Bobbo Byrnes

Hey Everybody!

I'm sitting here in Mechelen, Belgium, recovering from my last two shows, and something hit me this evening. I can't believe it took me this long to notice.

I reached one of my goals.

Yeah, I know I should've realized it, but I always wanted to write a book. And I wrote a book and put it out into the world this year.

I'm so locked into the album cycle of releasing a thing, touring it, and then going off to make another album that when my book came out, I just set to work promoting it and touring it. I didn't even stop to realize: Holy crap. I wrote and published a book.

I tell you all this not as some sort of backslapping, false-modesty bullshit, but because a lot of us probably reach our goals without allowing ourselves that moment of celebration and achievement. We just keep our heads down and start working toward the next thing, the next project, the next whatever.

If I'm like that, then maybe you are too.

If you feel up to it, please write back and share some of your successes. I would love to hear about what's happening in your world.

I happened into a shop in Brussels, Belgium. I didn't have a Belgium tattoo. Katani and Kiki were so nice. We shared some wine and stories and then I got this tattoo. BE. For Belgium and as a nice reminder to Be in the moment. It's on my right forearm.

Tomorrow I'm doing something I never thought I would do: crossing the English Channel on a ferry. I am heading to the U.K. for my next shows and taking the Ferry seems very on brand for me.

Would a flight be quicker? Yeah. Would the Eurostar train through the Chunnel be faster? Hell yeah it would.* It's going to rain and be a little chilly on the crossing from Calais, France, to Dover, England, but I'm up for it. It's something different. 

I have 12 books left in my bag, and with each book I sell, the wheels of my suitcase breathe a sigh of relief. Listening to them click-clack over the cobblestone streets as I walked, literally, a mile from the train station to my hotel yesterday was making me anxious.**

The crazy thing is, Too Many Miles is barely six months old. I keep forgetting that because I've been living these stories for a lot longer.

And then I play a show in Antwerp, and the folks there dig it and want more stories. I play a show in Mechelen, and the folks there dig it and more books go home with people. And they share their stories with me. There is an updated Tour Journal HERE.

The show I've put together around the book is different from a regular concert. It's stories and songs and all these people I've met because I picked up a guitar. And I'm realizing that I need to spend more time with this story. 

I need to give this one a chance to find more of its people.

So here's what I'd like to ask of you, my friends and fans:

If you've read and enjoyed Too Many Miles, would you consider telling a friend about it? Someone you think might connect with the stories. A personal recommendation means a hell of a lot.

And if you haven't picked up a copy yet, you can order one directly from me here: Too Many Miles  And while you're on my website, you can download the companion album Too Many Miles for FREE. That's right - I have set it up with a “pay what you want” for the companion, and actually, all my albums. The physical still costs but you can download for any price you like or free.

This picture is also a link to the page to buy it.

And if you know somewhere this book or my show might find an audience, a library, bookstore, listening room, festival, podcast, radio show, or publication, I'd love an introduction or a lead.

The book and album have both received wonderful reviews online and reader reviews on Amazon and Goodreads.*** This week saw two reviews from Italy, one from Germany and radio play in Luxembourg, Netherlands, Italy and Ireland.

My guitar has gathered some more signatures. Come to a show and sign my guitar!

WHERE TO FIND ME NEXT:

If you'd rather hear some of these stories in person, I've got a few things coming up:

September 29 - Beer-a-rama, Eastbourne, England

October 3 - Saltash, England: An Evening with Annalisa Crawford and Bobbo Byrnes, Music & Literature. Book event with stories, songs, and Too Many Miles. (click the link for tickets)

October 16-18 - FAR-West, Portland, Oregon: Private Showcases and I am presenting a workshop on “Music as Cultural Diplomacy and Traveling Abroad as an American Artist.”

October 24 - Milford, New Hampshire: Some Salvation album release with Morgan Keating.

November 7 - Anaheim, California: Indie Author Day at the Anaheim Public Library.

November 14 - Twentynine Palms, California: Book festival and I am on a panel “Route 66 at 100 and the continuing legacy of road writing.”

November 18 -  Anaheim Public Library "Talk Music" Series where I will be performing, reading and demonstrating recording techniques.

November 21 - Pasadena, California. The Open Book. Book signing and show.

December 19 - The Anaheim Christmas Busk

February 11 - San Juan Capistrano, California. The Coach House with Steve Poltz 

I'll share the details and links as they get closer. If you're nearby, come say hello. I'd love to see you.

_____________________

Lastly, I'm planning to release the audiobook before Christmas, for all of you who would prefer to listen to me tell you the whole thing like a bedtime story.

Thank you for being part of this. Whether you've bought a book, come to a show, shared a song, offered me a place to sleep, or just followed along from home, you've helped me get here.

I wrote a book.

Holy crap.

Love,
Bobbo
BobboByrnes.com
FB | IG | BlueSky

Tour Journal, September 26 or something, 2026

Dearest Gentle Reader,

I have been remiss in my duties to keep you abreast of my travels and tribulations.

Yesterday I walked two miles to get to my show in Antwerp, Belgium, and it would be fair to say that’s the furthest I’ve ever walked to get to a gig. I have one friend who considers anything more than eight miles from his home a “tour.”*

But we have to back up, because I haven’t told you about Austria at all.

My friends Roman and Barbara are two of my favorite people. If you have my book, you can refresh your memory with the chapter “83 Steps Up in Vienna.” The two of them work with people with developmental disabilities in their city and have done that work for a long time.** Their living room has a wall of guitars as well as two upright basses (double double bass?). Barbara’s main instrument is a beautiful Czech-made double bass, and she has a solid-body electric upright that she uses mostly for silent practice. Two years ago, when I was here, Barbara performed her first concert on bass. Now I think she’s in three bands and writing songs.

