drew kennedy,

Yep, that’s right.
You heard it here first.
You’ll see it here first.
You’ll be the first to view it first.

(And other exclusive sounding things)

The video for Room #27 is complete. It’s really good, and I’m sure I’ll be fielding all sorts of requests from agents in Hollywood to appear in major motion pictures because of it. And just think, you’ll be able to say you knew me when!!

OK, so I’ll probably turn all of those offers down and stay true to my folk singing roots… so you’ll still be able to know me.

MONDAY, AUGUST 2nd AT 12:00 PM CST

That’s when the video will go live, on this very site.

-Just an hour later, it’ll be beamed up to the International Space Station for it’s intergalactic debut.

-An hour after that, it’ll be played on the big screen at Times Square.

-That evening, Ryan Howard will use it as his at bat music, and it’ll be played on the jumbotron Citizen’s Bank Ballpark.

No, you know what? That’s overkill. Maybe we’ll just keep it right here, on this site. We don’t want to get too big for our britches. We do have grand hopes for our little masterpiece and we’ll keep you up to date on those as they happen. For now, you’ll be able to dial up this site and see it whenever you want.

I hope you’ll share it with your friends via The Youtube, The Facebook, and The Twitter– we made it for just that reason– to be another thing you can ship off to your friends and say HEY! THIS GUY IS OK! CHECK IT OUT! AND HE’S NICE SOMETIMES! YOU CAN ASK HIM QUESTIONS ON THE TWITTER AND HE’LL RESPOND! I SAW HIM AT THE GROCERY STORE ONCE HELPING AN OLD LADY GET SPECIAL K OFF OF THE TOP SHELF! or, you know, however you want to say it.

The point is, I hope you’ll like it, and I hope you’ll share it with everyone you know. I hope a few more people discover An Audio Guide To Cross Country Travel because of it. I hope they come to a show. I hope you get to say “sweet! I did that!!”

So stay tuned, fellow humans! The Super Exclusive World Universal Sneak Peek Premier of Room #27 is but 6 days away!

When we awoke the next morning, we walked outside to find a crisp and refreshing mountain breeze ready to greet us. The views were just as spectacular in the early rays of daylight as they were in the vanishing sunset of dusk. We decided to make our way into Guffey to explore the town a little bit.

We knew ahead of time that Guffey was small– a population of 300. Those descriptions were accurate. A few businesses, a few bars, a few houses, and that was it. Everything was closed.

“It’s Monday,” a local told us, “the coffee shop is closed. Tomorrow’s Tuesday. Probably be closed then, too. Hey, want a soda?”

We took him up on his offer, and used the wireless internet signal from the closed coffee shop to catch up on life outside of the Guffey Bubble for a few minutes. The offer of a soda highlighted another point that I continually noticed throughout the duration of our journey: the kindness of strangers was both unending and abundant. A warm smile and some friendly words can go a long way when you’re a thousand miles from home– especially when they are backed by a carbonated beverage. We met many people on this trip who thought nothing of offering a hand, an ear, a drink, a place to sleep, a home-cooked meal, a firm handshake, a compliment, and countless other gestures of kindness.

Times may be tough for a lot of people, but the human spirit remains strong. Don’t confuse what I’m about to say with some political statement– these days it seems that politics exist mostly as a vehicle for dissension– I’m right / you’re wrong / I won’t listen to why you disagree / that’s it / enjoy living life as someone who is wrong / I don’t feel bad about you being wrong either, since I’m enjoying being right. The days of thoughtful debate and learning from opposing viewpoints seem to be long gone… at least that’s what the guy delivering the news tells me, along with the guy on the radio and the guy working at the paper.

