Coming Home from the Road

Published on July 12, 2013 by in Uncategorized


Good day to you all. I’m contemplating the road homeward and the sweet harbor, treasure, and work of life there, from my first empty day in a long while. There is a real emptiness to an empty day in a strange place – a cafe in Cambridge near Harvard Square. Last night within the confines of Club Passim, Char and I felt like kings. The place was roaring and we brought that about. What a shivering joy to know. Now, we revert to our other roles as somewhat odd looking guys with end-of-the-tour rumpled clothes, standing half-bewildered on a foreign shore. That half-bewilderment is a wild thing. No question, I’m starved for home, for my dear ones, more parched even than New Mexico before the monsoon. But we’ve been here enough times to know where things are, to find ourselves something other than exactly different. And that’s a pleasure in many ways. We’re finding a musical home in a place where the kind of thing we’re up to plugs into some wider, respected context. It’s a heartening transformation, though it feels quite hard-won – the kind of touring we put ourselves and our families up to this summer does bring the word “brutal” to mind.

Now the new album is out, and we can breathe a little, shift a little, be with our families for a good while before slowly bringing our faces around to the future. Thank God. And still, pangs.

I meant to keep up on this blog when we started this tour back in May – it’s been in the past a real anchor into something for me. Due to the lack of smartness of my telephone and my own lack of energy at day’s end, I’ve dropped off the map a bit. It hurts to do that. I’m still here, and there’s been a lot to recount.

The path doesn’t know where it goes. Neither do I. I can set out looking at signposts, and hope that the in-between places will unfold as intended in an orderly way bringing me to the destination. But really, I miss everything around me until I’m good and bloody lost. Because hey, the path doesn’t move. It stays put the whole while. But that being said, I need a compass, I need a star to measure down or a landmark when the sky is cloudy. I need a point of reference in order to keep searching.



2 Responses to “Coming Home from the Road”

  1. Ben says:

    I’m happy to hear the tour is at it’s end and that your return home is nearer. From where I sit, firmly anchored on this (beautiful) one piece of ground, it’s hard to imagine what the rigors of touring feel like.
    I will say that after your all-too-brief visit, the Goat has found a place right at the center of our lives, as all the previous albums have. And in no small way, that allows us to feel that we’re much much closer to you two wonderful brothers, your families, and life experiences, which have all contributed to the magic of the music you play.
    You two carry a gift of immense beauty, depth, meaning, and value, and it’s heartening to hear that the world is responding (as it should!).
    I love you dearly, and long for the next time our paths will cross…

    In the meantime, I bid you safe travels home to your loved ones, and beg to know only two things: who is “Naji”? and what does “Udisembray” mean?
    I’ve cried more than once to St. Joseph…

  2. roundmountain says:

    Thanks Ben!! We’re writing from a crazily good coffee shop in Tulsa called Double Shot…
    Yes! Closing in on home! The big questions of direction that come on our drives home! Thanks for adding in the reality of goodness that needs to be felt in all the considerings. It does feel that the difference can be felt from having done what we did, by going out on the road.
    This is Char writing now and I’m so glad you asked about Naci. Naci Aksop was a Turkish poet and artist that I met in Istanbul in 1996, who was a kind of artistic mentor to me. I could spend a lot of time telling you about him, and hope to have the chance to! One of his poems talked about walking in the rain, despondent and without shelter, and ends “Did you laugh when the rain hid your tears?”
    Yunus Emre was a Turkish poet whose work was a big influence on Naci.

    More years down, more love comin at ya!
    Char and Robby

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