Tour Diary: Over the Ocean

Over the phylum

Photo by Gerard Hynes

You might’ve noticed that for the last couple weeks your email inbox has been rather free of intrusions from the Machine Shop. This is because I was traveling in Ireland and England for those two weeks with my mother and my son Milo and every moment that I was not moving either by own conveyance, by rental car or public transportation; when I was not wandering some ruined monastery or castle; when I was not laying supine on a glamping pod bed in the throes of food poisoning; when I was not eating or sleeping or drinking pints of dark, frothy stout, the idea of sitting down and writing some kind of journal entry was really the farthest thing from my mind. I’m home now; we got back on Saturday. I am immensely jetlagged but I am here.

Last year, in 2024, Carson was generous enough to take Milo to Japan on his two-week spring break from school. I felt obliged to step up and do the same on the following year. I suggested Ireland and Milo was game. I also invited my mother along because I am nothing if not a dyed-in-the-wool mama’s boy and I thought it would be sweet to make the trip a kind of multi-generational thing. The trip was, after all, sweet and fun but it was also hectic and stressful — as all trips can be. At the suggestion of my manager, I figured I might as well set up a few solo shows while I was over there. We ended up opting for one in Dublin at Vicar Street and one in London at Union Chapel. It would break up the trip nicely; I’d never played solo overseas, so it would be kind of novel as well.

I’ll hit the brief highlights of the non-musical side of the trip, which was most of it, but talk a little more in detail about the shows. We flew from Portland to Dublin, via Seattle, and arrived without a hitch. We were in Dublin for a few days, staying in a hotel on the corner of St. Stephen’s Green, and I played a show at Vicar Street the night before we lit out for the west country.

Vicar Street shares a distinction with very few other clubs or theaters in the world in that it is the only place The Decemberists (or, now, myself solo) have played in a city that we’ve returned to multiple times. The only other one that comes to mind is Paradiso in Amsterdam. When we have played in Dublin, which is a handful of times, we have only ever played Vicar Street. There might as well be only one club in this entire city, based on my professional experience, and it is called Vicar Street. The last time we were here was in 2018; it was the first show of a European tour. Our inbound flights had been so mucked-up that I was the only one to arrive in time for sound check; the rest of the band arrived just shortly before showtime. I also think we have only ever *started* tours at the Vicar Street in Dublin, so I have a strong association with being very jetlagged at this venue. Tonight, March 25th, a mere two days into our trip, is no different.

I leave my mom and my kid back at the hotel and cab it to the venue. I’m met by Ray, who will by my overseas TM/Tech. I’ll be using rented gear on this run — it was not practical to lug several guitars around Ireland just for two shows. I’ve opted for a Martin D28 and a Guild 12 string. It’s simple. It’s easy. The rental company has installed the pickups I prefer, L.R. Baggs Anthems, so it’s as close to a simulacrum of my home setup as possible, really.

They’ve put tables and chairs on the floor of the venue for this one, so it has a distinctly night-clubby feel to it. I hasten through my soundcheck, running a couple things that needed running, and then I return to the green room, fogged in memories of prior jetlags. Showtime rolls around soon enough and I’m heartened to see that all those empty tables and chairs have been filled. I pick up the D28; this is what I play:

ALL ARISE 2 a harp
TRISTAN AND ISEULT 4
MAKE YOU BETTER
ENGINE
WONDER
BURIAL 3
WOODS 3
LAKE SONG
WBGDT
LESLIE
GYMNAST
ROX 2
SUCKER’S a harp
VALENCIA
RUSALKA
—
VINCENT 4
JUNE 2 a harp

I’ve included it here as I’d written it — with all of the little abbreviations that have become just part of the fabric of the songbook. They’re all pretty self explanatory, I think, except maybe WBGDT, which is We Both Go Down Together. Why this was abbreviated to an initialism and not something like “We Both” or “Together,” I have no idea. Some early setlist had it that way and that way it has remained. The numbers near the titles refer to the capo position, which, as dogged readers of these Tour Diaries will remember, I have to include on setlists because my mind is old and feeble and I cannot remember them, they are too many.

It’s a sweet show, despite my jetlag. It’s a little loose. It’s also my first time appearing in front of an international audience since August, 2024, when the United States government was still being helmed by a rational (if somewhat aged) adult. I will use my time as an American citizen traveling the globe as an opportunity to remind people that yes, this is who we are as Americans. I think that’s the great conundrum us liberal folks have been wrangling with since November. It is, in some ways, who we’ve always been, deep down. This greed and cruelty, this disregard for norms and old alliances. It’s dishonest to try to disentangle myself from the threads that make up Americanism — I still choose to live and work inside its framework. It may be helpful, though, to just stand on stage, here in Dublin, and simply say, “I’m sorry.” I hate this brand of Americanism, I hate it to my core. I’ve always despised the idea of “American Exceptionalism” and in some ways, this current iteration of American-ness might hopefully forever put that stupid, self-centered, noxious, jingoist attitude to bed. That is a sliver of hope.