You know what I noticed, though? THEY’RE the ones who are wrong. This country is pouring over at the brim with people who love, who laugh, who sincerely want to learn something from someone new EVERY DAY. Harmony doesn’t sell papers, or increase ratings, it seems. We met scores of people who couldn’t have been more alike, and then couldn’t have been more different than we were. This may be a shock for some people to read, but– WE ALL GOT ALONG. I loved it. I completely loved every minute of it. So, don’t believe anyone who tells you that this country is being torn apart at its seams over the issues at hand– it’s simply not true. People are stepping up their levels of love for (and friendship towards) their fellow man, just to combat the otherwise negative forecasts that claim we’re all going to hell in a hand basket. I always thought that might be the case out there, away from the negativity that is constantly shoved into our faces, and looking back on this trip, I was ecstatic to learn that it was true- love and friendship really is going to come out on top.

*author’s note: not to blow my own horn, but I don’t know of many people doing as much field research on this subject that I’ve (albeit unintentionally) been doing… so I feel pretty confident in my statements. It’s not about anything other than working/living/breathing together– and we’re doing a damned good job of it, as a country, in the face of a lot of tough breaks.

So anyway, we got a soda from a guy, and enjoyed our conversation with him in a mostly-closed-because-it-was-monday-and-will-probably-be-mostly-closed-tuesday Guffey, Colorado.

With Guffey sleepily ignoring our arrival, we decided to drive 30 minutes to Cripple Creek, Colorado. I didn’t know much about Cripple Creek, other than that it’s mentioned in a song by The Band. Needless to say, I was pretty shocked when we pulled into town. Once upon a time, when the mines in Colorado were yielding healthy amounts of precious metals, prospectors would come to Cripple Creek, bounty in tow, to exchange their cold, hard ores for cold, hard cash. And where to spend that cash? Oh, perhaps in one of the 20 or so Saloons and Casinos that lined the main thoroughfare of old downtown Cripple Creek.

And today– it’s exactly the same. Casinos behind every door– a mini vegas minus the outrageous electric bill and Carrot Top. I’m not a huge fan of Vegas, but Cripple Creek– well, if I’m going to gamble, that’s where I’d like to be doing it. It was modern, sure, but it hasn’t lost it’s mining town feel. We all won a little money and enjoyed walking the hilly streets of this slice of yesteryear. Knowing to quit whilst we were ahead, we decided to head back to our little cabin in Guffey to enjoy a beautiful afternoon before our show.

When we pulled back into Guffey Proper for the gig, the formerly sleepy town was anything but. We were playing the grand opening of the towns newest bar and restaurant, The Bull Moose, and it seemed that the entire county was on hand to celebrate. We set up on the outdoor stage, ate a killer meal, and met a bunch of great people. The show went on into nightfall, and after we wrapped it up, we shared conversations and drinks with the people who inhabit this little nook of the world. It was wonderful. Guffey was truly excited that two dudes from Texas would travel all that way, off the beaten path, to help them celebrate the Bull Moose’s opening, and we were just as excited that they wanted to have us.

Back at the cabin, we again listened to the sounds of the Colorado mountains, wrapped in the peaceful blanket of night. In the morning we’d be leaving the mountains behind, bound for the big city of Denver. For now, though, there wasn’t any other place worth being. It was just us and the mountains, and the knowledge that this job– for all of its ups and downs– was our good fortune to labor in.

The Million Dollar Highway.

That’s a name that was worth asking about.

It runs between Durango and Montrose, through Silverton and Ouray. Turns out it earned its name not because of the considerable cost of building such a road, as it winds up and over the San Juan mountains (reaching an elevation of well over 10,000 feet), but because of the amount of gold ore contained in the earth underneath of the asphalt. If you’re looking for a road with a view, I can’t imagine that you’d find one better than this. The views come with a cost, of course. I paid it in full with white knuckles and sweaty brow. You see, The Million Dollar Highway has somewhere around 14,765 switchbacks, hairpin curves, and other treacherous deviations. All with no guard rail. It’s one of the narrowest two lane roads I’ve ever been on– perching precariously between jagged mountain rocks and, well, nothing. A straight drop off which, if unfortunately taken, will surely be the last wrong turn you ever make. It was a beautiful drive, but I was ready to kiss the ground when we got to Ouray.

