True Stories from the Land of Prevost

Let me tell a story.

Once upon a time there was a band. This band was one of the most talented bands the world had ever heard. They were the backbone and accompaniment of one of the most talented singer/songwriters the world had ever known. The band and singer/songwriter were supported by a top notch crew, possibly the best in the best in the world.

In those days entertainers and crew traveled by bus acoss the country. These buses weren’t the run of the mill school bus that takes kids to their classes every day. These were luxury motor-coaches with large HDTV screens, restroom facilities, beds, DVD players, wine chillers, a full compliment of booze, beer, soda, water and snacky things, and surround sound.

One fateful day in Northern California, one of the band members wandered onto the crew bus. Noticing the plush accommodations of the crew (who work 18 hours a day) and not happy with his own bus he demanded that the crew and band switch buses. The crew reluctantly agreed, and there was much grumbling.

Little did the crew know, but the Production Manager of the crew had placed an order for an even more lavish bus than the one he had just been so rudely evicted from. Moving day comes when the new bus arrives. The crew, being the smart, resourceful, thrifty and vengeful group that they are, begin the process of stripping the old bus of everything that it didn’t come with to stock the new one. They took every soda, bottle of water, beer, bottle of wine, snack, potato chip, DVD, towel, and ice cube from that bus and transferred it to the newer, better, bigger bus. Yes, even the ice and towels. All that was left was a rotten apple and a bag full of garbage.

That was also the day that the shore power lines failed and the old bus was without electricity in 90 degree heat for an entire day. The interior temperature of the bus was crawling north toward the 100 degree mark. Leaving nothing in the cooler to quench the thirst and leaving garbage to rot in the heat, the crew moved into their new accommodations with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

No words were ever spoken about the switch after that, until E-Rock (the smartest member of the crew) walked onto the bus in Oregon and finds a band member coming out of the bathroom.

E “What are you doing in there?”

Band guy “I wasn’t going to use a porta potty and my bus is way over there so I came up here to pee”

E “Did you flush?”

Band guy “Of course, hey you all have a nicer bus than we do. You have the big living room slide out thing and everything.”

E “You should have thought about that in California.”

Band guy “That’s fucked up.”

E “Not as fucked up as having to move right before a show after working all day to make the show possible.”

Band guy “That’s fucked up.”

E “Tell me about it.”

The need to lock the door was reiterated to the rest of the crew and the conversation covering what the crew wanted in a newer, ever nicer bus was started in the event that another move was necessary, but it wasn’t and won’t be.

Random Thought

I wear many hats. When I'm local (i.e. not touring) I provide sound reinforcement for concerts and events all over the midwest. This includes being the system engineer (guy who knows everything and makes it all work), FOH Engineer (mixing the artist for the audience), Monitor Engineer (mixing the band for the band), Crew Guy (case pusher, heavy thing lifter), Consultant (guy who tells you what you need versus what you want) and teacher.

When I'm touring, in theory, I wear the hat I was chosen to wear.

Update and Day Off

Hello.

I am in fact alive and well. Right now I'm in my cozy room in Santa Barbara, CA looking at the mountains and contemplating how to convince Mrs. E-Rock that we should move here. Any ideas?

Time is consumed by a constant and steady schedule of load ins and load outs, long sleepy drives followed by the same load ins and load outs. Somewhere in that schedule, we manage to entertain a small army of people one city at a time. Truthfully, this show is something magical. The audience has a genuine love for Stevie in a way that I have never experienced and Stevie genuinely shares that love for his audience. The energy in the venue for the couple of hours of show makes the hair stand up on the back of my arm. I didn't have any idea what I was getting into, and I thought this was just another show. I couldn't have been more wrong and I am privileged to be a part of this.

--- sound guy stuff ---



11 players, 82 inputs, 18 wedge mixes and 6 stereo IEM mixes takes 2 DigiCo D5 Live Consoles to manage. This means 2 splitter boxes, 4 MADI boxes to interface with the consoles, 3 splits off of the main snake, and dozens of sub snakes peppered all over the stage. Believe it or not, this is organized.

--- end sound guy stuff ---

An off day in Santa Barbara gave me an opportunity to explore another place in this country I call home. I had Lunch with some other Roadie friends.



I found the ocean.

... and I found some locals that drove an interesting vehicle.