I don’t want to give away her lyrics, but she shared one of her songs with me, and it has a tag at the end of the chorus that is SO good I’m mad I didn’t think of it or write it. I mean, not mad mad. Just, Damn, that’s a great line. And like the best country songs, it’s said so simply but elegantly.

Roman is no slouch either, and his group, the Sundown Ramblers, are playing with me tonight at Kulturcafé Henriette, which has a nice back room and stage just for musical performances. While they’re soundchecking, I get some toast and tea from the bartender, and we talk about music (she’s also a musician) and what’s playing overhead.

“Have you ever heard the song ‘Houseplants’ by Squid?”

Nope. But it’s cool and different, and at first it just seems like someone screaming “Houseplants!” In truth, it’s a song about younger generations feeling squeezed out of the possibility of a comfortable domestic life, and the only luxury they seem to be able to afford and keep alive is a nice houseplant. It’s about rising gentrification and the impossibility of feeling secure enough to start a family. AND YOU CAN DANCE TO IT.

I introduce her to Green Magnet School, as they have a similar musical aesthetic, and she digs them and adds them to her queue.

Back in the other room, the Sundown Ramblers are finishing up their soundcheck. Nothing is plugged in. They have an Ear Trumpet Labs mic front and center and a couple of smaller condenser mics to the left and right. It’s amazing how hard we all worked to get pickups in our guitars, only to discover that unplugging and setting up mics is actually better. Is it more challenging? Maybe a little, and if you throw a drummer up there, it all goes haywire. But they sound amazing.

Barbara is part of the Sundown Ramblers tonight, filling in for Gila on bass, and apparently she’s only had one rehearsal. You would never know. The group swaps lead singers and soloists, and it’s the kind of performance that makes me wish my mother were here. It’s classic country and western. Roman goes back and forth between guitar and his eight-string dobro slide guitar. I don’t even understand the tuning of it. Their fiddle player leans in for a solo, and Ritchie keeps them on track. When they end with Townes Van Zandt’s “White Freight Liner Blues,” it feels and sounds great.

I get up on stage and tell some stories, and this room sounds great. An amazing listening audience really allows me to stretch out and sing my stories and tell my songs. I’m feeling a little bit like I’m a lot for these mics, so I step down in front of them, into the space between me and everyone else, and play the rest of the show completely unplugged, unamplified, and unencumbered by time and space.

At the end of the night we all play The Byrds song “you ain’t going nowhere” (technically a Dylan song but whatever)

I dig it.

After the show, Ritchie says we must do another house concert in Klosterneuburg next year, and I really hope we can make that happen. It’s a great hang with folks after the gig, and I am spent. Performing live takes a lot of energy. Performing live with no cables or cords takes MORE energy, and some of the stories are still, and will probably always be, not exactly easy to tell. I am drained.

On the way back to their place, I make the proclamation that tomorrow we will get pizza for lunch, but only if we go somewhere in Vienna they’ve never been before.

This may seem like a simple request, but Roman and Barbara are serious about their pizza. SERIOUS. And I love that. I love pizza too, but Barbara has a running list of pizza places - by district - so she knows which ones are the good ones. I have suggested that she make this into a website, or at the very least a Facebook page. She does not seem all that interested in sharing her findings, as her scientific approach is more Pass/Fail for the pizza joints.

They find a place in a district where Barbara has no info for her data. The pizza place has no online presence to speak of. There are two tables outside, and when we walk in, we are ushered through the kitchen, out the back door, and to one of three tables behind the restaurant. The woman who seats us is followed by her daughter and a horse of a dog. We drink blood orange soda and order our pizzas. Yes, we all got our own. Mine had champignons and pork. I could not finish it. This was not the case for Roman and Barbara. They are Clean Plate Club winners. (See pics.)

My show tonight is at a burger place and brewery favored by U.S. expats, so I’m told the burgers are good. Truth be told, I’m still full from lunch. We set up in front of some of the brewery tanks and again have a great listening audience. I meet two other local singer-songwriters, one of whom flew back into town this afternoon and was determined to make the gig: Roman Tröster and Jason Lee Haines. Roman is in a band with Roman. They call that group Friends and Romans. Yes, it’s very clever, and I challenge you to top it.

Jason tells me he grew up in the Lehigh Valley of Pennsylvania.

“So you know the Ham Fam?” I ask.

“The what?”

“The Hamilton Family Diner.”

“Oh, yeah. I do.”

I don’t think he was expecting me to know such a specific restaurant in the area, but Tracy went to school in Allentown, so I know the area fairly well and what used to be The Pennsylvania Turnpike/ Route 9 - or at least I used to.

Jason worked at the Martin guitar factory for a while, and he talks to another guy here, Daniel, about solid tops and how laminate sides are made. It’s interesting, and he knows his stuff. He also likes to play in DADGAD tuning, and I really like the folky drone it creates. I’ve only used it a little bit, but I think I’m going to do more with that tuning in the future.

For my set, I mostly stay behind the Ear Trumpet Labs mic, but this venue has more ambient noise from the rest of the bar and the hard floors. I feel the sound getting a little lost in the room, but it’s still a great show. Afterward I ask Roman how it sounded, and he says, stoically, “I miss your Gibsons.”

I get it. Me too. I could have plugged in tonight, and I didn’t. I should’ve. Ah well.

The next day, Roman, Barbara, and I take a train outside the city to the garden space they rent, and we have a picnic on the grounds of what used to be a very large hospital. The grounds have since been put to all sorts of different uses, but it’s still so quiet and green here. They pick tomatoes off the vine, and we eat those with the falafel, hummus, and bread we got from the street market. It’s a great way to wind down my time in Vienna.

At 8 a.m. Monday, we walk to the tram, hug goodbye, and go our separate ways. I head to Wien Hauptbahnhof for my train to Schweinfurt. There are trains and delays and boring shit. My uncle Marty picks me up at 8 p.m. in Schweinfurt and brings me home to a great home-cooked noodle and vegetable dish made by Petra.

