Oh yeah! It’s on. The Frontalot touring machine is back in full swing for a fall jaunt around the northeast quarter of the glorious US of A. Presently greasing the wheels at the world-famous Sturgenius‘s musical fortress in Holyoke, we are prepping for tonight’s debut gig at the legendary Iron Horse in Northampton. But lo! We did not simply materialize here. An epic journey preceded our arrival – a journey which I will now recount to you in harrowing, blood-curdling detail.
First off, don’t take my day numbering too seriously. I’m not sure if it is accurate. I was good at math in high school and then abandoned it for music, so though there may be numerals at the top of each post indicating the cardinality of the entry with respect to all other entries as observed on a one-dimensional graph with sole axis T representing time, they don’t necessarily mean anything of substance. Lack of sleep and endless waves of generosity from fans and hosts have rendered my internal abacus entirely ineffective.
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