We’re hoping to pack the house in support of Veterans Affairs in Long Beach and we need your help! Please spread the word by sharing the poster in your blog, on your website or sharing the Facebook event. You scratch our back and we’ll scratch yours!

Advance tickets: Purchase Here

Merry Musical Christmas!

We actually had one more show to do which was a party for a super cool couple, recently married at a lovely Lower Garden District locale on the rainy Saturday night after Thanksgiving. Though the unpredictable New Orleans’ weather moved us indoors to a considerably smaller space, the company was cool, staff included. Great photos, too…

After packing up and hitting the bottle with the catering staff in the alley behind the venue, Dave and I ventured uptown to visit with a friend before taking off on Monday, two days later. It was then that our van had ANOTHER crucial meltdown. For those of you not following us on Facebook or Twitter you are unaware that we had some electrical problems “fixed” before we went to Florida the week before Turkey Day. Long story short, $450 wasted and still major issues. And now again with the issues and three days before we had to be in Austin for a show.

SO. Major decisions were made and our old clunker of a diesel van was laid to rest. Bye bye, Ol’ Bessie, Hello as yet un-Christened Honda Odyssey minivan. We’ve heard all the jokes by now, about how you’re supposed to have kids and THEN get a minivan, but wait…we DO have kids. They’re called band members. And all jokes aside, the gas mileage is great, the ride is a thousand times more comfortable and we’ll get to where we’re going with more confidence that we’ll actually arrive on time. Many thanks to the fine folks at Superior Honda on the Westbank of New Orleans for their expediency and swell treatment. Turns out, we even played for the wedding reception of the manager’s daughter! (If anyone feels especially generous this Holiday Season, we have a little PayPal donation button on our website to help with car payments. And we love you!)

SO. We finally left for Austin on Monday night after organizing and downsizing, taking with us only the essentials…PA, instruments, amps, clothing and a few other things. All the rest of the crap we brought with us to NOLA stayed in the guest bedroom of Dave’s mom. Thanks Gods for moms! We stopped at ATX to pick up Joe, our L.A. guitar player who had flown home for the holiday after being with us for the duration of the trip. It was great to be back in Austin, see some friends who we’d been out of touch with for a while and make some new acquaintances, too! In particular check out Teri Joyce, a super songwriter who might be in our song lineup coming soon. Love her!

We made the long trek from Austin to Santa Fe in one day, hoping to head off some incoming weather which never arrived. Thankfully we have a great friend in Santa Fe who didn’t mind us keeping him up until midnight and had beds set up for our weary butts. It was another great night in Santa Fe for our second appearance at The Cowgirl BBQ, and despite the freezing temperatures we kept warm by drinking tequila and rocking out.

Departing the next morning it was cold and overcast, freezing rain in the forecast and a decision made. We would travel south to I-10 in lieu of the threat of closures on I-40. Yes, 16 hours instead of a mere 12. We almost killed each other. But we made it back to L.A. safe and sound in one go, arriving home on Saturday morning at about 3:30 am after dropping Joe off in Hollywood.

AND THEN. Dave got sick on Sunday. Like projectile vomit sick. Food poisoning or stomach flu we’re not sure but he was not well for days. I plugged away, unpacking, grocery shopping, organizing. AND THEN. I got sick. Projectile vomit sick. And I threw up on Sunset Blvd which is so rockstar I can’t even begin to tell you. Apparenly it puts me in league with Slash, Paris and many other people who go by one name only. Just call me Gal.

BUT. We’re better now and have done two great gigs back in L.A. with a trip to San Francisco tomorrow. The show must go on.

We showed up at the Hyatt Regency at 1:30pm for our 2pm audition and finally turned in our paperwork at 2:30. They asked all kinds of questions about why we think we’re America’s next great talent, who our heroes are, events that have impacted our lives, struggles we’ve faced keeping the act going, etc. When we finally got called for our audition at 3:30 we were more than ready to head in.