I sleep for a long time.

My cousin Martin comes to visit his folks, and Petra has made a fish soup that is delicious. I eat so many things that are new to me when I travel. Fish soup isn’t all that unusual, but it’s also the first time Petra has made it.

We have plans to visit a park tomorrow and go for a walk, and it’s amazing to me that this is still my life. I’ve built a thing where I can travel and stay with folks who put up with me, feed me, and show me their world. I am a lucky man.

It’s an early train again, but a fairly easy trip. My first train is the wrong train, but it still gets me to Würzburg. Nothing drastic. I just booked the express and got on the slow one. Still plenty of time to make my transfer to Frankfurt and then Brussels, where I have a nice conversation with a woman on her way to a workshop at Deutsche Bahn. She takes a picture of my guitar case.

Brussels is new to me. I did not meet a man who was six foot four and full of muscles, but they did speak my language. Mein Deutsch was pretty useless here.

I wander into a small shop selling used clothes that looks a bit punk rock and meet Katani. She speaks great English, has a shaved head and tattoos all up and down her legs, arms, neck, and head. She even has “Misery” tattooed above her right eye. She was born in Japan, raised in New Zealand, lived in Vancouver for a while, and has settled here in Brussels. Kiki is her spouse, and he’s tatted up as well.

They ask me what I’m doing in Brussels, and I tell them about the music, the book, and all that. My hotel is about a hundred yards away, so I go back, get the bottle of wine I’ve been unable to open (no corkscrew), and return with my book and a CD. A deal is made, and I’m now getting a new tattoo.

Trying to think of something appropriately “Belgium,” I settle on “BE”—both Belgium and a reminder to just be in the moment. It’s small. It’s subtle. Katani writes it out, and then I take the pen and write it myself.

“You have great handwriting for a tattoo,” she says. “Very natural.”

For all my life in school, I was criticized for my handwriting. Still trying to fit my round peg into a square hole. I tell her I also have a font made from my handwriting and point to my “Don’t Give Up” tattoo, which is in my handwriting too. She writes down the font’s name to look up and download.

Katani and Kiki own this shop together, and the economy is killing them. The future of the shop is in jeopardy, which means their economic future is shaky too. They got married a few months ago so she could stay in the EU. She’s quick to add that they are actually a couple, but the nuptials were a bit more rushed because of looming deportation concerns.

It’s wild to have all this shared with me while just hanging out and getting a tattoo.

“You know how to take care of your tattoo. I don’t need to tell you,” she says as she puts the film and tape around my arm.

The next morning, I try to find a taxi to take me the one mile to the tram station, but the taxi driver refuses to take me and says that it’s not far enough and says I should walk. I have my guitar, my backpack full of clothes, and a suitcase full of books and merch to drag. The suitcase is slightly over 50 pounds. I fully expect the wheels to give up the ghost on one of these cobblestones soon. It’s an Eagle Creek suitcase Tracy and I bought new, and I’ve already had the wheels replaced once because of…Hamburg cobblestones. (I am hoping this is not foreshadowing.)

Tonight’s show is at @420 Club. It used to have a different name, but that’s a whole other thing. I check into my Antwerp hotel early, try to close my eyes for a few minutes, and then decide I’m just going to walk the two miles to 420 Club. There will be food somewhere along the way.

As I walk out the front doors of the hotel, three people are standing there.

“Are you playing tonight?” the woman asks in a thick London accent.
“I am,” I say, slightly surprised by the abruptness.
“What kind of music do you play?” one of the men asks.

It’s all a very nice conversation with a guy from Scotland, a guy from Holland, and a woman from London. But the whole thing starts way sooner than I am prepared to talk to anyone. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I wasn’t ready to be “Performer Bobbo” just yet.

“You’re American and you’re walking two miles to your gig? That’s not very American of you,” says the guy from Holland. “It’ll probably take you about 40 minutes to get there.”

He’s wrong. It takes me 50 minutes.

I’m on the other side of the street from 420 Club when Katrien sees me and excitedly waves. Inside, Ruud is helping a customer, and Katrien gets me a sparkling iced tea. I’m introduced to Ruud’s mother, who everyone tells me is crazy. But she clarifies: “I’m positive crazy.”***

“Ah, the good kind of crazy. Understood.”

420 Club is the CBD type of cannabis place, where they help people with ailments and things like that. It’s not like an Amsterdam coffee shop. Although 420 Club does have a coffee machine, whereas Amsterdam coffee shops typically do not. I understand all that, and it still confuses me.

Katrien and Ruud are wonderful hosts and make sure I don’t want or need anything. It’s almost a curated concert, with them knowing everyone here tonight as family, friends, or customers of their shop.

“How long would you like me to play?” I ask.

“What do you typically do? Like a 30-minute set, a break, and then another 30 minutes?”

“That sounds great.”

Dear reader, I start playing at 7:30. I stop at 8:20, take a ten-minute break, and then finish at about 9:30.

I was never good at the maths.

Katrien is flipping through my book and showing her friends the page they’re on. I did not plan ahead: they’re on page 429. I cross out the number at the bottom of the page and write “420” before signing the books for them.

I’m given a ride back to my hotel by Michael.

“Where are you playing tomorrow?”

“Mechelen.”

“Mechelen?? I live in Mechelen. Where are you playing?”

“Zennegat 13.”

He takes out his phone and shows me a map.

“This is Zennegat 13, and this is where I live.”

The two places are 0.2 kilometers apart.

“I’d invite you to stay, but my girlfriend and I just had a baby. I made a deal with her to come out to see you tonight.”

“Oh man, congratulations. I wish I’d known I was going to get a ride from someone in Mechelen. I would’ve gotten a hotel there.”

“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night. It’s still hard with a newborn.”

