Moving the Bassline: Soul-Pop Band Sweet Magnolia’s Summer Tour

 

Our first day started out with a comedy of errors, and more soon to come—lucky us. The rental car process resulted in a car from hell that, we realized one hour down I-55, rattled like a can of change, louder than any of our music, podcasts, and conversations could comfortably be. One speeding ticket, credit card fraud, and almost-accident later, we arrived in Little Rock with a long exhale, looking for the nearest *redacted rental car company name* office.

 

 

Hopeful for an easier day, we grabbed lunch at the upscale establishment that is Trader Joe’s before setting off for Fayetteville, the site of our first show. Thankfully, we arrived there pretty seamlessly and the only issue was that the hotel pool was filled with preteens. We had a lovely preshow dinner at a sandwich place called Mess Hall 45. Photos of old military mess halls hung on the walls, and the vibe was complete with stacks of board games along the wall. After several games of Connect 4 and convincing our waitress, Abby, to come to our show, we set off for George’s Majestic Lounge, a legendary Fayetteville venue. The show was considerably tame but a great warm-up first show. The highlight of the night was that Abby showed up with her mom!

 

On the way to Kansas City, we stopped for lunch at Judy’s Truck Stop in Jasper, Missouri, a diner that, for having a huge fly problem, seemed to care very little that they had a huge fly problem. Despite this, the place was packed—whether it was because the food slapped (best BLT I’ve ever had) or because there is nothing else for miles would be hard to say. We lingered over lunch before heading on to Kansas City. Our show at the Rino was epic, packed with loyal fans and new folks, too. It was that sweaty, fun energy we dream about. The show ended with a giant jam session of New Orleans brass band standards with the last act, a local brass band. Still high from the adrenaline, we carried the party well into the night with some friends of ours. The next morning, I woke up to a 4:30 a.m. time-stamped photo of the boys showing off Dane’s new manicure, which featured Josh’s name painted on his nails, evidence of an unhinged night.

 

Needless to say, the next morning was slow. But the band rallied for some Kansas City staples at Gates BBQ, a place we loved from last year. I was worried that Josh, complete in his LSU hat and Jerry Lee’s boudin shirt, was going to get us kicked out on account of bringing his own Cajun seasoning. It was on the fries, but still, these people are proud! The barbecue sandwiches were just as good as we remembered and cured any lingering hangovers. Lawrence is a cute, small town outside of Kansas City, and home to the University of Kansas. Though it came recommended to me by multiple folks, unfortunately, we didn’t agree. The other bands on the bill were super talented and sweet, but the crowd was mostly the drunken college type—they weren’t feeling us and that’s OK; it was mutual.

 

 

Monday greeted us as our first “off” day, apart from driving, in awe of the sheer amount of corn in Iowa as we made our way to the Twin Cities. When we arrived at Glennon’s parents’ house, we were just in time for homemade pizza night. We dressed them up with our toppings of choice while listening to the sounds of Louis Prima. Then Glennon’s dad, David, threw the pizzas on the grill while we admired the beautiful vegetable garden and sipped on David’s homemade ginger beer. After four days of constant moving, it felt like a long exhale. The following day, we stretched our legs at Minnehaha Falls and took a late lunch at a very Midwestern bar called Mayslack’s, where we ate some of the largest and best roast beef sandwiches. While there, our friends taught us about Midwestern bar culture, including the sacred pastime that is the pull-tab. The next day, after a visit to a local radio station—with a session that was particularly tight and special and I berate myself to this day for not recording a video of it—we quickly rushed down the river to the venue, 331 Club. It had not changed a bit, thankfully. We had a great show with friends, family, returning fans, and new folks who had heard us on the radio and rushed to get to the show!

