Saratoga Springs, NY – “Kyle is a Comic Genius” – Cafe Lena – May 11, 2000

7 am was out of the way but worth the detour to get to watch the morning bloom from the back of the van—the fog lifted its skirt to the day and a hemline of mist settled in the tops of the trees the way lint gathers at the end of a broom. It was a beautiful drive to Saratoga Springs. In the highway median, grass waved wildly like enthusiastic spectators along the Queen’s procession.

Kyle, our new drummer, is a comic genius. He’s had me laughing since day one when someone, admiring his drumkit asked what kind of skins he used and without a beat, he responded “Babies.” We ate Twizlers on the ride to Saratoga and made up pseudonyms for our future selves to check in to hotels under.

“Mine will be Sally Taylor The Second,” I said jokingly and Kyle responded his would be Sally Taylor The Second’s drummer.

“Ya know,” said Kyle, “Ice Cube uses the pseudonym O’Shea Jackson.”

“Hu,” said Kenny ripping a Twizzler from the bag, “why.”

“Because,” said Kyle “It’s his name. Despite common wisdom his mother named him ‘Ice Cube’ at birth, he’s actually O’Shea on his birth certificate.” We didn’t hear the end of his deadpan delivery because we were laughing so hard. Delucchi had to pull over onto the soft shoulder so his convulsions wouldn’t get us into an accident. While we were stopped, Kyle took the opportunity to play us his new Dan Bern CD, “Tiger Woods,” which did nothing to improve our howling laughter nor Delucchi’s driving abilities. We’d be late for sound check.

Café Lena’s floors bent and slouched here and there and its paint-flecked walls leaned in as if to tell us their secrets. Oh how I wished they could talk, would they have stories to tell — about Bob Dylan who played here in his heyday with Joan Bias and other folk founding mamas & papas. Needless to say, it’s an honor to get to count myself amongst those folking heroes and musical pioneers.

Handsome Dave wearing a green apron, greeted us with hot Lemon Zinger tea and we set up for sound check. Spring light poured like an eager audience, through Lena’s crooked-toothed windows. Before we were done checking, a crowd had arrived. They sat patiently sipping cappuccinos and mochas around old, round, wobbly tables the way Europeans sit in cafes in oil paintings.

Already on stage, we decided to forego our vocal warm-ups and costume change and simply started our set where the sound check left off. It was a spectacular evening though I got the feeling people were waiting not so much for our songs to begin as they were waiting to clap at each song’s end — like they were worried they’d miss their cue for applause. It was a little weird, but overall, nice they were so eager to show their appreciation.

After the show, John Quale from USA 1 Stop (one of our CD distributors) gave me the nicest compliment. It wasn’t about my voice or songwriting or how tight we were getting as a band. “You’ve got a very well-oiled machine,” he said “No one in this business works as hard or as efficiently as you do.” It brought tears to my eyes. There’s something about being seen for the work you do off the stage by someone else in the music business that means more than anything. For the first time in a long while I felt successful. I gave him a hug and climbed back into the van.