“I get it.”

The ride back to my hotel is full-on ’80s music, with Stevie Nicks and Talk Talk and then a song called “Shame” that I’d forgotten all about.

“Do you know ‘Shame’ by The Motels?” I ask.

“I don’t know that one.” He tells his car to play it. “Ah, that is very ’80s.”

Back at my hotel, I try to find a place to stay tomorrow night, but I’m barely awake enough to FaceTime with Tracy before I fall asleep in what is, so far, the most comfortable bed of the trip.

It is now morning in Antwerp. I have to leave this hotel room in the next hour. I must sign off because I don’t have a train ticket yet, I don’t have a hotel yet, and I technically don’t have much direction other than needing to get to Zennegat 13 by about 5 p.m. tonight. I have six hours to travel about 30 miles.

I do not want to walk.

*Not only is this friend Boris, but I will actually get an email from him complaining that I’m misquoting his “eight-mile rule.” And I am, for comedic purposes.
**They have both also recently gotten promotions!
***At one point, Ruud announces that he’s going around with the hat to take collections for me and says something like “Money not underwear for Bobbo.” And his mother is walking across the room and she says “I will put my underwear back on!” And makes like she is pulling underwear back on. It is absolutely hysterical and the whole room laughs. I have never…it’s always something new and I love that.

Tour Journal, September 26 or something, 2026

Dearest Gentle Reader,

I have been remiss in my duties to keep you abreast of my travels and tribulations.

Yesterday I walked two miles to get to my show in Antwerp, Belgium, and it would be fair to say that’s the furthest I’ve ever walked to get to a gig. I have one friend who considers anything more than eight miles from his home a “tour.”*

But we have to back up, because I haven’t told you about Austria at all.

My friends Roman and Barbara are two of my favorite people. If you have my book, you can refresh your memory with the chapter “83 Steps Up in Vienna.” The two of them work with people with developmental disabilities in their city and have done that work for a long time.** Their living room has a wall of guitars as well as two upright basses (double double bass?). Barbara’s main instrument is a beautiful Czech-made double bass, and she has a solid-body electric upright that she uses mostly for silent practice. Two years ago, when I was here, Barbara performed her first concert on bass. Now I think she’s in three bands and writing songs.

I don’t want to give away her lyrics, but she shared one of her songs with me, and it has a tag at the end of the chorus that is SO good I’m mad I didn’t think of it or write it. I mean, not mad mad. Just, Damn, that’s a great line. And like the best country songs, it’s said so simply but elegantly.

Roman is no slouch either, and his group, the Sundown Ramblers, are playing with me tonight at Kulturcafé Henriette, which has a nice back room and stage just for musical performances. While they’re soundchecking, I get some toast and tea from the bartender, and we talk about music (she’s also a musician) and what’s playing overhead.

“Have you ever heard the song ‘Houseplants’ by Squid?”

Nope. But it’s cool and different, and at first it just seems like someone screaming “Houseplants!” In truth, it’s a song about younger generations feeling squeezed out of the possibility of a comfortable domestic life, and the only luxury they seem to be able to afford and keep alive is a nice houseplant. It’s about rising gentrification and the impossibility of feeling secure enough to start a family. AND YOU CAN DANCE TO IT.

I introduce her to Green Magnet School, as they have a similar musical aesthetic, and she digs them and adds them to her queue.

Back in the other room, the Sundown Ramblers are finishing up their soundcheck. Nothing is plugged in. They have an Ear Trumpet Labs mic front and center and a couple of smaller condenser mics to the left and right. It’s amazing how hard we all worked to get pickups in our guitars, only to discover that unplugging and setting up mics is actually better. Is it more challenging? Maybe a little, and if you throw a drummer up there, it all goes haywire. But they sound amazing.

Barbara is part of the Sundown Ramblers tonight, filling in for Gila on bass, and apparently she’s only had one rehearsal. You would never know. The group swaps lead singers and soloists, and it’s the kind of performance that makes me wish my mother were here. It’s classic country and western. Roman goes back and forth between guitar and his eight-string dobro slide guitar. I don’t even understand the tuning of it. Their fiddle player leans in for a solo, and Ritchie keeps them on track. When they end with Townes Van Zandt’s “White Freight Liner Blues,” it feels and sounds great.

I get up on stage and tell some stories, and this room sounds great. An amazing listening audience really allows me to stretch out and sing my stories and tell my songs. I’m feeling a little bit like I’m a lot for these mics, so I step down in front of them, into the space between me and everyone else, and play the rest of the show completely unplugged, unamplified, and unencumbered by time and space.

At the end of the night we all play The Byrds song “you ain’t going nowhere” (technically a Dylan song but whatever)

I dig it.

After the show, Ritchie says we must do another house concert in Klosterneuburg next year, and I really hope we can make that happen. It’s a great hang with folks after the gig, and I am spent. Performing live takes a lot of energy. Performing live with no cables or cords takes MORE energy, and some of the stories are still, and will probably always be, not exactly easy to tell. I am drained.

On the way back to their place, I make the proclamation that tomorrow we will get pizza for lunch, but only if we go somewhere in Vienna they’ve never been before.

This may seem like a simple request, but Roman and Barbara are serious about their pizza. SERIOUS. And I love that. I love pizza too, but Barbara has a running list of pizza places - by district - so she knows which ones are the good ones. I have suggested that she make this into a website, or at the very least a Facebook page. She does not seem all that interested in sharing her findings, as her scientific approach is more Pass/Fail for the pizza joints.

They find a place in a district where Barbara has no info for her data. The pizza place has no online presence to speak of. There are two tables outside, and when we walk in, we are ushered through the kitchen, out the back door, and to one of three tables behind the restaurant. The woman who seats us is followed by her daughter and a horse of a dog. We drink blood orange soda and order our pizzas. Yes, we all got our own. Mine had champignons and pork. I could not finish it. This was not the case for Roman and Barbara. They are Clean Plate Club winners. (See pics.)

