Showbeast National Tour

This past August, Westby and I hopped on a series of Greyhound buses to teach America about what's going down in the Ghost House. For the most part, Westby wanted the tour to be a vehicle to complain about his housemates, but people actually ended up liking Snow Beast, Mark and Kasey. Every night, as Westby and I snuggled into whatever couch or floor we happened to be sleeping on, he would whisper "Why, Erin? Why do these youngsters like those rapscallions so?" All I could do was pretend that I was asleep and unable to hear his cries.

Our first stop was Pawtucket, Rhode Island, a land where only the metalest of metal resides. As such, it made the most sense to play at a venue called the Metal Mansion. Though Westby and I are far from being metal heads (in fact, we've often been told that, together, we're the polar opposite), we seemed to fit in quite nicely. Westby graciously bit the head off a chicken to blend in.

In Manhattan, we played with Ray Roy, Allen Cordell, Eagle Ager and Algernon. There were some technical difficulties at one point, so Westby forced two innocent members of the audience to stand nose-to-nose, chanting the Simpsons Game until one of them collapsed in a pile of failure and tears. This seemed to go over well.



Here's one of the videos Allen Cordell showed. His work is amazing:


Returning to my homeland of Philadelphia was a little frightening. So much so that I clammed up, terrified to perform the live material. Luckily, my best friend Christine was there to encourage me: "I didn't get on 15 buses to not see Westby sing his song. If you don't get up there, I'll spit in your face." I've known her long enough to tell that she was speaking the truth, and seeing as how I wanted to keep my face saliva-free, I really had no choice but to get up there. Much to my surprise, it turned out to be one of my favorite shows! Thanks, Christine! In the crazy labyrinth of the PIFAS building, I crooned to a crowd of mostly strangers, but ended up making new friends. We danced to the likes of Captain Ahab and DreTime and were kings. Maycock, the guy who put the show together, deserves to be carried on the shoulders of 10 clones of myself.

Getting to Chicago required 17 hours in the loving arms of Greyhound, but we made it through it okay. Well. Sort of. Westby's ear fell off at one point, which he was none too pleased about. We also didn't get any sleep, but we did manage to see the lunar eclipse from the cramped comfort of our bus seat. Upon arriving in Chicago, we met my friend Daniel Kibblesmith, who welcomed us into his home. I fooled Daniel into thinking that I was a giant toddler by immediately passing out while watching Mystery Science Theater and snuggling Westby.

That night, we performed at Kitty Moon with Saskrotch and Spiller Whale. Their music poured forth from the PA and landed in the eardrums of the unworthy, zapping our minds squeaky clean. It was weird. Daniel showed videos from his latest project, The 222 Warehouse. It makes me laugh deeply and heartily, much like an old man, and it kind of freaks me out.

And TJ Peters and Jeff Altman showed an amazing short film that made me want to rush home and make things. It was the visual equivalent of a cup of coffee and a black-and-white cookie.

Unbeknownst to me, Westby was whispering threats to Daniel, who seemed to take it all in stride. Photo by Jeff Altman.

From Chicago, we lept into a plane headed for Virginia, where we were to play a show with our friend Megan Huddleston. Upon our arrival, Megan had some surprising news: "Remember that show we were gonna play? Well, it looks like it's not gonna happen." Zounds! The venue tried to throw us a tricky curve ball and pretend that the show never existed. Apparently, it's customary in Virginia to challenge newcomers. Well, Westby and I were ready to give the state a run for its money! Megan called up our friends at the Charlottesville Tea Bazaar and by 9pm, we were performing there. Take that, Virginia! The Tea Bazaar even let us sleep there, so we spent a cozy night curled up on a pile of pillows and surrounded by tea. It was lovely and strange and lots of fun.

We awoke at 7am and headed for the Greyhound station, where we ended up waiting for a bus that was two hours late. Eventually, that late sneak of a bus would drop us off in the middle of North Carolina, where I began to realize that traveling alone by bus is weird and dumb. But Greenville is great, and we played at this fantastic venue called the Spazzatorium Galleria. Jeff and Laura, the killer tag team that run the place, are definitely a force to be reckoned with. Jeff even had a pillow ready for me when I showed him my wicked sleeping toddler impersonation.


Durham nuzzled itself full force into my heart, and I must admit that I wasn't expecting it. Kym from Midtown Dickens set up a show in her home and totally wowed me with her wonderful friends and music. The party went on well into the night and I eventually passed out curled up on Kym's floor. I awoke at one point to find her covering me up with a blanket, which was in keeping with the Erin's-a helpless-little-baby motif I was trying to maintain.

The Future Kings of Nowhere

In Savannah, my first tour buddy Coquette and I were reunited and it was glorious. His new album is fantastic and you should get a copy. Also, we performed with our dear friends Height and Jones, the dream team that came up with the Showbeast theme song. Moss of Aura performed as well, and together we formed a wall of sights and sounds that brought the city to its knees. There was actually a four-year-old in the audience, which scared me a little. How would his parents take to Westby's henchmen, who enjoy dancing with butcher knives? Apparently, they were all for it, because they thanked me and shook my hand afterwards.

Hey kids! Do this!

Savannah to New Orleans was the worst bus ride of my life: 18 hours of hot, cramped Southern Discomfort. I didn't sleep, but I did get accosted by a security guard in the Atlanta Greyhound station at 5:30 in the morning. He demanded that I put on a puppet show for him, so I sleepily obliged. A little girl appeared out of nowhere and fell in love with Westby, so we ended up sitting on the floor of the bus station and chatting about puppets until her bus arrived.

New Orleans was the final stop on my tour, which was fortunate since I had developed a bus intolerance by then. Our first New Orleans show was at a venue called the Dragon's Den, which made sense because it felt like there was an actual dragon breathing actual fire breath on us the whole time. The second show was at the Sidearm Gallery with A Living Soundtrack and Meadow Flow. Both bands thoroughly knocked our socks off, so much so that even Westby couldn't help but dance along. At one point, a stranger approached me and kissed my shoe, which I think means he was happy with everything.


The Family Ghost crew is planning another house show (9/14), so if you're in the Bay Area and looking for some fun with knives, songs and puppets, you should come out! Height and Jones will be joining us, along with a barbershop sextet and a folk rockstar. If you can't make it to that show, and you couldn't make it to any of the shows on tour, simply watch this video and go cry about it.