Adventures in Songwriting


I hate when I make promises that I don’t follow through with. About a month ago (or more…but who’s counting?) I promised that you and I would start this fun interactive blog thing, and then I got busy with promoting this new album that Dave and I are releasing (IN TWO WEEKS, AHHHH) and trying to soak up my final lovely days here in this beautiful town of Flagstaff, Arizona. But now, I will do my best, to deliver answers to some of your awesome blog proposals. Today, it felt very appropriate to respond to this inquiry from our friend Bill:


“I always wonder if you are inspired to write a new song by something that happens/happened during the tour. In general, where do you get your inspirations for songs? Is it a meal? a comment someone makes? a moment that captures your mind? And, how do you generate a new melody, new music for a new piece, as opposed to simply falling into a rut and writing the same thing over and over? The whole process of writing songs is fascinating to me.”


Well, Bill, I agree that the songwriting process is indeed a fascinating one. A general answer to you would be that for me, my songwriting has no rhyme or reason to it, no formula that makes sense inside my own head, and in that same vein, there are some days where songwriting feels like my worst enemy. Today was one of those days.


There are a few things that I like to “set up” before attempting to create---the house needs to be clean (dishes especially). I read this awesome Billy Collins poem once that said something along the lines of “clean your house top to bottom before you EVER try to write, because if it’s dirty, your mind will not be clear”. I totally agree with that. Also, I need to have done some sort of physical activity and/or spent some time outside in order to have a clear head, and most of the time, I prefer to have been well-fed prior to a writing session.


Well, today, everything seemed in its right place when I sat down to write; I had a nice, balanced breakfast with some delicious peppermint tea, then went to yoga and got my physical activity covered for the day. Came home, ready to conquer my sweet little journal, and this time the journal conquered me. Should I write a love song? Should I write a song about moving? Something relevant to me/something totally irrelevant to me? Maybe it should be in an alternate tuning on my guitar. So I rapidly change the tuning on my guitar in every which way possible, and go back and forth from standard tuning to alternate tunings for the next 40 minutes or so, stumbling on some cool ideas here or there, but none enough to keep me intrigued for more than three minutes. Usually once I start doing that, it’s all-downhill from there. Instantly I’m acting like a three-year-old who doesn’t want to eat her vegetables on her plate; kicking, screaming, whimpering “I don’t wanna!! I don’t wanna!!” But just like the veggies for the little girl, this process in the end of it all is good for me. It’s all part of growth.


When the writing is good, it feels like sailing on top of a pristine lake. Like a hot knife through butter… the really good butter, not that cheap margarine crap. It transforms into a moment where the guitar, the pencil, the paper, and my voice are all one entity working together to create this one simple thing; a song. The inspiration can come from something as simple as a conversation with a friend about tomatoes, or a visual memory of a desolate canyon--- for me I most often find my “voice” writing about things in nature and their relationship to us…sometimes politics, love, and religion sneak in there, so the contents of these little songs can indeed get a bit heavy at times. Every single song that I have written has been written in a different way though, so it’s hard to explain or create some type of formula to express how it all comes down. Sometimes it’s the music first, and then the lyrics, or vice versa. Sometimes the song completely unfolds in an hour after writing one line of lyrics, but sometimes it can be a month or hell, even a year for a song to feel totally complete.


There’s a lot of trust involved in songwriting. Trust in yourself, and trust in your own voice. When I go to that dark place where I am unsatisfied with my lyrics or my guitar playing, the trust is gone, and the kicking and screaming persists, and that’s when I know I need to run far, far away.


And how do you avoid falling into a rut and writing the same thing over and over? That is a very good question. I think it is vitally important to stay true to one’s “voice” while songwriting; so within that idea, there may be common themes lyrically or musically that come through while attempting to create new songs. However, I think the way to avoid oneself from getting into a rut is to constantly be progressing/evolving in your daily life—learning new things, embracing new experiences, traveling to new places (a.k.a. touring), exchanging conversation with friends and strangers, etc. I say this all with such confidence where it may sound like I know all the tricks of the trade to songwriting, but I am still learning more about it every day. I’m at the very beginning of my career, and I have a lot to learn.



