Made it home safely to sweet Sass and the fur-babies!

Since my bio-clock is still on midwest time, and Scout is a “morning person,” we’ve added an early AM neighborhood walk to our schedule. During today’s chilly moonlit ramble I reflected on Michigan, why I love the place so much, and why I keep returning.

The Great Lakes State figures prominently in my origin story. 

It’s the first place I lived after leaving home, where I first became serious about music, and where I found out what it means to live as an artist. It’s where I learned the values and habits that have nourished and sustained me: how to be creatively resourceful, emotionally resilient, financially independent. How to be a citizen of the world. It’s where the boy became the man.

So many “firsts” happened for me in Michigan. It’s where I met my first benefactor and my first great music mentor. It’s where I prepared my first concert as bandleader, and where I played my first paid gig. It’s also where I first experienced romantic obsession and heartbreak. 

I accepted my calling there, that “mournful yet grand” destiny of which Liszt spoke, the internal narrative which has shaped my entire life. The place is absolutely redolent with personal meaning, and each time I return to that poignant landscape, its familiar sights and sounds and smells bring back a rush of emotion, and my affinity for Michigan only deepens.

When I was planning this trip, I intended to include other favorite midwest venues in Chicago, Milwaukee, and Cleveland, but I simply ran out of time. Before I knew it I had filled every available date with “mitten bidness” — 21 concerts and workshops in as many days! 

I’m glad it worked out that way. 

The trip felt like a homecoming, not just back to my beloved Michigan, but back to myself. 

These past few years have been challenging, ruminating over the loss of my father, facing my own mortality, dealing with the financial impact of the pandemic, struggling with anxiety.

Yet in Michigan, standing before the brilliant Diego Rivera frescoes at the Detroit Institute of Arts, I had this epiphany: returning here has reminded me of who I am. 

Road life is rewarding, but it can also be exhausting, especially after so many trips around the sun. 

However, today I feel rejuvenated. I now believe I have another decade of traveling and performing in me, something I doubted before. 

October is the perfect time to visit Michigan. 

Criss-crossing the state, driving those winding backroads through the tunnels of trees, past all the rivers and lakes and farmhouses in the mist, with the autumn leaves swirling? Absolutely magical.
 

The other thing that made this trip so healing? The people.

My bandmates and I shared a big house together in Detroit. Lisa cooked Korean food for us, Tom shared several excellent bottles of wine, and we all talked late into the night about anything and everything. 

Our performances got stronger as we grew closer, something I haven’t experienced since my international travels with Amina Figarova years ago. 

But it wasn’t just my colleagues on the bandstand. 

All the venues were so warm and welcoming. 

The students and teachers were so inspiring. 

And the audiences were amazing! 

So much kindness, soulfulness, and generosity. So much joy.

Thank you, Michigan.

Arrived in rainy Traverse City to the comfortingly familiar cadence of broadcaster Ed Ronco (formerly of KNKX Seattle!) on Interlochen Public Radio. Led a morning masterclass for Mr. Vieira’s excellent jazz ensemble at TC Central HS, then played tourist, sampling some of the tart and sweet cherry products for which the region is famous. Finished my visit with a short stroll down memory lane, to the Maritime Academy on Grand Traverse Bay, where Tom Knific gave me my first “pro” (aka paid) gig 40 years ago. Time sure has flown! Guess I’ve been having fun.

Final day of the retreat! Returned to Wildcat Lake with my morning coffee.

Spied a Great Blue Heron and a little boy, both fishing. Daddy Bill would love this spot.

Today’s meal: pupusas con curtido and a spinach-blueberry-banana smoothie. 

Showered up and decamped to Poulsbo, to rendezvous with Jenny Davis and the band for our evening gig on Bainbridge Island.

Gratified to have spent the week up here, ruminating and rejuvenating.

Now returning home to Sass, the pups, and my own bed!

Life is good.

Got my morning joe from the roadside diner before decamping to Green Mountain and the Wildcat Trail.

Found a secluded spot lakeside to work on my arrangement of “Shelter” by Jay Thomas.

Shared the trail and spectacular views of the valley with a few ambitious kids on mountain bikes. 

Today’s meal: a mighty satisfying, spicy bowl of seafood pho with Vietnamese lettuce wraps and beer. 

Made camp among the evergreens in the secluded equestrian community of Bridal Trail. 

Grateful for the Icy Breeze, a tour bus air conditioner, white noise maker, and cooler, all in one (not a paid endorsement).

Tomorrow is the final day of this adventure. It’s been grand!

Woke up with the sun, grabbed an espresso from the bikini baristas, and hit the road for Seabeck, a mill town on Hood Canal.

Followed a beautifully maintained walking trail to a small waterfall. Not another human soul in sight.

Sketched an idea for vibraphone and double bass. Not what I’d planned, but could be something.

Today’s meal: steamed mussels with salad, bread, and wine. Almost as good as Bartje's!

