And although this tour, at first, was nothing but a thought without any plan to make it real or any reason to think we could actually pull it off, bit by bit it has become very real indeed. For us, however, making something real always involves an amount of hard work, time, and persistence that is nearly all we have, as well as willingness to put almost everything on the line.

To leave on this tour, we’ve quit our jobs in Los Angeles, rented out our apartment, sold our car and bought a van, got rid of our remodeled rehearsal space, sold as many of our other possessions as we could, and scrapped together funding for a not insignificant amount of equipment, merchandise, and promotion. We will be gone for a full two months, travel the entire country, and most of the time, the van will be our home.

We have some reason to believe that all of this will take us to a place we want to be, which is to be working on music full-time like we are right now, but of course there are no guarantees.

One thing that is certain is that it will be quite the adventure.

Packaging promo CDs to ship to NYC

Spray-painting stenciled designs onto our clothes

Scrubbing the bathroom floor before showing our apt., visiting the Genius Bar to get our laptop functioning

Last minute equipment and merch purchases, shipping back 1 of 2 malfunctioning keyboards

Empty boxes used to ship us posters, buttons, t-shirts, gear cases, guitar pedals, CDs, jewel cases…

Fixing a flat tire on our van and replacing missing lugs only a few days before we left

Washing and vacuuming the Ford Escort before selling it

Buying lumber to build sleeping/equipment compartments in the van, building a pedal board

Ever since October when we found out that the tour we’d dreamed of going on could actually be a reality, we’ve been been compiling an ever-growing and now quite sizable list of everything that needs to be accomplished before we go. And last week was to be when we would finally be able to start on it in earnest, since we’d both be working full-time on the music project for the first time ever.

But, alas, what was making Joel ill turned out to be a bad case of the flu, and by the next day I had it too. On top of that, our only computer stopped working again, depriving us of even movies and music to distract us from the fact that we couldn’t get anything done. So all last week, the amazing new efficiency we’d been dreaming of was just a day dream as we both lay in bed in the quiet green haze of our apartment.

Fortunately, we are getting close to being recovered now, and so ordering merch, renting out our apartment, getting all our equipment working, promoting the tour, and rehearsing has all begun, and just a week later than planned. I doubt that most people would think of sleeping in a van for two months during the winter as a great way to rejuvenate if you are feeling run down, but for us it may be just what we need.

But, as usual, what’s real is much harder to control than I’d like. Just a few days ago, my keyboard basically stopped working, and when it will be ready to use again is most definitely not going to be tonight. So, I’ve been busy figuring out how to use a different keyboard that will be adequate but not ideal, and Joel and I are working on figuring out a way to get mine working or replaced without breaking the bank.

On Saturday, the repair shop we visited in Culver City, huge and potentially spacious, was quite the sight, messily filled to the brim with thousands of pieces of musical equipment in various states of assembly and complete disassembly. But Joel told me that how bewilderingly disorganized the whole place appeared was in fact a good sign in regards to my keyboard actually getting fixed. He said he has always had better luck at shops that looked like this one: they are so chaotic because the owners are so focused on getting their customers’ equipment working that they don’t bother making sure their store appears perfectly in order.

Sometimes amusing, other times frustrating, it seems that whatever project we undertake, we like to make damn sure there are an incredible number of steps. This, in all honesty, can be quite intimidating, but when we do finally pull off what we are going for, we can usually say we made something we are truly proud of. So as it happens, the supply gathering, costuming, prop assembly, set preparation, and filming for this video have brought us all over the colorful city (and outskirts) of Los Angeles and kept us up late many a night. From climbing the rocks at Zuma Beach to sneaking around abandoned industrial parks in Santa Clarita, to standing in the waves in the windy cold night in Santa Monica, not to mention painting our windows green, bolting video lights to our ceiling, and ceaselessly rearranging our apartment, we’ve been putting this miniature monster of a three and half minute video together. It’s almost done, so wish us luck….and check out a sneak peek of what we’ve been up to.

