New Shoes, New Face, New Album

Everything is details. Small details. Seemingly insignificant details, until you realize the details make the whole difference.

Like buying shoes for example. I walked through that shoe store looking for just a normal pair of tennis shoes (so I can walk and stuff), and I could not find the men's section for the life of me...

...until I realized I was standing right by the men's section and I thought they were women's shoes the whole time. Sad.

Thankfully, I did leave that day with brand new manly tennis shoes, but I often wondered why anyone would want a pair of shoes with tacos on them.

Details, details.

I know it was just tacos, but wouldn't that look just a little silly with blue jeans and a belt buckle? Details make the difference.

I'm also growing a beard since I don't have any gigs for a few days. I'm growing it because I think it looks good. I'm shaving it before our next gig because no it doesn't.
I use the term "beard" quite loosely, by the way. Not much to go on.

Details, though. I need to look decent for gigs, right? Riiiight??

And don't worry, just because I have a new Instagram account (@therealmarkwimberley) doesn't mean I'll be posting selfies everyday. That's not what Instagram was invented for. I think?

The siblings and I are excited for our new album which will be released very very very very soon (How bout the 27th. Sound good?). This album has been in the works for four years, and it's about time we actually release it.
But our song list kept changing.
But our album title kept changing.
The recording studio sessions kept getting moved around.
The album cover needed designing.
The vocal mix here and the instrumental break there needed fixing somehow or another.
Metadata needed data-ing.

Details. Tiny, inconspicuous details.

Details, when overlooked, ruin the entire project.  What were we to do? We needed to release an album, and as we say in college, a project is never done, it's just due.

The point of this whole post was quite simple:
Oh wait, there was no point. I must've overlooked that detail...

4 Lessons I Learned On Tour

You know me, I always love traveling. If it were free, you'd never hear from me again...til I showed up at your house. Because it's free.

After several weeks of tromping through beautiful, dear, old Dixie, I bring our tour to a close next week with five nights at the OC Fair. I love my job.

Nothing is ever easy, and that includes doing the things I love. When life gives you lemons, pretend they're just oranges and eat them with a smile. Here are some nuggets of wisdom I gleaned from my most recent tour with my band:

1. Sit with your back to the wind around the campfire

The reason is simple: The smoke and ashes don't get in your eyes...

...as often.

2. Drive the California Highways with an even temper

We spent weeks in the south driving the highways without so much as one stupid driver, nor were there bumper-to-bumper cars crammed on the road. It was not long after we entered California again when the number of cars increased and the collective IQs diminished. That's all a part of traveling through the Golden State. Don't let it get to you, or you're gonna have a miserable trip.

3. Sometimes the thing tugging on your line ain't a fish

True story. 

4. If the hat fits, buy it (as long as it's not dirty)

It has been about four years since I've been able to fit in my performance hat. Frankly, I miss it. I've been meaning to buy a new one for years, but I have a head that's shaped like a de-horned gazelle (I guess?). Last week, I found one that actually fit on my noggin without hiding my ears or crushing my skull, but it was covered in dust and lint and the brim was bent. Needless to say, I'm still hat-less and will continue to perform so until further notice.

I hope these lessons will be of some help to you in the future. 

These lessons can also be metaphorical if you'd like. Think of something and get back to me.

Water water everywhere...

When you settle down for the night and find your air conditioning dripping a little bit of water, you would probably be a little bit concerned.

When it is one hour til showtime and your air conditioning is dripping a lot of water, you would probably be a lot concerned.

No worries, thought we, we'd just clean the coils and it would keep the condensation down to an absolute minimum! During sound check, I was informed the problem had been fixed!

Coming back from sound check to change into performance clothes, I was greeted with even more dripping water from the air conditioning. The problem was back. Whoever said a musician has a monotonous life?

After the show, I sat down and did some research on air conditioning units. One blocked draining hole later, our problem was finally solved. How did we celebrate? By turning the air conditioning up. It's so much better dry, believe me.

Now I sit in beautiful Texarkana about to go fishing....
Then the thunder rolls and lightning strikes...
And the radar shows a beautiful orange colored storm. I'm cool with that. I can dig it.

At least the air conditioning doesn't leak anymore! Bring on the rain!

The Curious Thing About Greenville

When you wake up in Arkansas to drive across the Mississippi River (via a bridge of course), there is usually no reason to suspect anything could possibly go wrong between now and the destination ahead.

I was wrong as usual. Oh, the things I go through because I love bluegrass so much!

