The drive from central England to Glasgow is the most inspiring trip I’ve ever taken. The cliche of the “English Countryside” did not disappoint. The rolling hills and grazing fields of sheep and highland cows make a nearly four-hour drive feel as if it were a quick trek up the road. For the first time on this journey, our van was silent in a quiet awe of this new land. No life stories shared on this drive like so many others. We were writing ours together silently.
Glasgow is a massive city. With a population as much as Indy’s but condensed into a much tighter infrastructure, its streets never stopped moving. Our show tonight was at a bar called Slouche Glasgow in the basement of a late 19th century building in the heart of the city. Our only acoustic show of the tour, we prepared for a low-key night of songwriter ballads and folk standards. This would prove to be the biggest mistake of our trip. While we were instrumentally stripped down, Glasgow was our rowdiest and wildest night yet. As our set progressed we began pulling out bigger and more ambitious songs from our catalog and the crowd dove deeper and deeper into our set. After an hour and a half, our set was done and we secluded ourselves to a corner booth to drink the local lagers and eat some much needed comfort foot (not haggis). It took no time for us each to be sucked into various groups of locals in conversation and merriment. It would be nearly morning before we found eachother again.
The people of Glasgow were not unlike the people of Indianapolis. Beyond one of the most confounding dialects of the English language I’ve ever heard, were a people welcoming, warm, resilient and kind. Conversations about religion and politics and social issues were never taboo, but welcomed with understanding and compassion. Attorneys and students from Uni and utilities workers met and drank and talked as equals in every sense.
Glasgow, you have my heart.