This is the first part of a series documenting Glacier Veins’ Midwest tour in May. It was written from the backseat of the band’s tour van, Connie. Check out parts two and three.
About three hours from Boise, with Malia Endres riding shotgun and playing DJ, a familiar voice startled her vanmates out of their various states of dreaming.
She played three home demos of songs that the group hadn’t all heard yet. Despite Glacier Veins having come a long way from a one-woman show, Endres remains the core, delivering her songwriting to the other three like a prophet bringing back the word of a deity through a 3.5mm aux cord. Far from an unassailable messiah, she presents the tracks for critique and to gauge interest — as rough sketches she’s drawn for everyone else to fill in the blanks.
“Most of the time it just ends up that we’re jamming what I’ve written and everyone can kind of figure out their parts through playing,” said Endres. “That’s the Glacier Veins vibe.”
Glacier Veins, the four-piece dream punk group from Portland founded in 2015 by Endres, had reached the midafternoon of its first day on the road. The tour — a two-week slate taking them to Howell, Michigan, and back — had just begun. In a lot of ways, so had the band.
Like any early relationship, a young band is clumsy and awkward. The exit and entrance of members is navigated delicately and quietly, venues change last minute in hopes of a slightly larger draw. Every band in this position can spot each other — and rightfully commiserate — via van CD players across the country.
The group began as an acoustic singer/songwriter project, with Endres hoping to use it as a springboard to find like-minded musicians. It’s been through various iterations since, finessing the right members like a Rubik’s Cube. After a successful western US tour in March, the line-up stuck. For Glacier Veins, the current tour represents an unprecedented graduation to sophomore year and the stability and chemistry that come in tow.
“It’s like when you first hang out with people, and you don’t really get their humor,” said Jason Espinoza, guitarist and newest member of the group. “Now, it’s been felt out and ironed out.”
The sound, too, has changed as the members have grown closer. Kyle Woodrow, the bassist and member for nearly a year, said the set now feels like second-nature.
“We’re all just hanging around the campfire instead of playing icebreaker games,” said Woodrow. “All we do is rip the gig, so I’m sure that energy is gonna continue to grow and be shared with everyone.”
But, like any tour, they had to begin in a driveway. This one belongs to Woodrow. Connie, the repurposed prison van, had her various doors sprawled open outside his NE Portland home. Assembled around the white whale was Glacier Veins — members, amps, drums and baggage scattered on the concrete like a yardsale.
“So glad we’re going back out. I was starting to get that itch,” said Woodrow.
The gear was loaded like a massive game of jenga, each piece loaded in a practiced order the band had locked down last tour. Jesse Beirwagen, Glacier Veins drummer of four months, had the steepest learning curve as he tried to figure out how to fit his full kit inside.
“There were nights where I’d be trying to load for an hour. But once we got it, we got it,” he said.
“Last tour was really nice breaking in the van, getting used to it,” said Woodrow. “It feels like when you’re trying to run really fast, it takes a second when you’re first doing it. But now I feel like we’re sprinters, we’re ready. The second we got in the van, it’s tour mode.”
As Glacier Veins weaved its way down I-84 through the Columbia River Gorge, the sounds of the stereo mirrored the band’s own. Much of the playlist featured groups that Glacier Veins had played with on tour, or were about to, inspiring the sort of inside-joke banter that only four people who’ve spent that much time in a tight metal box are capable of.
It’s a sort of unnatural chemistry because friendships don’t usually build this fast. But it’s different for musicians. Besides the close-quarters time together, there’s a deeper connection weaved into being on the same beat. For the rhythm section, this happened right away.
“I like to stare a drummer in the eyes, especially when it’s the first time we’re playing together, so I can see if it’s gonna be like butting heads or shaking hands,” said Woodrow. “Luckily, with Jesse, it’s a firm handshake.”
“Me and Kyle are a rhythm section, like a rhythm section. It’s easy to play with Kyle,” said Beirwagen.