In the end of it all, songwriting is one of the most redeeming things I have ever experienced in my existence thus far on this blue and green rotating ball. It continues to fascinate me, frustrate me, and charm me all at the same time. I think that the day that songwriting becomes easy/boring to me will be the day that I throw in the towel on this whole music thing, and apply for a “real” job. And mark my word; if I have anything to do with it, I’ll make sure that that never happens.

Although that statement may be a whole separate blog in itself.

      
      Sometimes in life we experience moments when we just wish we could turn back the clock; instantly we feel this sense of remorse for what’s to come, and there’s nothing we can do, but scream, kick, cry and scream a little more. Like falling off of your bike for the first time (that split second where you are mid-air and realize that you are about to eat sh*t)… in that split second, it seems like you can see the whole world very clearly, and then everything explodes into chaos simultaneously after that moment.

       Today I had one of those moments.

      It was a frigid Flagstaff afternoon, and Dave was (finally) about to create a blog and upload some pictures from our west coast tour onto our websites, when I thought it was a good idea to offer him a glass of water. It’s all a blur after that.

                 The glass slipped out of my hands.
                         It tilted over onto the computer.
                                   For that one split second, I indeed saw the whole world very clearly, and realized that I couldn’t fight gravity.
                                            And it all poured down.


      Right now, my sad & sopping computer is sealed away in a box in the loft of my apartment, covered in rice. After crazily searching the internet and browsing “HELP! I just spilled water on my Macbook” forums, and after a few helpful responses from friends on Facebook, I discovered that electronics respond well to the application of rice, yes, rice when they are spilled on..something about drying them out faster by reducing the humidity levels.  This means that I have to sleep without a humidifier for the next three nights, which I probably haven't done in Arizona in the last 12 months. So here I sit, fingers crossed, (it’s very hard to type with crossed fingers, by the way) hoping that come Wednesday night when I open that baby up again and plug in the battery, that all is well, and we can pretend that I didn’t mistake my computer for a plant this afternoon.


      Trust me, I know that life could be worse for Dave and I.


      Three weeks ago we were sharing the stage with the amazing and legendary Willy Porter, and now I’m bitching about a tiny bit of water spilled onto a silly little (life controlling) electronic machine.  So I’ll close my eyes and reflect on some of the wonderful memories from this last tour with y’all to try and keep my mind off of this electronic tragedy.


      Wait a minute!
      There are too many fantastic memories racing through my head right now, and I can’t decide what to share with you. Lots of people ask Dave and I when we get back from tour, “How was tour? Tell me everything!!”-and there’s usually A LOT to talk about.  And unfortunately, often times our creativity does not extend too far beyond our songwriting and performing (sometimes leaving us wondering what we should blog about) so we would like to know what YOU are interested in hearing about in our blogs.


     ..We’ve decided to open the floor to your ideas and if there’s something that you want to know more about, we'd welcome your thoughts, questions, and inspiration. It's almost 2012 and we suck at using Twitter. Our last tweet was a year ago this week and that was probably one of three we've ever done. We're not scared of social networking, but blogging somehow slips through the cracks. We hereby introduce our latest good idea. Help us, por favor.



*Some examples could be; “Write a blog about your show in  Seattle.” or “Write a blog about what you and Dave ate while on tour." or "Why on earth would you move to the pacific northwest when you have such fantastic weather in Arizona?" you get the point, right??*



      Ok, so we’re excited to see how this goes (this is an experiment and we hope that you all participate cuz this could be really cool, and if it goes well, we could maybe even muster the gumption (great word isn't it?) to do one blog a week in response to your comments.)  Looking forward to hearing some of your creative and wonderful ideas, and stay tuned to hear if, come Thursday morning, my computer is functioning or turning into a house plant!



Cheers and tata for now,
Mandy Fer

Moonrise in Santa Cruz                                                     Pre-show glee                                                                   Crepe Place, Santa Cruz, CA



Backstage @ Freight & Salvage, Berkeley, CA               Setlist on a napkin (classy, we know)                               Bathroom art @ Sam Bond's Garage






Eugenian sunshine in November                                   New Day Bakery breakfast is the best!

