MP3 andy harrington band - world tour

The Purple Hand -- "The stone is still rolling."

10 MP3 Songs
ROCK: Roots Rock, BLUES: Rhythm & Blues



Details:
Welcome to It...

World Tour begins on the shores of the Known World, a messy little place we think we know. We visit first the streets of Brooklyn, and take a ride in an Ambulance that runs on pure anxiety -- from where does this anxiety spring?
When the sun sets, and we begin to question what we do know, the tour crosses the Singing Bridge over the Big River to the new place, Dingee. We meet a young girl there whose heart has been broken and who seeks to be healed. We say a prayer and reluctantly leave her to her salty tears. And ferry across the Sea of Discord to the Dream Dump where we are serenaded by Jenny, Harry, Peter and Paul -- people who all thought they knew. On this small gray island that smokes, Andy Paper Heart takes us on a special tour -- a meat packing plant!
Where are we now?
We wave goodbye to all our friends at the Dream Dump because it's time -- take a deep breath â breathe in, breathe out -- to set sail upon the dangerous waters of the Straights of nkan (the unconscious) bound for the uncertain shores of the great unexplored territory where we will learn the world to make is your own --don't be the buffalo. Finally, over the Sunlit Sea, we make a dreamy trip to the Neo-Known Sea and the Neo-Known World, back to the ever-present problems of animals, love, eternal reoccurrence and dizziness. We hope you enjoy your trip.


A Biography of Sorts...

Andy Harrington met Pooh Sprague and Tim Augustinowicz through mutual acquaintances Rick and Davey Davis in Brownsville, Vermont in 1980 and began a very informal musical partnership which later became the Andy Harrington Band.
Roughly speaking, in the beginning, Andy wrote the songs, and Tim and Pooh picked out the âgood ones." The lineup had Andy on rhythm guitar, Tim on drums, and Pooh on bass. They all sang.
After a bit playing together in the Rick Davis Band, the three rehearsed as a three-piece and the inner-critic roared, "too much empty space.â The partners enlisted guitarist and songwriter Mike Veitch to fill the holes â holes were thought to be bad in the early 1980's.
The new band debuted at the Davey Davis pig roast at Mt. Ascutney in Brownsville â we forget the year â and finally, no one threw bottles -- that was thought to be a good thing in the early 80's.
But following engagements in a seaside bar (Jonah's Clamshell), around a campfire and in a horse barn, Pooh decided to run away and brokered a deal with an unsuspecting Bob Neale and Jenny Adams Neale to join Andy, Tim and Mike and form a new band.
The old band broke up, a new band started up, the years peeled away, the new band broke up, the old band woke up and
Andy, Pooh and Tim got back together to hash out old tunes and piece together some new ones.
And more time passed...
In 2000, some 20 years on, Davey Davis (once again) was on the hunt to fill a summer playbill and persuaded Andy, Pooh and Tim to dust off for a gig at Hawk Mountain in Plymouth, Vermont. At Poohâs urging, Doug Southworth joined to play keyboards â the hole thing, again.
The band, with help from Davey, Kevin Forrest and Ken Norcross, caught the attention of the Pentangle Council of the Arts in Woodstock and was hired to play the councilâs summer concert in 2001 and the fourth of July concert in Woodstock, Vermont in 2002. Longtime band collaborator Dave Baldwin came out from California and recorded the July 4th concert and thus began what would become âworld tour.â
The band was concurrently recording songs at Norcross Studio in Hammondsville, Vermont â âBrooklynâ and âJenny.â
In the fall of 2002 the band performed at Davey Davisâ wedding in Cornish, New Hampshire and when no opportunities surfaced, they enjoyed a hiatus over the winter to pursue other interests.
Ken Norcross joined the band in 2003 for several gigs at a club in Bradford Vermont. And Dave Baldwin again came in from California and recorded the last concert on Dec. 18th.
Another lengthy hiatus ensued.
Quietly, in 2006, the band released âworld tourâ, a 10-song album that captures the warmth and humor of the band in both live and studio settings as well as its longtime commitment to its music and its own understanding and treatment of âthe hole thing' which has since come to be called the exploration of space.


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You get used to it...

I walked out of Borders and was overwhelmed by the odor.
âWhat stinks?â
âThe landfill,â a passing stranger replied.
âMy God, itâs really bad.â
âYeah,â the person replied, nodding his head as he walked away to his car.
I had to get away so I increased my pace toward my car. I used my electronic key to open the door and hopped in, slamming the door shut.
Either the odor had followed me or seeped on its own into the car while I was in the store. Either way, I had to bug out and fast.
I made it to 12-A and headed south â toward the landfill.
I held my breath as I passed and increased my speed.
Unfortunately, an officer of law didnât go for it and pulled me over.
I had to sit there window down, downwind from the landfill.
I was sick to my stomach. I couldnât take it. I rolled up my window and drove off.
In the rear view window I saw the officer pull his gun.
âStop,â he cried in pantomime.
No way copper.
I floored it as bullets broke thru the back window and shattered the front windshield.
Another round exploded my tires and another hit my gas tank.
I kept going until the entire car was engulfed in flames and threatening to burn me alive.
I had no choice.
I bailed and watched the car summersault into the river.
The officer pulled up.
âDonât move,â he commanded.
I could still smell the landfill.
âCanât you smell that?â I cried.
âSmell what?â he said.
âThat stench.â
âWhat stench?â
âThe landfill.â
âThe dump?â
âYeah.â
âOh, thatâs not so bad. You get used to it.â
âI donât wanna get use to it.â
âWhere youâre going, you wonât have to.â
He arrested me and drove me to the station, just across a ridge from the landfill, and the wind was blowing, and the odor had completely colored the holding cell.
âI canât take this,â I cried.
There was no reaction.
Then I began to detect other odors, like cooked meat, gone bad, and then French fries, and then the landfill stench and then the bathroom and then the septic. I was dying. I held my breath but eventually, I had to exhale and inhalation was revolting.
My eyes began to water and I cried out for help, âPlease.â
There was no reaction.
I held my nose and my breath.
I would cause myself to lose consciousness.
When I woke up I was in my bed in Brownsville and late, as usual, for my job up near the airport in West Lebanon.
I dressed and left my house.
I stopped at the general store for a coffee.
When I got to Windsor, I smelled the coffee and decided, Iâd take the interstate to work.
As I slowly left Windsor I passed a town cop.
I looked at his face as I passed and he looked at me.
I turned on the radio.
Someone was saying something silly.
I turned off the radio and drove up the hill past the golf course.
I saw Davey Davis.
I hit the horn and waved.
I remember he asked me once, âhow you keep going back to the same job, day after day after day?â
I told him, âyou get used to it.â
And then I began to cry.