The last time I played a show in Mobile AL was in 2012, the year the Allen Stone Electric Ensemble left Seattle in a shitty Ford van and returned, 315 days later, in a tour bus, triumphant, but mostly bewildered by the all-consuming, exponential growth that rendered our previous lives unrecognizable.
In my song Free From Me, the “moment in Mobile” I wrote about doesn’t refer to infidelity, as most have assumed - way back in 2012, I took a post show wander, seeking respite from the drunken ruckus, eventually falling into one-sided conversation with a cluster of stars visible through wispy, autumnal clouds. “I have no idea what’s going on,” I say out loud, “and I’m scared.”
Six years seems like both an eternity and drop in the bucket - I remember vividly the homesickness and sheer exhaustion my celestial confidants witnessed that evening, but struggle recalling the version of myself who didn’t sleep like a baby to the whirring of wheels against pavement. It’s a beautiful evening in the Heart of Dixie - I think I’ll take a stroll, resplendent in my Parrothead approved shirt, and let my mind roll over the prismatic shards of a past life.