We’ve hit the south. Everywhere seems a little warmer and more laid back, and the southern hospitality has definitely shown itself to be true. Folk are intent on welcoming us and chatting about anything and nothing just to pass the time of day. We call it shooting the shit back at home, I’m sure it’s an Americanism that we have adopted but it nails the vibe round these parts perfectly.
Our Louisville gig was full of friendly folk, many whom have been to see us on previous support tours. Our support band, The Hot Wires, are a cool bunch and quite possibly the loudest support we’ve had so far. Shades of early QOTSA, cool stuff. We showed up and ripped out a blinder, throwing in a new tune that we’ve been road testing (The Sludge) and having a grand old time on a wicked sounding stage.
The following day was a day off which our intrepid tour manager, Will, had arranged to happen in Nashville. A stroke of genius. We rolled into town at midday and immediately set out to sift through the local vintage guitar shops. Carter vintage guitars proved particularly fruitful and I had to tear myself away before my actions necessitated a second mortgage on my London flat. I bought a key ring instead.
Paul had been emailing Nashville guitarist Audley Freed and he tipped us off on a local gig so after a quick stop at Roberts Western World (AMAZING), we found ourselves hanging with Audley at the 12th South taproom absorbing the aural delights of Kenny Vaughan. Kenny is a local guitar legend who plays like a cross between Roy Buchanan, Dick Dale and Scotty Moore, and looks like a long lost member of The Ramones. He tore it up leaving Paul and myself with our jaws on the floor and crying into our pale ale. We found out Kenny was 62 and consoled ourselves with the fact that we’ve still got 30 years to practice. If we ever get out of this bloody van…
On to Atlanta….