It seems that the Santa Barbara bums don't have such a bad life.




While we're in Santa Barbara we might as well do a show tomorrow. 10,000 more people are waiting for us.

Rock... E-Rock

This is the coolest hotel I have ever stayed in as a Roadie (and one of the best I've stayed in, period). The U.S. Grant Hotel in San Diego is Las Vegas Opulent but Park Avenue tasteful. This is definitely the type of hotel 007 would stay in, complete with the front desk answering "Hello Mr. Rogers, how can I help you" and responding with "Yes, Mr. Rogers, right away Mr. Rogers."

Time to go do the first show.

Toodle-oo

Another Chapter in the Saga of E-Rock and the TSA

You all can sleep soundly tonight. The government has successfully thwarted another attempt of a wandering sound guy trying to get onto an airplane without incident. Thus demonstrating that the good, hard-working members of the TSA are doing their best to keep you safe and the United States free from terrorism.

Arriving at the airport I proceed to check in. No Lines, this ought to be good. I check my big suitcase and my Gator Case full of audio gear and tools. Nothing in the case should raise any suspicions, tools, cables, a mic preamp, tape, sunscreen, and misc. adapters. At the Dayton International Airport the baggage X-Ray machines are directly in front of the ticketing counter and people are able to watch their bags get screened. I stay. The suitcase sets off an alarm because the frame is slightly bent. (caused by baggage handlers on a previous flight) The Gator Case sets off an alarm because the scanner couldn't penetrate past the tools. I understand and proceed to assist the government peon in opening my case. After seeing the tools he opens a container of top secret butt wipes and swabs the tool bag which was a cosmetic bag at one time. He finds TRACE (meaning MINUTE) amounts of glycerin, a common ingredient in cosmetics, and calls a supervisor for a chemical inspection. The government thinks that I was going to blow up an airplane with 1/100th of a milligram of glycerin from my wife's old facial poof poof case. While this is going on I hear the "FINAL BOARDING CALL" for my flight and I haven't been through security for carry on stuff yet.

The company bought my one-way ticket this morning so it was flagged for random inspection at the security kiosk. Laptop in a tub, shoes in another, carry-on bag separated, belt off, wallet out, walk through the detector and proceed to the pat down area. While I wait to be frisked like a common criminal I watch the TSA peon at this station nest the tub full of shoes and what-not in and on the tub with my laptop. Then she proceeds to put the carry-on bag on top of that, potentially crushing my laptop.

"Would you mind not smashing my laptop?"

"It won't smash."

"That's not what I asked. Take the shit off of my laptop, now."

"Don't talk to me that way, sir. I don't have to listen to your abuse."

"Call the fucking sheriff because I haven't even warmed up if this makes me miss my flight!"

Her supervisor was standing next to me because frisking must be done by a same sex peon and he shut her up and sped me through the process quickly and rather gently. I thin had to sprint to the farthest gate in the airport to get my flight while the gate agent is calling me BY NAME over the airport PA system. Sprinting through the airport gathers attention, but luckily nothing else happened in Dayton. The plane took off and landed without further incident.

Nothing of note happened between Chicago and San Diego save for the 75 minute wait on the runway to take off.

I can emphatically say FUCK UNITED AIRLINES. Do not do business with these dim witted cretins.

On The Road Again...

As previously reported I've been home for a little over a week now and I just received a call to go back out. I'll be heading out for the next month with Stevie Wonder. This is the first time that my merits and reputation have prompted an unsolicited call for my services. All of the time spent in bars and shitholes, all of the shitty sound systems, all of the adverse conditions, long nights, and tiny paychecks were building to something and this is it. E-Rock is a commodity.

For all of my Midwest friends, there isn't a lot of opportunity to visit, but for all of my people on the West Coast and all of you's in NYC, get in touch with me.

