#37, Asheville, North Carolina
It was a hot summer day and we were driving through Tennessee listening to Bob Dylan's Love and Theft. Ahead of us lay Asheville and the back of Pascal's van. Behind us, near Gatlinburg, we'd passed a gas station with a teepee and a sign advertising "rat cheese homemade jams & jellies". We'd passed billboards for Cowboys Seafood and the truly dubious-sounding Flyaway Indoor Skydiving (Annie: "That doesn't sound safe." Michael, in drawl: "Now you be sure to pull that cord before you count to one. That floor comes fast!"). Josh, with an air of bewilderment and awe, was pondering the merits of Fleetwood Mac's Tusk ("This album was mixed by a mad scientist. There's no songs, but they're all great songs."). And then, legs cramped and stomachs full of gas station squirrel food, we rolled into Asheville.
We had a few hours before our gig at the BoBo Gallery with hopeful, hypnotic Hope and Anchor and the incredible "Ragtime, Steam Boat Blues, Holes in My Shoes" Woody Pines, so I grabbed an iced coffee from a coffee stand inside a defunct London double decker bus and wandered. Along narrow Carolina Lane, I found this gingerbread purple and red house. Its neighbor, 27, was also decked out in bright finery. I love the odd rockery carefully arranged beneath the window sill.
The townsfolk of Balthrop, Alabama may or may not get to roll into Asheville again soon (we loved it there), but we are happy to be playing tomorrow night at Union Hall in Brooklyn with both Woody Pines and Josh's own Rocketship Park. Check out the amazing, ransom-note collection of typography in their banner; stay for the pretty music.