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Speaking of The Cheap Dates, that band was born at The Golden Pony in Harrisonburg, VA. Last week, we got word that The Pony is shutting down next month. It is devastating news, and something I felt compelled to write about. This got me thinking about the physical spaces that inform who we are as people and artists. I’ve been lucky to have a few of these influential homes throughout my life. I want to dig a little bit deeper into that in this month’s newsletter/article/whatever FYI has grown into.

Read my farewell to The Golden Pony

First, there was Donnie’s shed. After teaching myself how to play bass and guitar in high school, I wound up in a few different versions of garage bands. The cast of characters would often rotate with the only constant besides myself being my drummer buddy Scott. Scott’s uncle Donnie (R.I.P.) lived in a glorified shed out back of his grandma’s old home place. Donnie worked at Radio Shack and let us have band practice while he wasn’t there (sometimes he would also be there, big headphones on, playing Everquest). For someone like me, who moved constantly, shuffling between trailers, duplexes, and small apartments, Donnie’s shed was a safe haven for learning how to play my own music with other people. A chance to be loud, to dream, and to sound really awful without judgment. Every teenager chasing that neon rainbow needs a Donnie’s shed.

These spaces became trickier in college. My old band, The Demon Beat, would sometimes practice at a friend and part-time employer’s sound studio. Sometimes, we’d practice at the infamous Red Oranges/Fox Hunt house, The Doodio, by breaking in through the kitchen window. Eventually, we’d get our own place, 518 Stubbs, and our creativity would flourish. We made tons of records in the basement for our own bands and our buddies’ bands. Things became serious then. All we needed was the space to stretch, make mistakes, and get a little better with each try. There would be other basements and rock houses after The Demon Beat ended, but none as fertile as that specific place in that specific window of time.

During the golden era of the Shepherdstown, WV music and art scene (2009-2013), we all landed at The Blue Moon. The original building was a gas station, but somewhere along the way it was converted into a restaurant with an apartment upstairs and a beautiful garden out back where the Town Run flowed through. At its height in popularity and quality, people would drive from D.C. and all over just to dine outside. The best thing about the Blue Moon was that the staff was almost entirely comprised of artists and outsiders. I can’t tell you how many times a drifter would wander into Shepherdstown only to end up washing dishes at The Blue Moon. Staff would find them a place to stay, help them meet other cool people, and get them settled in the community.

Baltimore music icon Lizz King just so happened to be the daughter of the Blue Moon’s owners. When her mother (the incredible Charmaine) got sick, Lizz moved back home to help run the place. It wasn’t long before she hired me to help book and promote shows, eventually making me a manager. The next few years welcomed a staggering amount of talent through the doors of that tiny restaurant. Lizz came from the legendary Wham City scene in Baltimore that birthed Dan Deacon, Future Islands, Beach House, and more. She brought those connections and paired them with my budding contacts in the East Coast’s indie rock world to create a one-of-a-kind show space just close enough to major cities to be a destination for touring acts.

Here is a short list of some of the folks who came through the Blue Moon back then: The aforementioned Future Islands, Calvin Johnson (yes, of Beat Happening), David Dondero, Cory Branan, Joey Cape (of Lagwagon), Austin Lucas, Lower Dens, Liz Isenberg, and SO many more incredible and diverse artists. That’s not to mention every essential local and regional band of that era plus a weekly open mic so packed and popular that we had to have people sign up for slots two weeks in advance at one point. We’d move the dining tables into the kitchen or stack them in the alley out back and set up shitty speakers. We’d pay a buddy a few bucks and beers to take money and IDs at the door. We gave all the door money to the bands, fed them, and would let them crash in the apartment upstairs. It was such a beautiful thing. Of course it couldn’t last forever.

(The Demon Beat live at The Blue Moon in 2011. Just a glimpse of what it was like.)

Maybe it’s because I’m getting older or maybe it’s because the current economic climate is making it harder for them to exist, but these spaces seem especially rare today. This is concerning, because if I’ve realized anything while working on this post, it’s that these types of spaces were absolutely integral to my development as an artist (and the development of MANY others). Where will the young artists/musicians/outsiders learn to grow? People adapt with each generation, and young creative folks are especially capable of making something out of nothing. I’ll trust the process, even if I’m on the outside looking in these days.

It is a wonderful feeling to know my musical pals have scattered across the country, making it a treat to reconnect with them when I roll through. The other side of that coin is that I don’t really feel rooted in a singular, potent music scene these days. It’s like parts of me (both artistically and emotionally) are in Shepherdstown, Harrisonburg, the Tucker County woods, Wheeling, and now north central WV. What a special time it was back then to be a part of those vibrant scenes in Shepherdstown and Harrisonburg—feeling the electricity in the air, knowing some incredible show was going to happen several times a week at a small venue in our little town. I’ll never take it for granted.

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I’m gonna end this month’s entry here. It’s maybe a little shorter than usual, but that’s because I wrote the piece about The Pony last week (I didn’t send it to your inbox though, as promised, just one a month!). Before I go, I do want to share that I’ll be the featured writer for the Monongalia Arts Center’s Literary Night on Thursday, June 11 in Morgantown, WV! This is from 6-7 p.m., totally free to attend, with an open mic following my reading (speaking of spaces to nurture creativity—the MAC is one of these). I’ve also got a ton of bass gigs coming up with William Matheny + a one-off gig with Darrin Hacquard. Hope to see lots of my aforementioned scattered pals at these ones!

With the news this week that The Pony will be shutting its doors for good this June, I felt like I needed to do something more than share a story on social media that will disappear in 24 hours. After all, The Pony was my place of work from 2016-2019 when I lived in Harrisonburg. More than an employer, The Pony was everything for me short of a bed: it is where my bands performed, where I met so many friends, where I celebrated and grieved, where I welcomed my debut poetry collection into the world.

Owner and friend Paul Somers opened The Golden Pony after the building’s previous business, Ethiopian restaurant The Blue Nile, closed its doors. The Nile basement was legendary in the local music scene, hosting bands from all over the country, with a penchant for loud, raucous garage rock and punk shows. My old band, The Demon Beat, cut our out-of-town teeth there, often pairing up with local garage heroes Elephant Child. Harrisonburg quickly became our first real home away from home, and The Nile was the living room.

An excellent poet, photographer, and artist in his own right, Somers couldn’t let such an important space disappear in his town. With the help of some grassroots fundraising, he was able to open The Pony in 2015 just in time for the annual DIY music festival, MACRoCk. In addition to upgrading the downstairs venue into a legit touring destination with pro sound, Paul and his crew transformed the upstairs into a welcoming watering hole and restaurant, complete with a mini art gallery, old school pinball machines, and a beautiful patio for outdoor dining.

I can’t tell you how many concerts, dance parties, art shows, and community events took place at The Pony during my time there. I just know that cool shit was constantly happening. There was something for everyone: punk, metal, hip-hop, DJs, poetry readings, karaoke, country music, tribute shows, the annual Rock Lotto event that randomly combined local musicians with the goal of writing original music together and performing within a short time frame, and so much more.

In a lot of ways, The Pony was the next evolution of my previous home and employer, The Blue Moon in Shepherdstown, WV. The Blue Moon was at the heart of the thriving music and arts scene in Shepherdstown for many years. We’d move the dining room tables into the kitchen at night and set up a small, cheap PA and have bands play on the floor. Not just local bands—regional and national bands soon caught wind of this supportive and energized performance space close to D.C. and Baltimore. We hosted Calvin Johnson from Beat Happening, Future Islands, David Dondero, Cory Branan, and so many other incredible artists. As The Blue Moon died (in more ways than one), The Pony was just getting started, just down I-81.

My own bands performed many shows at The Pony, especially Bishops, who released the album Dream Easy almost immediately upon landing in town. I also helped book some killer shows there, including Sheer Mag, JEFF the Brotherhood, Lee Bains & The Glory Fires, and many others. My current band, The Cheap Dates, started in Harrisonburg and played our first ever show at The Pony in October 2018, opening for Lost Dog Street Band.