Dates and Cities:

8.24.07 Humphrey's Concerts By The Bay - San Diego, CA
8.25.07 Harvey's Outdoors - Lake Tahoe, NV
8.26.07 Sleep Train Amphitheater - Concord, CA
8.28.07 Santa Barbara Bowl - Santa Barbara, CA
8.30.07 McMenamins Edgefield Amphitheater - Troutsdale, OR
8.31.07 Chateau Ste. Michelle Winery - Woodinville, WA
9.4.07 The Mountain Winery - Saratoga, CA
9.5.07 Greek Theater - Los Angeles, CA
9.10.07 Charter One Pavilion - Chicago, IL
9.12.07 Meadow Brook Music Festival - Rochester Hills, MI
9.14.07 Chastain Park Amphitheater - Atlanta,GA
9.16.07 Pier Six Pavilion - Baltimore, MD
9.18.07 Radio City Music Hall - New York, NY
9.20.07 Bank of America Pavilion - Boston, MA

At home, but not resting

I wasn't home for 2 hours before the phone started ringing. I wasn't home for an entire day before the business end of the music business crept up on me and kicked me in the ass. Life was so much simpler when someone else was in charge and all I had to do was show up and mix.

So the first week back was a prep week for the Mountain Days Festival. Evidently "hillbilly" or "redneck" is passé and outdated terminology and "Appalachian American" is the appropriate terminology for this gaggle of genetic miscreants. It isn't the country music that bothers me; it isn't the horribly fattening pork fat based food either. It's the obvious genetic defects and the general idiocy that gets to me. Based on what I saw I have come up with a list for the Appalachian community to help them better assimilate into regular society.

1.) Fat guys should wear shirts.
2.) Fat girls should too.
3.) If your mustache is long enough to floss with, trim it.
4.) Don't wipe the BBQ sauce off of your mouth with the dirty shirt you're wearing.
5.) BBQ sauce should not be in the recipe for EVERYTHING.
6.) Skynyrd Sucks

This list is incomplete and will be added to in future blogs. Now then, on to determining "Appalachian Heritage". Is there documentation or does the toothless accents give it away?

-----

And now for something completely different.

I quit smoking. I realized that at 30 years old I have smoked for half of my life and decided it was time to quit. 14 days and no cigarettes later the habit has finally been kicked. 2.5 packs equal 50 cigarettes. That was my daily consumption and I went from 50 to 0 with no weaning, switching to lights, special patches, gums, suppositories, or ointments; just some good old-fashioned willpower. YAY ME!!!!!

The smoking news sparked another pondering of mine.

Smoking seems to be a prerequisite in the Appalachian community and there generally isn't a problem, but when the only seats are dried bales of straw in a field of dry grass is smoking a good idea? The Appalachian Americans seemed to think so. I give up.

----

Now it's time to work, work, work... it seems that it never ends. Whether touring the country making things rock, supporting and providing sound things for local and regional acts and festivals or preparing to be a father and all the fun work that goes with that, I wonder if I'll ever get a break. Maybe after all of my chores are done, ma will let me go outside and play.

Oh yeah, here's a few pics of Mountain Days

This lady was having some fun

Elvis was in the building

Pretty Boys are a part of country music

They want the attention of the crowd

But the Country Girl singers want their pic taken with E-Rock

You Stay Classy, San Diego

This is my hotel: The Cowne Plaza, San Diego.

All of these pictures were taken by me from the balcony of my room (which was accessable and I enjoyed a meal and a beer on it) or outside the front door in the atrium. Breakfast was poolside and the service was exactly what one would expect from the Crowne Plaza. Excellent digs for the last stay of this tour.

And so we venture forth to the Coors Amphitheatre for the last gig. The Coors Amphitheatre is beautiful, huge and comfortable... if you're playing the main stage. The second stage area is a concrete adirondack that looks more like a dumpster storage area in area and space than it does a stage.

The first thing I noticed was the less than ample P.A. system that we were provided followed by the less than knowledgeable P.A. provider that provided it. No stage lighting (this is important later) or stage access made for interesting (to say the least) transitions between acts and succeeded in giving an aire of apathy to this show from all parties involved.

I could go on and on and on about this clusterfuck of a last show, but I'll just highlight the best part. As the Living Legends are performing the sun is setting. The only lights available to light the stage are the concourse lights that are akin to fancy parking lot lights that flanked me at FOH and created an ambient, yet dim, light on the stage. The Legends are already peeved about everything from the lack of attention to the riders to the tiny stage in the shitty location. NOW, Cyprus Hill is taking the mainstage and has every light in the venue that isn't flying from a truss on the mainstage shut off. This means the Living Legends are playing in the dark.