Now, you will recall that this songbird was battling laryngitis. My nerves were steeled to push through, and the whole performance was to be only 90 seconds anyway. Since we were allowed only acoustic instruments, we decided two guitars were better than one and invited Chris Adkins, a guitarist and singer who’s been playing with us in New Orleans and who came with us to Colorado last summer to round out Joe Ransom on guitar and of course, Dave Brouillette on upright bass. We did “Satin Sheets”, a song made famous by Jeanne Pruett in 1973 and has a powerful vocal melody, gets right to the chorus and has a great harmony part. I should also mention that they specified that the selection should be a cover song. Here’s a good video of her version: http://m.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DgZutNGdcqH0&h=GAQHt8t4x&refid=0

We walked into the room and there was a woman on her laptop sitting at the table who didn’t even look up. The handler who led us in took a picture of us holding our number and then another guy came in and sat at the table. First things first…we performed, my voice held up although I wish it had been stronger but all in all I think we did a great job. Then there was the Q&A with the fella at the table. So here are answers to those questions like, “What happens next?”

They don’t make any decisions until January and basically, if they call you back for the second round, that’s when you audition in Los Angeles in front of the celebrity judges from the show. Then if you make it through THAT it’s a week long process in Vegas and the final round is the show where you spend four days in Los Angeles for rehearsals and the taping of the show. And they let you know ahead of time to make sure that’s all something feasible for you to do. If you get selected they want to make sure you’re not going to bow out unexpectedly because you can’t get time off from your “real job.” So now you know how it works.

They also asked what we hoped to get out of the process. Although my joke usually goes something like, “people die from exposure” there didn’t really seem to be any better answer. And apparently there was a band a few seasons back who only made it to the second round, got 30 seconds of tv time and were able to parlay that into upping their asking price and tons of new fans. The first round judge also seemed quite impressed when he asked if we were on iTunes and we replied “yes and we’re also on Pandora.” Eyebrows went up. Our impression is that the foks at American’s Got Talent are interested in working with acts that already have something going for themselves and know how to translate any exposure into tangible results. Do we fit the bill? Only time will tell.

A little background…
I got sick this past Sunday and it was a weird sort of sickness with no congestion or cough at all. I felt better on Wednesday and put on actual clothing, washed my face and brushed my hair. Then Thursday found me feeling ick again, although no congestion still. We played at Mimi’s in the Marigny on Thursday where my voice felt strong, full and I didn’t push it at all to get the same results as I always do. Then Friday, wham…no voice. Normally if my chords are a little over worked or tired I might loose a bit of my high register or get a little raspy. This time I totally lost the low end and, at least at first had all the high notes. Then I pushed through and lost that, too. Of course, cigar smoking at yesterday’s event didn’t help nor did the two packs of second hand smoke I inhaled at the bar last night. I went through six 500 ml bottles of water on stage yesterday and despite keeping hydrated, tea with honey, whiskey, Mucinex and 15 minute head steaming I still lost my voice. At least I got a good facial.

So…I think I can, I think I can get through one or two sets tonight. And breaking news…we’re supposed to audition for America’s Got Talent tomorrow. We’ll see what happens with that!

New Orleans is, of course a well known destination for Mardi Gras madness and the Jazz and Heritage Festival, but throngs of party goers have been flocking to the Crescent City for All Hallows Eve for years. And for good reason. The city has ghost stories gallore going back hundreds of years and even some more recent ones that would curdle your blood. (Keep your ears peeled for a new Gal Holiday song based on the American Murder Ballads of yore.) And now that the Voodoo Music Experience has become such a popular music festival, the city is even more swollen with folks itching to kick up their heels.

And it was a night of ghosties and ghoulies in abundance on the steets along with plenty of young gals proud to show off a little skin. In fact, our show on Saturday at Banks Street Bar got a little shaken up by a posterior flasher and her mud flap girl tattoos. Truck driving songs always seem to get ‘em going and it’s not every day a woman pulls her pants down for us.