The three years I spent in Harrisonburg were bittersweet. I was perhaps as aimless as I’ve ever been, and my struggles with addiction were getting worse. Amidst all of that personal turmoil, The Pony was my rock, my community, my family. As dark as things got for me back then, Paul and The Pony staff and regulars helped keep me from fully sinking. For that, I will always be grateful.

I know this seems ridiculous to say via a digital platform, but with beloved independent venues like The Golden Pony shutting down and gas prices keeping bands at home, it is more important now than ever to support artists however you can. Go to a show if you’re able. Buy physical merch from bands. Buy meals/drinks from venues. Take care of others within your means. Looking for free ways to support? Share local independent venue upcoming show schedules, add your favorite local bands to playlists and share them with friends, signal boost where you can. Take care of one another.

Pony forever.

During my writing group’s recent meeting, while discussing five new poems of mine that I had sent for feedback, Geoff (excellent writer) shared a note he had regarding my use of the word “ghost.” He thought I had used it a bunch in this collection, but in fact it had only been twice. The takeaway was that the poems felt like they were heavily concerned with ghosts.

It’s an astute observation, and one I can’t deny. Ghosts are main characters in my writing and music. I feel like they’ve loomed large in my life since I was born. My uncle Rex passed when he was only two—I stared at his photo on the wall at my mamaw’s house constantly. As a kid, I would often ask, “Where is Uncle Rex?” The answer was always, “heaven.” For years, I thought the crib and room from the photo was literally heaven. Like everyone who has lived long enough, I’ve lost many important people. I try to talk to them when I can. Not in a seance-kind of way, but in a way that recognizes the people who helped shaped you will always be a part of you, so it’s more of an internal dialogue with a part of your own self.

Mostly unrelated to spirits, I am extremely honored that two new poems of mine found a home with the lovely Pictura Journal. I’m even more jazzed/surprised to find that they kick off the new issue. My whole life, I’ve fought against a type of indifference that seems to permeate within the men of my family. One of these new poems, “The Friendly City,” gives it a name and a form:

The Friendly City

A lit cigarette in the road
silhouettes the million-dollar bridge.
My city is beautiful
when it wants to be.

Love brought me here
and twice it left me behind.
I try to make the most of it.
Talk nice with the neighbors, 
shift my pain into something useful,
keep the yard decent.

Inside me there is a country-
darkness, the birthright of men
in my family. Over the years,
it has incubated, hatched,
grown wings.

I want to learn what it looks like
to lean into myself with all 
I have, to starve in service to the work.
To heal like a professional,
inheritance be damned.

I am ready to eat
the black bird of my heart.

Buy the new Pictura Journal issue

You can also read an interview with Pictura where I talk about how I got into art, who I try to reach with my work, and discuss some musical and literary inspirations.

Do you remember when I had an insane week that involved making an album with my friend William Matheny before heading out with my own band for a run of shows to NYC and back? Wild times. Well, the first single of that record is out now! The song is called “Mercy Journeys” and features what I consider to be my best-ever bass performance committed to tape (it also features the line, “If you see my ghost tomorrow, all dressed up with no place to go…”). You can stream it wherever you get your music. We recently went back to the studio for a video session to cut live versions of each single. Check out the live music video for “Mercy Journeys” here:

The record is called Material Witness and will be released on William’s new imprint Diamond Teeth Records via Soundly/Thirty Tigers on July 10. Vinyl and CD pre-orders are live for both.

Pre-order Material Witness

Back to ghosts. Both William Matheny and myself have been asked to play some Jason Molina tunes at the West Virginia premiere of the new documentary about the iconic songwriter. It takes place on May 16 at the Foundry Theater in Huntington, WV. Doors open at 5, music starts at 5:30 with the screening to follow. Jason’s original high school punk band Spineriders will be performing at The Loud after the screening.

It’s hard to quantify Molina’s impact on me. I’ve found him to be a companion through the darker parts of my life. The first time I got into his music, my friend John R. Miller told me to “be careful.” It’s true that Molina made a career out of blurring the safety lines when it comes to exploring the bleak and hopeless parts of life, but he also wasn’t afraid to remind us of the world’s hidden beauty. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately as I am now the same age that he was when he passed away. If you’re new and curious about his music, I highly recommend diving into Sojourner by Magnolia Electric Co. and/or (this will be confusing) the album Magnolia Electric Co. by the band Songs: Ohia.

I organized a Jason Molina tribute show back in 2019 at The Golden Pony before I left Harrisonburg, VA. It is a highlight of my three years living there.

Get tickets for May 16

Public readings are way down this year for me, but that’s okay. I’ve been working hard on two new manuscripts and feeling pretty good about them. I did want to share that on Tuesday, April 28th you can find me sharing a bunch of poems at 6 p.m. as part of the “Artists from the Heart of Appalachia” event happening at the Mon Arts Center in Morgantown, WV. It’s all part of Bridging Innovations week, so you’ve got to register ahead of time, but don’t worry, this part of the conference is 100% free to attend. Thanks to the WV Creative Network for the invite!

Register for free to hear me read poems

I think it started after binging all of Reservation Dogs, a beautiful show about Native teens living on a reservation in Oklahoma. It’s hilarious, it’s heavy, it’s heartwarming, and it’s expertly crafted. Three perfect seasons. What a ride. I’m pretty sure I cried during each episode. From there, I began seeking out art that wrecks me: nostalgia-heavy films, somber/heartbreaking music, revisiting devastating poetry. I wanted it all. The kicker? My creative output has soared during this time. I am considering this a type of exposure therapy—by flooding my nervous system with emotional art while I’m already extra sensitive, it is unlocking something in me that I am crafting into new poetry and music.

I’ve always believed that artists have to let some of the bad in with the good to create. It’s a kind of necessary evil. The trick is learning to navigate it without letting the darkness win. It’s safe to say that for most of my life I was terrible at this part of the equation. It feels like real growth to not only be handling this better, but to be seeking it out and instantly seeing results.

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Spring is inherently emotionally resonant for me. It is the ideal season for my interests, it looms over winter with its promise of light and warmth, the images of hope and rebirth are plentiful. It makes sense that spring’s reemergence would cause me to feel everything a little bit more intensely.

With spring also comes trout fishing, bringing me some long-overdue dopamine. I always say my favorite thing about trout fishing in West Virginia is that even if I’m not catching anything, at least I went on an awesome hike. Everyone knows WV is the most beautiful place in the world (this is fact and not opinion), so any excuse to get lost in its rivers, streams, and woods is a win. Putting some delicious fish in your freezer? Bonus.

Buy my poetry books

I own several great books about trout. John Holt puts it well in All About Trout when he says,

“Throughout history, no other family of fish has engendered more outpouring of passion, myth, scholarship and even snobbery than the trout…There is something mysterious about trout—something which cannot be quantified that exerts a powerful hold on dedicated anglers.”

In West Virginia, our state fish is the native brook trout. Their lineage is ancient. Catching stocked trout to eat is both fun and practical for me, saving my grocery budget big time. The handful of times I’ve caught (and released) native trout have felt different, more special, providing a deeper connection to our surroundings. They’re also stunningly beautiful creatures.

I find that poetry relates to some of my other hobbies, and I definitely include trout fishing among those (basketball being another). It’s meditative, fulfilling, and grounding. I usually fish alone or with family members who mean a lot to me, so it’s always a rewarding experience even if the bite is lacking. Maybe it appeals to the kid in me, riding around with my dad, uncle, and cousin, eating beef jerky and hauling in giant sunfish. Frying them up and sharing a big meal with friends and family. A simpler time.

I’m going to leave you with a poem from my latest book, The Wind Through the Sycamores is a Violin. It’s about a historical rock formation/cliff in Smoke Hole, WV where I’ve fished since I was a kid. My dad always told me that a man jumped from that cliff and died to avoid being scalped by local Native Americans. The real story is that Revolutionary War veteran William Eagle apparently fought (and lost to) an actual eagle up there that had been harassing his livestock. He died of old age and his grave is nearby. I need to ask my dad where he heard his version of the story growing up.

