(rodeo to follow).
 One wouldn't think to describe our recent van excursion this way unless someone brought a camera, which thank God they did not. But the Langdon St. Cafe is no cage no matter what any WERS dj. may want to call it...
   Have we mentioned how much we love the Landon St Cafe? (We resolve to hire a squad of flying monkeys of the west to come down and snatch up anyone who has never been there before and set them down with a double expresso on the banks of the Onion River). But in the meantime...
    If we show up too early when the openers set has just started with two accoustics and a microphone...We're right on time for dinner up the street in their kitchen. Later, if you don't like the way the PA sounds, we drop a monitor on the library side of the cafe.
    If you don't like "Poncho and Lefty", sing along at the top of your lungs while sprawled out a foot from our feet...If you don't want to go home, lock the doors and try and remember every Jimmy Ryan song you don't know (while finishing off a pint or two). It is impossible not to like this cage.
(Did we mention our intention to hire a chimp marching band to proclaim the excellence of Montpelier while marching through Harvard Sq. at noon?)
  Someday we will be able to rent a tent big enough to hold our love for that place (and raise money too).
We hated to leave the french toast breakfast for a little basement humble pie; but hey it's NoHo where indifference is a virtue and opening early is a sin. Wait NYC is tomorrow night. But no no no; when you got Goody playing piano with Kris Delmhorst on "For the Turnstiles", Jeffery Foucalt singing "Hey Good Lookin" and John Cate talking 'bout Jesus (or something). It don't really matter. Sure before Goody sang his scary song, Droopy Dog got a little queasy. But by the time he and his wife had cooked us a real St. Alfonso's pancake breakfast (talking blueberries, butter and Ornette Coleman); we were asking, "Shelby can we play there again?"...Heck we got enough quarters in the tip bucket to pay for about half of the Triborough bridge fare...farewell.
  New York here we come (or Long Isalnd City is even better). That's where we stopped off for a glass of Sinskey with pats vs. bolts on the widescreen. Well Wilbur and Beth almost made us forget we had a gig at all. But the Rodeo Bar was ready and waiting for us, rolling with the g-men in the big game. But who cares when they actually have a sound man who knows what he's doing. The sound is fine and the crowd is with us, right up from Roadrunner and down to Theresa.
    Yep. What more can you ask of a Sunday night in the big apple?  Oh yeah, did we mention how much we love the Everyday Visuals van (formerly owned by Disco Stu)? Which we borrowed so we could all ride together and discuss important band business like making sure we had the lyrics to the Pina Colada Song right.  Right?
 But seriously, thanks for the van boys. And to all who put us up, and treated us so well. Thank You. Thank You.