I wish we could have explored Ouray, but we were hard pressed for time. Known as The Switzerland of America, this great little town boasts killer views and a saloon or six. Upon our arrival, Rodney accurately stated that while traveling around the world has its perks, you don’t really need to leave the boundaries of the US to find unmatched beauty such as this. If you never have the chance to go to Europe and see the Alps first hand, go to Durango, and drive to Montrose along the Million Dollar Highway. It’s the closet thing you can find. And you don’t have to worry about bringing along a translator or exchanging currency to get around. Hopefully I can land a gig in Ouray when I head back there in August with Josh Grider.

We made it to Montrose, and hung a right, bound for Salida. Yet again, as if by design, the landscape around us changed almost instantly as we left Montrose. The green bodied, snowcapped mountains gave way to brownish blue pastures and sandy hills. Salida’s annual whitewater festival, the FIBArk was wrapping up, and we were scheduled to play an early afternoon show at the Tenderfoot Tavern. Salida is a welcoming town on the banks of the Arkansas River and The Tenderfoot, complete with sunken bar (so the bartender can look the customer in the eye when they’re seated, I was told) lies in the heart of downtown. With the darker confines of the tavern lit with the bright sunshine that pushed its way through the open door, we began playing. It was fun to watch people walking by the door, hearing the music, and then turning around to stick their heads in. Most of them came in to listen to a few songs, and by the time we wrapped up the show we had a great little crowd in front of us.

We tore down our gear and walked a few blocks away to a pizza joint for some dinner. Afterwards, we made the 60 mile drive to the town of Guffey, where we’d be playing the next day. The road hugged the Arkansas almost the whole way, and with the sun setting behind the mountains, I thought about how jam-packed our day had been with scenery. Colorado is really one of the most beautiful places on earth, and I was glad that our job pushed us well off of the beaten path, so that we could enjoy the countryside intimately. The owners of the Bull Moose Saloon in Guffey were kind enough to set us up with a cabin for two nights, and as we pulled in, the sun having retired for the day, we checked the place out. It was fantastic. Solitary and beautiful– the perfect place to unwind after a long day of music and travel. No phones, no internet, just the sound of the breeze through the pine trees and the coyotes in the distance, with a big front porch upon which to relax and take in the sounds of mother nature.

Carson National Forest looks like stock footage from a John Wayne movie– except the brush with which mother nature has painted the lush trees and clear streams far exceeds the capabilities of Technicolor. The breeze was crisp, and the air clean. We stopped on two different mountain peaks to stretch our legs and take in the views, which were impossibly endless. Half way into our journey, we ended our steady climb and began descending into the valley below.

You know, it’s pretty amazing how quickly landscapes can change. One minute we were knee deep in the sage-covered high plains of New Mexico, and the next surrounded by tall pine trees and green meadows. The change happened, quite literally, in a few minutes time– almost as if the sign welcoming you to Carson National Forest was a hard line beyond which the two distinctly different landscapes could not exist. On one side stereotypical northern New Mexico, the other southern Colorado. This tour marked the first time in my life that I noticed how prevalent this immediacy of change in the natural world truly is. The blurry line that exists between two different regions is only so for a split second. Blink, and you would almost think that you had either slipped into or awoken from a dream. I thought it to be an interesting and poignant metaphor for life as you grow older– the times of transition growing ever shorter as you barrel headlong through the years laid out before you.

I’m a sucker for landscapes. They make me think.

We made it to Durango at 3 PM, and in order to save a few bucks we had decided to camp for the next two days while we were in town. Our campground was just north of the city, nestled between the banks of the Animas River and the tracks belonging to the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad. It was comfortably lush and green, and after taking a few minutes to scrape the rust off of my Boy Scout brain, I had the tent set up and our sleeping bags unraveled. We relaxed for an hour in the late afternoon sunshine, and then headed to our gig in town.