The unmistakable sound of air escaping a tire interrupted the drone of the road, and we found ourselves with an almost-flat outside rear tire in Greenville Mississippi. Crawling along with hazards on, we made it to the nearest Walmart tire center, which apparently doesn't work on RV tires. No worries, they say, there a tire shop down the road a ways.....

...which was closed for good. But the ol GPS alerted us to another tire place....

...who wouldn't work on RVs.

We limped all over Greenville trying desperately to find someone to fix our problem. Just when we concluded that Greenville doesn't fix tires or RVs, we found Tire Town, USA (which is actually in Greenville, it's not its own town).

Tire Town USA found our problem: our tire's valve stem shook loose. Easy fix for them! Quicker than you can throw mechanic puns (This drill again, he looks two-tired, etc.) they were finished and we were back on the road to our next gig.

Thanks Tire Town USA!

Breaking News: One More Chair to be Added to Jam Circles

The age-old debate has seemingly been settled once and for all. Harmonicas are now an official bluegrass instrument according to the International Association of Bluegrass Music (IABM).

When asked to comment, president of the IABM, Paul Songmeister said "We have been trying to figure out for years what that sound was behind the Foggy Mountian Boys and the Osborne Brothers. We are proud to announce that we will be nominating harmonica pickers in this years' award show!"

Long time musician and festival goer, Ron Jambuster, was not as enthusiastic toward the association's decision. "If you can't play it with a pick, it ain't bluegrass!", he told our correspondent. When asked to clarify about the fiddle, which uses an ancient bowing technique, Mr. Jambuster turned his back and left, muttering something about Mac Wiseman's country career and Uncle Josh Graves.

Bands throughout many bluegrass festivals are beginning to dissolve over disagreements on when to put the harmonica solo in Little Maggie, arguing that the line "Listen to this ol banjo ring" should precede the banjo solo exclusively.

My special correspondent interviewed a real life harmonica picker at a local festival and he released this statement:
"I am so thrilled to finally have a job! Polka won't accept us, we're not cool in country music anymore, and we're so cliché in singer-songwriter music circles. We can't all be Bob Dylan, you know."

Bob Dylan has not released a comment as of yet.

Mr. Songmeister looks to the future: " By 2023, we hope to discover that percussive noise behind JD Crowe's band to give those instrumentalists their due as well! These are exciting times in music!"

The Story of the Day I (Almost) Died

It was a race against time and nature as the highway ahead ran straight into the storm cell we had seen coming for a long time. The radar showed nothing, and thus deceived us to think it was just a passing shower.

All I can say is, Noah should've had it so easy. The little north Texas town of Electra was about to see a storm that an urban California dude like me would call a "woolyburger", but a rural boy would probably just call it "big".

We had been on the road for three days, trying to make the town of Jefferson before the weekend. The rain came down with such vigor, that we could no longer see the highway before us. Just when we thought we would be drowned with many drowns, the wind kicked up. This wasn't a "Let's go fly a kite" wind, that would be too easy. The wind blew with more enthusiasm than a chubby kid eating ice cream. One by one, the trucks and cars began to pull over to the shoulder, hoping to wait the storm out. We pulled up the radar again as soon as the hail started because we were certain that this wasn't "nothing", even if we were in the open country. The radar showed us a lovely shade of pink right where we were pulled over. Aesthetics aside, pink was as high as the radar could possibly go, which we interpret to mean "hang on, it gets worse".

For what seemed like a month short of eternity, we sat on the side of the road, unable to see the car parked literally feet in front of us, and the hail fell faster. As the wind kicked up to 60mph (no joke), rocking our poor RV violently, we discovered the edges of our windows leaking, and rain coming through the carpet. I suddenly gained an appreciation for all the spiders I've sent down the toilet.

You're probably thinking "you were scared, weren't you Mark?" Guitar pickers never get scared.

I became a mandolin picker during the storm, though.

The weather report calmly assured us it would all be fine if we moved to the lowest floor of our building. I knew we shoulda bought that two story RV!

At long last the weather let up enough for us to see the road. Since we did not tip over or disintegrate, as we almost did, we took off down the road to outrun the rest of storm. Oh the things I go through for bluegrass, risking life and limb to play music once more. The next day found us in as few pieces as possible in sunny Jefferson, TX.

We were happy to be alive, happy to still be in TX, happy to have suffered only very minor damages, and wouldn't wish a storm like that on our enemy.

Except spiders. They still deserve that.