The good people of San Diego lit the Legends up as well as they could with the dim light of 1000 cell phones all opened and pointed toward the stage and the boys kept playing. Someone brought a camping lantern from a merch booth and the boys would trade it off as they were rapping. Eventually somebody got in touch with a facilities person and had the inadequate lights turned back on as the last song was played, but San Diego didn't care. They stayed and listened in the dark. Classy. Classic. Beautiful.

And then it was over. No more Paid Dues. This tour was appropriately named, MURS must be clairvoyant. I’m glad to have met and worked and played with everyone out there. From mixing monitors for every one of the 8 hour shows, to FOH in Chicago and San Diego, to doing time on “L” Block (another blog, soon to come, I promise), to hijacking hot tubs after hours in hotels; although the conditions of some of the gigs were less than spectacular, everyone survived, had fun, entertained the masses and I can’t wait until “Paid Dues 2”.

From AZ to CA with a couple of gigs along the way

When I said that I couldn’t wait until I left Santa Fe and made seem like I was excited to get to Mesa, I was being overzealous. Mesa was 110 degrees in all day long today. It was so hot that I had to cover all gear with thermal blankets to reflect the sunlight that was cooking things like consoles and turntables. It was so hot that I reapplied sun-block every 20 minutes and still ended up a little red. It was so hot that I ran out of sweat. It was hot.

Don’t give me that “but it’s a dry heat” shit. In Ohio, the people complain about 85 degree temperatures with a relative humidity that makes the air feel like its 90 something degrees. Guess what… 110 degrees is hot regardless.

The gig was great, though. The people of Mesa, Phoenix, Scottsdale, Tempe, and even as far as Tucson and Flagstaff came in droves, suffered the heat, and were welcoming and friendly to our band of nomads and musos.

Two more gigs to go, San Bernardino and San Diego. Both are sold out at more than 45,000 tickets per show. That isn’t a bad way to end an already successful tour.

... and here he is, folks... the hardest working man in showbiz...

San Bernardino. This SHOW was a huge success. These people had no idea of the clusterfukish problems going down on the technical side.

"E-Rock, please detail the clusterfukish problems going down on the technical side."

I'd be glad to.

After the long drive from Mesa, AZ to San Bernardino, CA I wake to the bus stopping at our destination diretly behind the stage. I pull myself out of my bunk, stagger to the stage to see how the local crew was coming along with the assembly and rigging of the P.A. As soon as hands were shaken, the locals disappear and we are left with a half-complete sound system and 90 minutes until the doors open and 50,000 insane hip-hop summer campers rush toward the stage.

What to do in a situation like this? Just do it. We go the system up and running (probably better and faster than the yokels that own the thing) and start positioning the backline gear and prepping the mics.

Problem here, no signal there, buzz... humm... click, whistle, pop. Everything that could go wrong, did.

Then the recording guy shows up asking me how to get a 3 way split out of a 2 way snake for recording.

note... this is why E-Rock rocks the fat ass...

My console was a Yamaha M7CL which has 16 output options on it. For this show I was using 6 outputs for monitor mixes, so I used the remaining 10 outputs to send a record feed. Instead of just sending a line out and forgetting about it, I mixed the show into pro-tools. 10 channels of input into a digi002 and a MAC G5. Someone else can do the final mixdown, but there had better be a subtitle on that dvd that reads "E-Rock rocks"

Back to problems.

Look at this, smokey gear is never good. It's a little difficult to see, but this is a clearcom unit that was smoking inside the rack. No clearcom today, guys.

Smokey gear, pushy musos, useless stage managers, and E-Rock and company stepped up to the plate and hit a home-run. The last show is tomorrow, but tonight I'm going to relax in my room at the Crowne Plaza - San Diego. I'm debating over room service booze, or hotel bar. The decisions that a roadie must make are endless and unnerving. Cheers.

Santa Fe, where every building looks like an episode of the Flintsones

My ears continually pop from the elevation change from the high desert of New Mexico to the valley of Phoenix. Sleeping on this particular run has not been easy or restful. Load in is in a couple of hours, then the show, and then as X-Zibit would say "Off to the West Coast".

Story time

This is TRUE and it happened just yesterday in Santa Fe, NM. Sage Francis (note the pics from the Chicago blog) had a runner drive him to the hotel for a quick shower and rest before the show. We had three shared rooms, which roughly translates to one per bus. These rooms are for shitting, showering, and/or shaving. We all share, we all get along. We leave the door latch in the door to eliminate the tracking down of keys.

