From the moment we hit the 30 degree tarmac at JFK airport it was like slipping into a dress-up party on steroids. All the clichés rolled into one long ride but in the rawest of footage and stripped of cheese. The real deal. kids cracking up under burst fire hydrant mist, doughnut munching cops, fast talking pan handlers, swinging hips
It’s kicked off. I’ve cracked off. An acoustic tour lined up in the USA lined up and locked in. Two good mates joining me to road trip the f*&k out of as many cliched map names as possible. From Manhattan to California with my guitar and loop pedals on board and then onward, upward, downward and a lot of sideways.