Hey friends!
I’m enjoying a blessed week of solitude at a cheap motel in Waynesboro, Virginia. Yesterday I threw thousands of dollars at plane tickets, car rentals and hotel rooms in foreign countries, then shot two new songs in the van: one for my Patreon and one motivated by the election on Tuesday and the feeling that a national fever might be breaking. Today, though, I’m thinking I better get a Hobo Travelogue out while I can! It feels extra urgent on account of two things that I expect to sell out soon and wanted to give you dear readers a heads up about before they do:
Wanna ride the Rockies with us?
First off, we’re doing a bike tour through the Canadian Rockies with our Aussie pal Ben! He took us out for an amazing ride last year, and after this year’s Scotland bus tour we had the thought of combining the two ideas into a musical bike tour. It's happening June 24-28, 2027, from Jasper to Canmore. Here’s a couple pics I shot on the ride last year:
Ben’s got all the hotels and cabins sorted, he covers all the meals and snacks and rides from Edmonton and back (or to Calgary if you prefer), and he also offers bike rentals, including e-bikes for folks like me who might not be able to crush the biggest days on their own steam.
Just to give you an idea, the longest day’s 98km up and over the Columbia Icefield, but you can always ride in the van if you get tuckered. We’ll sing songs for you every night, and get an eyeful of beauty every day. The thing is, there are currently only 8 spots up for sale, and 4 just got snapped up today! Ben’s reaching out to the accoms to ask about opening up another two rooms, but if you’re keen on joining us, I’d suggest booking in now. Click here and scroll on down to Special Departures in 2027 where you’ll see a picture of us. There’s more info on the ride up at the top of that page, but note that our trip is a custom five-day, four-night itinerary – we added an extra day at the beginning to explore Jasper, Maligne Canyon and environs, and toughen up our bike butts!
A holiday homecoming that's also selling fast
The other thing we expect to sell out soon is my homecoming show at the end of this run, Thursday December 3rd at the Prairie Song Folk Club. This is a new club in Edmonton (in addition to the two mighty stalwarts we already have, Northern Lights and New Moon), and it's held in Bison Lodge, the charming log building in the river valley that used to be called the Old Timers’ Cabin. It’ll be my first show back together with Pamela. Susan Isaac is opening the show, and we’ve invited our old housemate Elliot Thomas to join us on fiddle, banjo, slide guitar and harmonies. The club saves the best seats for club members who book in for the whole series. Season tickets are cheapest overall, and more importantly, they help support the club for the long haul. Info about the whole season’s here, full-season tickets are here and single-show tickets are here while supplies last, magic or your money back.
Dates in the Northeastern States
I’ve still got a bunch of Stateside solo dates before then, and I’m excited to get back to some places I haven’t been in years:
Wed Nov 4 • Fairfax, VA • private event
Thu Nov 5 • Fredericksburg, VA • house concert
Fri Nov 6 • Columbia, MD • Concerts at the Cooper’s House
Sat Nov 7 • Darlington, MD • Deer Creek Coffeehouse
Sun Nov 8 • Lewes, DE • The Listening Booth w/ Chris Honeman opening
Thu-Fri Nov 12-13 • Albany, NY • Northeast Regional Folk Alliance conference
Sat Nov 14 • Brooklyn, NY • Voices In the Heights w/ Cloudbelly
Sun Nov 15 • Nyack, NY • Voices On the Hudson w/ Joshua Garcia opening
Tue Nov 17 • Mystic, CT • White Pine Woods House Concerts
Wed Nov 18 • Dover, NH • house concert
Thu Nov 19 • Bridgton, ME • Sojourn Series at Dragonfly Barn
Fri Nov 20 • Rockport, MA • Whale Cove House Concerts
Sat Nov 21 • Springville, NY • Springville Center for the Arts
Sun Nov 22 • Chicago, IL • where can I play???
That last one’s still on the calendar because I really would like to stop in Chicagoland on my way home, and several folks have been writing to me asking if I will. I’ve reached out to several venues and even had some kind folks doing so on my behalf, but so far nothing’s turned up. The thing is, if somebody really wants me to come play in their city, the best way to make that happen is by opening up their living room or another appropriate spot and inviting their friends. I’m travelling with a small PA that’ll do the trick, and I’ll even drive a little further down the road after the show so you don’t have to put me up! I’m open to any place where folks’ll listen, even if it isn’t a traditional venue – in fact, the weirder the better. I’m also open to blowing right through the city and on toward home, I just wouldn’t wanna pass by without asking!
