It’s not hard for bands to get lost on tour. Long nights at clubs and endless stretches of road can easily lead to exhaustion and confusion. So, when Jamestown, NY-based singer Christopher Bell embarked on a six-week-long tour, he decided not to drive. In fact, Bell decided to take a canoe.
“The easy part about a river is it's one way,” says Bell. “The Hudson’s pretty self-explanatory…you can really see where you’re going.” Just over a month into a tour that ends this Thursday at Think Coffee on the Bowery, the only thing that must be more exhausted than the indie-folkster’s upper body is his ability to answer questions about his damned canoe tour.
But, let’s face it, if Bell wasn't really up for such a line of questioning, he likely wouldn't be investing eight to 12 hours a day, rowing from venue to venue.
His intentions, he insists, are far purer than a simple plea for media coverage. Bell is canoeing for the future of our planet, damn it.
“On tour, I go through an average of a tank a day,” says Bell. “I’ll be gone, three or four months at a time, playing five, six shows a week. That’s at least 60 gallons a week for seven, eight months out of the year. That’s a lot of gas—a lot of driving. So I wanted to do something where I didn’t have to pay for gas, something a lot more ecologically friendly, since I have the feeling that I’ve single-handedly destroyed the ozone layer.”
It’s just Bell this time—well, Bell, a ukulele, a bag full of harmonicas and brand new iPod entombed in a waterproof case to stave off the monotony of those 12-hour days. Asked what sort of music makes the best canoeing marathon soundtrack, Bell answers simply, “I have a few sea shanties.”
“The easy part about a river is it's one way,” says Bell. “The Hudson’s pretty self-explanatory…you can really see where you’re going.” Just over a month into a tour that ends this Thursday at Think Coffee on the Bowery, the only thing that must be more exhausted than the indie-folkster’s upper body is his ability to answer questions about his damned canoe tour.
But, let’s face it, if Bell wasn't really up for such a line of questioning, he likely wouldn't be investing eight to 12 hours a day, rowing from venue to venue.
His intentions, he insists, are far purer than a simple plea for media coverage. Bell is canoeing for the future of our planet, damn it.
“On tour, I go through an average of a tank a day,” says Bell. “I’ll be gone, three or four months at a time, playing five, six shows a week. That’s at least 60 gallons a week for seven, eight months out of the year. That’s a lot of gas—a lot of driving. So I wanted to do something where I didn’t have to pay for gas, something a lot more ecologically friendly, since I have the feeling that I’ve single-handedly destroyed the ozone layer.”
It’s just Bell this time—well, Bell, a ukulele, a bag full of harmonicas and brand new iPod entombed in a waterproof case to stave off the monotony of those 12-hour days. Asked what sort of music makes the best canoeing marathon soundtrack, Bell answers simply, “I have a few sea shanties.”