Sunday evening.
10:30 pm.
“Tour Eve”

Man, it really feels like I’m a kid again, and it’s Christmas Eve or something. We have all of our bags packed, (they are sitting patiently by the door) and I am bouncing off of the walls and falling into things like it’s my job. For the last 8 hours or so, Dave and I have been packing, reorganizing, reprinting, refinishing, cleaning, etc.

But right now, my friends, it’s a very, very familiar feeling…that restless, wonderful, magical, tiring feeling, just like I am six years old again and it’s the night before Christmas.

I think I’m a little disheveled, I’m not gonna lie to you folks, but it’s not something a little bourbon and ginger ale can’t take care of! ☺

Dave is changing his strings on his beautiful Taylor guitar, and when he pulled it out of his case, I’m not going to lie to you (as I already stated) he sweetly whispered, “I love you” into its sound hole.

We are like kids in a candy store….ready, itching, so thrilled, can’t wait to hit this road hard tomorrow, and hopefully the Flagstaff snow won’t hold us back.

Tata for now, but much more to come from these two giddy musicians, thanks for reading and stay tuned, cuz I’m feeling like this tour’s going to be well documented…

Linguine, fettuccine, Ferrarini...these lovely Italian tongue-twisters are all difficult words to pronounce, spell, and remember. The last of the three, Ferrarini, is especially troublesome because unfortunately, my last name is not something that you have been eating at Italian restaurants and throwing across the table at your big brother since the sweet age of three. For this very reason, I have seen many beads of sweat form on show-promoter’s foreheads as they get ready to announce Dave McGraw & I to an eager audience of new listeners.
.
“Is it pronunced Fur-ree-ni or Fur-rah-reee-nuh? Am I saying that right?” the promoter will ask, unsure of his r-rolling skills. I reply as gently as possible,
“Yea, don’t worry, you can just say Mandy if you want... it’s Fair-rah-ree-ni, but no sweat, man.” He stares wide-eyed at my lips, while frantically attempting to scribble down the correct phonetics for my crazy last name.
“No, no, it’s ok, I think I’ve got it,” he’ll say, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “So it’s, Free-nee, right?”


Oh, to hell with it.


I write to you all now on this beautiful fall, morning in Flagstaff, with news of a change that I am very excited to deliver to all of your email inboxes across this fine country. This fall, I will be changing my stage name from Mandy Ferrarini to Mandy Fer (pronounced “fair”). After many laborious hours of research and hard thinking, I discovered that Fer is one of the original spelling variations of Ferrarini, (and WAY easier to spell and pronounce). Not only is this staying true to the origin of my family history, but through other research I discovered that Fer is a wine grape used in southwest France, whose vines are extremely challenging to prune, and is named in reference to that challenge as the French word for Iron. Pretty cool, huh?

So, through all of this, I have joyfully decided to make this change before my debut duo album release with Dave McGraw, Seed of a Pine, which is set to be released in Jan. 2012. For all of you avid mandyferrarini.com folks, my website will be switching over in the next couple of weeks from www.mandyferrarini.com to www.mandyfer.com. (For the next couple of weeks however, you can continue to visit www.mandyferrarini.com, and when it switches over to the new address, it will instantly re-route you to from the old address to mandyfer.com, so do not fret!)

                                                                               Pre-Production @ Studio Retrograde in Flagstaff, AZ w/ Jeff Lusby



 

VERY packed car headed to Chicago...  Through the mountains of Moab, UT...          And a barbeque festival in Frisco, CO....

      

And they survived the Blue River in Colorado...              And made it to Chicago!           Just in time for the storm (which put out the power for 4 days)





On the journey to the perfect tone....             Wizard/Producer/Engineer Zach Goheen....   "More of me, less of him, please!" screeched Mandy.
                                                                                                                                                                  "Look! You can do it yourself!" exclaimed Zach.
                                                                                                                                                                   And they all lived happily ever after... who said diamonds are a
                                                                                                                                                                                                           girls best friend? I say Furmans are a girl's best friend.
                       


