John Montagna: Blog

Checking in to stay current.  Tour ended Sunday nite, got home Monday afternoon.  Today is Friday.  I am no longer waking up in my bedroom and checking to see what city I'm in; nor do I feel the gentle waves of the tour bus beneath my feet anymore.  Mornings now consist of Francesca's smiling face asking me to play her "Da Beatles" and brewing my own coffee in my own kitchen.  Awww yeah.
Solo bass later this month, with some other local action with Godfrey and the Boyz before then (fancy private party-type stuff).  Also harvesting songs for a new LP I'd like to complete before the end of the year.  (Yes, I'm still calling it an "LP."  Doesn't matter what the format is...it's still a "long player," innit?  Exactly.  Stay tuned.)
Happy Long Weekend!
Be well
JM

Just finished the last leg of HippieFest, and thus the last leg of my summer touring itinerary.  So how did the end begin?
With a hometown show at Westbury Music Fair, that's how.  Not a hitch.  Drove out (no traffic, yay), nailed it with all the cats, drove home (no traffic, yay again).  Then a Crack O'Dawn taxi to the airport (not yay), early flight to Atlanta.  For what?
A nice day off at Tour Manager Ron's house in the suburbs of Atlanta, that's what.  Gig in Atlanta was cancelled, but the tickets were booked so there we are.  Or were.  Eating and drinking Ron out of house and home until nightfall (just as the moon was rising), at which time we got on the bus and drove (or "rolled," as we say in the trade) to Marksville, Louisiana.  
The Paragon Casino Hotel Resort Enclosure Complex seemed alright to me at first, but my stomach had other ideas.  Bug?  Food poisoning?  Fatigue?  Not sure, but lunch from the dodgy buffet [...]

Autumn seems to be making an early appearance in NYC; 69 degrees and a little cloudy today.  I don't mind, since I have some slick long-sleeved shirts that have been lonely for too long.  
Today I'm home, after a weekend HippieFest hit: Saratoga CA, and Austin TX.  Both splendid in their own ways.  Austin owes me one; we were there for less than 24 hours, which left us no time to check out the city.  Was bummed that I couldn't make it to Stubb's BBQ, or to the Music Hall where Dr. John was playing that same nite, etc.  I consoled myself a little bit with some compulsive shopping at the airport (snazzy "Austin City Limits" t-shirt).  
Tomorrow starts a 4-show HF run, the final bit of road work for the summer (Westbury Music Fair here at home, followed by Louisiana, then a pair of Florida dates).  After that I'm a Dad and a local NYC Cat once again.  The Road has definitely changed me for the better; chops are stronger (bass playing, singing, stage [...]

Middle of the afternoon, Francesca is at Grandpa's house so Daddy can get stuff done.  Glamorous, decadent rock star stuff: laundry, sorting thru junk mail and taking out the recycling.  
Last nite the Godfrey Townsend Band brought the classic rock mixed bag to Veteran's Memorial Park in Da Bronx.  I love outdoor shows in NYC in the summertime, especially ones where Francesca comes onstage and bangs on Daddy's vocal mic.  Good times.  
This weekend the HippieFest hits Saratoga, CA (Mountain Winery), and then Austin, TX (The "Backyard," which I hope is the name of a large venue and not someone's actual back yard).  Trying to pack in advance, allowing for more chill time until we leave.  Life is grand!
Be well
JM

 
 
This comes to you from El Paso, Texas; we're doing a HippieFest show here tonite, followed by Las Vegas tomorrow.  
I'm slightly ashamed of myself.  The above jingle from my youth was playing in my head from the moment we landed here.  I like to think of myself as worldly, well-traveled and sophisticated, and yet my entire experience of a major US city consists of a salsa commercial.  Part of me is tired enough to just relax at the hotel before tonite's show, but another part of me wants to get out and walk around the town and get a feel for old El Paso, if for no other reason than to say that I did it.  (Nothing is sadder than being at a dinner party and telling a story that consists of "El Paso?  I was there once...nice hotel.")  
We're downtown, just by the border of Juarez.  Memories of our numerous tours of Mexico and South America with Alan Parsons are flooding back.  We are not needed at the venue for at least another [...]