Eagle Rock

On occasion, I get swept up in it – 
the glass-cut edges of stone,
the mirrored silk of water,
the divine scent of air.

More than once I believed
I was the flash of gold
in the river, slicing into the deep 
green eddy to gulp creatures smaller than me.

Fewer are the times
my eyes would drift longingly 
towards the cliff where
the man jumped to his death 
to avoid being scalped.

Shows that I thought happened 10 years ago actually happened 20 years ago, albums I thought were recorded over a longer span were actually made in rapid-fire bursts of creative force during a much shorter window. The convoluted nature of time even haunts my current band, The Cheap Dates. That probably has something to do with the pandemic.

After being a band for a short year and a half or so, we watched the pandemic eat time. It felt like every clock was broken as we stood in place for about 18 months. Right before it all went down, The Cheap Dates had been in the studio to track our debut album, Alive and Dying Fast. It’s a real watershed moment for the band and for me as a songwriter. Shout out to everyone who was involved—you can read more about it in this essay I wrote on Medium back when the record came out. AADF was released on January 29, 2021 into a world with no live music. The response was incredible, and I’ll always have a soft-spot for this record for documenting the point in time when I was clearly in the “pre-contemplation” stage of recovery—I knew shit had to change, I just wasn’t quite sure how to do it yet (see “Manic” lyrics: “I gotta try to love myself a little better this year / but I’m still me, I chase my vitamins with beer”).

Read an essay about AADF

The second Cheap Dates album, 2024’s Restless Spirit, shares a birthday with yours truly on February 17. Like some kind of early-stage recovery country boy version of Justin Vernon, I wrote this record off the grid and alone in the woods. It is the best thing I’ve ever made. We got some nice press from folks like Glide Magazine, Bandcamp, Nashville Scene, and Rosy Overdrive. RS recently received a second pressing on “mon forest swirl” black/green vinyl, a nod to the place where these songs were born. Scummy Water Tower (who you might know from my Replacements essay published earlier this winter) shared an essay I wrote all about the making of RS. We had a ton of fun making the music video for the title track, which you can watch below (made by our drummer, M Tivis Clark!).

Read an essay about RS

Now that we’ve got those anniversaries out of the way, let me give you some speed-round updates:

• On February 13, I participated in the virtual reading for issue 40 of the South Florida Poetry Journal. SoFloPoJo published my poem “Tiger Lilies” in this issue, and I read it + “Veronica” (which was recently published by The Hemlock Journal). Watch the reading here.

Buy my poetry books

• The aforementioned second pressing of Restless Spirit on “mon forest swirl” (black/green swirl) is 20% off now through the end of Feb. with code: BIRTHDAY. All other non-vinyl Cheap Dates merch is also 20% off with the same code. Help us clear out some inventory and put aside some money for making the next record.

  

• The Cheap Dates just finished up a fun run of shows with Richmond, VA-based lo-fi indie rock all-stars, Drug Country. These fellers are kindred spirits, and we have a lot of love and respect for their brand of slacker twang. One of my favorite things about traveling with other bands is the camaraderie. Listen to Drug Country. DC mastermind, John, also has a lovely newsletter you should follow here.

• This weekend, Feb. 27/28, I will be playing bass for my brother Roger Harvey in PGH and Erie, PA. The William Matheny band will be backing Roger up + playing our own sets, so come see me pull double duty on the bass guitar for two of my best friends and favorite songwriters. Full details and tickets.

• On March 6, I’ll be back at Morgantown Art Party for the Art Council of Greater Morgantown’s First Friday series. Expect lots of poetry and solo music in a very casual setting. Art Party will also have some stamp making activities going on, so bring the whole family and let’s hang out. 6-9 p.m.

  

• The Cheap Dates are hitting some of our favorite WV spots in April and it would be great to see you there. Looking at you, Thomas, Morgantown, and Wheeling. Full details and tickets here.

I have tried to be intentional about “slowing down” a bit this year, but that obviously doesn’t seem to be the case. I would love to get some more poetry readings on the books, so reach out if you’ve got some ideas. Hoping for a pretty chill March so I can get out on the water and chase some trout.

OH YEAH, I almost forgot! I recently played the legendary Mountain Stage Radio Show in Charleston, WV, backing up my buddy and mega-talent Darrin Hacquard. It has long been a bucket list item for me. Hopefully the first of many! You can hear our performance beginning on March 27 across NPR stations nationwide. Okay, that’s all for real. Much love to you and yours. Maybe I’ll see you at a gig?

Paul was born with a guitar in his hands. He’s one of those mega-talented Shepherdstown, WV kids raised in the vacuum of a supportive arts community. While my old band, The Demon Beat, was still very active and burning up and down the East Coast, I found myself writing solo songs on the side. I eventually recorded a few and began venturing out to play coffee shops and DIY spaces in the area. Somewhere along the way, I was connected to Paul and we hit it off. I was freshly out of college, having stumbled my way through the last year of it while also traveling and playing shows. Paul was still in high school. My first “official” solo EP was Paul and me with two acoustic guitars and our voices huddled around one microphone. He has a natural gift for those high-lonesome bluegrass harmonies, testament to his upbringing within the world of string bands and old-time jams. He’s also a scorching lead guitarist.

We did that September run through NYC, Philly, and Frederick, MD with pal Nathan Xander, who I met a couple years ago while playing bass for William Matheny. The gig was at the Mercury Lounge, which typically books a couple separate gigs per night (this is a move utilized in big-city venues to maximize profit). The early show before ours featured a performer who happened to share the same management team as Sting, who you might remember from the band The Police and/or the maligned-but-wonderful David Lynch adaptation of Dune. In an attempt to help break this newer artist in the U.S. (I believe she was from South America), management had asked Sting to sing a duet with her in Spanish. And so he was there. Sting. In this 200-ish capacity venue we were playing later. Known Sting pal, Shaggy (yes, the very same of “It Wasn’t Me” fame), was also in attendance for the early show. The venue even brought in a big portable walk-through metal detector for added security. They removed it before our gig, which cracks me up to this day. Anyways, Nate and I hit it off and wanted to do some more shows, which eventually brings us back to January and some solo/stripped-down gigs together, beginning in Pittsburgh.

Check out my band

Practice with Paul is smooth. I head down to the venue for the evening, a house show in Pittsburgh’s South Side. I’m the first one there. I meet Daniel, our gracious host, who is putting the finishing touches on some food he’s prepared for the evening. I am in awe of his living space—an old dance hall built in 1908. Incredibly high ceilings with detailed patterns, beautiful original hardwood floors, and most importantly, amazing natural acoustics. No PA sound system, no amps, this show will be intimate and old school. The room fills out, we play well, make new friends, see some old friends who traveled from out of town, share space and build community with others. Maybe it’s because I hadn’t played this kind of show in a long time, maybe it’s because the world is on fire, but I felt a lot of gratitude for this evening.

It is isolating to watch all of the hate and violence being perpetrated against people in this country right now. Last week, ICE was in my hometown of Moorefield, WV. They went into the laundry mat where my mom has worked for years and started arresting community members while they were washing their clothes. The Chinese restaurant a quarter mile from my house here in north central WV has been closed all week because some of their ownership was detained. These people pay taxes and provide a service to the community and they are being torn from their homes—their lives uprooted. I think about the signing bonus for ICE and all of the money wrapped up in this campaign of cruelty. I think about Renee Good, who was a poet like me. I think about the unhoused, those battling addiction and illness, those trapped in bad domestic situations. Our priorities as a country are backwards.

It’s easy to feel helpless right now. Maybe that’s why a weekend of solo shows in small spaces felt like a breath of fresh air. I am alone so often that I sometimes worry that I carry that isolation with me into public spaces, making me unapproachable. So many people and new friends were eager to talk to me last weekend about music, about poetry, about how we can all show up for one another.