Where was I? Oh yes, Halloween. To brass bands galore, we walked down the overflowing Frenchmen Street, a favorite of locals and tourists alike and we popped around the corner to Checkpoint Charlie’s. It’s a place where bikers, hippies, boat captains and people who need to do their laundry while drinking tend to congregate. It’s also the place where Gal Holiday first got our feet wet, way back in 2004 and where we learned how to deal with obnoxious drunk people during our show. And nothing much has changed of course. Although the clienele has changed slightly over the years, as has the management they still know how to make a damn good late night burger and pack in the crowds.

I had my introduction to Spoonfed Tribe this year, and they were great but the real treat of the evening was Voodoo Town, the band who played before them. Our friend, trumpeter and loop master extraordinare, Trace Barfield and his bandmates were in fine, improvisational form and they left me wishing I’d gotten there earlier to see more of their show. All in all it was a wild time in the French Quarter but we had places to go, people, places to go.

My ultimate destination was Mimi’s in the Marigny ( where we’ll be playing one more time on Nov. 10th) and a very special lady named, Meschiya Lake. She’s the ultimate siren of song and occasionally of debauchery, too. She and dem Little Big Horns really make my feet go tippety tap and my heart go pitter patter with their jitterbug, classic jazz sound. They were a joy to listen to as was Meschiya’s friend from New York who sang a couple numbers with the band. Wish I gotten her name and BOY do I wish I had gotten more pictures of the night. I took about two and they stink. So much for a photo blog.

Most of the rest of the night is a blur but as I said, we were stumbling distance to home. Until next year, New Orleans. Oh wait, we’re here through Thanksgiving. More time for trouble. Except that we’re back in Marrero…and headed to Mimi’s tonight.

Our band often gets complimented on our song selection and so, with that said, I felt that it was time to add a song with a deeper message than just the cheating heart, tear in my beer refrain. This year I’ve been trying to develop my songwriting craft by looking at songs by John Prine, Bob Dylan and Paul Simon as well as Merle Haggard and more traditionally country writers. I’ve found that while it’s important to have a message in your lyrics, it’s equally important to try not to alienate your audience, especially in country music where a large portion of your listeners have more conservative views. You can still be punk rock without screaming about Anarchy. And you can speak about politics and religion without being radical.

I was unfamiliar with Iris DeMent before hearing her marvelously crafted song. She is an amazing songwriter who tends to write a lot about charged subjects such as religion, war, sexual abuse and government policy. She grew up the youngest of 14 children in a deeply religious Pentecostal family, and “Let the Mystery Be” speaks to that subject. I love the song and hope that you will also!

LET THE MYSTERY BE (Iris DeMent)
(c) 1992 Songs of Iris/Forerunner Music, Inc. ASCAP

Everybody’s wonderin’ what and where they they all came from
everybody’s worryin’ ’bout where they’re gonna go
when the whole thing’s done
but no one knows for certain
and so it’s all the same to me
I think I’ll just let the mystery be

Some say once you’re gone you’re gone forever
and some say you’re gonna come back
Some say you rest in the arms of the Saviour
if in sinful ways you lack
Some say that they’re comin’ back in a garden
bunch of carrots and little sweet peas
I think I’ll just let the mystery be

Everybody’s wonderin’ what and where they they all came from
everybody’s worryin’ ’bout where they’re gonna go
when the whole thing’s done
but no one knows for certain
and so it’s all the same to me
I think I’ll just let the mystery be

Some say they’re goin’ to a place called Glory
and I ain’t saying it ain’t a fact
but I’ve heard that I’m on the road to purgatory
and I don’t like the sound of that
I believe in love and I live my life accordingly
but I choose to let the mystery be

Everybody is wondering what and where they they all came from
everybody is worryin’ ’bout where they’re gonna go
when the whole thing’s done
but no one knows for certain
and so it’s all the same to me
I think I’ll just let the mystery be
I think I’ll just let the mystery be

?olde dixie?
Location: South Orange Ave, South Orlando FL
Description: I wish I had something more in depth to say about this sign, but WOW! The chicken has a confederate cap on! How awesome is that! As a transplant from the ?north? I am always on the lookout for true southern gems like this.