Sage arrives at the Holiday Inn Express, trudges up the stairs to room 205, and finds the door latch holding the door open, peeks in to see if anyone else is using the facilities, and eventually hops in the shower and cleans up. After his shower, he is sitting at the desk browsing the internet on his laptop when Santa Fe's finest come in and arrest him. Handcuffs, nightsticks, and hood of the car slam… he got the works. He was arrested for burglary. The runner had taken him to the wrong hotel. We were at the Holiday INN, not the Express. After about 30 minutes of explaining to the idiotic cops and jackass hotel manager, he was let go to BARELY make it to the venue in time to perform. The police wanted this bust badly. They would not listen to reason for the longest time. They could not fathom why someone would share a hotel room like we do and were convinced that he was there plotting something more sinister than taking a morning shit.

The moral to this story is obvious: Fuck the police.

End story time

Regarding the gig... This was one of the more interesting venues on the schedule. Paolo Soleri Amphitheatre is on the campus of an Indian (feather not dot) School on a reservation. It is cut out of and into the desert so it is basically a miniature of red rocks. I also learned that this time of the year is the monsoon season in the Southwest American Desert region. When I initially opened the door of the bus to explore the outside world, I was greeted with bright sun and 100 degrees. As the day progressed, the wind picked up and brought the sand and dirt storms with it, but eventually the clouds came and dropped the temperature 25 degrees before the sky opened up for 10 minutes. Humidity rose, temperatures cooled more as the sun set, the desert got a drink, we all got cold.

The next update will be after the gig in Mesa, AZ. I can't wait to get out of here, I hate the desert…

Red Rocks - Denver, CO

Now THIS is the coolest venue I've ever worked and I can't wait to come back here.
Red Rocks Amphitheater is a naturally occurring amphitheater between two gigantic sandstone rocks that are at the lowest point 300 feet tall and have severe 90 degree slopes. The dressing rooms and offices below the stage are cut out from the rocks and the rocks form the walls of most of the rooms. The rocks are named, Creation Rock and Ship Rock. Why? I dunno, but look at this place.

This is Ship Rock

This is Creation Rock

This is E-Rock (joke and wit credit to Mary Ann Kiger, I'm not that clever)

These people seem to like it too...

It is an incredibly popular destination for traveling artists and the nomadic tribes of music festivals. As we were leaving Rush pulled in on their bus for a casual nap before their show the following day. (their bus is MUCH more lavish than ours). As our nomadic tribe ventured out toward the land of hotel we arrived finding yet another Prevost in the lot, this one belonging to Shadows Fall, who is on the Sounds of the Underground tour. Another festival with a plethora of artists that travel the nation bringing entertainment to you.

Metal, Hip-Hop, Classic Rock, it's all the same when you're away from home, hungry, sleep deprived, have no clean clothes left, and can't agree on what to watch on the bus. The kinship between nomads runs deep and I am glad to have made a few new friends. Next stop Santa Fe, NM. Indian Casinos, oh yeah we might as well do a show while we're there.

Paid Dues San Francisco

Shit. It's my Dad's birthday and I haven't called. I haven't made a habit of calling my family on holidays and special occasions so the sting he must feel of my lack of attention to this day must minimal by now. Still... I feel like a dick, so Happy Birthday, Dad. Hopefully my Mrs. paid more attention than I do and sent you something nice with my name signed to it. (one of the benefits of having a Mrs. is not signing cards ever again.)

On to new business.

I suppose I'll start in San Francisco.

The Warfield Theatre in San Francisco is a fantastic venue. So far it's my favorite indoor venue we've played. History and Class with a touch of punk rock nostalgia made this the perfect place to have an 8 hour hip-hip festival.

soundman speak

This gig was another link in the chain to my eventual mastery of every digital mixing console the industry has to offer. Never mind the festival setting and the inherent ease and sensibility that an analog console has to offer, let's take a PM5D out and learn how to use it with an hour between arrival/soundcheck and doors. I did. I'm not a huge fan of this console, but I understand why engineers like it.

end soundman speak

So San Francisco... no problems gig related...but there was a scary moment when I looked directly above my head where I was to be mixing for the next 7.5 hours and discovered the storage of the Genie Lift.