Serious Texas BBQ (their name is deserved– the food is better than 99% of the BBQ joints in Texas, and I say that having eaten at most of them, fully aware that many of you reading these words will instantly think me to be a fool. Trust me, as a veteran of The BBQ Circuit, which is what many of us in the Texas Music scene refer to it as, this place is really and truly fantastic) lies along the banks of the aforementioned Animas River. It’s scenic rapids run through most of downtown Durango, and the white water rafting enthusiast in me was pining to wet a paddle amongst its eddys and rapids. I was told that the river was down a bit from it’s optimum rafting level, and so my pining waned enough to focus on the show that was ahead. We set up on the beautiful outdoor stage, and played our first of two shows in this picturesque location. The crowd was great, and the staff was fantastic. It was an early show, finishing around 10 PM, so we headed back to the campground with a few local brews in tow. Cards were dealt, and the day came to an end.

A day without travel is always a welcome thing while you’re on the road. Excited by the prospects of exploration, we headed to Trimble Hot Springs to start our day off in the relaxing pools of naturally heated spring water. After a few hours of mineral recharging, we headed into downtown Durango to see the sights. Our chosen destination for lunch, Steamworks Brewery, was the home to some fantastically top notch beers– if you go there opt for the sampler to get a great handle on their range and ability, especially if you love a good craft beer. Wandering, bellies now full, we hiked a couple of blocks to Main Street, where a classic car show was in full effect honoring Fathers Day. Holly and I took unicycle lessons and failed miserably. Rodney panned for gold, shoulder to shoulder with the other 10 year olds in the crowd (he got to keep his very own nugget of Fools’ Gold… he was excited!). Realizing that none of us had a future in gold or unicycling, we spent the rest of the afternoon checking out the cars and marveling at bands playing through a completely solar-powered PA system. The sun and the miles of walking were taking their toll, so we decided to rest up for a few hours before the gig.

Rested and ready, we finished our second night in Durango, bidding goodbye to our new friends at Serious Texas BBQ. We again opted for the solitude of the tent, rather than the entertainment of a bar, and slept well through the night… well, almost… an elk woke us from a sound sleep with a call that sounded more like a banshee than a living, breathing animal. After a few tense moments, though, we realized that we weren’t being visited by spirits from beyond (that would actually come a few weeks later, in Arizona) and settled back into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning we grabbed a quick breakfast, and headed out on the Million Dollar Highway bound for Salida.

We left New Braunfels at 4:30 am- Thursday, June 17th.

Eleventy billion horses underneath the hood of our rig pounded their hoofs against the asphalt trail (we were in the Honda Element). Our tour had officially begun.

That’s how I’d start this thing if it were a novel. Maybe. I don’t know, now that I think about it. I don’t know much about writing novels, just songs. I think it’s a patience thing… tough to draw out all of that character development over the course of 200 pages. I’m going to give it a shot one of these days, though.

Anyway, we were off, bound for Taos, New Mexico. You can make some serious time out there on i-10 westbound past Kerrville, when the speed limit bumps up to 80. We were in Pecos by 9:45 AM, and I turned the keys over to Rodney. On our way through Roswell we stopped at Pecos Flavors Winery, where he and I had played a few weeks before for a lunchtime beer and a quick hello. After that, we headed up over the mountains just past Santa Fe, and arrived in Taos at 4. Checked in and cleaned up at our hotel, we set off for the gig– three of the last heroes of the Great American West, side by side, looking to conquer whatever musical challenges that were to be laid before us at The Old Blinking Light.

(what, too much? Yeah, you’re probably right. Anyway.)

Northern New Mexico is utterly gorgeous. In my years of traveling I’ve discovered that mother nature has an amazing effect on the overall attitude and personality of a town– my theory has yet to be proven wrong. You never find angry people living in beautiful places. Taos is a beautiful place, so you can guess what kind of people we encountered there.

That’s right– cool people.