  
"Are you hungry, man?" asked Dave.                           Dave warmin up the vocal chords...           "Fighter pilot" Lauher checkin the mic levels...
"No man, I just ate 6 Cliff Bars," replied Andrew.
(See Cliff Bar note below)
"I wish i had a Big Star Taco right now," grumbled Mandy.



 

Chris Merrill rockin the upright...                                  Tele Time!                                                     Midwestern Lakes after pizza in the belly...



   

                                                                                 Puttin' JT Nero (Jt & the Clouds) & Allison Russel ( Po' Girl) to work...


    
      
 Sweet salvation of Big Star Taco...                                                                      "Miss Ferrarini, Dr. Goheen will see you now."



 
Spanish flare w/ a pink capo by Mr. McGraw...        Best recording dog EVER...                                       Wurlitzer time!



 
    
  The gang, post- Chicago style hot dogs...                      Big Star Taco again...                       The only thing Andrew took on the plane back to FLG...

Cliff Bar Note:
On the first Friday of the recording sessions, Dave, Mandy & Andrew arrived to Minbal Studios with approx 45 Cliff, Luna, and Lara Bars.  All were gone in 3 days.

Recording in Chicago:
What really inspired the sessions?  How did it all happen so quickly?  Here's how.


Oysters
Steak Tartare
Smoked Salmon
Octupus
Rabbit Leg
Mackerel
Italian Beef
Duck Confit
Short Ribs
Rabbit Lung
Tilapia Tacos
Hangover Salad
Pork Fried Almonds
Caviar
Affogato
Calamari
Luna Bar
Falafel
BBQ Chicken Sandwich
Proscuitto
Chorizo
Pork Liver Pate
Pizza
Lara Bar
Pork Tenderloin
Naked Juice
PBR Tall Boys (Thanks, George)
Trader Joe's free coffee
Newport Cappuccino


Now, with two empty wallets, Dave and Mandy are full.  It must be time to go home.

THANK
YOU
CHICAGO.

By: Mandy Ferrarini
August 31, 2010

Soybeans and corn. Soybeans and corn. We’re somewhere in the middle of Ohio and I hear Angrew screeching in the front seat, “That’s all there is, soybeans and corn. Soybeans and corn.” It’s probably our 887th cornfield in this trip thus far, and in the back seat of Henrietta (a.k.a. the “burp cage” 1 ) I am wondering how much longer this state of Ohio is going to last. Eventually, Ohio retreated from our windows, and we entered into the beginning of a beautiful Northeast experience for Dave McGraw and Crow Wing.

Once we finally scooted out of Ohio, I was amazed to see how gorgeous the rolling hills of Pennsylvania really were; this trip out to the Northeast was basically my first time out there, minus a field trip to D.C. in 8th grade. I had no idea that this part of the country was going to steal my heart so much, but I constantly found myself with my face pressed up against the window exclaiming, “Wow, look how pretty this is.” And what’s so cool about it is that it transforms from rolling green hills to a HUGE, and I mean HUGE, metropolis without even the blink of an eykkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Oh, sorry, I just fell asleep holding down the ‘k’ in another cornfield filled area in middle of nowhere, Kansas. Seriously. Dave just got a picture of it, I think.

Anyways, our first northeastern stop was Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where Crow Wing got their dive bar fix for the tour. Philly definitely charmed me with its steep winding streets and baseball-watchin-Philly-cheese-steak-eatin' crowds filling the bar scenes. We prowled the streets for a pre-show meal, and were advised by a local to eat at a pub around the corner, where bar food consisted of tasty vegetable wraps with goat cheese, salads with fresh mint and artichoke hearts, and of course, Philly cheese steaks. What a pleasant surprise to eat good bar food for once…no offense to Flagstaff, but bar food just isn’t good there.

