Howdy all,
I'm here in Ashfield, Mass. in the breezy upstairs room at the edge of the woods in this old renovated barn that I've called my home for the last five years. I'm watching the dog daze go by. Watching the last week of time spent with my son this summer dwindle down to one remaining day before he catches his ride down to North Carolina to begin school.

I've been swatting at mosquitoes plenty 'cause all this rain we've been having here is perfect mosquito makin' weather. It's been an exceptionally wet and cool summer and more than once I've wished we could switch weather with the Southern Midwest so they could have some of our rain and cool, and we could have some of their sun and heat.

The last month has been typical in that I've spent a large amount of time at my desk getting through the mass of publicity needed to have a successful fall tour. Been wrapping up on summer gigs with Lui too, though we've got a couple more in early September including the Fox Valley Festival in Geneva, IL before I head west solo.

I guess the most satisfying thing I've done lately was to arrange lyrics for an original fiddle tune called "Ain't No Cane." The words were taken from a traditional chain-gang song, "Ain't no cane on the Brazos." This haunting work song I first heard from Harvey Reed on his "Steel Driving Man" recording. My process was to drop all but three lines of the song, to repeat them, and then add a couple of my own. I'm very satisfied with the results, I think, because it feels very connected with something historical, and yet also speaks from my heart on some level. I also enjoy it because I play it on fiddle and sing at the same time.

Ain't No Cane
Ain't no cane on the Brazos my boys
No more for me
Ain't no cane on the Brazos my boys
In my country
Take me home sweet chariot, Take me home sweet chariot

Go down Hannah, don't rise up no more
No more for me
Go down Hannah, don't rise up no more
In my country
Take me home sweet chariot, Take me home sweet chariot

One of these mornings and it won't be long
No more for me
You'll look for me and know that I'll be gone
I'm bound for glory
Take me home sweet chariot, Take me home sweet chariot

Ain't no cane on the Brazos my boys
No more for me
Ain't no cane on the Brazos my boys
I'm bound for glory
Take me home sweet chariot, Take me home sweet chariot

One of the reasons I'm excited about this tune is that it's the closest thing I've composed to the music that the "Horseflies" made. This old-time stringband out of Ithaca, NY that had their heyday in the late 80's made music like I've never heard before nor since. Their music taught me about groove, and I mean groove. Music that I've idolized, and have heard in my head for more than 10 years now has emerged in my own invention. The trick, of course is in the playing it the way I hear it; but then all things in time…
I don't know how the title came to me really. The tune came last summer before I read a mess of Woody Guthrie. It might have come from the radio show in Ithaca that Phil Shapiro has hosted forever. (Some spiritual connection with Ithaca no doubt.) The title fit the music and seemed to insist of itself that it should be named so.

Lastly, I'd like to mention a bit of good news: I heard from my radio promotions person that The Trade has made it to # 4 on the National Folk DJ charts! It came in just behind Seldom Scene, The Lonesome River Band, and Chris Smither. Not bad company if you ask me. My heartfelt thanks goes out to all the DJ's who have been playing it, and to Melissa Farina for her excellent promotions work.

Well, it's back to the press releases, mailing labels, and swatting mosquitoes. Only a finite number of days now 'til I hit the road again. This next tour will take me out to California, Oregon, Washington, Colorado, Iowa and Wisconsin. Take a look at the schedule page for details. If you know anyone in a town I'll be playing in, let them know.

As always, I appreciate your comments in the guest book. It's a great way to keep in touch, and to let me know what's happening with you!

Have Fun! Dana