Tonight’s lullaby: Clifford Brown with Strings.

Goodnight, Blue Moon.

Summer showers again last night as I slumbered, cozy and warm, under the covers. #vanlife

Woke up to the welcome aroma of freshly brewed coffee, then explored the forested hills around my campsite.

Nature walks really aren’t the same without the company of my canine companion (Scout stayed home this time), but at least I have the voice of Daddy Bill in my mind’s ear, narrating, identifying all the birds and plants! 

Played some long tones over the water at sunset. It’s good to get away and recharge. 

The writing plan, however, has been a bust so far — more “posing” than “composing,” sadly. 

Nothing but false starts, insincere, derivative melodies, and ostensibly original ideas that lead nowhere. 

Oh, well. Not giving up. Fail better tomorrow!

Today’s meal: mango salad with prawns and peanuts and a sensational rainbow roll. 

Tonight’s entertainment: a download of Blade Runner, an enduring favorite.

Even fired up the propane heater for a little extra warmth and atmosphere. 

I do love a rainy night.

Fell asleep to the comforting sound of gentle rain on the roof of the van. Pure bliss!

Enjoyed the morning java en route to a new encampment: the Stillaguamish River in Snohomish County. The wisdom of Matt Foley notwithstanding, I believe I’ll stay here awhile. This is living!

Walked around Lake Goodwin under stormy skies to work up an appetite, then visited the town of Stanwood to absolutely inhale a wood-fired pizza. So good.

Wrote no music at all today. Just listened to the rain. 

Read my book. Napped a lot.

My kind of day.

Woke up to smoky skies courtesy of the Canadian wildfires. 

Grabbed a coffee for the ferry and said goodbye, for now, to Whidbey Island.

Arrived on the peninsula just as a sudden cloudburst washed away the haze. Glorious!

Today’s meal, a frugal flugel favorite: teriyaki bento with sushi, sashimi, tempura, gyoza, and rice. Oishi!

Admired the sunflowers in Blueberry Park, then headed over to the pub gig with saxophonist Chris Bickley and his terrific band: Osama Afifi, Mark Ivester, and Brian Monroney, whose collection of guitar effects pedals delighted me.

After the show, in the mobile man cave, I finally listened to the SRJO recordings from our collaboration a few weeks ago. 

Forever grateful.

Started the day with a hot cup of local java and a long walk along the Langley seawall.

Found a lovely practice spot, serenaded the critters, and did a bit of writing.

Today’s meal: a delicious chicken bánh mì, loaded with pickled veggies, on a crusty french baguette. 

Returned to basecamp among the towering trees. No campfire allowed (burn ban) but I found a pleasant way to take the edge off the evening chill.

Life is good!

Getting away for a few days of writing, walking, and relaxing, as I van-camp around Puget Sound.

Visited the Seattle music studio of Bill Anschell for a little coffee and conversation, then continued north to Whidbey Island for a performance with guitarist John Stowell. So grateful to have these two wise mentors and good friends in my life.

Strolled around the scenic island town of Langley, where bunnies frolic among the whale skulls, then dined on rockfish, mixed greens, pinot noir, and cherry pie, overlooking the Saratoga Passage.

It was a good day.

Be a man. Cowboy up! Don’t whine. Don’t complain. Just do what needs to be done.

Accomplish more with less effort. Use the tools of habit and ritual. Be resourceful.

Book extended tours: midwest (2023), western states (2024), east coast (2025).

Recommit to meal planning, black coffee, portion control, and nature walks.

Use fewer words. Say precisely what you mean and then stop talking.

Update duo, quintet, and big band repertoire. Prepare new sets.

Make time for long, meandering conversations with friends.

Maintain tourbus in excellent condition. Service regularly.

Update home security and emergency response plans.

Boost income from workshops by raising fees 20%.

Seek a mentor, a drinking buddy, and a side hustle.

Make the composition retreat an annual event.

Schedule a full week of rest in every season.

Stay humble. Stay hopeful. Stay grateful.

Take Sassy on a birthday vacation.

Selectively apply for grants.

Reduce debt by 10%.

Listen to the rain.

Learn to bowl.

Prepare.

Adapt.

This has been one for the history books!

It may take a little time before we return to pre-pandemic levels of activity. Several of our favorite venues, both at home and on the road, were sadly shuttered during the shutdown. For those that remain, the struggle is real. 

But thanks to YOU -- the clients, customers, friends and fans who sustain us -- little-by-little we’re getting back to business.

In 2022, the YEAR OF CASCADIA, we: 

traveled 33K miles
charted 11K spins and streams
 added 4K followers and subscribers  
played 132 concerts
directed 41 workshops 
produced 9 album release celebrations
 accompanied 8 talented vocalists 
headlined 7 music and arts festivals
published 6 original compositions 
planted 5 douglas firs
 recorded 4 podcasts 
arranged 3 large ensemble charts
completed 2 artist residencies
enjoyed 1 epic year 

Thank you for being part of it.

