To spare us from this weary routine, Auyon kindly offered to handwrite his blog posts from now on. We agreed, and here you can see he’s done a very nice little drawing for you all. )

In this new vein, it is our pleasure to introduce you to the VT singer/songwriter Anais Mitchell. She recently released a folk opera called Hadestown (based on the Orpheus myth and set in a post-apocalyptic American depression era) which features such artists as Ani DiFranco, Justin Vernon (Bon Iver), Ben Knox-Miller (The Low Anthem) and others. Check out her website here.  We were fortunate enough to share the stage with her at our recent Brattleboro show, and we look forward to the next time our paths cross!

Please feel free (as ever) to suggest features for our new Open Mic format. They need not be Darlingside related. Can’t wait to see what you send over!

1. Top Spot for a Double Date: Mi Tierra (Hadley, MA)

On a recent Thursday evening, I managed to convince Harris and Abby (Don’s girlfriend), to try a Zumba class with me. Not bringing along a video camera is a decision that will haunt me for a long while, as the few glimpses I caught of Harris’ hip gyrations and off-kilter spins were worthy of their own DVD box set. After picking up Don on our drive back, we decided that we had earned a delicious yet inexpensive meal, and in keeping with the Latin theme for the night, we set off for our favorite local Mexican spot.

The atmosphere at Mi Tierra is pleasant and informal, perfect for a low-key double date. They have generous burritos and serious margaritas, and the lighting was particularly sympathetic to my date’s fine features and charming curls. Although Harris might not have been my top partner choice, he performed admirably and even gave me a bite of his enchilada with mole sauce.

2. Top Spot to Grab A Beer with a Fellow Booking Manager: Ye Ol’ Watering Hole (Northampton, MA)

I recently began actively pursuing other booking managers in the hopes of hanging out and complaining about booking, our respective bands and the music industry. Oft-repeated phrases include “They don’t respect me,” “It’s so hard,” “When I say five thirty, I mean five thirty,” and “I am so good at Gmail.” My first man-date was with Jamie Kent, the handsome devil who books Jamie Kent and the Options, a great group also based out of Northampton. It was my first time at the Watering Hole, and while the beer selection and dark wood bar charmed me, the free pool and beer can museum were what sealed the deal.

3. Top Spot to Grab a Horchata with a Fellow Booking Manager: La Veracruzana (Northampton, MA)

This is basically the same as above, except when I went to bro out with Dave DelloRusso from The Primate Fiasco, our bar of choice (The Sierra Grille) was too crowded so we decided to get horchatas. In retrospect, sipping an iced cinnamon-ricemilk beverage when it was 20-something below outside was not ideal, but La Veracruzana seemed like the best place to do it.

4. Top Spot to Spend an Evening Alone: The Lady Killigrew Café at The Montague Bookmill (Montague, MA)

I realize that it’s not technically a “date” when you go somewhere by yourself, but man do I love the Lady Killigrew. A menu with attitude, tasty sandwiches, a small but delicious draught selection and a waterfall right outside. You can’t do any better.

5. Top Spot to Third Wheel: Osaka (Northampton, MA)

Harris and Hannah (Harris’ girlfriend) were kind enough to allow me in on their evening in town a few Sundays back. I have been pushing for a trip to Osaka for so long that I was a bit nervous when H-squared acquiesced, fearing that it might not live up to my grand descriptions. It did. The seaweed salad was sublime, the warm house sake got me and Harris tipsy within minutes, and the Franco-Japanese fusion sushi rolls were out of this world. Save a few embarrassing outbursts from Harris, who got over-excited by the proximity of the Hibachi station, the evening went smoothly and my reputation remains intact.

———

If you are interested in going on a date with Auyon, please feel free to email Dave (dave@darlingside.com), Auyon’s date booking manager, for scheduling and availability.

Step 2: Dig the small, old knob of ginger out of your drawer in the fridge (second from the bottom). Cut off the skin and the fungus-y bits and then roughly hew it into little sticks.

Step 3: Locate the peeler. Potential homes include the drying rack, the knife drawer, the silverware tub and the floor. Rinse it off, and then go to town on a lime. Chop up the bits of zest and make a neat little pile next to the ginger and garlic.

Step 4: Remove a single Thai chili from the sandwich bag in the freezer. Dice it unevenly since it is frozen, and then arrange it in a pile next to the zest. Admire the colors.

Step 5: Steal some of Don and Abby’s butter and drop it into a big soup pot. Turn the burner to low and think about popcorn. After most of the butter has melted, toss in the zest, chili, ginger and garlic and stir for a few minutes.

