Leonard Mynx: Going Where the Chilly Winds Don’t Blow (KS to ID)-- Local Cut

Leonard Mynx: Going Where the Chilly Winds Don’t Blow (KS to ID)

July 15th, 2009 [3:36PM] Posted by: Leonard Mynx | 1 COMMENT

We paid our dues in Kansas and Missouri. The heartland, to some. There is heart out there, but you have to seek it. The American heart still beats, buried underneath a heap of strip malls and dying villages. But it has a weak pulse, an unhealthy distance between each beat. I am no doctor, but I can spot a blatant illness. America is in cardiac arrest. Heart disease. Not the same one that plagues us from our corn syrup fed, lazy lifestyle, but instead, a disease of the soul. A disease of the spirit that no pill can cure. We all see and feel it. None is immune. Left unchecked, it will overtake us as well. Portland, you are not safe. No one is. It is systemic.

Audie and I traveled through forty states this time around. We saw the word of God on the billboards. We saw the destitute and ragged on Brooklyn streets. We saw the penthouse and the corn field. We saw the mountains and the meth shanty. We saw the sun rise and we saw the sun set.

We set out to bring our music to people. Fans, friends and strangers. We achieved our mission, yet, something inside us both suggests that we must never stop doing just that. Is it heart? Is it some sort of missionary zeal? There is no substitute for direct, human to human communication. Even here I speak to you through a filter of technology. Being the lowest order of musician – no sponsors, no agents, bookers or labels – and setting out into the wilderness, might be one of the most noble quests at this time in history. I say it not to congratulate myself, but to tell you, my fellow artists and musicians, that YOU are the heart of America. YOU are the balm for those in need. In even the most difficult times, YOU must embark into the wilderness, be it alone and broken, or with the support of a like minded entity – such as a booking agent or label – which can assist you. Rely not on Myspace alone. Take your physical being out into the world and create each day. Help to heal your fellows who are suffering. Be the doctor. For, all those who wander are not lost.

We played in Hays, Kansas. Not many people see Hays, beyond the motels and chain restaurants that coat the off ramp of I-70. However, deep behind this trash, there sits a Main Street. It feels hollow though. It was once a proud stop for the railways, shipping grain in the days of dryland farming. Many of the streets were brick. The saving grace of Hays is that the University of Kansas has set up its western campus there. Youth floods the town for 9 months a year. We met some of the people who were part of that movement and remained in Hays, to try and build something there. These people are present day pioneers attempting to resettle the west. They have a hell of a fight ahead of them. This was another one of our ‘surprise’ shows, in that it was booked mostly out of logistical concerns, but turned out to be a great night. As we played, a Kansas thunderstorm descended on the town. It only rained on one side of the street. There was talk of tornadoes. Audie and I played while the winds and the rains howled. We made many friends.

From Hays, we set out to play in Denver and then over the continental divide to the western slope of the Rockies where we spent a night at Audie’s mother’s home. While there, the dust came in from the west. In midday the sky blackened. The wind chimes were torn to pieces and life was swallowed by the dust. I take much of my love of music from those Depression era dust bowl ballads of Mr. Guthrie the like. It seemed appropriate that the dust should come on this trip. Back then, the land was revolting against the onslaught of settlers who tried to tame it inconsiderately with straight-plowed rows and dryland farming. Now, the dust is rising again. Audie’s mother said that in the last year she has seen more days like that one, than in the last ten years combined. That dusty old dust is coming again. I wonder why?

From Colorado, we journeyed up to Idaho. Moscow was the scene of our next performance. We were fortunate enough to share the evening with the boys from Weinland, who always put on a great show. Please, help me in petitioning them for a live album to try and capture that magic. Moscow is not much like the rest of Idaho. It is a college town. They have a co-op and what appears to be a vibrant community. Everybody, well, almost everybody, was extremely friendly and they treated us well. Our night went late, but sometimes if you go to sleep too early, life will pass you by.

This was the last date of the Audie Darling/Leonard Mynx cross-country excursion. We did it on our own and despite a few setbacks along the way, we persevered and were successful. My advice is to go for it. Don’t let the things that get in your way stop you. There is a means to by-pass any obstacle. Life without challenge is a worthless, fruitless slumber. We are all fortunate here in Portland to have such a great community of individuals. And, ‘community of individuals’ seems an apt way to describe it. We can all be different, and yet, be together. I feel like when we do go out there on the road, it is our duty to try and impart al little bit of Portland into the rest of an ailing nation. Chances are, you are not a native of Portland. You too, have been called here for whatever reason. When you go back out into the wilderness, please, remember what you are a part of. Also, don’t forget it when you are at home, Portland.

I am not a hippie, whatever that is. I don’t believe in being ‘green’ or ‘sustainable’ because that implies that there is some sort of choice in the matter. I don’t believe in your religion, only my own. I don’t subscribe to politics. I write songs. Lots of songs. I have few other talents outside of the bedroom. Okay, you were waiting for a joke. There you have it. Seriously though, I do believe that we can make things happen. Even the least of us. We are all inspired and inspirational. The mythic spirit of America is alive. Politicians will not bring it to us. Churches will not deliver us. Books cannot truly educate us to it. It is only possible through direct experience. And direct experience cannot be conveyed with words or pictures. It must be felt in all of the senses. So, we drove toward the setting sun in the Columbia Gorge, satisfied, for now. Showboss was DJ. We were going where the chilly winds don’t blow.