Southwestern Skies

Since leaving Durango last Friday, the Frogs have been on what I'd call a directed meander through Arizona and New Mexico. After playing Flagstaff and Taos last weekend, we've had four days to kill and it hasn't been as difficult as I originally thought while rolling down from the mountains into the vast unpopulated desert in Arizona.

The Southwest is not only filled with people, however, but some of the most interesting personalities I've met on tour yet.

In Durango we stayed with musician and friend GiGi Love. She showed us the utmost hospitality. One thing you notice about GiGi is how directly her songs relate to her life experiences. I appreciate that because I tend to write about life in general and have trouble going into detail while GiGi's music is almost spiritual because there is little distinction between her existence and her music. It was her spirit that began a string of more and more interesting visions of Southwestern souls who, ignoring their bodily presence, have most likely been here as long as the moon.

Among all the weathered souls, some might call them hippies, one in particular stands out. After our sets at the Taos Inn, where the best collection of modern cowboys in the world drink whiskey, a man named Y'Israel invited us out to his RV in the parking lot. The interior was a complete mess, cans and bottles littering the nonfunctional kitchen as we sat down to the overpowering smell of patchouli incense. Y'Israel began to tell us of his visions of interstellar peace and by the end of the conversation had gifted a "star-light" (small rock) to our drummer Mark. Bewildered, yet certain I will write a book about these people one day, I walked back to the hotel and fell asleep.

That night, I started dreaming. At set-break during the show, a distinctly Navajo man named Rich had told me about how his living ancestors had predicted mass-violence, right before the US invaded Iraq, based on a red sunset they had observed over the mountains. And so that night, I dreamt of the sky in the Southwest.

As I think about Rich and his ancestors' prediction, I realize the sky is the defining, unique aspect of this region. The sun, moon, clouds and sunset all look more vibrant here. What is intangible, however, is the unique spirituality of the people in this place. Maybe due to the Native American presence, maybe serving as a last outpost for the earthy-hippy archetype, who knows?

Today we leave for Texas and a different vibe altogether. We've taken on another musician in our merry band, as well. His name is Richard (Sir Richard, to us) and he's a fiddle player from Wales who's been hitchhiking across America. As I've said before, we are not prone to picking up hitchhikers, but Richard's presence at our hostel in Albuquerque was so quiet and peaceful, we had to take him along.

Austin will be our gateway to New Orleans, where the Native American spirits mixed with African traditions, creating some of the heaviest mojo in America and also its biggest party: Mardi Gras.