Taco Trucks At Every Roadstop…PLEASE!!! :D

Winter on the road. We stop along a wharf lined with taco trucks for what turns out to be some surprisingly delicious grilled nopales – the kind of flavor you’d expect more from an open pit grill than inside a truck. I’m not sure who “taco trucks on every corner” was meant to be a warning to…(Ok, that’s a lie. I can make an educated guess. 😉 )but I’ve gigged outside of the city enough at this point to say I’d welcome this type of thing more often over your standard “highway rest stop” type fare.

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The venue we played in Western Mass was Anchor House of Artists, a space which, much like Fountain House here in New York, provides live and work opportunities for artists with mental health diagnoses. (While Pronoblem did not have such diagnosis, I and other musicians he’s worked with do.)

The urn Rachel brought in to be “bathed in noise” sat on a chair in the middle of the audience, looking like a small pagoda, especially since she’d placed a number of ferns in the box around it. It pulsated with an energy that prickled my arm, so I grabbed my bow and joined with John and Jack in a swampy churning improv before we officially began, violin grinding it’s way through a turbo rat pedal.

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