 

 

 

After yet another four-hour drive, we arrived in northern Wisconsin, where my uncle has a small cabin on a lake. With the fresh, thick forest and frigid blue lake as a background and the primitive nature of the cabin (an old fishing cabin that recently went from an outhouse to indoor plumbing), it felt isolating and unrefined in the best way possible. That night, we went to Stillwaters for an authentic Wisconsin fish fry. It’s the kind of place with Lincoln log walls, where your waitress reminds you to vote for her in the next town election. We had the most sublime fish fry with locally caught, lightly battered perch and walleye. Family-style sides of cranberry bread, potato pancakes, mac and cheese, and coleslaw were washed down with a pitcher of New Glarus Spotted Cow served in frosted mugs. It was heavenly. The next couple of days were filled with morning songwriting sessions, dips in the lake, board games, and family dinners starring grilled Wisconsin bratwurst.

 

 

The day that I’d been dreading all tour had finally come: a 10-hour (turned 12-hour) drive to Cincinnati. But eventually we made it. The day of our show, our friend Jean treated us to a full breakfast spread with cheesy potatoes, sausage, and eggs. Being the generous host she is, Jean even brought us lasagna and green beans at the venue after sound check, which we ate picnic-style on the back patio. We weren’t expecting too much since it was a Tuesday night, but the crowd really showed up—not just in filling up the room but also in being borderline wild! They danced and sang and hooted with us like they were getting down on a Saturday night. They demanded an encore, which was admittedly a struggle due to it being a three-hour show, but we pulled out “Crazy Train” as a timely Ozzy Osbourne tribute, something we had never played before! After interacting with folks at our merchandise table and other colorful patrons, we went back to Jean’s house to celebrate and gossip about the lively night with Champagne. Glennon surprised us all with his juggling prowess, and the next morning, while nursing hangovers, we were pleasantly reminded of the night by continuing to find once-juggled limes on the floor.

 

When we arrived in Nashville, we were reminded that we were once again in the South with the wave of heat that hit us. While the rest of the band met with friends or rested, Josh and I spent our night off, hot dogs in hand, at a Nashville Sounds baseball game. The next day was nothing but errands and staying cool until our gig at Cobra. In truth, our gig was extremely light, but we had fun playing together. As a fun surprise, I even knew the drummer on the other gig, Griffin McMahon, as I had met her in New Orleans at one of Sweet Magnolia’s first gigs. It felt very kismet. After popping into the deathcore show next door at the same venue, we tried to meet Glennon at a food-hall type of place, but due to a text mix-up, he wasn’t there; we conceded and all filed into a tiny restaurant called Fly Pelican Fly with four patrons in it, one of whom was a spaniel puppy. Naturally, since the place was so small and narrow, we made friends with the other patrons, one of whom was an arborist who claimed her favorite tree was the sweet bay magnolia. She shrieked when we told her we’re a band called Sweet Magnolia and bought us all shots because it was National Tequila Day. In truth, it might have been Nashville Tequila Day, but I’m not sure! Twenty minutes later, Glennon walked into the restaurant to find us knocking back shots and tasting the most floral, complex honey we’ve ever tried. We explained to him that one of our new friends, the owner of the spaniel, was a co-owner of Greenwood Honey Co. and harvested the honey himself. We left the restaurant giddy with the uplifting energy that can only happen when a spontaneous group of people surprise each other with intense connection.

 

 

 

Our accommodation in Jackson was this incredible lake house that belongs to Glennon’s boss, complete with a dock and screened porch. We were so tickled by the front bedroom, a huge room with six twin beds in it so that children can sleep summer camp-style. We found it so funny that we were to spend the last night of the tour sleeping tic-tac-toe, all in a row. Our last gig was a dinner set at Hal & Mal’s, an eclectically decorated bar and restaurant with a chef and owner from New Orleans. It’s a Jackson institution, and the sandwiches were incredible. (We highly recommend the Clingman Avenue Thunderbird sandwich.) We were apprehensive of playing too loudly for a dinner set, but the crowd embraced our second-line through the dining room as our grand finale. It was a fun way to end the tour, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Back at the lake house, I felt beyond exhausted and surrendered to bed early, slightly disappointed not to soak up the very last night but extremely grateful to fall asleep once again next to the brothers who are Ben, Dane, Glennon, and Josh. I’m so grateful for their humorous spirit and support (even through rattly cars) and, of course, very thankful to our generous hosts, venues, bands, and listeners who made it all happen. We were so lucky, and I fell asleep dreaming of the day we could do it all over again.