With full bellies, back we headed to the bar where we were playing, and waited patiently for our turn to rock Philly’s socks off. That night we were scheduled with two other bands and, uniquely enough, a comedian who filled the silence between band switchovers. Oh, boy, did he fill the silence. I don't think I can repeat a single joke, because there may be children or other wholesome persons reading this. As you can imagine, it was an...interesting...fit with three folk-rock bands. But unexpected surprises are what the road is all about; they're never something you can truly prepare for, but that’s what makes it such a thrilling ride.

We had a great time playin' that night in the little dive bar on a small street corner of Philly, and in our crowd was one of my dear friends, Ailsa, who rallied five fun friends from Philly to come dance to some sweet Southwest tunes. Ailsa took in Crow Wing with open arms to her mom’s beautiful home just south of the city, and we thank her so much for having us. It’s hard to explain the sense of comfort that staying in a warm home brings after spending numerous nights in Motel 6's, especially an amazing house like that one, with such an amazing friend. This house is a classic Pennsylvania home built in the late 1800s, with character seeping out of every centimeter inside and out. We soaked up every outdoor second that we could in her massive and gorgeous backyard, picking some fresh raspberries and kicking back with a little bourbon by the fire. Man, life on the road is rough.

The next morning we awoke to some Northwest style rain, which we greeted with great pleasure. Crow Wing got super lucky with the weather we experienced in our northeastern bout; not a day even attempted to feel hot, and gentle sprinkles gave Henrietta a daily washing. Off we did roll to Ithaca, New York, where Dave McGraw and Crow Wing played their first coffee shop ever as a full band, surrounded by a crowd of loving family and friends. I feel like I’ve become repetitive in these blogs talking about loving family and friends in the audiences, but it’s true, we have been blessed to be surrounded at almost every performance by such wonderful folks. So, thank you all a million times for supporting us. If any of you haven’t been to Ithaca, and are considering it, I say do it. It’s a colorful, quaint town, and if you can make it into “The Shop” while you are there, it's worth the effort. According to Andrew, Crow Wing’s resident coffee connoisseur, it’s the best coffee he had all tour. We all had a great caffeinated set there at “The Shop,” where the tempo was maybe a little faster than normal, but luckily Andrew kept an eye on it and slowed the cappuccino pace down whenever necessary.

Thom's kind friends Yamin and Diane opened their doors to us for a delightful night of delicious homemade lasagna and comfortable, much needed Z's (the 2 previous nights consisted of a total of 6 hours of sleep). With the hectic streets of Manhattan awaiting our arrival the next day, Crow Wing was in dire need of more than 4 hours of sleep that night. Thank you, Yamin & Diane, for helping us recharge our minds and spirits within the beautiful confines of your home.

Next time: A Day in the Life of Dave McGraw and Crow Wing

______________________

1 I burped ONCE, and nobody seemed to forget it, so now whenever I am acting up, the boys send me to my burp cage in the back seat. [Editor's note: It was WAY more than once.] That’s where all of this fun blogging occurs from, though, so I guess we're all in the burp cage together...muhaha...

By: Mandy Ferrarini
August 25, 2010

“Everybody come on in, you can taste a little of the summer… my grandma put it all in jars.”---Greg Brown

Grandparents are true gifts in our lives. Their words constantly heartfelt, their stories a gentle and constant symphony of truth to our wide and bright young eyes. Dave McGraw & Crow Wing was lucky enough to enter into a chapter of family history this past week in Sherman, Texas, where a lovely lady named Dorothy Foster opened the doors to a vast cavity of vivid memories to share with these four youngsters on a hot August afternoon. Dorothy’s quaint white house was strewn with antique china and old photographs of smiling family faces; I could have sworn that I heard a continuous whisper of untold narratives behind each corner of every room.