That back-and-forth makes collaborative songwriting easy. Endres said jam sessions that build upon her skeleton demos often snap a song into place in one sitting.
“It’s pretty intuitive, writing the full band part of it,” she said. “Hearing the way it comes together with the full band isn’t something you can totally comprehend when you’re just playing by yourself.”
“It feels like a map that’s paved out, and I just follow it and leave little bread crumbs or something,” laughed Espinoza.
Boise was the destination for the night. No show awaited there, just pizza and beer and a long stretch of northern Oregon between us and it. The drive was about six hours with a few brief stops, including one to fill Connie’s 25-gallon gas tank — a finicky situation that involved the pump clicking finished early a dozen times (“I’ll just keep filling till it sprays on me,” the attendant suggested).
As we approached Idaho, conversation was buzzing throughout the van until a bolt of lightning cut us all off. Talk and music paused to follow the electricity striking across the skyline. As the van turned a bend, the rain came down on the windshield like a car wreck into a river. Thirty seconds later, it became a light drizzle, then dried entirely, and the band returned to music, chatter and daydreaming as Boise came into sight.
“If she went up to me and asked me on a date, I would say ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Just like that,” said Beirwagen. The comment was directed at a scantily clad cardboard cutout that vaguely resembled a younger Britney Spears brandishing a Pepsi.
We walked on, members of the group diverging into different aisles. Having all toured before, the musicians had their own menu for the road. Beirwagen is partial to quick, simple bites — nutrient bars and crackers. Endres acknowledges her partiality to Costco peanut butter pretzels. “I try to save my money and not start buying candy at the gas stations till the end of tour,” she said. Woodrow goes for practical snacks — hot tamales and mountain dew. “That’s what I like to snack on when I’m driving so I don’t fall asleep. Instead of getting the jitters from coffee or an energy drink, it’s steady caffeine and spicy food — clarity, you know?” Espinoza takes whatever he can find. “I’m all for continental breakfast and free coffee,” he said. “I pretty much eat scrap.”
They all agree that these bites will do on a long road day, but after an energetic show, they need a meal.
“Snack on the way to the gig and then feast,” laughed Woodrow.
Connie the Van pulled out of the gas station around noon, filled on gas and its occupants filled on baked goods and homemade mimosas. The departure left ample time to make a late evening set in Salt Lake City, despite a leisurely morning.
Connie’s wheels ran true to Utah, barring a gas stop in Burley, Idaho. The place was sandwiched between a farmer and his son meandering a field and a billboard that read “GET THE U.S. OUT OF THE U.N.” in colorful letters. Woodrow looked up from his phone as the van pulled to a stop. “Haven’t we been here before?” The rest of the band glanced around and realized that, yes, they’d stopped at the same gas station en route to Salt Lake on a previous tour. It made the drive feel as routine as a commute — though playing for Glacier Veins is probably better than most 9-to-5s.
“We had a really good show in Salt Lake City last time so that makes it more exciting to feel like we’re going to come back to a place with a good crowd,” said Endres.
The grand expanse of the Rockies crept into view as we drove through Utah. For once, it looked like the grass might be greener on this side. It’s rare to see fields quite so deep a shade. The long flat sea of grass led up to the edge of the mountain range — a monumental feature which seems to come from nowhere at all but abruptly takes up the entire sightline.
One of the benefits of touring is the sights along the way, the band agreed. The climax of this tour is Bled Fest in Michigan on May 26. “It’s a festival I’ve heard of before but hadn’t ever thought about going out there to play it,” said Endres. “Going to the Midwest is cool because I’ve never been there, the band has never been there.” The route this destination takes them on is an unusual one and an opportunity to see atypical places.
Woodrow was more stoked for the destination than the journey though.
“I like going to new places, man. It’s fun. But Bled Fest is definitely the highlight of the tour for me,” he said. “To see the name ‘Glacier Veins’ in there is awesome.”
