Dark Charms

Celebrating a wonderful friend and host

(From the Tattletale Saints / 10 String Symphony tour poster 2014)

Today’s piece is a tribute to a lovely friend - the kind of person who helps the independent touring world keep turning through their generosity and support of musicians - and next week I’m going to write a simple guide for booking a tour.

My basic plan for this blog is to write “things I would have found useful 10 years ago” but if you have something you’d like me to write about - let me know in the comments.

Independent musicians rely on favors to keep the tour train rolling.

The incredible network of music lovers all over the world makes it possible for bands to string together show dates, pile into whoever’s car has the best odds of surviving the adventure, and share their music with the world.

Small venue owners, dedicated fans, hosts offering free beds for the night, and grass-roots festival organizers doing it for the love of music are how the live music world survives and musicians build careers.

Over the years, relying on the generosity of strangers has led Cy and me to rest our post-show heads on some odd pillows in some even stranger locations: the spare room of a hoarder, an unplugged RV in the dead of winter, the blanket-free couch of a friend of a friend of a friend…

But occasionally, taking a leap of faith when someone says “I have a spare bed” leads you to magic.

“I promise I’m not a crazy person”

That’s what a crazy person would say, I thought.

“My kids and I have a huge house just down the street from the venue and I know how expensive touring is. If you need a free bed for the night, it’s yours”

Our tour budget was so shoestring it was practically dental floss so - despite my reservations about staying with a stranger I’d met on the internet - I said yes.

We arrived the night before the performance and pulled up to the house in the kind of pitch-black silence you only encounter in small towns.

I jumped out of the tour vehicle to investigate, drawn to a warm glow shining under the carport…

“Welcome Tattletale Saints and 10 String Symphony - Come on in” the sign read, illuminated by its drapery of fairy lights.

My friendship with Nat started that night, 8 years ago, and from then on she and her kids - Gala and Kupe - welcomed Cy, myself, and whoever else we had in our touring party with open arms every time we came through town.

Nat was one of the warmest and most innately generous and interesting people I’ve ever met and every time we stopped by her home was filled with art, food, love, and fascinating people. Catching up with her became one of the things I looked forward to the most whenever we booked a New Zealand tour.

I tried paella for the first time sitting around a huge table in her backyard that fizzed with conversation and laughter. One of my favorite things was drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen, sinking into the overstuffed armchair, and chatting about life and love while she made breakfast or did dishes.

She gave me a set of dark charms a few years ago - a collection of incantations on pieces of felt she’d put together into a keychain she said would ward away bad vibes. I’ve worn those charms on my touring backpack ever since and they have been all over the US, New Zealand, Australia, and the UK with me.

I meant to write to Nat and tell her about the most recent adventure the charms had been on to Europe - but the day I went onto Facebook to message her I saw a post I’d been dreading since she was diagnosed with cancer last year.

She’d lost her battle just a few days before.

I’ll be forever grateful I took the chance on the kindness of a stranger all those years ago because the reward wasn’t just a free bed for the night, but the chance to get to know a truly unique and wonderful woman.

I’m going to keep those charms with me always, Nat. To keep away the bad vibes away and remind me of my lovely friend. A bright light that will be sorely missed by all who had the privilege of knowing her.

Rest easy, friend.