These machines only weigh 1800 lbs, but this one in particular is suspended from a chain hoist rigged to the rafters directly under the monitor mix position. Myself, I would not allow an $80,000 console to be opened under this thing, but since it's not my gear, it's not my problem. I'll just take photos, duck and cover.

Since gigging ran so smoothly one MUST assume that there is going to be something amiss post production. Whoever assumed that, was RIGHT. After a long show, I know that the selfishness of my musical friends will get the best of them and there will be no food left backstage. I'm smart enough to know this and plan ahead and had snacky treats stashed in my bunk. When I opened the door of the bus I found 4 complete strangers and not a member of our touring party. Imagine opening the door of your house and finding 4 strangers sitting on your couch, drinking your beverages, eating your food and you can guess my reaction.

After all of that ugly business was over, all that was left was a long drive though California, Nevada and Utah to Salt Lake City and a nice long nap.

Nighty, night.

Juxtaposition

Picture this... a serene mountain town, a quiet vineyard, fresh vegetables grilling, a stage and a big rap show. All combined into one. That was Eugene, OR. The Secret Vineyard has a series of outdoor concert events and the Paid Dues Tour graced their stage and destroyed all barriers of the noise ordinances for the quiet little hamlet. 2500 young people came early and stayed late to see every act. Everyone on the tour stayed late to sample every wine.

The Vineyard

The View From the Stage

To change the subject completely I have to get this out.

1. Clean up after yourself.
2. Don't let strangers in.
3. Don't piss anywhere but IN the toilet and if there is a mishap, clean it up.
4. Be respectful and courteous of others.
5. Share

These simple rules apply not to the tour bus, but to your everyday lives. I plan on teaching my daughter these little gems of wisdom while she's young because her mind will absorb the information. Trying to teach a bus full of adult rappers and roadies the same behaviors is evidently a fruitless effort.

Next stop, San Francisco.

A picture is worth a thousand words

A bit of roadie insight. Minneapolis to Oregon (43 hours on a bus)

With all of the benefits and enjoyments of touring, there are some things that are missed.

I miss the company of my Mrs. That is to be expected and cannot be avoided; the solution to the problem lies in the proper balance of work, play and alcohol consumption. I haven’t found the perfect ratio or combination yet, but things are looking up.

There are simpler things that are a rare pleasure on the road, like being naked. Bathing becomes an inconvenience when one is faced with a roommate or a shared day-room. Bathing at home has the luxury of disrobing wherever and whenever in the house, leaving the door open, standing naked and air-drying, and not having to worry about anyone passing judgment on your less-than-perfect body. Bathing while touring, on the other hand, requires a complete readjustment of one’s bathing ritual. Fresh clothes must be taken into the small hotel bathroom with you. This creates a problem if the room becomes too hot and steamy. Hot and steamy rooms lead to damp clothes and an eventual feeling of discomfort in the new garb. Air drying is nearly impossible due to the humid conditions and the towels ALWAYS suck. Lengthy showers are impossible in a shared room.

I have devised a solution to the problem. Befriend the driver. Drivers always have their own room and are willing to share their shower with a friendly and courteous roadie. Shower while they are washing the bus, fueling the bus, cleaning the bus, washing their laundry, shopping, or eating. This gives a good 45 minutes to an hour of quality naked time. The rules are simple. Don’t stink up the room. Don’t use all of the towels. Don’t leave hairs and funk in the tub. Conveniently, those are the rules in any house with a wife or a roommate. I can handle it.

Traveling…

Miles and miles and miles of nothing to see is the best way I can describe the drive from Minneapolis to Montana. I have respect for our farming community, but how does anyone live here? Where are the buildings? Where are the communities? Where are the people? I think the cows are in charge and the few humans that live here have been employed by the cows as servants. I have the feeling that an overnight run across Montana will yield the same observations.

Minneapolis…

The bridge, which I’m sure everyone knows about by now, was scary. The fans that were affected had to leave understandably, but the ones that stayed had were in for a rare ad-lib treat as the show got rearranged. Two days of great gigs, and the First Avenue crew rocks.

I suppose it's time to get back to whatever it is I was doing to occupy my time between gigs.

Paid Dues Minneapolis

I wasn't impressed with the local crew here. The equipment was fine, but the old soundguy attitudes were ringing loud and proud here yesterday.