My show tonight is at a burger place and brewery favored by U.S. expats, so I’m told the burgers are good. Truth be told, I’m still full from lunch. We set up in front of some of the brewery tanks and again have a great listening audience. I meet two other local singer-songwriters, one of whom flew back into town this afternoon and was determined to make the gig: Roman Tröster and Jason Lee Haines. Roman is in a band with Roman. They call that group Friends and Romans. Yes, it’s very clever, and I challenge you to top it.

Jason tells me he grew up in the Lehigh Valley of Pennsylvania.

“So you know the Ham Fam?” I ask.

“The what?”

“The Hamilton Family Diner.”

“Oh, yeah. I do.”

I don’t think he was expecting me to know such a specific restaurant in the area, but Tracy went to school in Allentown, so I know the area fairly well and what used to be The Pennsylvania Turnpike/ Route 9 - or at least I used to.

Jason worked at the Martin guitar factory for a while, and he talks to another guy here, Daniel, about solid tops and how laminate sides are made. It’s interesting, and he knows his stuff. He also likes to play in DADGAD tuning, and I really like the folky drone it creates. I’ve only used it a little bit, but I think I’m going to do more with that tuning in the future.

For my set, I mostly stay behind the Ear Trumpet Labs mic, but this venue has more ambient noise from the rest of the bar and the hard floors. I feel the sound getting a little lost in the room, but it’s still a great show. Afterward I ask Roman how it sounded, and he says, stoically, “I miss your Gibsons.”

I get it. Me too. I could have plugged in tonight, and I didn’t. I should’ve. Ah well.

The next day, Roman, Barbara, and I take a train outside the city to the garden space they rent, and we have a picnic on the grounds of what used to be a very large hospital. The grounds have since been put to all sorts of different uses, but it’s still so quiet and green here. They pick tomatoes off the vine, and we eat those with the falafel, hummus, and bread we got from the street market. It’s a great way to wind down my time in Vienna.

At 8 a.m. Monday, we walk to the tram, hug goodbye, and go our separate ways. I head to Wien Hauptbahnhof for my train to Schweinfurt. There are trains and delays and boring shit. My uncle Marty picks me up at 8 p.m. in Schweinfurt and brings me home to a great home-cooked noodle and vegetable dish made by Petra.

I sleep for a long time.

My cousin Martin comes to visit his folks, and Petra has made a fish soup that is delicious. I eat so many things that are new to me when I travel. Fish soup isn’t all that unusual, but it’s also the first time Petra has made it.

We have plans to visit a park tomorrow and go for a walk, and it’s amazing to me that this is still my life. I’ve built a thing where I can travel and stay with folks who put up with me, feed me, and show me their world. I am a lucky man.

It’s an early train again, but a fairly easy trip. My first train is the wrong train, but it still gets me to Würzburg. Nothing drastic. I just booked the express and got on the slow one. Still plenty of time to make my transfer to Frankfurt and then Brussels, where I have a nice conversation with a woman on her way to a workshop at Deutsche Bahn. She takes a picture of my guitar case.

Brussels is new to me. I did not meet a man who was six foot four and full of muscles, but they did speak my language. Mein Deutsch was pretty useless here.

I wander into a small shop selling used clothes that looks a bit punk rock and meet Katani. She speaks great English, has a shaved head and tattoos all up and down her legs, arms, neck, and head. She even has “Misery” tattooed above her right eye. She was born in Japan, raised in New Zealand, lived in Vancouver for a while, and has settled here in Brussels. Kiki is her spouse, and he’s tatted up as well.

They ask me what I’m doing in Brussels, and I tell them about the music, the book, and all that. My hotel is about a hundred yards away, so I go back, get the bottle of wine I’ve been unable to open (no corkscrew), and return with my book and a CD. A deal is made, and I’m now getting a new tattoo.

Trying to think of something appropriately “Belgium,” I settle on “BE”—both Belgium and a reminder to just be in the moment. It’s small. It’s subtle. Katani writes it out, and then I take the pen and write it myself.

“You have great handwriting for a tattoo,” she says. “Very natural.”

For all my life in school, I was criticized for my handwriting. Still trying to fit my round peg into a square hole. I tell her I also have a font made from my handwriting and point to my “Don’t Give Up” tattoo, which is in my handwriting too. She writes down the font’s name to look up and download.

Katani and Kiki own this shop together, and the economy is killing them. The future of the shop is in jeopardy, which means their economic future is shaky too. They got married a few months ago so she could stay in the EU. She’s quick to add that they are actually a couple, but the nuptials were a bit more rushed because of looming deportation concerns.

It’s wild to have all this shared with me while just hanging out and getting a tattoo.

“You know how to take care of your tattoo. I don’t need to tell you,” she says as she puts the film and tape around my arm.

The next morning, I try to find a taxi to take me the one mile to the tram station, but the taxi driver refuses to take me and says that it’s not far enough and says I should walk. I have my guitar, my backpack full of clothes, and a suitcase full of books and merch to drag. The suitcase is slightly over 50 pounds. I fully expect the wheels to give up the ghost on one of these cobblestones soon. It’s an Eagle Creek suitcase Tracy and I bought new, and I’ve already had the wheels replaced once because of…Hamburg cobblestones. (I am hoping this is not foreshadowing.)

Tonight’s show is at @420 Club. It used to have a different name, but that’s a whole other thing. I check into my Antwerp hotel early, try to close my eyes for a few minutes, and then decide I’m just going to walk the two miles to 420 Club. There will be food somewhere along the way.

As I walk out the front doors of the hotel, three people are standing there.

“Are you playing tonight?” the woman asks in a thick London accent.
“I am,” I say, slightly surprised by the abruptness.
“What kind of music do you play?” one of the men asks.