The Old Blinking Light is just on the outskirts of Taos. It occupies a little spot on the very edge of the flatter-than-a-tabletop (sorry James), sage-covered high plains, right before the Sangre de Cristo mountains rise out of the earth in the dramatic fashion in which they do. On top of fantastic food, the OBL has an indoor stage and a great outdoor patio (our spot for the night), complete with fireplace and a health supply of piñon pine. We ate a quick meal, backed by a few local brews, and got ready to play. With the sun sinking behind us, and a plethora of stars appearing above our heads, we kicked off the first show of our tour.

Forgive me if I breeze by the show portions of our trip. By now, most of you have either seen us or heard our music, so there’s nothing really new I can add about that. I like to chronicle the journey more than I do the reason for it, so I hope that’s ok.

My old friend Jed Zimmerman, and new friend Max Gomez played a few songs during our break. Both of these fine gentleman (and Taos residents) are bursting at the seams with talent. If you haven’t checked out their music, I encourage you to do so– it’s really some fantastic stuff.

We wrapped up our one night stand at the OBL in the cool, dry air of Taos, thankful that we are able to experience the things that we do because of the path that we have chosen. We headed for the hotel after a long day of travel, and woke up the next morning to make our way to Colorado.

Before heading north we explored downtown Taos, popping in and out of the shops around the town square, grabbing some coffee as we walked. It’s a quaint little place with a large artist population– a little searching and you can find some of the great jewelry and art made by these gifted people that helps to give Taos a large helping of manmade beauty to compliment that of the natural variety which is so abundantly available in every direction.

The road out of Taos took us over the Rio Grande River Gorge, a mini Grand Canyon of sorts. We walked out, weak-kneed at the view from the bridge (which boasts quite a drop to the river below) to snap a few photographs. A mile past the bridge, we stopped for a tour of an Earthship– a completely self-sufficient house made entirely of recycled materials. Holly and I agreed that, if we were ever able to do so, we wouldn’t mind building one of these homes for ourselves. They’re pretty remarkable and completely unique. Just the sort of thing she and I seem to dig.

After we finished the tour we continued northward, up and over the mountains, through the picturesque Carson National Forest, Durango bound.

Hello there!
Well, it was a long and wonderful trip, skirting up and over the continental divide. I’ll post my blog about the journey tomorrow. But first, something infinitely more awesome than any post about a tour could ever be. I have a video to share with you for a song that I co-wrote with Walt Wilkins, We’ve All Got Our Marks To Make. It’s probably my favorite song that I’ve had a hand in creating, but this makes it even more special. Behold, in an entirely different “pen to paper” form, our song through the eyes of 11 year old supergenious Lindsey.

I’m biased of course, but there are few things in the world that can top that.

So here we are, on the eve of a great adventure.

The west has called many a young man’s name… and while we don’t really fall into that category anymore, Rodney Hayden and I have decided to answer its call. And like any number of young men in search of fortune and adventure in the 1950’s, we will wait by the tracks in our fair hamlet of New Braunfels for a train to saunter past… we shall toss our guitars into an empty box car, hop aboard, and ride the rails along the Santa Fe line to a destiny that is yet unknown.

OK, so we’re packing our shit up in a van and hitting the road. Not quite as poetic, dramatic, or Kerouacian, but still, we’re hitting the road.

I’m really excited about this.

Sure, I was excited when we went to Europe to play last summer– the sights, sounds, and experiences were life-altering– but this time we’re off to find the same soul-moving things within the boundaries of our own land. That’s even more exciting… to be intimately familiar with a culture, a country, a way of life, and yet be so unfamiliar with the countryside that we are about to traverse. I fully expect victories in small measure, failures in even smaller measure (fingers crossed), and a few moments of unexpected joy which will alter my view on this world entirely. It’s usually the little things that I hold onto for the longest, and so, if I happen to find a few of those little things along the way, I will consider this entire jaunt to be a success of the highest order.