I’d also like to draw attention to my shows in the big smoke (Brooklyn Nov 14 and Nyack Nov 15) for two reasons: for one, it’s notoriously hard to round up a crowd in the City, and I’m guessing many people reading this will know somebody there who’d enjoy the show. Secondly, the Brooklyn show will be livestreamed for anyone who wants to join us from afar. In-person and online tickets are here, and here are the Facebook events for Brooklyn and Nyack.
Australia plans!
I'm finally able to announce that I'll be going to Western Australia for the first time, starting with Nannup Music Festival and then spending another week out that way, followed by a run through VIC, NSW, ACT, QLD and maaaybe SA, early March through mid-April, in our campervan Hector,
As you may know, I've been outrunning myself something fierce for quite a while now, so I'm way behind on the bookings. If there's somewhere you'd like me to stop, please drop a line to scottcooksongs@gmail.com and let's make it happen!
What a month!
Last I wrote you good people, I was just about to check into Blue Rock Studio and Artist Ranch in Wimberley, Texas for a week-long writing residency alongside Cliff Eberhardt, Judy Blank, and our host Billy Crockett.
I’d never met any of them before, but they all turned out to be total sweethearts. Billy used to work in the Christian music world in Nashville before he and his partner Dodee moved out to Texas to build their dream home and studio, and it really is a dream. The legendary British audio engineer Rupert Neve (often called the father of the modern mixing desk) just happened to live in Wimberley, and helped kit out the studio. They have a pool, a basketball court, a big library full of inspiring books, trails around the property where I met plenty of deer and lizards, and a tower for looking out over the hills. My room was decorated with old maps of Texas, including from when it was part of Mexico, and from when it was its own country. That kind of stuff always bends my mind.
Judy’s from the Netherlands, and has single-mindedly followed her dream of music-making to America and lately, to Austin. She cranked out a great song every single day of the retreat, including one about Sunday school that landed like a stone cold classic along the lines of “Imagine”.
Cliff has been playing shows since he was a kid in the sixties. His first gig was opening for Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee at The Point with his older brother when he was 14 years old. He saw Joni Mitchell for fifty cents. He did a tour as Dylan’s guitar player, and was on the road for years with Richie Havens. Pretty much anyone anybody mentioned – Randy Newman, Harry Nilsson, anybody – would prompt a story of the time he met them. He even met Trump once, back when he was married to Marla Maples. Cliff said Trump hated songwriters, but Marla loved them, and one night they came backstage uninvited after one of Cliff’s shows so Marla could talk to the artists. One of the staff came in to get Trump to pay his bill. Trump said he didn’t have cash on him, and they said they didn’t take cards. Trump asked Cliff for his business card, and told him if he covered his bill he’d send him $400 the next day. Afterward, the manager said “who’d he stiff this time?” Cliff never got the money.
Before he died, the great songwriter Jesse Winchester said he wanted a bench in Memphis and one at Blue Rock. Jesse’s bench sits under their Singing Tree, hung with a host of chimes. I sat under it every day and many nights, eyes closed, following the scattering sound on a psychedelic journey. One day as I sat there, a baby squirrel came over and then right up to me, close enough that I could touch it.
We were all offline for most of the week, which to my mind is the most important part of a creative retreat – seriously, you can save yourself the competitive application and the long drive to Texas by just turning off your phone! We spent most of our days alone, then we’d come together in the evenings to have dinner and share what we’d been working on.
I finished a song called “Trembling Tonight” pretty easily the first day, working from three lines that came to me when I was in Tulsa the week before. The next day I struggled with one called “Leaning In” that I’ve been wanting to rewrite for ages, and barely made any progress. It brought up some old feelings of unworthiness to have nothing to share that evening, sitting with three other writers who’ve all hit way more tangible markers of success in their careers. If I was any younger, those feelings might’ve crushed me. Thankfully, I was aware enough to take note of them, and remind myself that I’d been invited there for a reason. I got back on track the next day with another new song (the one I just shared with my Fellow Travellers on Patreon) but my old fears reared up their head again in the final concert, sitting in the middle of the room playing songs we'd just written with an audience surrounding us and an unseen audience online.
