to make haste from blowing in on their place. Jared and I then proceeded back to town and went to lamp bar where we met some more cool folks, a little young but cool nonetheless and they were staying at the hostel as well. We got back to the hostel in fairly reasonable shape considering the over poured drinks, Jared proceeded to break wind very liberally upon entering our dorm. We both fell into a fit of laughter and woke everyone up basically. This was the ice breaker for enjoying the road.
The next day we grabbed breakfast and tried to sleep off the night before as we were home extremely late. Eventually we mustered the courage to get to the show and the PA wasn’t functioning that well so we had to wait for the sound guy Kevin to show up. He was a super awesome guy who loved the music. We then hung out with Vanessa and Emily for a few hours and another late night ensued. They took us to a comedy club thing to see a Boston group called Improv Boston. It almost made me piss my pants with laughter, I’m now looking forward to Boston.
We are on our way to Montreal for a couple of days to stay with a couple of Jared’s pals. Montreal immediately impresses us its beautiful place and the French dialect is immediately engrossing. Little do I know that our flatmates are a couple of wonderful drinking masters. They arrive home from work at about 9 pm and immediately no fuss start pouring shots into wonderful little boot shooters, I’m immediately reminded of Old Greg from the Mighty Boosh, they have no idea what I’m talking about. Apparently they happen to know every bartender in Montreal as well and 1 million shots later I’m left feeling younger somehow, although fighting every step of the way. Jared and I immediately begin our vague monologues of senseless politically incorrect skullduggery, aiming fun at our predicament.
The next day, after awaking like sleeping beauty sharing a bed with Jared and having his hairy foot in my face, I find solstice in a 63 year old green felt hat from a thrift shop and it makes life bearable again. I have to say my new found friends from Montreal have brought me back to life after a string of driving and a few tough shows that I definitely needed. The following evening more of the same ensues but the couple take us to a nice Italian place for dinner as well. Somehow I end up sending ass pout shots to one of their friends in LA who sends them back way to quickly. I’m going to miss Montreal what a wonderful place.
About the author: Mild-mannered corporate executive by day, excitable Twangville denizen by night.