Well, first we actually covered them with black paper and then taped individual sheets of letter size green paper over that, realized this initial plan was not going to work, tore it all down, made a late night trip to the hardware store, and finally created just the kind of green windows we’d been dreaming of. Joel assures me that the paint will come off effortlessly when we are finished. I suppose we shall see. But I do know that whatever happens it will all be worth it: the very first Violet Lights music video will be all yours by the end of the month.

Wow it WORKS!!!

Under the cover of darkness and a close lookout, files were downloaded, documents were printed, and we made our getaway completely undetected. The purpose of our mission…well, that’s top secret. Don’t worry, you’ll know soon enough.

Over the past 8 months, Joel and I (mostly Joel, honestly) spent hundreds of hours insulating, remodeling, and equipping the room in the hope it would inspire the creation and perfection of an amazing live show. That vision was not to be realized. As events would have it, the space was completely finished only after we’d had our very last rehearsal there. But, alas, bring on the future. I’ve found it comes to me whether I try prevent it’s advance or not. Farewell my beguiling, haunted, ill-fated 236.

Here is a brief list of my recent discoveries:

On average it takes 3 broken microphone stands to assemble 1 functional one, similar ratios apply to guitar stands.

Scrap lumber is significantly less expensive than the stuff they sell at OSH or the Depot, particularly when you are talking plywood.

Discarded lottery tickets are not always losers, I found one good for a free ticket, which in turn became $5.

An abandoned couch will feel befriended if you put a new cover on it.

“Wash and Wear” is the term I give any article of clothing I find in a dumpster.

A lamp is not trash if it only needs a new light-bulb.

If it has a “Take Me” sign on it, the imperative at least deserves consideration.

Your wife/girlfriend really loves you if she finds a way to appreciate a gift, presented as “discarded on the street” rather than “purchased at boutique”.

“Construction Waste” is another way of saying supplies for a smaller project.

One man’s thrift store bag is another man’s ebay inventory?

No matter where life takes me financially I hope that I don’t forget these early days scraping and scrapping. Somewhat curious and somewhat fitting, that material waste is one of the predominate luxuries enjoyed by a materialistic society.

All that said I can’t wait to get out on the road and play the music we’ve been working on for people. This is certainly an opportunity afforded by a society of material wealth and for that I am certainly grateful! Yeah!

On what would be his final voyage, a quest to discover a new world in the Arctic, his beloved ship becomes irretrievably trapped in the ice. As the captain and his crew hold up in the belly of the ship, reluctantly burning it to stay alive, one by one each sailor finally loses his nerve to wait and to hope against all odds that they will be rescued, and abandons the ship on foot to set out across the featureless snowy iceberg, to his almost certain demise. In the end, only the captain remains and is finally rescued.

After that it got colder the world got quiet

It was never quite day or quite night

And the sea turned the color of sky turned the color

Of sea turned the color of ice


‘Til at last all around us was fastness

One vast glassy desert of arsenic white

And the waves that once lifted us

Sifted instead into drifts against Annabelle’s sides

The crew gathered closer at first for the comfort

But each morning would bring a new set

Of tracks in the snow leading over the edge

Of the world ‘til I was the only one left

Joel and I now find ourselves on our own working on the as yet unproven music project known as The Violet Lights. As I’m sure Josh Ritter’s captain would as readily admit, the prospects for our success are completely uncertain, so like the crew who couldn’t see a reason to hold on and hope they would be rescued, our former bandmates are not unreasonable to be unwilling to risk what they already have in the name of a vision so tenuous. And as we’ve learned, trying to make a career out of making music, for some reason, doesn’t feel at all unlike slowly burning all other means of escape for a singular, precarious chance at success. How could we expect to encounter many who’d be up for that? Still, I can’t help but miss the sailors who decided their best bet was to set out across the ice.