Step 6: Research “how to cook shiitake mushrooms” online. Learn that people usually throw away the stems and only cook the heads. Decide to use the whole mushroom because it’s your soup and you can do what you want. Also, shiitakes are expensive, so you only bought six. Cut them up and shake them around in the pot.

Step 7: Shake some salt into the pot. A wise man once told you there are three things that make a dish taste good: salt, fat and an acid. Salt and fat have been covered. As far as acids, you have options: cheap red wine, tomato juice and the juice of the lime you just skinned. Decide to use all of them.

Step 8: Juice the lime into the pot. Free-pour a few seconds’ worth of red wine. Open up a can of diced tomatoes and dump them in. Realize that you accidentally just added whole, canned tomatoes instead of diced tomatoes. Be flexible. Persevere.

Step 8.5: Use your stick blender to convert the whole mess into a smooth broth.

Step 9: Add one box of chicken stock. Cover and let simmer for as long as it takes you to roll your boxers into little tubes as they were taking too much space in your sock drawer laying flat.

Step 10: Taste the soup. Add another box of chicken stock since the first spoonful tasted like someone punched your mouth in the face. Let simmer for a while longer.

Step 11: Spread some oil around a pan. Put the heat on high and toss in some scallops. Try to sear them, but fail because they release too much liquid. Dump the slightly poached scallops into your soup pot and turn off the heat.

Step 12: Garnish the soup with parsley. Toast some bread and smear some blue goat cheese on it. Grab a beer. Take a picture.

Step 13: Take a picture of Don’s dinner.

When we are rock stars.

<Enter Auyon’s dream sequence>

When we become rock stars, someone else will carry my mandolin and my violin into every venue, set up my instruments, rosin my bow, tie my shoes, and shake Don in the bathroom while he is urinating just to get him riled up before the show.

When we become rock stars, someone else will cook our meals, so that we will have more time to focus on our creative process.

When we become rock stars, someone else will write all of our music, to give us more time still.

When we become rock stars, someone else will perform said music on stage and in the studio, so that we will have time to do photo shoots for Rolling Stone and The Economist.

And so on. Thank you all for helping us chase our dreams. We will never forget your support, and will make sure to have our people’s people write you letters when we are absurdly rich and famous. Until then, please don’t laugh when you see me trying to pick up Sam’s drum hardware bag. I think I have developed a hernia.

Much love,

Auyon

Pro: The venue was a candy shop. Jars of individually wrapped, brightly-colored bits of high-fructose corn syrup lined the walls. It was a free-for-all.

Con: The candy shop had closed down a few weeks prior, and we were the last event before the owner leased the place out. Due to various additional publicity obstacles, including us not knowing anyone in Westfield and computer viruses that send pornography out to all of your facebook friends, the band outnumbered the crowd.

Outcome: We drowned our sorrows in chocolate-flavored licorice and Heineken. Two thumbs up, but now Sam’s diabetic.

1/30: Wilbraham & Monson Academy, Wilbraham MA

Pro: Our first gig at a private school was advertised as an “Enrichment Credit Opportunity.” The kids came out in droves.

Con: In order to fit us into a distraction-free space, the school snack bar shut down until the following morning. Disappointment ensued.

Outcome: The school provided us with large plates of brownies and cookies, which we graciously shared with the kids. Dave accidentally said  the word “bitch” during Devil Went Down to Georgia, making good on the enrichment promise of the poster. We left the school knowing we had made a difference.

2/5: The Paramount Theater, Rutland VT

Pro: We were treated like rockstars. Free hotel rooms for two nights, a radio spot, and a gig with our favorite singer/songstress Caitlin Canty in a gorgeous, 800-person historic theater. The crowd was spectacular and the show solidified Vermont as a favorite gig destination.

Con: We had to leave.

Outcome: Wannagoback.

2/6: The Basement, Northampton MA

Pro: Our first show with the Iron Horse Group with our good friend Jay Bethea was a huge success. The crowd was filled with familiar faces and people were excited about the new sound. Pretty girls and cheap beer abounded.

Con: Jay bullied us into going out afterwards, saying that we needed to celebrate and that we could “go home and drink chamomile and talk about our feelings” some other time.

Outcome: We don’t remember what happened last night, but it was good.

“Harris, I like the shirt. Don’t get me wrong. You look good in flannel, it’s just—”

“I look great in flannel,” Harris corrected.

“Great in flannel,” I agreed. “But you’ve worn it to every single gig we’ve played. We should switch it up. What if you wore a bowtie? Or this vest,” I suggested as I began to pull a vest out of his closet.