Here’s to 2023!

Cheers, 

~Dmitri

Words fail to express how much we appreciate your generous support over the past year — the Year of CASCADIA — and the warm reception this project continues to receive from radio, retail, music journalists, and most of all, from friends like you. 

In the four months since its release, CASCADIA has been covered by dozens of online and print media publications internationally, garnering positive reviews from CD HotList, LA Jazz Scene, Earshot Jazz, Something Else, Jazz Views, Jazz Weekly, Midwest Record, and more.  

The album received 4-Stars from All About Jazz, spent over three months on the JazzWeek Top 100, is playing on radio stations all around the world, and was recently among the Origin Records releases submitted for Grammy Awards consideration. 

We’re grateful for all your lovely messages and social media comments about the album, too. But nothing compares to the thrill of performing live for folks who already know the songs because they’ve been listening to CASCADIA at home! 

Music brings us together and lifts our spirits. 

Thank you for lifting ours. 

We appreciate you! 

Dmitri

117 miles from home, one of my "new" tires came completely apart on The Lonesome Road!

I could see the circular tire tread rolling along the freeway in my rear view mirror, as Ella hobbled over to the side of the road. Fortunately my spare was in good repair and I made it home safely.

Having all the tires checked today, just in case.

#VanLife

Finished the tour in Ashland, only a 375-mile drive from home, and the rain began to fall, as if on cue, just as I crossed into Oregon. 

The Old Siskiyou Barn is neither old nor a barn. It’s a hidden jewel of a recital hall, tucked into the canopied woods in the hills just south of Ashland. It boasts exemplary acoustics, a terrific piano, the earthy fragrance of ancient wood, and a metal roof that sings when it rains. It’s perfect. 

Darrell and I first performed here back when Starlight Cafe was released in 1998, and we’ve been fortunate to return many times over the years with our duo. 

This weekend we played a few favorites from the old repertoire, some new selections from our current recordings, and a brand new piece dedicated to the beautiful souls who created this place. Our friend Ed, concert producer and guitarist, joined us for a couple of songs including the premiere.

It occurs to me that I’ve worked this same circuit, up and down the left coast, for decades now, yet this trip felt different. Emotions are heightened. Everything carries a patina of significance. 

For one thing, audiences are just so delighted to finally be out of isolation, enthusiastic about returning to live events, and eager to connect with the performers. The pandemic is far from over, however, so that enthusiasm is tempered with an awkwardness about intimacy and proximity. Every post-concert meet-and-greet now has this oddly nervous “first date” energy. 

Also, there is a weird apocalyptic undertone to everything now. The steady drumbeat of negative news over the climate crisis, wildfires, disease, war, economic hardship, political extremism and more, is creating an atmosphere of fear that these may be the end times. I exaggerate, but only a little. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear doomsday language sprinkled into even the most mundane of verbal exchanges. People don’t feel safe anymore, all situations seem tenuous, so we’d better get serious and make sure whatever we’re doing matters. Admit it, you feel it too. 

But what really made this trip emotionally rewarding was all the reconnections with important people from my past.

Someone once said “the best mirror is an old friend.” Many of us have reached an age at which we’re reassessing the past and rethinking our place in the world. Some of us are even starting to question long held beliefs. There's nothing like a conversation with an old friend to help you find your way.

I really needed these reunions. It felt to me, on this tour, as if we were drawn together magnetically. Our conversations felt somehow predestined, or guided by the divine, if such a force exists. 
 

My heart is full.

Traveled 300 miles today from Arden-Arcade to Ashland. 

California, I miss you already, but I’ll be back again in the spring. Try not to burn up or fall into the ocean before then, m’kay? 

Paused for the cause in the resilient town of Weed. Happy to report that both the Mill and Mountain wildfires have been contained, power is restored, and our friends at the Hi-Lo are back in business, serving up the very best pie a la road! 
 

Crossing into Oregon I swear I could feel the seasons change from summer to fall! 

Found a sweet parking spot (#MattFoleyForever) and spent some time with Darrell Grant’s tunes in preparation for tomorrow’s show in Ashland. 

Nice work if you can get it.

Traveled 448 miles today from Centralia, Washington to Ashland, Oregon. 

Easy breezy. Open road, sunny skies, no wildfires. 

And have I mentioned how much I love my little 12-volt coffee maker? 

There’s something deeply satisfying about brewing a fresh cup of hot coffee inside the van, whenever you want one, without having to pull over or reach for your wallet. 

Stopped in Ashland this afternoon for a short visit/rehearsal with my dear friend, guitarist Ed Dunsavage. I’ve known Brother Ed and his supercool wife Jen for 25 years, and they remain two of my favorite people anywhere. 

Now settling in for the night at a riverside spot just north of the California border.

Should’ve brought my fishing pole!