It’s all a very nice conversation with a guy from Scotland, a guy from Holland, and a woman from London. But the whole thing starts way sooner than I am prepared to talk to anyone. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I wasn’t ready to be “Performer Bobbo” just yet.

“You’re American and you’re walking two miles to your gig? That’s not very American of you,” says the guy from Holland. “It’ll probably take you about 40 minutes to get there.”

He’s wrong. It takes me 50 minutes.

I’m on the other side of the street from 420 Club when Katrien sees me and excitedly waves. Inside, Ruud is helping a customer, and Katrien gets me a sparkling iced tea. I’m introduced to Ruud’s mother, who everyone tells me is crazy. But she clarifies: “I’m positive crazy.”***

“Ah, the good kind of crazy. Understood.”

420 Club is the CBD type of cannabis place, where they help people with ailments and things like that. It’s not like an Amsterdam coffee shop. Although 420 Club does have a coffee machine, whereas Amsterdam coffee shops typically do not. I understand all that, and it still confuses me.

Katrien and Ruud are wonderful hosts and make sure I don’t want or need anything. It’s almost a curated concert, with them knowing everyone here tonight as family, friends, or customers of their shop.

“How long would you like me to play?” I ask.

“What do you typically do? Like a 30-minute set, a break, and then another 30 minutes?”

“That sounds great.”

Dear reader, I start playing at 7:30. I stop at 8:20, take a ten-minute break, and then finish at about 9:30.

I was never good at the maths.

Katrien is flipping through my book and showing her friends the page they’re on. I did not plan ahead: they’re on page 429. I cross out the number at the bottom of the page and write “420” before signing the books for them.

I’m given a ride back to my hotel by Michael.

“Where are you playing tomorrow?”

“Mechelen.”

“Mechelen?? I live in Mechelen. Where are you playing?”

“Zennegat 13.”

He takes out his phone and shows me a map.

“This is Zennegat 13, and this is where I live.”

The two places are 0.2 kilometers apart.

“I’d invite you to stay, but my girlfriend and I just had a baby. I made a deal with her to come out to see you tonight.”

“Oh man, congratulations. I wish I’d known I was going to get a ride from someone in Mechelen. I would’ve gotten a hotel there.”

“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night. It’s still hard with a newborn.”

“I get it.”

The ride back to my hotel is full-on ’80s music, with Stevie Nicks and Talk Talk and then a song called “Shame” that I’d forgotten all about.

“Do you know ‘Shame’ by The Motels?” I ask.

“I don’t know that one.” He tells his car to play it. “Ah, that is very ’80s.”

Back at my hotel, I try to find a place to stay tomorrow night, but I’m barely awake enough to FaceTime with Tracy before I fall asleep in what is, so far, the most comfortable bed of the trip.

It is now morning in Antwerp. I have to leave this hotel room in the next hour. I must sign off because I don’t have a train ticket yet, I don’t have a hotel yet, and I technically don’t have much direction other than needing to get to Zennegat 13 by about 5 p.m. tonight. I have six hours to travel about 30 miles.

I do not want to walk.

*Not only is this friend Boris, but I will actually get an email from him complaining that I’m misquoting his “eight-mile rule.” And I am, for comedic purposes.
**They have both also recently gotten promotions!
***At one point, Ruud announces that he’s going around with the hat to take collections for me and says something like “Money not underwear for Bobbo.” And his mother is walking across the room and she says “I will put my underwear back on!” And makes like she is pulling underwear back on. It is absolutely hysterical and the whole room laughs. I have never…it’s always something new and I love that.

Frankfurt Train Station - September 23, 2026
Tour journal?

I’m waiting for the train to stop and I compliment the woman next to me on her Andy Warhol designed suitcase. (was even branded Andy Warhol) and she asks,

“Can I take a picture of your guitar case? I really like the stickers.” 
“Of course”

Then the doors open and we all hurry off. She is in front of me and I say,

“Entschuldigen, did you want to take a picture.” 
“Ah yes. I’m…I’m sorry.” and keeps walking. 
“Why are you sorry?”
“I don’t usually…if it’s too much trouble…I’m sorry. “
“It’s no trouble at all, please do. Stop up here.”

And I motion to a space where people are not bustling by. 
She takes a picture of both sides of my guitar case and then we keep walking towards the station.

“My son plays guitar and he will like your stickers. He lost his father recently and he’s been really depressed. I’m going to see him this weekend and this might cheer him up.”
“I’m sorry to hear about his father. Please pass along love from one guitar player to another.” I say.

It’s weird to me that she refers to her son’s father and not as her ex or whatever but I’m not diving into that with a stranger. Just take the information given to me.

“Are you a professional musician?” She asks 
“Yes, I am here on tour.”
“And where are you from?”
“California.” 
“Ach, Kalifornia. I want to go to California, everyone wants to go to California! But we wait until no more Trump. Has everyone here been nice to you here?”
“Everyone has been great. Everyone knows that not all Americans are Trump supporters and you know… (I lift up my guitar case. ) 
“We all feel very bad about what is going on there. It is obvious to Germans what he is. We have learned about it but now Americans have to learn.”
“Ich verstehe.” I say.

It’s a long walk from Carriage 22 to the main part of the station and we talk the whole way.

“I told my boss that I have to go to Hamburg by train next week and he wished me luck. I don’t like the change in Munich where you have to go outside and all.”
“Yes, tracks 1-10 are like a different station and a long walk.”
“So you know Munich station?”
“I was there yesterday.”
“I work for Deutsche Bahn and I’m going to a workshop today on how to make travel better.”
“My only real issue with Munich is the lack of signs telling you that tracks 1-10 are at the end and outside. It’s a long run!”
“I will bring that up.”

We keep walking.

“Can I ask you a question? What gives you hope?” I ask.
“My grandchildren. They are the future.”