My right hand cramped up like it used to all the time, while familiar thoughts ran through my head about this being the gig where I finally choke and prove to everyone that I’m an imposter who never had any business thinking he belongs on a real stage. I have no doubt those feelings will accompany me to the Ryman if I ever make it there. At least I know them by now. I’m just sharing this for anyone who can relate, and for whom it might be helpful, especially if my shows have managed to trick you into thinking that any of this comes naturally for me.
I had one night off in Austin, and I met up with my old pal Winona Wilde at Radio Coffee’s bluegrass night. Amazingly, their fill-in fiddler for the night was none other than Warren Hood, who plays on two tracks on Troubadourly Yours, so I got to give him his copy in person.
I did a few more little shows and open mics around Texas the following week, thinking a lot about my early days touring alone and feeling grateful that even though I’m still labouring in obscurity, I have a way better idea of what I’m doing, and I know people.
While I was in Texas I had to pay to courier my absentee ballot back to Alberta for our provincial referendum. You may have heard that Albertans were being asked about the possibility of separating from Canada, which thankfully was resoundingly defeated, but there were also nine other questions geared toward stirring up resentment against the federal government and immigrants. I showed the questions to some Texan friends who were shocked at how American the whole thing sounded, but truly, I’ve been noticing this political current everywhere I’ve been touring. As I see it, we’re starting to see the cracks caused by decades of underfunding the public sphere, and rather than take the fight to the billionaires who’ve extracted all the wealth, right-leaning governments are redirecting people’s anger downward, toward the relatively powerless. It’s true that Trudeau more than doubled our annual immigration numbers, and you can certainly see it in the demographics of folks working at Tim Hortons or driving for Uber, but immigrants aren’t the reason it’s hard to get health care in Alberta. To look at just one metric, in 1992 Alberta had 2.7 million people and about 11,700 hospital beds. Now we have nearly 5 million people, who are older overall, and about 8,800 hospital beds. The problem isn’t immigrants, it’s that our common wealth is being steadily confiscated. I wrote a song on the subject called “A Bigger Tent” that got some traction on the internet, but when I posted a video of me ranting in the van about the referendum it got twice as many views, reinforcing the conclusion that social media is, first and foremost, an outrage machine.
I drove eastward from there, marvelling at the way the scrubby Hill Country with its grackles and taco stands fades into bayou, cardinals, French and Creole. I visited my pals Ordinary Elephant in Louisiana, then on through Mississippi and Alabama into Tennessee. I spent a great week in Nashville visiting pals and soaking in music, then up into Appalachia for my first visit to the Carter Family Fold, where A.P. Carter’s old general store hosted jam sessions that eventually moved into an auditorium next door, and where Johnny Cash (who married into the family) played his last concert in 2003. It felt like a holy old America. Parking on the side of the road. Cash only. Popcorn for $1. Twin fiddles, clogging and two-stepping. No alcohol or tobacco.
My last couple gigs were among friends at Stage 11 House Concerts in Weaverville and 3rd Street Coffeehouse in Roanoke, two shining examples of how powerfully a few folks’ love labour can build bridges and nurture creative community. Our pal Bob in Roanoke is a songwriter and veteran who’s supposed to be retired but keeps busier than ever running the coffeehouse, writing songs and blogs, singing in a protest band, and now doing veterans outreach for Beth Macy, a journalist and best-selling author who just might flip a seat on Tuesday that hasn’t elected a Democrat since 1990. I know I express a lot of cynicism about the political class in general, but lately I’ve been watching a lot of candidates from outside the machine who seem genuinely committed to changing it, and feeling like a lot of things are in play that weren’t in play before. California's even voting on a billionaire tax, the first of its kind. If you’re a citizen of these States, I hope you’ll exercise your rights while you still have them.
Alright, that's enough outta me! If you made it all the way here, thanks for sticking with me, and thanks as always for believing in this crazy dream. It keeps me believing in it too.
s