Our visit to Sherman, Texas was brief but took us straight to the heart of the American South… where sneaky chiggers are nestled in thick grass waiting to hurl themselves into sweet northerners’ ankles, and where churches, without a doubt, outnumber Starbucks. Crow Wing jumped in head first with a lunch at the “Glory to God Café”, one of Dorothy’s favorite hot spots in Sherman. We knew that this lunch was going to be a memorable and “bloggable” experience simply by the name of this place, but I think we were all floored with how much heart their was inside of this small café. A preacher and his family run the restaurant, and they had just decided that morning that they were going to have to close it down because they could not longer afford it. The kind daughter prepared us plates of candied yams, fried okra, green beans, southern style mac & cheese, and a fried catfish sandwich. Everything tasted like it was on sugar-butter steroids, but in a good way… let’s just say that southern food does NOT lack flavor. It was a very real and very heavy experience to be inside of an establishment that had been such an important part of Dorothy’s community and to watch it prepare itself for its final days. I realize more and more that these “real” experiences are why we are on the road. There is so much to see in this world, let alone in this country, but we are just trying to do our part to follow our hearts, and share real experiences with real people.

Before we departed from this small Texas town, Crow Wing serenaded Dorothy with their version of the Sherman Living Room Sessions, which entailed almost an hour’s worth of acoustic melodies and rhythms. Thom, Dave and myself all fiddled on guitars (I periodically jumped over to the perfectly tuned piano and tried to keep up) and Andrew singing and tapping on whatever he could get his hands on. Throughout the whole day we spent in Sherman I couldn’t seem to kick “Seed of a Pine” out of my mind, whose lyrics include lines such as, “great grandmother would have surely known” and “hope is believing in the seed of a pine.” We began our mini concert with that song, and the silence steeped with photographs was soon covered in Dave’s voice, singing words of all he knew and loved to his smiling grandmother. What a joy it is to share our music with the people that we love.

We pushed out of Sherman with Henrietta properly lubed from a cheap/fast oil change and northward Crow Wing flew bound for a recently drenched Iowa City, IA. Angrew (whom I will explain later) made one of his first experiences of the trip thus far when he took the wheel right outside of Des Moines, Iowa. As most of you probably know, Iowa experienced a devastating amount of flooding within the last week or so, and we got to see some of it firsthand in a 2 hour traffic pile that was caused by this flooding. Rivers flooded over their banks and just barely missed the highway by about 20 yards… this being said, the second that Andrew got behind the wheel he claims to have been “hosed” because he was the unfortunate one who had to drive us through the entire hot traffic jam. Originally, Andrew jumped behind the wheel and our friendly GPS Karen recommended an alternate route for Henrietta, which we gladly attempted to follow. This alternate route led Henrietta to her first encounter with a dirt road next to some very well watered corn fields, but little did Karen know that almost all of these back roads were washed out from the flood, so Andrew was forced to turn Crow Wing back around to the bumper to bumper traffic filled highway.

What’s that you say? Who is Angrew? Well, Angrew is the slightly angrier version of Andrew, who occasionally makes appearances under frustrating circumstances most commonly en route to a show when the traffic or the coffee isn’t quite right. When Angrew shows up, Crow Wing is always understanding of his needs, and knows that eventually Andrew will reappear once the circumstances improve, and truly we all just need to get a little angry sometimes, so we thank Andrew for having the courage to name his angry side and have it sound so catchy and clever. Mangry or Thomgry or Davegry just doesn’t sound as good. Andrew resurfaced once the road cleared up, and we arrived in Iowa City to be pleasantly surprised by a lively town and a lively performance that evening at the Iowa City Yacht Club. The Yacht Club seems to have nothing to do with boats just like the Walnut Room seems to have nothing to do with walnuts, but we still enjoyed hammering out some solid tunes in a dark basement for a loving crowd of Iowa City fans. This show exceeded all of our expectations with crowd receptivity and Crow Wing definitely had a downright fun evening in that Big Ten town. Thanks to all of our new Iowa City fans who came out and supported with joyful openness to our Southwest twang.

The world became smaller for me once more that night when the bartender at the Yacht Club asked me who I was and then informed me that we went to high school together. I think I’m learning through this tour that the world is small, and we are all always closer than we think we are to each other. It’s taking that extra step to go see the world that helps us to reach some sense of understanding for what the hell we are doing on this crazy planet. I guess then a small advantage that we have on our elders or our grandparents is our ability to go out and stretch our crow wings and see so much of this lovely painted earth, whether it may be by plane, train, or Henrietta—but in doing so we can’t forget our sense of home, and how important that is as well. Home…where our antique china sits and waits to be used, where an old pecan tree grips tight to the hot summer earth, where a grandmother waits patiently for her afternoon nap to pass so she can watch her grandson shine brightly through song. Where pictures tell stories which words may not understand, and where memories grow like weeds fed only by love.

