Solid States is the Posies’ first new collection since 2010’s Blood/Candy, and the circumstances surrounding its conception couldn’t have been more different than those of its predecessor. First and foremost were the double-gut-punch deaths of two longtime band members: drummer Darius Minwalla in 2015, and bassist Joe Skyward earlier this year. There was also a divorce and a remarriage for Jon Auer, who, like Ken Stringfellow, now lives in France. Life-changing events aside, the Posies are back with yet another great album. Stringfellow and Auer will be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week.
Auer: Let’s face it: Unless you’re at a Lady Gaga level in the music biz and have a fleet of private jets at your disposal, touring is really another word for driving, especially in a place as vast and spread out as America. It’s not that one necessarily wants to have all these long drives in a row (even though, honestly, I do enjoy them for the most part), and inevitably there comes a time on tour that can only resemble what could be considered a mad dash between cities … and the cities are hundreds of miles apart and you’re playing a new one pretty much every night. There’s that line in the song “Six Months In A Leaky Boat” that Tim Finn wrote about the “tyranny of distance,” and after all the traveling I’ve done, all the minutes and hours spent in moving vehicles of many makes and models, those words have resonated and will continue to resonate in my my life on a regular basis. What keeps me going during the long periods of near constant motion? Mostly it’s mind over matter, akin to surrendering to the momentum and the promise of the next destination. Good food is helpful, too. In fact, depending on what stretch of highway you find yourself on, it can be the downright highlight of the day. But, often, it’s luck of the draw, on the fly; see what you get, then get what you see. There’s not much alongside the highway when you’re driving certain stretches of the 10 East en route from Tuscon to Fort Stackon, Texas, so when lunch time rolled around on a particular Tuesday, we rolled the dice on an exit and found ourselves headed toward the historic district of a certain Lordsburg, N.M. Granted, not the biggest dot on the map (to say the least), and it quickly became apparent there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot in Lordsburg in terms of … anything. Still, after passing about a dozen abandoned motels and restaurants, we made a left across the train tracks that ran the length of the town and ended up at The El Charro Cafe for some decent Mexican fare. The waitress was nice and the guacamole (sprinkled with a dusting of shredded cheese) was good enough for me to order a second portion. Bonus was discovering the charming little (closed) cocktail lounge, known as The Maverick Room(!) in the area adjacent, complete with well enough-stocked bar and an old-school electric organ. You could say this place spoke to me with its Last Picture Show vibe and the wide open space surrounding. Considering the circumstance, I rated The El Charro And Maverick as a bonafide oasis in the travel desert. I only wish we’d been able to stick around for happy hour to put that organ and cocktail lounge to good use. Next time.