“That’s beautiful.” I say. Then she adds,  

“And we need to show them how good the world can be so they grow up and make it better. We know Trump in the U.S. is terrible but it’s not been good here lately either with voting and we can all be so much better.
“Thank you for sharing that.”
“You have to have hope. Take care.”

She turns to the left.

“Tschüss.” I say. 
She turns back and smiles “Tschüss!”

I turn to the right and board my train to Brussels.

#toomanymilesbook

Tour Journal, September 8, 2026

For some reason I thought Swiss Air would be more organized than this. While checking in I get a notice that they have oversold the flight and are looking for volunteers to take a later flight. I consider it but they are not offering any incentive to do so - just take a later flight and no guarantee that they’d get me to Bremen the next day. I had built in a buffer for travel so I would’ve been a great candidate for that but I pass.

My bags are ridiculously heavy this year as books are proving to be more cumbersome to travel with than CDs or even vinyl records. I guess this is obvious but holy crap they are heavy. I had looked into shipping them ahead so I wouldn’t have to carry them but the cheapest service to ship from California to Germany was quoting me just under $600 for 18 books. So instead I bought an extra suitcase and I can fit 20 books in each suitcase and it ends up costing me half as much for twice as many books in the two extra suitcases on board the plane. Logistics and economics are boring for tour journals.

But if you saw the little video Tracy took before I left - I had a small backpack with toiletries and essentials, a checked backpack with my clothes for six weeks, a second checked rolling suitcase full of books and a third checked suitcase full of books AND a guitar. Physically I can carry it all with the added shoulder strap on the guitar case but it is heavy. The two suitcases of books are both weighed in at 48 lbs each (almost 23 kg - the max allowed)

I am a touring pack mule.

Landing in Bremen and I am pleasantly surprised that all my luggage arrives unscathed. My guitar is left by itself all alone no where near the baggage carousel but I find it just by walking around and spot it by the an equally abandoned customer service window. Three of the five latches are undone but the guitar is fine.

I booked myself into a hotel by the Weser river to try and acclimate myself and sleep off the jet lag before I see folks and it nearly works. Hotel Nena is nice, it’s just a room with a bed and not much space to do anything beyond sleeping. I end up sliding an end table over to the side of the bed to finalize the ordering of the next (fifth) pressing of books.

Book promo and book thinking have been in the front of my mind for a while now and I’ve been rehearsing my show at home to bring to Europe on tour but making that switch in my head has not been smooth. I know how to sing and play guitar and put on shows but my thinking keeps getting distracted by bookstuffs.

Saturday.

Jeanette has been booking me to play the Open Air Verden show for years now. I have historically been late almost every time. It’s unlike me and it really bothers me. When it first happened it was kind of because it was Tracy, Ben and I not waking up early on tour and being somehow always forgetting that Verden was just a little further away than we thought. Jeanette has had to rearrange performance times around our tardiness a few times. I even remember one time when we played unplugged in Verden square and another time when we played Verden’s horse festival.*

So today I have no excuse - I’m going to be early.

…and I show up late.

Not terribly late though. Just like, if I wanted a soundcheck, I should’ve been here at 10:30 am but I have never had a soundcheck (because I’ve always been late for this gig) and just assumed it was like plug in and play, because that’s what I’ve always done! So the show started at 11, I was here by 11:05 and in plenty of time for my noontime set.

Some freind/fans have shown up to see me and they buy books before I even start. The European Companion version of Too Many Miles is proving to be an interesting thing - it’s a 100 page, selected stories from TMM but in German just for this tour.**

Tina is doing my introduction today and she buys one of the TMM European Companion books and asks “Is there anything special you’d like me to tell the audience before you start?” “Yes, please let them know that I am an American that hates Donald Trump.”

As I plug in my guitar, Tina is introducing me and I’m a little distracted by what I’m doing but when I hear her say Trump’s name all the folks in the audience cheer at her clarification of my political leanings.

It’s a fun, albeit, short set and short visit with my friends in Verden. As I’m playing I notice a couple with a baby in the second row and the woman has taken her jacket off and I see that she’s wearing one of my t-shirts. My show gets some terrific wind gusts that make folks grab the legs of the easy up to make sure it stays put and as we start to pack up, the rain drops start falling. Pretty perfect timing actually.

Making the rounds to talk to as many folks as I can and I finally get over to the couple with the baby. The baby laughs and smiles as I say hello. “This is her first concert.” They tell me. I am honored.

I drive back to my hotel, drive my car onto the elevator and ride it down to the parking garage, return to my room and fall asleep for 5 hours. I wake up in time to walk over to MA (the name of the restaurant) that overlooks the Weser River and I order a schnitzel and a glass of Merlot. Return to my hotel room and lie awake until after 3:30 am. I use this time to Google myself and see where the latest mentions of Too Many Miles have shown up - MusicIndustryweekly.com / Canadianbeats.ca / Portalsplishsplash.com in Brazil / Spielemagazin.de in Germany / Netfan.pl in Poland / CashboxCanada.ca / Recordworldinternational.com / Tinnitist.com in Canada / Broadwayworld.com and Findyoursounds.com in Wales, U.K. !!!

It’s strange trying to understand what the online world can mean. I’m still primarily an in-person musical salesman but I checked my website analytics to see if there’s been any change since all this publicity. Typically my website gets 20-30 visits per day. September 4th saw an uptick to over 1000 visits - just that day. Folks getting downloads and what-not. I offer the digital versions of my music as a “pay what you want” and it’s nice to see that being utilized but I only get notified if someone pays for the downloads and I didn’t get any notifications.

What else is strange is the locations of my top viewers (40+ visits) - Virginia, USA. San Jose, CA. Iowa. Paris, France. Amsterdam, Netherlands. Dublin, Ireland. Toronto, Canada. Wales U.K. and all over Australia.

