This weekend was Duke Baxter’s third Martha’s Vineyard gig. It was in a tiny town called West Chop, which had a post office almost as small as a lunch box. But don’t let that fool you. "They have their own rules in West Chop, " somebody told us in Oak Bluffs. Perhaps this is one of them?
White Attire Required
That little building behind the sign — that’s the post office. One of many we encountered throughout the day. For some odd reason.
We also learned from local residents that there was a donut place that sold donuts from 9:30pm to 12:30am in some parking lot. The prospect of late night donuts after the gig got most of the band members excited. Very excited. And actually all of them, including myself even though I’m not really an avid donut eater.
So all we did while setting up and sound checking was think about donuts. Matt is thinking of donuts right here. "He’s thinking E-string…there’s no E in donut. There’s a D in donut. There’s a D-string on my guitar. I’ll tune them all to D for donut…"
Schwartzer and Axe
Here is the stage before we played. All those red signs are tennis awards. This antique wooden complex apparently is some kind of clubhouse now. It seems to have been a schoolhouse in the past. There were school photos of kids from jarringly stark white classes of the 1940’s and 1950’s. I’d like to know whatever happened to Wumpy Howland.
The Venue
The gig ended with less than an hour to spare to make our donut run. With eight people and a stage full of gear, there was no way to get across the island in one trip, so we had to shuttle people to the motel. It was like an eternity in donut years. Darren, Ethan, and I finally headed off to find donuts with 20 minutes to spare. We had a little trouble finding the place, but it was near a strip of bars, so 4 out of 5 inebriated locals knew the right way. They were generally bewildered by our black suits. In fact, so were we in that setting. So we started running around like Men in Black, briefly, but there were lots of cops around and we didn’t want to attract undue attention until after we procured bags full of donuts.
And then there it was, with the blunt sound of a rigorously untrained chorus…
Back Door Donuts
Soul and Donuts
This weekend was Duke Baxter’s third Martha’s Vineyard gig. It was in a tiny town called West Chop, which had a post office almost as small as a lunch box. But don’t let that fool you. "They have their own rules in West Chop, " somebody told us in Oak Bluffs. Perhaps this is one of them?
White Attire Required
That little building behind the sign — that’s the post office. One of many we encountered throughout the day. For some odd reason.
We also learned from local residents that there was a donut place that sold donuts from 9:30pm to 12:30am in some parking lot. The prospect of late night donuts after the gig got most of the band members excited. Very excited. And actually all of them, including myself even though I’m not really an avid donut eater.
So all we did while setting up and sound checking was think about donuts. Matt is thinking of donuts right here. "He’s thinking E-string…there’s no E in donut. There’s a D in donut. There’s a D-string on my guitar. I’ll tune them all to D for donut…"
Schwartzer and Axe
Here is the stage before we played. All those red signs are tennis awards. This antique wooden complex apparently is some kind of clubhouse now. It seems to have been a schoolhouse in the past. There were school photos of kids from jarringly stark white classes of the 1940’s and 1950’s. I’d like to know whatever happened to Wumpy Howland.
The Venue
The gig ended with less than an hour to spare to make our donut run. With eight people and a stage full of gear, there was no way to get across the island in one trip, so we had to shuttle people to the motel. It was like an eternity in donut years. Darren, Ethan, and I finally headed off to find donuts with 20 minutes to spare. We had a little trouble finding the place, but it was near a strip of bars, so 4 out of 5 inebriated locals knew the right way. They were generally bewildered by our black suits. In fact, so were we in that setting. So we started running around like Men in Black, briefly, but there were lots of cops around and we didn’t want to attract undue attention until after we procured bags full of donuts.
And then there it was, with the blunt sound of a rigorously untrained chorus…
Back Door Donuts