Saturday’s ride was a quiet one — peppered with the sounds of jazz, funk and a brief stint of Steely Dan that forced Espinoza to juggle the steering wheel in one hand and his air guitar in the other.
The show that night was at The Underground, a warehouse turned music utility room that houses dozens of practice rooms. One of these large rooms had been designated as the event space. The building was nondescript from the outside, industrial and drab. Inside, a wooden cart waited for amps and drum kits to be wheeled down a long cement hallway decorated with flickering fluorescents reminiscent of a horror movie. The walls were warmer, decorated with stickers from bands who had passed through and writing from those who’d seen them.
“It was just weird,” said Beirwagen afterward. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, all the venues in the last tour were weird. Donut shop, some kid’s garage in the middle of nowhere in Colorado. It’s weird, but it’s cool.”
As Glacier Veins loaded in all the gear a few hours before the show, the place was nearly empty. A few of The Underground’s volunteer staff meandered through the hall, and a few other musicians slated to play were already in the show room. The sound of a kick drum and two women’s voices carried a Joplin tune through the tight walls. Each was a member of a separate band on the bill, but they were both local and their comfort in the space made it clear they were regulars.
That’s the thing missing from road shows versus home shows, Espinoza had pointed out. Back in Portland, there are familiar faces in the crowd. On tour, the band is looking into a crowd of strangers.
“You don’t know anyone,” said Espinoza. “You just kinda go in, do the thing and then it’s on to the next.”
Beirwagen agreed, at least for the first few moments of the set. Then he tunes it out.
“I can never see people. I’m in my head,” he said. “I don’t know if I have my eyes closed, but I definitely can’t see anything.”
.@GlacierVeinsPDX shredding the gnar at The Underground in SLC. Next show is Tuesday in Iowa! pic.twitter.com/yIxQZNudMh
— Cooper Green (@clygreen) May 20, 2018
The room had emptied after the second band’s set, the crowd filtering outside for cigarettes and relief from the stifling warmth of the tight venue. Glacier Veins, third on the lineup, worked quietly and separately, each member preparing their instruments. Beirwagen assembled his kit with the focus of a master carpenter. Woodrow fiddled with his bass amp. Espinoza stomped various pedals off and on. Endres strapped on her guitar and popped a staccato “check, check, check” into the mike.
The crowd began to trickle in as the sound check ran seamlessly into the set. The room suddenly reached capacity. Glacier Veins opened with “Northern,” an older track from 2016’s Clear Your Head. The band added it to the set to kick things off with some juice. It got the crowd, and the band, moving. Woodrow and Espinoza sweated like dogs as they leapt around, zig zagging and dueling axes as they passed each other. Beirwagen, hair flying wildly at the back of the room, drummed with such intensity that one of his sticks flew out of his hand and eight feet across the room. He had unholstered a replacement before his face registered the loss. Endres’ swath of blue hair swam forward and back as she belted center stage, draping her face entirely in the thick of most songs.
The show had an air of polish that can probably be credited to the solidified chemistry of the four-person unit, but it was electric and wild too — as if the members, having spent all day sitting still, had stuck their fingers in a socket and come alive in front of a backdrop of sharpie drawings and a mural of Donatello the Ninja Turtle eating pizza.
“Playing shows with Glacier Veins is super easy to do because I don’t have to worry about anyone messing up,” said Beirwagen afterward. “Chemistry, just being comfortable with what you’re playing and when you’re playing and how you’re playing.”
The set came and went in a blink, closed by “Not Gonna Stay” and a final flurry of antics as the band drained themselves entirely, Espinoza leaping over his pedalboard into the crowd before returning to the crew as the song ended. The applause was raucous, and the post-show hugs sweaty.
“I gotta remember to stretch,” muttered Woodrow as he packed up his gear and took a swig of water.
Read On the Bus parts two and three, and follow Cooper and Split Tooth Media on Twitter for more.
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