?duens gas?
Location: Lake St, Miller Beach Neighborhood, Gary IN
Description: Since I was kid I always wondered if the letters on this sign were transposed since the Indiana ?Dunes? begin in the Miller Beach neighborhood along Lake Michigan. Unfortunately, like most store fronts, this gas station has sat vacant and vandalized since I was kid.

?beverly shores depot?
Location: South Shore commuter train line, Beverly Shores IN
Description: While a number of towns in the Indiana dunes were named for squatters who occupied the area, Beverly Shores was to be the Atlantic City of Indiana. Of course this never came to be and now the area is inhabited by wealthy home owners who feel entitled to the natural beauty of the dunes and Lake Michigan.

?cold?
Location: Orange Blossom Trail, Kissimmee FL
Description: Remnants of old Florida tourism?

Thanks to Andrea for spotting this sign at the Mardi Gras Indians’ Super Sunday in New Orleans.

He’s the alley cock
Walking the walk
And talking the talk

This photo was taken on Franklin Avenue in the Marigny in New Orleans, LA. An amazing revelation once the old external walls were taken off the building.

My love for the area happened during the first Gal Holiday tour of Colorado in 2007. Close friends of mine, Rocketship Man Jimmy Descante and his lovely wife, Penelope had just moved to Salida from New Orleans and the timing was perfect on a day off to drop in for a few drinks, a ghost town or two and a hot spring. Pretty much every town we went to on that first tour had me falling in love with it, and then SALIDA. It had everything; amazing restaurants, ambiance, folks and scenery. I knew next time we came back we just had to play a show there!

My idea about what a small town is or isn’t has certainly changed drastically since I was a kid. After my family moved back to the mountains of western Maryland when I was 12, I grew more and more miserable living in a community of closed minded attitudes and narrow acceptance. My mother is an artist and a musician, as well as a very vocal environmentalist, preservationist and organic gardener who raised her children to be free thinking, open minded, conscious members of our global community. That is to say, we often had a hard time fitting in. As is usually the case in Small Town America there were a handful of wonderful people with whom we had much in common and more and more have moved in over the years, slowly changing the face of my hometown. Blame it on teenage angst, but back then I wrongly thought all small towns were the same and I wanted to get away as fast as possible.

That attitude changed when I started to travel on my own, moving down to Fredericksburg, Virginia and then to New Orleans where I learned about and fell in love with Abita Springs, LA. In Abita I had my first real taste of a small town where generational locals and artist transplants from the city actually lived and worked together, tradional and creative types respecting each other and (mostly) getting along. I’m sure John Preble of the UCM (pronounced You-See-’Um) Museum in Abita would disagree with me and admittedly I have an outsiders point of view. But it’s a great little place and I’m proud to call John my friend and to have spent time in his small town.

Out west people are different though. Maybe it’s the enduring pioneer spirit that permeates, running through the culture like a vein of precious metal. Or maybe it’s the awe inspiring views, or the short growing season or even the harsh climate that helps to foster an attitude of cooperation and good will to man. I don’t know what it is but the people ARE different and it’s been my good fortune to have just gotten back from my third visit to Salida, CO with a plan for a return trip already in the pipeline. Just rest assured that it won’t be in the winter!

We had a marvelous first weekend of our Set Two Tour with Friday and Saturday night shows at The Victoria Tavern during ArtWalk weekend. We got ‘em out on the dance floor, Jimmy and Penelope leading the charge and a couple from Texas two stepping both nights. On Sunday we moved over to J and P’s abode from the old whorehouse where The Vic puts up traveling musicians. We hiked up to a waterfall for some eye soothing views, our guitar player, Chris and I snapping tons of photos before heading back for a BBQ. Mucho Tequila, amazing food, pinball, conversation, and many new friends later we fell into deep slumber in the teepee that Jimmy, following up on a childhood dream erected in his yard with help from his “squaw” and his “squaw in law.”

And so I’ll say it again; all small towns are not created equal. It’s just finding the ones where you fit in and that do it for you. So that’s what I’m doing. Traveling around, playing music, making friends and finding those pockets of America where people are nice and being the weirdest person in the room is still okay.