By: Mandy Ferrarini
August 27th, 2010

Pizza, hot dogs, Italian beef sandwiches, blues music, Da Bears, and... did I say pizza yet? These are just a few reasons why I love Chicago, my pre-Flagstaff home. Occasionally I find myself in the back of a cab in downtown Chicago, sweaty palms clinging to the sticky leather seats, wondering if the cab driver is just crazy, or if I’ve been away from this city for too damn long. It brings me some inexplicable sense of comfort when I am worrying for my life in the back of a cab, with some false sense of reassurance like, “Oh, don’t worry, Mandy, these guys know what they’re doing.” When really, they’re just part of this game we call living in the concrete jungle, and they’re just dancing at extra high speeds with a little bit more cojones behind the wheel than a small-mountain-town girl such as myself.

When Dave McGraw and Crow Wing cruised into Chicago that Sunday afternoon (well, not really cruised, more like sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic), there was a great sense of anticipation amongst the entire group. I think I speak for everyone when I say that Chicago was one of the most highly anticipated shows of the Crow Wing’s August 2010 tour. Not only because this show was in such an infamously prominent music town, but also because we were going to be playing at such an awesome venue, opening up for an awesome Chicago band, being surrounded by hundreds of awesome Chicagoans in the crowd. And all of this joy was nearly stripped straight from my hands, almost literally, by a filthy, evil, teeny Deerfield yellow jacket.

For those of you who are familiar with Deerfield, Illinois, you know that there are just a couple famous things about this quaint North Shore suburb. One of them is the Walgreens factory, and the second one is “the Tunnel”. The Tunnel is an exit ramp tunnel that was built in the year 2000, which takes you from 94 West to Deerfield Road. This lovely tunnel became a central point for entertainment for my high school friends and me on many boring Friday and Saturday Deerfield nights. How can a tunnel be entertaining? Needless to say, Deerfield nightlife was far from compelling, and my friends and I were extremely creative and colorful individuals (trust me, you should have seen the colors on our patchwork skirts). With just the right tunnel song, and the windows down all the way, if you stick your head out the window just enough to let your three-foot-long hippy hairdo tangle in the wind, the Tunnel can be the recipe for complete bliss for a bliss-starved sixteen-year-old stuck in the suburbs.

After we survived the five o’clock downtown traffic and skidded to the northern suburbs, I picked up the phone and dialed my favorite pizza joint’s number (which I still have memorized; thank you, Il-Forno’s), and decided that it would only be appropriate to share the Tunnel with these Crow Wing fellas. So, I picked a good tunnel song,“Paradise City” (I know, it’s too good), we rolled down Henrietta’s windows and zoomed through my high school memories at full speed. After our thrilling tunnel run, we jumped onto Deerfield Road, and the familiar smells, sights and sounds of home abounded. I was just finishing saying to the boys, “So, now you know what I did in high school, and now you’ll understand why I had so much free time to practice guitar--”, when all of a sudden, it felt like a friendly Deerfield birdy dropped a little friendly turdy through the window and into my not-so-long-now hairdo.

I turned around and asked Dave, “Is there bird shit in my hair?” I ran my hand through my locks, and felt a not-so-friendly evil buzzing creature sting my right index finger, 4 days before the most important musical performance of my life. I would much rather have opted for the bird shit.