People leave West Virginia at a rate higher than any other state. Can you blame them? A friend recently shared a meme with me titled “The REAL West Virginia.” It had names to describe different parts of the state, like “pepperoni rolls,” “Mothman,” “the middle finger,” etc. One part of southern WV just said, “people who vote against their own interests.” I told him that slogan could represent the entire state. West Virginians are resilient, resourceful, creative, and caring. At times, they have also proven to be gullible, stubborn, and ill-informed. At the Pittsburgh house show, upon hearing I was from WV, someone remarked on the “redness” of my state. I reminded them that it wasn’t always that way. WV is historically blue and pro-union. I know it is possible to get back to a state that looks out for its own, that doesn’t vote for people whose only concerns are back-tracking civil rights and women’s rights legislation that has existed for decades, and that doesn’t vote for the ultra-wealthy who only care about keeping their own purses fat.

When I came back to West Virginia after moving away for a few years, it was a deliberate decision to be one of the younger people to stay and put down roots. I now own my own house and my own business (that’s right, I am a registered business as a writer and musician). I am grateful that my art connects me to people who offer up their homes for traveling musicians, cook meals for their neighbors, and celebrate creativity (thanks again, Daniel and Nate!). I am grateful that I have built community (and FAMILY) through my art over the years. I will keep holding onto these little glimpses of light while we all navigate this darkness together. Thanks for listening.

// T.R.

P.S. - Speaking of art and community, I’ll be reading some poetry live at 123 Pleasant St. in Morgantown, WV on February 6th as part of the Cupid's Drive to raise funds and clothing for our unhoused neighbors.

Learn more about my poetry

Being an artist and musician is a social rollercoaster. The work is crafted away from the public eye and then shared in front of crowds. The older I get, the more drained I feel after a run of gigs or events. It’s not a dealbreaker by any means, just an observation. It makes me cherish these low-key moments even more. Editing poems while huddled in a pile of blankets with my cat, cooking meals for myself, listening to records while folding laundry. Balance in all things.

Speaking of stuff that is made in solitude and eventually put on display, I’ve got some good writing news to share! I’m happy to report that the South Florida Poetry Journal will be publishing a new poem of mine called “Tiger Lilies” in February. I wrote most of it while driving back from the WV Creative Network Literary Arts Fellowship retreat in southern West Virginia back in June. It was on West Virginia’s birthday (June 20), no less, and the vibrant bursts of orange along my drive unlocked an extremely sensitive childhood memory in me. I am both excited and terrified to release this poem into the world.

The good publishing news doesn’t stop there. The Hemlock Journal has also agreed to publish my poem “Veronica” in their upcoming winter issue. This is a poem that I first drafted back in the winter of 2019/2020, right before the pandemic. Without giving too much away, it follows a battle-tested waitress and mother through her daily routine as she finds a much-needed escape via daydreams and fantasies. I was raised by strong, independent women, and I’ve always held a great reverence for them.

Watch virtual poetry reading

And last but certainly not least, I just had an essay about my favorite record, Let It Be by the Replacements, published over at the appropriately named Scummy Water Tower. I wrote this to coincide with the deluxe remaster of Let It Be that was just released by Rhino Records. The whole Replacements catalog has been getting this royal treatment in recent years, making it a truly generous era for fans of everyone’s favorite self-sabotaging Midwest rockers. Thanks to Alex and Josh at SWT for pushing me to write this thing.

(My old band Prison Book Club covering “Can’t Hardly Wait” by the Replacements.)

As another year crawls to a close, I find myself reflecting. I have a bad habit of thinking I don’t accomplish anything throughout the year. To counteract this, I go month-by-month and write out everything I did: shows I played, readings, visits with friends and family, community events, fishing trips. It helps me feel like I’m at least trying, and that’s all that any of us can ask for right now. Another result of this process is a batch of “favorites” lists for the year. I’ll share my albums and books lists with you here (selections in no particular order) with some insights:

Favorite albums released in 2025:

• Japanese Breakfast - For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women)

  This band’s last record, 2021’s Jubilee, is a modern masterpiece of sparkling synths and pop melodies, delivered through the perspectives of multiple characters each yearning for something in their own way. On the new album, Michelle Zauner’s voice rings a little quieter as she tackles toxic masculinity with a poetic eye and lots of electric guitars. “Mega Circuit” and “Honey Water” are my favorite tunes here.

• Darrin Hacquard - Weights & Measures
  A dear friend and a true Appalachian folk hero, Darrin Hacquard is your favorite songwriter’s favorite songwriter. Darrin has seemingly lived a dozen lifetimes already and has the stories to show for it. He delivers thoughtful insights on society, addiction, and rural living with a sly wink:
  ”I got a 10 o’clock date with the magistrate / he’s gonna add to my list of credentials / he’s trying to draw blood from a half ounce of bud / saying, young man, you had such potential.” “Carlisle” (which features these lyrics) and “Inaugurating Meltdown” are favorites.
  
  I recently had the opportunity to play bass for Darrin at a couple of gigs and he has extended the invitation to back him up at the legendary Mountain Stage Radio Show in Charleston, WV on January 25th. It’s a real bucket list item for me to play Mt. Stage and I’m so grateful for the opportunity. You can tune in live online or get tickets to attend in person!

• Wednesday - Bleeds
  This NC band continues to genre blur on their new record, dabbling equally in heavy 90’s alternative rock/borderline grunge and sweet pedal-steel-laced country. “Elderberry Wine” falls into the latter and is my song of the year.

• Dean Johnson - I Hope We Can Still Be Friends
  I only recently discovered Mr. Johnson via his KEXP performance. Everything about his music and performance is effortless. Prairie music delivered with a breezy voice. “Carol” is a standout track for me.

• Ryan Davis & The Roadhouse Band - New Threats From The Soul
  It’s good for the heart to see a true road dog finally getting his flowers. I saw Ryan’s badass twang-punk band State Champion play to about 6 people at the venue I used to work at back in 2016. After that excellent group hung it up, RD re-emerged with the Roadhouse Band (featuring some WV buds) and has since taken over the indie rock world (deservedly so). He opened my band’s album release show back in 2024 solo, using a tape loop for backing tracks, and it was incredible, but the full band is on fire. If you’re a lyrics person, this is your new favorite artist. I’m most fond of the title track, strictly for mentioning Peggy Bundy in a song.

• Bruce Springsteen - Nebraska ‘82
  I dove into this after watching the new Bruce movie. I am admittedly not a big fan and know very little about the New Jersey icon, so I went into the film pretty blind. I really enjoyed it, especially for focusing on a very short window of time in Springsteen’s life. I also really identified with his dedication to the songs, holding steadfast against outside pressures to make them into something else. The electric demo of “Born in the U.S.A.” is absolutely nasty.

• Williamson Brothers - Aquila

  Southern garage rock heroes and some of the very best humans. My band kicked off 2025 with a run of shows with these old pals. “All These Years” is an all-time jam.

• The Replacements - Let It Be deluxe
  Read my essay in Scummy Water Tower for my track-by-track analysis of my favorite album!

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Favorite books I read in 2025:

• Denton Loving - Feller
  Excellent collection of concise poems. Includes maybe the best poem ever written about octopi. I’ll likely write a full review of this in the near future.

• Kevin Chesser - Taste of Honey
  West Virginia’s own surrealist poetry master. I love Kevin and his work. This is his latest and it’s worth the trip.

• Sharon Olds - Stag’s Leap
  Read my review!

• Lou Reed - Do Angels Need Haircuts?
  Beautiful book about Lou’s lesser-known stint in the poetry world. I grabbed this from Anthology as a research piece for my music memoir/poetry project.

• Cat Pleska - My Life in Water
  Essays from West Virginia writer Cat Pleska that feature water as a main character at various points in her life. If you ever get the chance to catch Cat reading in person, please do not miss it. She’s one of our best storytellers.

