Tour Diary: Joshua James (part 1) | Buzz Blog
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Tour Diary: Joshua James (part 1)


Singer-songwriter and Northplatte Records co-founder Joshua James writes from the road about how smoky bars affect his vocal cords and how traveling makes him appreciate his loved ones.---

James is in the midst of a nationwide, eight-week-long tour. He will play The State Room with HoneyHoney on Nov. 3 during the last leg of his tour. He wrote to City Weekly with this tour diary on Oct. 8, 2011:

Florida bars and the Florida stars had a commonality between them. The smoke would polish the earth and soften the nights for both those with eyes to see and those with lungs to breathe. During our short visit to the coastal state with its beautiful canopy of sunlight and cool breezes (night-timely speaking), we played three separate venues. Many of which allowed the inhalation of burning tobacco products. The hot mystical air would twist and turn over the consumers fingers, being in- and ex-haled from mouth to lung to mouth to world. In that said world was I. As the smoke would be blown out I would be in the same location and getting a small taste of the post consumption of tobacco.



Where are you going with this?

Well the smoke, the driving, the stress, the singing, the sadness, coupled with the 4-5 hours of sleep that I have been functioning off of as of late, my body has turned itself to a sickened state. My throat feels as a garden tiller on high or as a piece of lumber under the hand of an underpaid carpenter in an impoverished climate. There are prices to be paid to the road piper, to the “ONE” who is influencing the conditions under which we are ALL living. And so, pay him/her I will. But to say that I enjoy the conditions would be a lie.

I’m unfunctioning properly now, though the absence of the LOVER makes the travels and the singing and connecting a tad more difficult than I would like. SO IT GOES (Vonnegut). I started today’s entry with the intent to explain (yet again) the stories that I have had over the last couple of days. I could tell you about the incredible kindness of Don and Laurie, how they made us feel like family (again), and how the crowd in the last couple of shows have been unbelievable, or how I love the bands that I am traveling with, or how sometimes I feel as if I need to run from it all, let it go, stop it, stop singing, stop writing, stop traveling, STOP STOP STOP. But I won’t do that. I can’t do that this morning.


This morning I will talk of the fortunate state in which I am in. I will talk about how I am alive; how I am loved by a woman that is good and true; how I am a care-taker of 18 beautiful animals and over 60,000 insects; how I have an amazing yet overworked father who wants only the best for his wife and his six children; how I have the most beautiful and kind mother that despite my best efforts will never know the immense impact that she has made on my life. I will talk about my two older sisters that would protect their families to the death. And maybe I will mention my two younger brothers and their constant support in the way I choose to live my life, with my radical ideas and my rants, my confusion and my search—maybe they will know how their support keeps my feet on the ground. I could even talk about my youngest sister and the exciting state in which she is choosing to live her life, how she has left Idaho for Boston and is slowly TRYING to figure IT ALL OUT. And as you may or may-not know, I could talk all day. About this and that. But today, today, I WILL LIVE.


It’s in us, and always will be.