Now, when I reflect on it, the irony of the situation is exceptionally laughable, but at the time, after multiple doses of Wal-a-tin and Benadryl (which I learned is very FUN), one useless visit to the walk-in clinic, and six suburban Walgreens visits in 24 hours, I was about ready to cut my finger off. It started as just an extremely painful and swollen finger, and then spread to my whole hand; the same hand that was supposed to be able to hold a pick on Thursday on stage at one of Chicago’s premier music venues. Thank you to all of you friends and family who tolerated my overly stressed, crabby and drowsy behavior throughout those few days. But my biggest thank you goes out to Dr. Lu (and my mom, for scheduling the appointment), who is the physician who prescribed me to a high dose of steroids and antibiotics, which by show time on Thursday shrunk my hand to its almost normal size.

Ok, I’m supposed to be blogging right now about our awesome experience in Chicago. Sorry for the detour…

I warned Dave when we booked this tour that I was going to need just enough time in Chicago to see Granny and eat pizza, and it turned out to be our longest stop on the tour. Thanks, Dave. From Sunday to Friday we all were able to spend some quality time with family and friends, eat delicious cuisine, and experience some of the amazing entertainment and activity that the Windy City has to offer. Thom scooted off to Indiana to have some genuine family time in South Bend, while Andrew, myself and Dave soaked up D-town for all it was worth: visits to famous Chicago museums, to a jaunt on the Metra to a My Morning Jacket show at Northerly Island with Crow Wing supporter Tosch, to a $75 trip to Rosewood Beach (damn, you Highland Park Police, for ticketing my mom’s car). The pizza was more delicious than ever, and the visits with my Granny Pearl were more irreplaceable than ever. Just like Dave’s grandma Dorothy, Pearl is a huge advocate for our music; to be able to sit down in her cozy living room of her quiet apartment and fill the air with a few lively moments of music brings me so much joy, and makes this entire tour worth it for just that one look of contentment on her loving and smiling face. A few more acoustic versions of Mandy/Crow Wing tunes were performed on the back porch of my parent’s house for loving family members' ears, and Dave’s brand spankin' new djembe arrived at our doorstep just in time to be played on stage that next night. Big thanks to Mom and George for opening your home to us, as always, and for being such awesome musical cheerleaders since day one.

Thursday night arrived, and Dave McGraw and Crow Wing found themselves stepping their crow feet into one of the coolest musical nooks in Chicago that I have ever seen. When you walk in the front door of The Hideout, the walls are littered with pictures of past performers in the venue, branching anywhere from Andrew Bird to The Swell Season and Neko Case. Let me take a minute to send great appreciation to JT Nero of JT & The Clouds for putting together this special night for us; what a pleasure it was to share the stage with his killer band that night. If you haven’t heard of JT & The Clouds, you owe it to yourself to check them out (www.jtandtheclouds.com), because they rock. As does his lovely female vocalist’s other band, Po Girl (www.pogirl.net). Thank you, too, Alison, for your amazing soul and for your kind words. We look forward to sharing the stage with you all again very soon.

Now here come more thank you’s. I can’t begin to thank all of our family and friends for coming out that night to support our music. It felt so good to get up on that stage for my opening set and look out at so many familiar joyful faces---I am so blessed to know all of you. It was such a blast to share my craft for the first time with so many fans that have been by my side since the very beginning. I had such a ball playing both sets, especially when Dave brought his new djembe (now referred to as the Goat) on stage and shook the walls with that beautiful beast. Something extremely exciting about touring the country with this band is their ability to carry the essence of the Southwest straight to the stage; whether it is through songs written about the unfortunate happenings of Mexican drug cartels or Dave’s experiences chasing birds throughout the sandy ranchos of Chihuahua. Crow Wing flew high that night on that beautiful Hideout stage, to the point where during the last song (Crow Wing River), my Nalgene flew off my amp and spilled water all over my pedal board. I looked at Dave wondering what to do, and he gave me a big grin that implied, “Yea, that’s rock and roll baby.” The boys and I grew another unique version of “Seed of a Pine” with special guest JT, who sang some sweet harmonies with us--- it’s moments like those, where I look around the stage at Dave, Thom, and Andrew, and I float up out of myself and say, “Yes.” We’ve done it… we are on the road, sharing our music with family and friends and strangers alike, with smiles swollen from joy, and hands healed from the wrath of filthy, teeny Deerfield yellow jackets.