• David Prather - Bending Light with Bare Hands
  Showing some love to my WVCN fellowship mentor here for his excellent new book. These poems began as journal entries in and around the pandemic. They share intimate glimpses into a life spent within an old family home, tying together observations about isolation and nature, relating them back to family and identity. David’s strong use of form and craft keep things flowing nicely.

• Marc Harshman - Dispatch from the Mountain State
  A great collection of new work from the WV poet laureate. Marc is unflinching here, especially when it comes to calling out those who poison and sabotage West Virginia’s environment and people for their own gain.

I know this newsletter/post is already getting long, but I would be a real jerk if I didn’t acknowledge all of the support and love showed to me this past year by my friends, families, peers, and the WV creative community. In many ways, it has been a hard year full of a lot of loss and grief. In other ways, it has been a year of incredible resilience and professional growth. Thank you to everyone who played a part in keeping me motivated and inspired. I’ve got lots of big plans for 2026. Thanks for being along for the ride!

// T.R.

You’ll hear myself and my talented poetry fellow peer L. Renee read some brand new work along with our mentor Dave Prather. We also answer questions throughout, discussing our current projects and how the community can help us reach our goals.

On my end, you can hear three brand new poems from my music memoir project and three brand new standalone poems, including one that will be published in the April 2026 issue of Pictura Journal. Whether you caught the reading live or are revisiting now, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Sound off in the comments and let me know how the new work is landing.

As always, grateful for your support. Stay warm!

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On November 15th, all of the West Virginia Creative Network Literary Arts Fellows got together for a reading at Taylor Books in Charleston, WV. It is always inspiring and energizing to be in a room with this cohort of talented writers. Our fellowship wraps up next month, so this was likely our last in-person event.

We all shared new work that has consumed our lives over the past 6 months or so. Speaking of, I guess I should formally give you the scoop, seeing as how I’ve been sharing some of the work in public spaces:

I have spent most of the past year working on a memoir about the early days traveling and playing music in my first real band, The Demon Beat. It is told entirely through poems and essays.

It has been a real labor of love. This was such a pivotal time for me as a young adult learning about the world, navigating the highs and lows of chasing a dream, carrying the burdens of family and a state so often forgotten. My hope (and also a genuine fear) is that I have conveyed my experiences in a way that is interesting for many, and not just those who were a part of our music scene’s orbit back then. If you’re a fan of poetry, music, coming-of-age stories, and/or West Virginia, I hope you’ll find something here whenever this project sees the light of day (very far off, I’m sure).

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We have so much archival material from those days: incredible photos shot by talented friends, press clippings, videos, MUSIC (of course), show posters, and more. This is a docu-poetics project as much as it is a memoir or music bio. You can expect TONS of multimedia material to be included whenever the beautiful day comes that this is released.

You might be wondering where the name for this post came from. It’s the title of a poem from The Wind Through the Sycamores is a Violin that taps into a bit of what I am trying to harness with this new music manuscript. I’ve spent most of my adult life in punk basements, rock and roll dives, DIY spaces, minivans, overstuffed SUVs, Waffle Houses, truck stops, and shithole apartments. While the life of an independent musician is never quite as glorious as it might sound, those spaces and worlds are inseparable from my identity. It has been bittersweet, empowering, heartbreaking, and affirming to revisit that time in my life with clear eyes. The title is also a gentle reminder to us all that the short, cold, dark days will END, so just hang in there. Anyways, here’s the poem:

You Won’t Be Sad Forever

In my eyes the trees
play shadow boxer
as they dance across
the spot where sunlight
stains the floor
like a golden crime scene.

Inside my head
there is a basement,
can of spray paint,
coded messages left
to forgotten lovers
and I swear my heart
could just
stop.

While crafting this memoir-poem project, I’ve also written a bunch of standalone poems unrelated to that manuscript. Some of them might cohesively work as a chapbook down the road, but for now I’ve been sending a few out to test the waters. I’m happy to report that Pictura Journal has accepted two new poems of mine for inclusion in their April 2026 issue! Pictura publishes some really high-quality work and I am grateful that they’ve given a couple of my poems a nice place to land.

I mentioned in the intro that I’m ready to ship my book directly to you ahead of the holidays. If you’d like to make that exchange in person, you can catch me at the Apothecary Ale House Christmas Market on December 13th from 2-6 p.m. alongside fellow local authors Jim Antonini, Geoff Fuller, and Sarah McLaughlin. We will have a table at Apothecary and one at the Pleasant St. Co-op, so stop by and see us! We always have a blast at these bookselling events. I will have Tucker Riggleman & The Cheap Dates records, shirts, tapes, CDs, and more available alongside both of my books.

Thanks for the love and support. I hope you get to share a meal with people you care about next week (or anytime). I usually start making a yearly gratitude list around this time. It’s a useful practice for keeping perspective, especially if you’re a chronic “have-to-be-productive-all-the-time-or-else-I-am-a-failure” type like me.

// T.R.

10/28 - WV Creative Network Virtual Poetry Night - 6 p.m.
I’ll be sharing brand new work that I have developed during my fellowship alongside the wonderful L. Renee (the other poetry fellow in this cohort) and our gracious mentor David Prather (a great WV poet). In addition to a 10-minute reading of new work, I’ll be speaking about my time with the fellowship, my process, and participating in a Q&A session at the end of the event. Free to attend, but you’ve got to register in advance.

Register to attend virtual reading

11/15 - In-person reading at Taylor Books - Charleston, WV - 5 p.m.
I’ll be joining the other five WVCN literary arts fellows for a special in-person reading at the one and only Taylor Books in Charleston, WV. All of these writers are incredible. Stop by and see us if you’re in the area!

Speaking of the West Virginia Creative Network, they recently published this nice storytelling feature on L. Renee and myself. Learn more about my origin story as an artist, adversity I’ve faced, and what I’ve been working on lately.

WVCN Storytelling feature

My recent reading at South Side Studios in Petersburg, WV was really special. It was great to see several family members in the audience. An open mic kicked off the evening, featuring many folks who were reading for the first time ever. I love helping to create opportunities like this for new writers. It takes a lot of courage to share your work in any environment, especially one so intimate.

There is a special kind of validation that comes from these readings where family is in attendance. It’s hard to explain. I feel extra aligned with what I’m “supposed” to be doing—soul work, etc. I’ve touched on this feeling before in other posts. Have you ever experienced something similar? Drop a comment or shoot me a message if you want to chat more about it.

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Over on my IG, I recently shared a list of some of the books that inspired and enlightened me while I was writing my latest poetry collection, The Wind Through the Sycamores is a Violin. I wanted to share that here with a little more in-depth discussion. Also, if you’re into seasonally-appropriate music, check out my autumn playlist that I posted last week.

“Silver Road” - Kazim Ali
A diverse collection of poems, essays, and journal entries that challenges the idea of what a traditional “book” can be. The various mediums flow together in a way that makes sense. This book manages to feel both worldly and intimate at the same time.

“Inheritance” - Taylor Johnson
A force of a book. Nostalgia, family, identity, surrealism—it’s all here, and more, cast in an array of experimental forms and fragmented old photographs.

“Ice, Mouth, Song” - Rachel Contreni Flynn
I chose this poetry collection as my free book I received for participating in the Tupelo Press 30/30 Project back in 2019. I based this decision on the fact that my favorite poet, Stephen Dunn, had written some praise for this book. I was not disappointed.

“In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts” - Gabor Mate
I really respect the way that Gabor Mate talks about addiction. He describes it as “an attempt to heal a wound”—this really resonates with me. It’s rare that someone’s life is wrecked from addiction without there being underlying trauma. This book contains stories about his former patients while working at a methadone clinic in Vancouver’s skid row. The human part of their stories remains at the center, even in a world that would rather consider them “less-than” or a statistic.