Contrary the state of democracy in my home country, however, my voice holds up and the show feels good. I usually drink wine at these sorts of things but I’ve opted for a pulled pint of Guinness. The manager of the venue even has a fresh one waiting for me backstage. Such hospitality! Milo, my twelve-year-old, has opted to stay back at the hotel, which is fine. I skedaddle Grafton-ways and fall into bed, lightly medicating myself to sleep. Oíche mhaith, Dublin!

And then it’s off westward with the three of us. I pick up a car at the rental place on the roof of the Stephens Green Shopping Centre, briefly marvel at the agent’s confidence in handing over the keys of a four-door Skoda to a jetlagged American who promptly tries to get into the passenger seat to drive, pick up the two other generations of my family and head toward Galway. We see ruined abbeys and tumbledown neolithic portal tombs; we drink in pubs and ate way too much fried food. I eat oysters, twice, and likely snag a bad one somewhere along the line — I wake up on the day we are to driving to Dingle with a nagging nausea that is only relieved once I’ve yucked up the remains of my continental breakfast in a pub toilet in Doolin. I’m sure I am not the first. We finally make it to Dingle and my illness passes; we cross the broad majestic Shannon, we visit ring forts and oratories. I even manage to escape our B&B in Dingle for an evening to see a set by Joshua Burnside in a teeny little room above a pub. Eventually, we head back eastward, catch a plane over the Irish Sea, and find ourselves navigating the underground trainways of London, England.

I barely have enough time to check into our room before I’m back on the underground, gliding my way toward Islington. My show tonight is at Union Chapel, which I’m told is a beautiful spot. The directions on my phone guide me to such a building:

The interior, as you can imagine, is really extraordinary, all arched ceilings and stained glass windows. The main part of the room is hexagonal with pews extending out from the stage toward the front door beneath a level of balconies. It had been especially designed for music, I’m told. At soundcheck, the room is all reverberations. Probably could do the whole show without a PA system. Inspired by these regal echoes, I design a setlist that leans into the vibier side of the catalogue:

TIMELESS G harp
TRISTAN 4
ROX 2
ELI 4
WBGDT
LESLIE
GRACE
BURIAL 3
LAKE
CAROLINA
WOODS 3
RRA 5
APOLOGY BEGINNING
WONDER
CA 1
—
VINCENT 4
MARINER AFTER THE BOMBS

Of course, without the rest of my band to comment or react to a setlist I write up, there’s bound to be some oversights. Songs from Hazards of Love and The Crane Wife are notably absent; Castaways and Cutouts gets a healthy portion of the list with 3+ songs. I’m halfway through the set before I notice that a lot of this stuff is decidedly dark and down-tempo. It’s too late to change course now. I’ve also written the setlist perhaps three songs too long — and this on a night where there is a strict curfew. I have 90 minutes to do my thing, not a second more. I’m not informed of this, however, until I answer the call of a solitary voice from the balconies — this show-goer wants to hear “After the Bombs.” I’m through my one glass of wine so, per my current level of tolerance, I’m practically blasted. I’ll play that one. I ask Ray at the side of the stage if we have time to add a song. He says no, that I have four minutes till a very strict curfew. I did not know this. I do not have time to play “After the Bombs” and then a ten minute song about a vengeful orphan being digested by a whale alongside his lifelong nemesis. “After the Bombs” will have to do. It feels fitting, anyway, to cap a night in this hallowed hall with a song like that, a song to cap my own visit overseas in the wake of my nation’s unraveling, as bombs fall somewhere distant, out of reach, being controlled by a bunch of alcoholic megalomaniacs on a groupchat. Then we’ll go dancing. Till it all starts over again.

Photos by Gerard Hynes.

While I have you: I’ll be trying another go this week at playing on the new Substack Live feature. You’ll recall from my last attempt there remained some pretty sizable issues with the audio and I’ve been working with Substack directly on trying to iron those out. Their really making a concerted effort to make it a workable feature for musicians and it seems like headway has been made! I’ll be playing a handful of songs (including, god willing, a new one) on April 11 at 4 pm ET/1 pm PT as part of Substack’s Music & Creativity Sessions. Join me, won’t you?