Apr 27 From Austin to Indianapolis…! :)

The tour started in a very funny way. We were in the middle of America – or of Texas, should I say. Because Texans are Texans. Those we’ve met so far do not consider themselves Americans. They are Texans. And this is why this state is also called the Lone Star State. Somehow, as we were hearing about the different stories of Texas and their cultural identities, it felt home a little more – their story, though different, is somewhat similar to that of Quebec.

We woke up the morning after in a place that felt like it was from another world – so far from our own reality! Outside, we could hear chickens not far from us, and 2 horses were running around, almost free. Bowie and Sue immediately became friends with everyone. I think giving them carrots helped, if only a little! And then we’ve met those cute little puppies, 3-weeks old little puppies who were just discovering what the world was all about.

We unloaded all the gear, made sure the equipment worked and that nothing was broken. Despite a chip (and a quite major one) on Jeff’s green Duesenberg guitar, everything seemed fine. Now to one last problem: the car broke down, and we needed to drive downtown to pick up Moose’s drum. This thing is huge. Like massive. A charitable soul managed to pick it up for us. And believe it or not (we did not believe it at all!), the drum kit, plus a carpet, and an amp all fit in a Fiat. Yes. You read that right…!

And then the day went on, with its fair share of soulful discussions about life, about letting go and holding on, about believing in life’s own magic, about the evidence of things unseen. We had just arrived in Austin, in America, yet already, we knew we fitting right in. “Home is wherever your heart is”, they say. It might be because we are traveling a bunch of people together that I feel like this, but I never feel like I am far away from home. Maybe it’s doing what we love with the people we love. Maybe it’s never being in a place that’s really away from home. Home is a concept in itself, I have understood over the years, that relates strongly to family. It doesn’t need a building or a specific place, just like family doesn’t require a relationship by blood. Home is where you carry your heart – where you find your purpose. A place where you can find security but that ain’t safe. A place where you can be yourself, but where people won’t let you be comfortable with who you are, knowing – better than yourself sometimes – that there is so much more awaiting you. And where sometimes, people around you help you redefine your concept of brotherhood, just like Sef helped Alex on that day… (And don’t forget he’s been bugging Jeff all day, too… you can read about it in Alex’s blog on the Secret Family Cult Club!)

We left Austin at 3am, and got on the bus where we met with Trail of Dead. A great friendship has formed between the 2 bands, and though we had seen everyone just months before (and Conrad a few days only as he came to the church to record his solo project). And it really felt like we were reuniting with dear family members once more!

We hit the road to OKC, and then to St. Louis, and then Indianapolis. 3 cities in which we have played the 3 first shows of the tour “Outside It’s America”, over 1,000 miles of travel… 3 different cities, all part of what’s called “America”. And so far, I can say this tour is simply a great reminder that we should never judge a book by its cover. OKC was filled with rundown buildings everywhere we looked around; it looked like nobody had lived anywhere in there in decades. Our venue, the Conservatory, was a 1-storey building, spread wide, with a black facade. Everything, absolutely everything, was painted black. In front of the venue, what used to be a neon sign was standing tall, empty, and with no colors at all. St. Louis, colorful with its street art absolutely everywhere, was however just as run down as OKC was. An attempt of revitalisation was going on everywhere I laid my eyes. It might be because of the unstopping rain that was pouring down that day, but everything seemed brighter than it should have. From the painting on the walls to the bursts of laughter we could hear coming through the doors of nearby cafés. The colors and the laughter clashed against what seemed to be “the real life” around that place, making them even more beautiful to my outsider eyes. And I wondered, do they still see it this way? Have local people, the ones I hear laughing, painted this themselves, in an attempt to remember life is more than your circumstances? Have people from the outside painted that as a message to tell the people living here they weren’t alone and that life wasn’t only a display of black and white? I don’t know, I will never know, and the answer probably doesn’t matter either. Indianapolis, standing tall with its high rise buildings, seemed to be a brand new city. Though some buildings did keep their historic side, most of the city seemed to be sparkling. Yet again, that was only if you looked up high. Looking down, you could see a lot of homeless people, sitting down, asking for money with card board signs in their hands. Despite the cloudless blue sky and the sun that was shining, it was still a little cold outside, and one of them sat just beside our trio at Starbucks. A nice man, with lots of conversation and a desire to connect – not for money, but from the bottom of his heart. And the smile he had was warmer and brighter than anything else I had seen so far. As I walked around taking pictures, I heard someone yell at me. Or at least I thought it was at me. I turned toward the origin of the scream, and saw someone waving from the other side of the street; not someone I knew. I looked behind me, and saw yet another homeless person, slowly standing up, looking at that man across the street. With black pants, a white shirt, a white overall that was clearly dirty and a white hat, there was no doubt, the guy was a chef at the restaurant he had just gotten out of. He yelled yet again at the homeless behind me, this time, with words I could clearly grasp: “Come here, we’ve got food for you. It’s cold outside, so come on in as the restaurant is closed. The homeless lady behind me finished standing up, and made a few hesitant step towards the man, her eyes filling up with tears… I walked away as she limped across the street…

And meanwhile, inside all of these venues we’ve played at, life was abounding with passion like rarely we’ve seen it before. From the band members themselves, jumping on the stage with sheer passion, to the audience, completely on fire from beginning to end, sometimes with only a nod of the head, sometimes with a massive headbanging.

“I have seen shows in my life. I live for music. But you guys… I have never seen anything like you before. Thank you for those emotions you’ve given me. I live my life for gigs, and you’ve given me another reason to live tonight.”

“Absolutely sick performance from Your Favorite Enemies tonight. You know it’s good when the band tosses their equipment into the fucking pit to play. Thank you for a killer show! You’ve got a new fan, I’ve got a new favorite band.”

“What are you guys? Beasts? There’s no way normal human beings can put up a show like this! You’ve totally killed it tonight!”

“I am not an expressive people. I never demonstrate my emotions, especially not during concerts; this is not what I am there for. But tonight, you guys had me nodding my head and stomping the floor with my feet for almost the complete show. I’ve got to see you guys again before this tour ends.”

Yes, it’s America outside. And dreams hang in wonders. But we are the artisans of these dreams, making sure that they do not only fly to the wind as a flag would, but that they are truly embodied…

– Stephanie

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