“Pagan Virtues” - Stephen Dunn
I bought my copy of this book at a reading in Frostburg, MD shortly before the pandemic. Stephen’s health was on the decline already, and he would sadly not make it through COVID. I had the opportunity to speak with him one-on-one after the reading and give him a copy of my first book, Japanese Maple. Inside it, I had tucked away a hand-written letter that described how much his work meant to me. I am forever grateful for that opportunity. For many years, I have traveled with my copy of Between Angels—a constant source of inspiration.

“The Essential Etheridge Knight” - Etheridge Knight
Visceral poems about Blackness, incarceration, America, music, and more. Rugged, uncomfortable, beautiful, this collection carries immense weight.

“Sleepovers” - Ashleigh Bryant Phillips
I discovered Ashleigh through mutual Travelin’ Appalachians Revue friends. Sleepovers is a collection of short stories set against a rugged rural landscape, full of characters so vivid I swear they exist somewhere in my hometown. The second story in this collection, “Charlie Elliott”, reduces me to tears every time I read it. In my opinion, Phillips’s work is the closest that we have to a modern-day Breece Pancake.

“Red Bird” & “Felicity” - Mary Oliver
What else can be said about Mary Oliver? Nobody writes about nature like her, and nobody probably ever will.

“Belonging: A Culture of Place” - bell hooks
I am not really a fan of her poetry (please don’t kill me!), but this bell hooks collection of essays about growing up in Appalachia and how we carry that with us as we venture out into the world really hit a nerve with me. I remember trying to downplay my accent when going to college (in West Virginia, no less) because I was convinced that everyone would think I was stupid. This type of code changing is ingrained in people from here.

“In Praise of Wild Trout” - edited by Nick Lyons
Essays and poems about my favorite fish to chase, catch, and dream about. When I wrote most of my new book, I was living alongside the native brook trout stream Red Run in Tucker County. You could say the creek was a main character throughout.

The National - Anyone’s Ghost
One of my favorite things about The National is that they are a really great NYC band. I don’t mean that they are a great band from NYC—I mean that they are a band that writes great songs where the city is also a main character. They capture the feeling of being alone among millions especially well:

“Go out at night with your headphones on, again
And walk through the Manhattan valleys of the dead.”

Roky Erickson - I Walked with a Zombie
Written during his time in a psychiatric hospital, this Erickson classic is a real brain worm. Simplistic, effective, a little bit creepy. I often thought of this song when closing up a busy bar shift, helping shuffle regulars out the door and back into the night.

Bauhaus - Bela Lugosi’s Dead
A debut single that helped define a genre. The live, in-studio feel only makes the tension in this song more palpable. Recently, while leaving an event where I was selling my books, GPS took me on some alternate routes through an especially dilapidated part of town. I had this playlist on with this track playing as I eased my way down dark, windy side streets, lots of boarded-up warehouses and flickering streetlights. It was a real vibe.

The Cure - Lullaby
One of my favorite bands to listen to anytime of year, The Cure hit a little different in the fall. Disintegration is a bonafide masterpiece of lush synths, sorrowful lyrics, and thematically-cohesive songwriting. “Lullaby” stands out amidst the record’s gloom as a singularly haunting track. But damn, that melody is top-tier as well.

Phantom Planet - Raise the Dead
The title track from a rock album about cults, or more precisely an album about how bands can be like cults. I really adore this record, revisiting it every fall is like catching up with an old friend. Catchy, appropriately moody and rocking, smart, this record has a lot going for it even if it always seemed to fly under the radar. To be honest, I think this era (released in 2008) was just especially tough for straight up rock and roll bands.

Rozwell Kid - Halloween 3.5
A modern classic by my dear friends and old bandmates. Frontman Jordan Hudkins manages to take a song about making Halloween costumes on the surface and turn it into a song about setting aside future fears and anxieties to focus on the present with the person you love. It’s classic Rozwell Kid—using something fun or slightly goofy to deliver a serious, heartfelt message.

Pavement - The Hexx
The official version of this track found a home on the divisive final Pavement record, Terror Twilight. It’s a musically haunting song full of dissonance, dread, and a really killer guitar solo. As with a lot of Pavement, the lyrics are pretty absurd/non-sensical, but the music always gets me ready to watch some good horror movies.

Magnolia Electric Co. - Spanish Moon Fall and Rise
The late Jason Molina was a master at building worlds through the mystical. His songs often mention owls, wolves, the proverbial “dark,” serpents, and ghosts. Molina crafted his own lexicon as a means to transport us to these worlds within the music. “Spanish Moon Fall and Rise” is one of those perfect solo Molina tunes that would likely be made lesser by addition of any other instruments or players.

“I leave you now with my ghost in this room.
Two wanderer’s eyes, two eyes.
Oh Spanish moon, fall and rise.”

Michael Hurley - The Werewolf
We lost the great outsider folk legend Michael Hurley earlier this year. A couple of years ago, while attending Nelsonville Music Festival (where Hurley played every year, forever), I was waiting to say goodbye to my friend who had played earlier. She was talking to Hurley, so I patiently waited. While they chatted, the band Big Thief was on the stage and went into his song “O My Stars.” Hurley continued talking to my friend, and when Big Thief finished, he nodded in their direction and said, “Precisely.” He will be sorely missed, but will always remain a beacon of how to blaze your own path and make art that is true to yourself. “The Werewolf” is a classic, with the twist of asking sympathy for the maligned supernatural figure.

“For the werewolf, for the werewolf
Have sympathy, cause the werewolf
He’s somebody like you or me.”

The Replacements - Here Comes a Regular
Maybe it’s the “ain’t much to rake anyways in the fall” line that always brings this ‘Mats classic back to me each autumn. Maybe it’s the fact that the Replacements are kind of an autumnal band, conjuring images of blustery Midwestern evenings. You can almost see the flanneled working class Joes piled into the neighborhood dive in “Here Comes a Regular.” Legend has it that frontman Paul Westerberg made the engineers turn the lights down low and surround him with sound panels so nobody could see him play this song in the studio. He did it in one take. The immediacy serves the song, which would have likely suffered from too much fussing.

It’s a real turning point for Westerberg as a songwriter. Leading a band built around a reputation for drunken hell-raising and mythologized rock and roll sloppiness, he’s extremely vulnerable and self-aware here. When he asks, “am I the only one who feels ashamed?” he says it like someone who knows what his band has become, what they could have been, and what they would inevitably fail to live up to.

My travels began with a four-day stay in Nashville to work on a record with my friend William Matheny (and a bunch of other talented pals). I really enjoy the flow state of recording. Studios are almost like a sensory deprivation tank for real life—your only focus is on the material, shaping the songs, perfecting your parts. There is no room for the worries of the daily grind within those walls. It was a real honor to track at Ronnie’s Place, the historic studio once owned by both Roy Orbison and Ronnie Milsap at different times. Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, and Emmylou Harris are just a few of the juggernauts who recorded there over the years. I think we made something special.

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I have an interesting relationship with the ideas of flow state and what I call “soul work.” Soul work is what happens when I black out on stage in a good way, my body and spirit fully connected to the music, my bandmates, the crowd. It also happens after a good reading where I feel genuine support. This began happening a lot earlier this year when I was traveling and doing readings to promote my new book. I remember reading at WordPlay in Wardensville, WV in my home county, being surrounded by family and friends, sharing a meal afterwards with all of these people from different parts of my life brought together by my poetry. I did the late night drive to Harrisonburg, VA after dinner, tears streaming down my face as I felt an emotional overload from all of the love and support.

Learn more about my books

Flow state, for me, is that highly productive lightning-in-a-bottle process that creates the raw materials for soul work. I’ll be the first to admit that I have very bad writing habits. Almost every song I’ve ever written has been completed in 5-10 minutes—music and words. Poetry is more of a slow process, but still sparked by intense periods of inspiration. I have been trying to incorporate a nightly writing practice to help generate more material and I am seeing a little return on that investment. The version of flow state I experience in the studio is more focused and mindful. I become fully present with the material and the players. It’s a nice way to block everything else out and create.