“I look like a goddamn monkey when I wear a vest,” Harris said, grabbing the vest out of my hands. To eliminate all doubt, Harris slipped the vest on over his T-shirt and began to march around the room, clapping imaginary cymbals together. It soon turned into a full-blown jig set to imaginary music, replete with twirls and pirouettes. He eventually stopped to catch his breath. “A goddamn monkey,” he repeated as he flung the vest back into his closet, disgusted with himself.

It was Thursday, December 10th, two days before our big show at the Lilypad in Cambridge, MA, and we were picking outfits for the show. Dave called dibs on his ugly cardigan, a charming but unnecessary gesture. Sam was, as per usual, wearing a T-shirt that was two sizes too small. I was beaming with pride after sewing six buttons to the inside of my jeans in order to wear my dad’s old suspenders. Don said that he would “find something special,” and Harris was being difficult. We normally don’t dress each other until the night of a gig, but we were driving into Boston in waves, so emergency measures were necessary. After some further cajoling, we suited Harris up in a stylish, black V-neck with a neon green T-shirt underneath for a little extra zing. He looked fantastic.

Courtesy of Brooke Kaltsas of Truckieloo Photography

48 hours later, we met at the Lilypad, a small listening room/art gallery at Inman Square in Cambridge. We were sharing the bill with the lovely Caitlin Canty, who had arrived a few minutes before us along with Greg Schulz of Socialist fame. It was the most anticipated gig of our young band’s career, as much of Williams moves to Boston following graduation. We impressed ourselves by starting out almost on time, and things went up from there. Caitlin opened up the show. She sounded spectacular, and we had the pleasure of accompanying her on several of her tunes. She’s thinking about keeping us, which is rather exciting. After a few crossover pieces, Darlingside took the stage. We kicked our set off with a cover of Damien Rice’s Volcano before playing our brand new originals for the crowd. Everything about the night felt good. Our jokes were well-received, familiar faces filled the room and Sam had a brand new drumset that he had just purchased in Connecticut. The best part of the night for me, though, was our second-to-last song, the recently-recorded Surround. As soon as Harris and I began the intro, the crowd went nuts. We need to get more tracks recorded ASAP.

Firmly,

Auyon

I arrive at the Tuesday Market behind Thornes Marketplace in Northampton, mandolin and violin in tow. I just got off work at Sam’s Pizzeria on Main Street and rushed over to meet the rest of Darlingside for our second acoustic gig in Northampton. There are bountiful turnips, gourmet mushrooms and suggestively shaped squash, but no Darlingside. I call Harris. We make small talk. I then off-handedly mention that maybe he should bring the rest of the band to the gig that starts now. He agrees.

2:20 p.m.

I have been putzing around on the mandolin for the past 20 minutes and made four dollars and three friends. It has been a good afternoon. I consider quitting the band and going it solo. I then reconsider and call Harris, who wisely does not pick up his phone because he has not yet left the house as he promised twenty minutes ago.

2:40 p.m.

The band arrives. We get set up with Harris’ four-string cello (as opposed to the electric six-string that has become the norm), Dave and Don’s guitars and Drummer Sam’s snare and cymbal. The market has started to fill out, as is evidenced by the number of small, adorably disheveled children catapulting from one end to the other. They are distinguishable only by the jam stains on their faces.

3:15 p.m.

We have just run through our first full-band set. Great success. We got a few sign-ups on our mailing list and more than a few bucks in our “Feed The Band” tip jar. We also discover that someone put a peach in it.

3:45 p.m.

Dave and Don have started playing more covers while Sam, Harris and I wander around. There was an anonymous gift of apple cider and a bag of peaches left next to Sam’s drum set. Mystery ensues.

4:15 p.m.

Small child careens by my instruments, almost knocking over the mandolin. Soon followed by angry mother. Mother catches child. Harsh scolding ensues, child breaks free and runs away. Cycle repeats.

5:00 p.m.

A small group has gathered. We shamelessly repeat our set. Crowd goes wild.

5:30 p.m.

Band grows hungry. I make a pizza run and we wash the slices down with the apple cider. I remark that it is delicious. Sam agrees, and then informs me that in his home state of New Hampshire, all apple cider is delicious. I ask Sam if all streets in New Hampshire are paved with jellybeans and if the populace defecates rainbows. He replies in the affirmative.

6:30 p.m.

The market wraps up. We finish up a third round of our set and call it a night. We got a pretty decent email list, a pleasantly stuffed tip jar and at least a few new friends. We retire to our house on the river, where Abby has baked fresh pita bread(!) and made a stir-fry.

8:30 p.m.

Abby bakes chocolate-chip cookies with toasted coconut. Don, Dave and Harris play Ryan Adams’ “Oh My Sweet Carolina” in the living room while Sam tweaks our first recording in the basement. It feels pretty good to be in a band. The cookies are good too.

Strong to quite strong,

Auyon