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  • Writer's pictureThe Rough & Tumble

Sometimes We Sang in Your House, Sometimes We Slept in It.

It’s been over three years of packing up that Chevy Cobalt, finagling our cast of characters.

We’ve traded out that electro-shock therapy chord organ for a slightly less aggressive accordion, tacked on a pink ukulele, and finally returned that lyre-shaped glockenspiel to its proper owner (thanks, Nolan) in exchange for a sleek bell kit that can fit perfectly in the back window (and occasionally dings when Butter gets an idea in her luxurious back seat).

Scott added a cowboy hat to the attire, and Mallory a couple extra tattoos. Occasionally, we’ve even played a show or two in more casual attire. The road, with its lack of washing machines at rest stops, has us scrambling for the articles that smell least offensive, and perhaps have a Butter hair or two less.

We’ve entered territories where we know no one at all– putting a few more cheap motel rooms on the credit card, and sleeping on fewer friends’ couches. Sometimes strangers let us stay, despite a Buttery deterrent, but the truth is becoming increasingly clear: we are getting too dang big for one tiny car.

With our too-patient Nashville employers tolerating our increasing tour dates for all of these years, we owe it to them and us and you to do what is inevitably the next step.

The Rough & Tumble is now is the process of quitting those jobs that have been kind to us in exchange for living full time on the road. The timeline is still a little wobbly, but with a hope and maybe a little help, we will be cruising as residents of the world– or wherever our wheels take us– by next spring. In the meantime, we are searching Craigslist and, now, your brains for camper listings. Something small enough to take everywhere without a million dollar debt in gas, but big enough to accommodate two love-bird folk singers and their 97 pound beast. We are trading in those overused cars of ours for something to haul our new home-on-wheels, and to take us into what is the next phase of a folk band’s attempt to make a living.

So folks, a plea. If you know someone getting rid of a camper or just want to help in the process in any way, give us a shout. We are thrilled at this new opportunity, but also scared like baby rabbits in a field of foxes. In the long run, this step will give us the chance to tour more, in smaller circles, making more music in bigger circles. We are aware that it was your couches and your CD purchases and your kind words to friends via social media and USPS that got us here, and we want to keep on heading that way with the loyal support of you (YOU!) to do even better things.

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