During the Tucker Riggleman & The Cheap Dates portion of my travels, we played NYC for the first time. My old band The Demon Beat went a couple years of playing NYC nearly once a month. I forgot how much I missed it. We played in a particularly happening part of Bushwick where we went for a pre-show stroll with our old friend Fletcher C. Johnson (who has a great podcast all about the city, music, fashion, etc.). The city always feels so alive to me—so much happening on every corner, in every direction. I am also always blown away by the quality and quantity of food options. We hit up a grab-and-go Japanese spot where I enjoyed a pork katsu sandwich and matcha soft serve ice cream. Both were heavenly. Don’t worry, I also partook in a true NYC slice after the gig (how could I not?).

Learn more about my band

Post-show, we made the drive 45 minutes north to stay with a couple of fans in White Plains. The idea of complete strangers finding my music or poetry and enjoying it enough to travel and support it is so wild to me, but that is how I came to know this couple. They had previously traveled to see us in Morgantown, Lexington, and Harrisonburg—our best towns. When they saw we were playing NYC, they were excited to go to the show and offer us a comfortable place to stay. Their high-rise apartment was very nice, with sleeping spots for everyone and NY bagels in the morning (why are they SO good?). I claimed a spot in their library room and fell asleep in a window nook overlooking the White Plains skyline with NYC just beyond. I was flooded with nostalgia. That feeling of being a young adult, so certain I was going to “make it” in music, the pull of the big city.

In the city and throughout the trip (especially in Sleepy Hollow!), I saw several spotted lantern flies. This terribly invasive species is taking over the Northeast. We are all told to kill them on sight, but it always catches me off guard because they are an especially beautiful insect. While falling asleep in my city window sleeping space, I scribbled this out:

A spotted lantern fly lands on the Bushwick sidewalk
in front of the venue we will play tonight.
I press my boot onto its speckled wings,
watch the amber inside paint the asphalt.

We have driven a collective eight hours to play for 30 minutes.
The monitors don't really work at sound check.
I learned a long time ago to roll with the punches.
When the time comes, and it always does despite my daydream
counting of seconds, I will plug a cable into my faithful guitar,
hit the right notes, sing the only way I know how.

Tonight we are staying just outside of the city
with some fans who have become friends.
I am a nearly 40-year-old man carrying an unrolled sleeping bag
into a condo. On the way in, I see another beautiful, invasive
pair of flightless wings streaked across the ground.

We can't escape it. Death is death.
How do I make this life work? How do I continue
in a world lonely beyond repair?

The city flexes its labored lungs out the window
while I ease into rest, my bandmates sleeping softly,
dreaming of bright lights and strong coffee.

I let my own dreams and anxieties drown
in the white noise of a city constantly building,
forever fighting for space to put more people
and things for them to buy.

I think about my grandmother shaping zucchini bread
batter into a bundt pan, the late summer sun spilling
through the kitchen. Can she see me now from this apartment?
Am I close enough?

I know that I am mostly shouting in an echo chamber here, but maybe getting a dialogue going about some of these observations will lead someone to something helpful. We can only hope.

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The insurmountable costs of existing

Twice in the past six months, I have received a letter from the gas company saying they are raising rates and there’s nothing I can do about it. Likely due to some law that requires transparency, they make sure to let me know how much profit this increase will net them (in the double-digit millions of dollars). In my city, like most, the gas company owns the hookups from the street to their lines, so even though you may own your house, if you want to use their gas (you have no other option) you have to use their hookups and pay whatever they demand. I sent a formal complaint to the state agency for this kind of thing when I got the first one. Big surprise—I never heard back.

So while I’ll be keeping the heat as low as possible this winter without the pipes freezing, I am also thinking about how many more instances like this I can sustain. What will be the final straw? Like so many Americans, I live paycheck to paycheck and am always one bad thing/accident away from being in serious financial danger.

You’ve got to spend money to make money

This tired old phrase is sadly still extremely accurate for artists. I often joke that writing good songs and putting together a band is the easy part of being a musician. Let’s examine what it is like to be a traveling band playing regional shows.

Upfront costs: vehicle (you, your bandmates, your gear all gotta get to the gig), vehicle insurance, gas, instruments (including maintenance costs like strings, tune-ups, drum heads/sticks, etc.), designing/printing/mailing flyers and posters

Operating costs: food (you’ve all got to eat—luckily sometimes a place will feed you), lodging (if you don’t have a friend to stay with, you gotta sleep somewhere)

Backend costs: merchandise (oh you sold a bunch of shirts? Sweet! Now you’ve got to re-invest hundreds of dollars to buy more!)

With all of these costs, you might be asking: “Why on earth would you even bother playing live?”

Well first of all, it’s extremely cathartic and fun, not to mention it’s still the best way to build a following. Secondly, let’s look at the costs to create an album: tracking, mixing, mastering, artwork, pressing (vinyl records, CDs, cassettes, they all cost money), promotion. We’re talking thousands of dollars just to get those songs you wrote into a form where they can be heard by others. Playing shows helps you chip away at those costs after you (or a combination of you and your label) have fronted them.

Learn more about my band

It shouldn’t have to be this hard

So who is to blame for how incredibly difficult it is for artists to support themselves with their art? I’ll grab some low-hanging fruit here: social media. Social media has at times been incredibly useful for artists, but those days feel so far away. I’ll use my own band as an example. Our posts and stories are routinely shown to 3-5% of our followers. If we assume that people click “follow” on our social media accounts because they genuinely want to know what we’re up to (where we are playing and when, new releases, videos, etc.), then we can see that we aren’t reaching them. At all.

Possible solutions? My band has an old-fashioned email list (not a Substack). I send out a newsletter about once a month and include upcoming show info and all relevant news. Our open rate hovers around 80%, proving that people who choose to follow/sign-up actually do want to know what artists are doing. So why do we put so much time and energy into social media if the return is almost non-existent? To this I say: stop giving so much. Likely preaching to the choir here, but social media has been so defeating lately that I am posting less and less. It makes it seem a little more lonely out here, but damn, we should be spending our time MAKING art, not shouting into the digital void about it.

Check out my author website

So for now, this is my balance. I send a monthly newsletter to my band’s followers. I post a couple times a week here and send one monthly Substack email newsletter that is mainly focused on my writing/poetry. Social media in between, but I am really trying to spend less time engaging with it. My feed is almost entirely sponsored ads. My engagement is nothing. Our time is extremely valuable. Wishing you all the best.

Once that band ended, I’d chase that life with other bands off and on for several years before starting Tucker Riggleman & The Cheap Dates. We’re a long-distance band with day jobs, so the best plan of attack for us has been one long weekend a month. It is a strategy that works pretty well, but I do find myself missing the longer stretches sometimes. That feeling of waking up in a different city each day.

I am saying all of this to let you know that my next couple of months are pretty wild. Music and poetry will be bringing me to several major cities and a few small rural towns. I’ve rounded all of that info up here for you in case you’re nearby and want to come catch a reading, a concert, or stop by and chat at a book-selling event. Heads up that I ALWAYS have my poetry books with me for sale at all Cheap Dates gigs.

Chances to connect in person (+ one virtual reading):

• 9/5 - Create the Mon exhibit opening - Alison Pottery - Marlinton, WV

  • I’ll be reading some poems at this annual art exhibit centered around work inspired by the Monongahela National Forest. I lived directly in the Mon Forest when I moved back to WV in 2019. This is where I re-dedicated myself to writing and also where I got sober (it is Recovery Month, making this even more poignant). I also have two photographs in the exhibit that are for sale! 5-8 pm.

• 9/12-9/16 - Nashville, TN

  • I’ll be in Nashville helping my friend William Matheny make his new record. I’ve been playing bass with William for two and a half years now and I’m really excited about his new material. I’ll have copies of my books with me during my stay and would be happy to meet up anywhere to get one in your hands if you’re nearby. Also, please send any recs for indie bookstores that might want some copies!

• 9/18 - Alphaville - Brooklyn, NY - get tix

  • The Cheap Dates make their NYC debut! I know a lot of WV transplants and writer friends have ended up in the Big Apple. I’d love to see you! Doors at 8.

