Provo - Remember the Alamo...especially the address.

I screwed up! I put the address for The Alamo as 240 N. 100 W. on the website and in the email list... but as we all found out, hopefully with a smile on our faces, it was actually 240 N. 1000 W. Sorry about that folks :) I have to admit though, I thought it was pretty funny pulling up to the Mexican Carniceria imagining that the Alamo had become a pinata selling, tejano music blasting, dead cow chopping Mexican butcher shop since the last time I'd played there. I couldn't help but laugh imagining Spencer running out to meet me: one hand holding his sombrero on his head, the other gripping a rubbery looking chicken as he skipped in a wide legged cowboy-booted waddle on over to help me set up the pedal-powered PA in aisle 3. "We made the Alamo a butcher shop, woo-wee!" He'd say as we spaced the bike between the cans of cow stomach and bags of "Mahatma" rice. "Buenas Provo! Esta se llama "En el Embrazo de Gypsy!"

I laid the bicycle beast on its side and went in; asked the dude behind the counter holding the cleaver if I could borrow a cardboard box. He sort of giggled, which I didn't understand, but then he motioned to where the glass counter ended. Still giggling, he took me to the back room where his boss came out, sporting a fine mustache. He explained what I wanted to his boss. Then his boss giggled, and he went toward a pile of boxes stacked near the rear door. What's so funny about asking for a box with these guys I wonder? The boss returned still giggling with a semi bloody beef box "Is this OK?" he asked. "That'll be great," I said. And they just smiled and shook their heads and kept kind of giggling.

Why are these dudes freaking giggling so much? Maybe they'd seen Spencer in his sombrero too? Maybe they saw Spencer in his lacey green thong? I never found out... Any guesses folks? Leave your comments ~ the wilder the guess the better.

I took the box outside and in my best "will work for food" handwriting made a sign with the correct address on it, as more and more victims of my missprint pulled up around me...

We headed over on bikes and in cars over to the white walls of the Alamo on 1000 W.

The Alamo, for those who don't remember, is the headquarters for the crazy cast of miscreants appearing around Utah Valley in Wanted signs as "The Elizabethan Report" - Tony the vocal rodeo dandy, Senator Spector (Peterson for president 08!), and the rest (Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier, etc.).

I hadn't played The Alamo in a year, but of course, in my duty as a patriotic American to remember it, remembered with great fondness.

The show began with a virtuosic performance by Phil Sadler and his band (sickest guitar player I've seen all tour), who spread a thick harmony custard on the room bread which the crowd gobbled like drunken uncles at the buffalo-wing buffet at your Quinciniera. Even though I was having a really hard time trying to make the pedal-powered PA stop trying to sing its own harmony (sorry Phil), his band cut through the feedback and wowed the crowd anyhowed.

The place was packed like a size 19 foot in a size 12 shoe: squished from the front to the back, from the side to the side, toes overlapping toes, but ready to bust out, ready to run, swollen with stored movement...

Us being packed in like that, I started the show with "Skinny Woman," and went from there. Highlights included the folks sitting in the back who seemed to never stop sewing up CD covers, me putting the wrong address for the place in the blog and email list, and the generosity and vibe of the good people who showed up. Thanks Ashley for the painting and CD. Thanks Andrew for the passion.

After the show, the brave soul/musician otherwise known as Liz Rhodes biked with me across Provo to the University Mall Cinemas for the BYU Alternative Commencement benefit screenings of "Unreasonable Man" (doc. about Ralph Nader) and "This Divided State." (doc. about Michael Moore's visit to UVSC - Orem, UT). We caught the last 20 minutes, but even so saw enough to make me respect Ralph Nader even more than I did. I can't wait to play on the same mic he'll speak on at Alt. Commencement...

Huge props to Liz Rhodes for braving the frigid air, and courageously bicycle caravaning with me. For all yall who didn't bring your bikes, you missed a fine telling of the legend of The Carterville Road Stiltwalker.

Next time we meet again at the Alamo,
Let us remember this beautiful night,
and I the address, which I butchered,
and you your faithfully saddled bike.
Yee haw to all the Alamo!
Yee haw to all who came and saw,
We sewed, we sang, we sweat, we sat,
we wore the hot pink training bra...