Everybody thinks touring musicians get to see the world. To some degree that can be true, if you’re lucky. You play shows
all over, sit on a lot of airplane and bus seats, see the world through a window. On one hand, it’s a dream. On the other,
it’s a lot of grinding and hurry-up-and-wait.
They tell me my music is getting some love in France. That’s great; I love France. It’s such a desirable place to visit, but
now when I go to play shows there, it’s mostly that grind. Radio spots, vans, transit, trapped inside hotel rooms. I spent a
few weeks there recently, playing some festival dates and other shows this winter. I ate French food, met French people. I
really want to practice speaking French, but no one there will let me. They know I’m American, and it’s easier for them to
speak English to me than to pause for me to spit out my grade-school français. Hurry up; wait.
I had a great time, played some great shows, but now that I’m back, I wonder: how much of France did I really get to see?
–Son Little
USA, February 2016