• 9/19 - Century - Philadelphia, PA

  • First Cheap Dates gig in Philly as well. I also know a bunch of pals have ended up here — hope to see some of you! Doors at 7.

• 9/20 - Sky Stage - Frederick, MD - get tix

  • Lovely outdoor rooftop venue super close to my old stomping grounds of Shepherdstown, WV. It would be great to see a good crew of folks for this.

• 10/3-10/4 - Mt. Craft Film Festival - Robinson Grand Theatre - Clarksburg, WV

  • I’ll be selling my books and band merch for two days during this awesome indie film festival. My writing group pals Geoff Fuller, Jim Antonini, and Sarah McLaughlin will be sharing some table space and slinging their excellent books.

• 10/10 - South Side Speaks - South Side Studios - Petersburg, WV

  • Firmly within my original neck of the woods, this event will kick off with a poetry open mic followed by a reading from yours truly. Really excited to see a bunch of family at this one! Open mic starts at 7.

• 10/28 - WV Creative Network Evening with the Literary Arts Fellows: Poetry Night - get tix

  • This is the big virtual reading hosted by my current fellowship. I will be sharing new material that I’ve developed over the course of the fellowship and answering some questions about the process. There will also be an open Q&A for attendees. Free to attend, but you’ve got to grab a virtual ticket to get the link. The wonderful L. Renee will also be reading. 6-7 pm.

There are so many opportunities throughout Stag’s Leap where Sharon Olds could easily rip into her ex-husband for abruptly ending their marriage of 30 years for another woman. So many times the ball is set up above the net for her to spike. She instead shows an unfathomable amount of restraint. Choosing instead to reminisce fondly about something that has passed on, like a beloved relative or friend. It’s true that the ending of relationships conjures grief in us similar to a person dying—it must be mourned.

That’s not to say Olds isn’t great at conveying raw emotion. In my recent newsletter/email post, Cicada summer, I highlighted a specific passage about anger. She had every right to explode, to lash out, but instead chooses to “eat the whole car” of her anger.

In the poem Crazy, she describes her marriage as:

a fire of pleasure like a violence
of kindness.

Landing on the revelation that:

There was no
tragedy, for us, there was
the slow-revealed comedy
of ideal and error. What precision of action
it had taken for the bodies to hurtle through
the sky for so long without harming each other.

This collection of poems speaks gently to the small moments and observations that find us after heavy loss. Most notably for Olds, the physical comfort and magnetism to a body that she’d been so close to for so long. She repeatedly mentions her former husband’s physique, from his hip socket to his thin lips, a form she feels as connected to as her own.

Olds finds silver linings and opportunities for growth everywhere, even in the scavenged carcass of a dead mouse that she forgot about on her porch. In Sleekit Cowrin’, after describing in detail the various bugs and beetles that nourish themselves on the remains, she somewhat reluctantly resolves to offer her marriage to the same fate:

And I know, I know, I should put
my dead marriage out on the porch
in the sun, and let who can, come
and nourish of it - change it, carry it
back to what it was assembled from,
back to the source of the light whereby it shone.

As I continue to navigate my own season of grief, I found companionship in these poems—their vulnerability, ache, and subtle hope that things will be alright in the end.

I’ve been writing some poems about the extremes of this summer and how I’ve retreated inwards more and more as a reaction to the pain I have witnessed in both my community and my personal life. It has been a time of great loss for me—I feel like I have been constantly juggling multiple griefs.

While playing a recent outdoor gig with my band in Kentucky, the cicadas were going absolutely insane between songs. I’m guessing the frequencies of our amplifiers were resonating with them in a certain way. It was a strange thing to stand in the middle of—this dialogue between my songs and insects whose biology is so connected to seasons, time, weather. It reminded me of my poem “Afterglow”, which contains the namesake of my latest book:

Afterglow

After I’ve had enough of the city,
I crave those nights
when the ripples in the water
become a shining white 
staircase to 
the moon.

Nights so black that the afterglow of lightning 
bugs is perfect calligraphy.
An unexpected gift, a new superpower —
you can see in the dark.

Maybe it is also a cicada summer
and my eardrums are dream catchers.
The wind through the sycamores is a violin,
and everybody is here —
shirtless and brave,
swimming and not dead,
sweating and not
dead,
singing until their beautiful lungs burst,
and I swear to you
they are 
not 
dead.

Learn more about my poetry books

It is easy to let anger take the wheel when so many things out of your control are having a negative impact on your life. My mentor with my Tamarack Foundation for the Arts Literary Arts Fellowship, David Prather (an excellent poet—check out his new book, Bending Light with Bare Hands), recently recommended Stag’s Leap by Sharon Olds. It is a beautiful and devastating meditation on loss, love, grief, and finding ourselves again. I really enjoyed this observation about anger from her poem “Pain I Did Not”:

and my job is to eat the whole car 
of my anger, part by part, some parts
ground down to steel-dust.

We’ll all get through these hard times somehow. During darker days, I find myself really leaning into poetry and music more than usual. Constant sources of therapy and catharsis. Gotta throw the whole artillery at the bummer vibes. To that end, I’ll let you know about some upcoming reading and bookselling events I’ll be participating in:

• 9/5 - Create the Mon Exhibit Opening - Alison Pottery/Rivertown Building - Marlinton, WV (Reading poems + I will have two framed photographs in the exhibit/for sale.)

• 10/4-10/5 - Mt. Craft Film Festival - Robinson Grand Performing Arts Center - Clarksburg, WV (Selling books with Jim Antonini, Geoff Fuller, & Sarah McLaughlin both days from 10 a.m. - 7 p.m. each day.)

October marks the one-year anniversary of The Wind Through the Sycamores is a Violin. I am booking a few readings to celebrate the occasion. Releasing this poetry book has opened so many doors for me throughout the past year. Thanks for all of the love while I continue to work towards fully supporting myself as a writer. I’ve got a long way to go, but it feels good to know I’ve got you in my corner.

A nice little memory today. Exactly seven years ago, I received my copy of the Travelin’ Appalachians Revue annual zine, which included three poems of mine.

TAR was a collective of West Virginia artists, musicians, writers, and makers who performed throughout the region at music venues, book stores, galleries, and community spaces.

It’s always interesting to look back on older work. This specific era of writing for me included a phase of never using periods, ha! I can also see where some of these early ideas evolved into better poems years later. For instance, the “scratching the walls” image was refined and used in the poem “Cave Paintings” from my newest book.

Get my new book

When anxiety began wrecking my life in my mid-20’s, my father revealed that after his father passed away, they moved his bed and saw where he’d scratched the paint off the walls in his sleep—his way of releasing pent up anxiety. It would have been great to have that heads up years earlier that I was predisposed to being anxious, but hey, at least I got a couple of poems out of the image!

In celebration of their new music issue, the kind folks at You’re Not Seeing Things (YNST) magazine spoke with me about my band and how being from Appalachia has shaped my art. I also talk about poetry and my current fellowship.

Check out the full interview in this newsletter.

YNST Interview

I am a writer and musician from West Virginia. For a more formal introduction, and to learn about my background in the WV arts community, check out the About section.

My goals with FYI are to increase my writing output, share my own work and the work of other WV creatives, and to connect with others in a (hopefully) more genuine and impactful way than social media affords. There will surely be some trial and error involved, but you can expect 1-2 emails/newsletters a month along with as many individual posts as I can muster (they won’t all be sent to your email — no worries there). I am interested in one day potentially developing this into a small stream of income with a paid subscription tier, but for now let’s keep it casual.

This video below features me reading my poem “Miracle Bird” from my latest poetry collection, The Wind Through the Sycamores is a Violin. I also wrote and recorded the backing music, took all of the photos/videos, and edited this all together. It’s a nice, short example of my creative efforts. After reading the poem, you’ll also get to hear me talk a bit about why I think West Virginia artists are important.