New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Nevada, and Arizona: we are bound for your state lines, your city limits, your time zones, dance halls, smokey clubs, wide open spaces, streams, mountain peaks, roadside haunts, and nooks yet undiscovered by this one small speck of a man adrift somewhere in the middle of your massive territories.

Run on sentences be damned, I shall find poetry in your plains and valor in your valleys.

Or, maybe I’ll just play a bunch of shows and burn a megaton of fossil fuel.

But really, if that’s all I was expecting to do, why would I even be packing my things?

If you’d like to hear from me whilst I am out there wandering the hills and vales, I direct you to this little donate button below, and to the tour dates to your right. The tour dates are your open invitation to join us at one of these shows, should you be close by. The donate button represents The Postcard Project– an undertaking that allows you to place your own value on two unreleased versions of my megahits Baytown and Goodbye that were performed during the recording of my live album Alone, But Not Lonely. They will be emailed to you, from me, when internet connectivity should present itself. Included upon receipt of your benevolent donation will be a handwritten postcard, which will be mailed to you from places yet unknown on this tour. Here it is:

Stay tuned for further updates, watch the twitter feed for pictures from the road, and if you can, come out to a show. I’d love to buy you a beer and listen to you tell stories about what makes the place in which we are about to meet special to you… and why it will remain to be special to me.

Gotta go– I think I hear a train whistle in the distance.

dk

Greetings From Somewhere Else!

OK, here’s the deal. I know that most of you can’t travel as much as you’d like to. Life gets in the way of being able to drop everything and head out for destinations unknown. I completely understand, and I definitely know that I’m one of the lucky ones that gets to travel for his job.

I brainstormed up this little idea while heading out to Mississippi this weekend– an idea hatched by the road, created for the road, and constituting of the road. Here’s the deal (and I’ll only leave this up for the next week or so): I’ll send you a postcard from me, to you, personally selected whilst out galavanting around in the western region of these United States. I’ll write a note on the back of the post card… I’ll buy the stamp…. I’ll even drop it into the mailbox. The whole Postcard Experience, 100%!

But that’s not all. Remember Alone, But Not Lonely? We recorded more than the 12 songs we put on the album, you know. So where have those extra bonus songs gone?

Actually, a better way to put that would be where are those extra bonus songs going?

Straight to your inbox, of course.
I’ll email you the direct from the board, unmastered versions of Goodbye, and Baytown in all of their digital MP3 glory.

So that’s a personal postcard from somewhere out west, and two unreleased bonus songs.

How much will this super amazing deal set you back? Well, that’s up to you. We’re going to use the tip jar model for this one– if you think this is worth $5, cool. $10? Even cooler? $10,000? Well, I’d say you were crazy, but I’d only say that after I made sure your check cleared.

Make sure you include your email address as well as your mailing address when you throw your invisible money into my invisible hat (via paypal). I’ll email you the MP3’s (one at a time, so if you donate, and you don’t get the email instantly, and I happen to be on a stage somewhere playing, you’ll know why), and I’ll write you a nice little note from the road.

Just another quirky little way of saying I hope you dig what I do– because I really appreciate each and every one of you.

click here to get started:

Oh, and one more thing– remember that video we said we were shooting for Room # 27? Well, here’s a little behind the scenes video of our, uh, video featuring the fantastic cast and crew that made the whole thing possible. We’ll have the finished product for you soon, but in the meantime, we have this! Let me know what you think!

As we edge day by day, ever closer to the start of the 2010 installment of New American Voices: the9513.com Songwriter Showcase, I thought I’d take some time to blog over on the tour website. If you have a few free minutes, digitally wander over there, and while you’re at it take a gander at the dates. If you’re close to a show, we hope you’ll come out and say hello. Likewise, if you know someone who will be close to a show, and you think that they might enjoy seeing two charming dudes singing their songs in unfamiliar places, by all means send them our way.

So check it out, www.americanvoicestour.com , and we hope to see you out there on the road!

(seriously, we’re charming.)

(…I think.)