I don’t pretend to understand it alol and I think it would be a brag if it also corresponded to lots of sales. Instead I’m left with a strange feeling of being seen that I feel grateful for but also like…what does this mean?

Then I get an interview request from Tofu Dave for his show “Between the Covers” on Chapel Hill, NC’s WCOM radio and a request for music as well. I look it and him up and it’s a great, in-depth interviewer who is known for researching his guests and having great conversations. So that’s cool.

*There was even a very funny picture of Tracy, Ben, Julian (our drummer on that tour) and me watching a pantomime horse rolling on the ground in front of us - and the picture was the front page of the local newspaper!
**Shoutout to my cousin Natalie for the German translation!

———————————
Tour Journal. September 8, 2026 (part two)

Sunday.

I am always excited to return to Heike’s Garden. It’s like a homecoming in Bremen for me with lots of fans who are now friends coming out to see me.

The last time I played the Garden it was super hot and humid and I remember being a sweaty mess before we even started playing. Today is absolutely beautiful weather, about 70 degrees, partly cloudy and perfect weather.

Heike greets me with some freshly made raisin bread that she made for me to toast. The stage is set up and the garden starts filling up. Mona is going to join me today on some songs and we don’t exactly go over songs or practice but we do discuss what songs she is going to hop up and sing on. It’s enough prep for us.

Folks are buying some books before I even start and it’s a great feeling of knowing people are excited for this. I set up the stage and plug in my pedals. The Sparkle Drive works, the volume pedal works but the Line 6 M9 pedal is dead. Ok, no spacey effects today. The looper on my other side works so maybe I will do a couple little loops in songs.

The stage is set and as I step up to the microphone the sun hits me square in the eyes as I set up too far forward from the canopy. I slide back and have a great first set with Mona joining me on a few songs. I go to use the looper and it stops working on me too. One show, two broken pedals. My gear page friends are right: #BobboSmash.

I take a set break and when I start back up again I play one song in the PA and then unplug and play acoustically in the garden and I love it so much more. A few songs in and I am feeling my voice settle in to where I am liking the sound coming out of my mouth more. It’s so different not using a microphone.

Norbert is up front taking pictures, Hans is to the side and Johan and Heinz are on the other side also taking pictures. I’m feeling very special, lots of photos are taken of me today.

Whenever I see the camera lens’, all I can think of is a Replacements bootleg I used to have where you hear Paul Westerberg tell the lighting tech on the gig “No spotlight tonight, I’m not feeling very pretty.”

I don’t need a spotlight today, the sun is right overhead and shining down on my melon. Knowing they are taking pictures I actually try to get my face a little bit in the shade to help them out. I mean, I can’t do nothing about my face but I can move out of the light.***

I tell some more stories and it’s a good show. I like the no PA shows best. Lots of folks line up to sign my guitar. Petra has brought me some chocolate as per tradition.****

I get extra clapping at the end letting me know that I’m not done so I finish up the set by playing a couple of extra songs and then I put my guitar down on the merch table and invite anyone that wants to, to sign their name and a line forms immediately.

A younger me dreamed of playing stadiums. Now when I write new songs I imagine playing them here in Heike’s Garden.

It’s a great post gig hang and we share some wine and chocolate and we say Tschuess to everyone.

Sleep comes easy and I don’t wake up for over 9 hours.

Moin.

***Move out of the light Carol Ann!
****Petra has given me the chocolate from the Hachez factory for years. Her grandfather worked in that factory and she told me that giving the gift of that chocolate is how she keeps the memory of her grandfather alive.

#toomanymilesbook

Thursday, Sept 10 
Haus am See 
Ottestedt, Germany
8 pm

I’ve also crossed a pretty huge milestone with the book: more than 500 copies sold. And the crazy thing is that more than 450 of those have gone directly from my hands to yours, either at a show or through my website. The rest have come through Amazon, Kindle, Goodreads and Barnes & Noble.

I’ve already ordered another pressing so I’ll have plenty waiting for me when I get home from Europe and head into a bunch of book events around Southern California in October and November.

For now, though, I’ve got about 15 copies left before I leave. So if you’d like one, order in the next few days and I can get it in the mail before I head across the Atlantic.

And I’m bringing something special with me to Europe: Too Many Miles: A European Companion, a German-language companion edition I made specifically for this tour. It collects the European stories from the book so I can finally share them with some of the people who are actually in those stories—even if they don’t read English.  

Morning! New reviews happening. 

Good Times magazine in Germany. 

Translation:
BOBBO BYRNES — TOO MANY MILES

On his new album, American singer/songwriter Bobbo Byrnes tells stories of his life (on tour) in calm, soft-rocking folk songs—a life shaped by long drives, chance encounters, and countless performances.

He has structured TOO MANY MILES like a travelogue, concerned less with grand statements than with the small human details that emerge along the way.

Very likable, disarmingly open, and absolutely authentic.

Just got two things today:

1. A radio interview from last weekend has now been published as a podcast and it's live here.
2. Fantastic new review from Italian website Planet Country here.

“I’m scratching at the surface now and I am trying hard to work it out.”

I really am. The score is uneven. This is not fair.

***

Busking is hard. I don’t think most people understand just how hard it is to stand on the street with just your guitar and your voice and belt out your truth. It’s naked in a way that cannot be explained, only experienced. Glen Hansard started busking at 13 years old. At thirteen he said “rock and roll is here to stay, come inside well it’s ok.” Yeah, that’s an obscure lyric to most but he would’ve gotten it. 

I tried busking as a teen, first going in to Harvard Square when I was 17 and skipping my algebra and philosophy classes at college. I’d sit in the pit at the top of the Red Line entrance and try hard to be somebody better than I was. 

There were always other strummers singing non-stop Beatles all day and John Lennon’s Imagine. “Imagine all the people, living life in peace?” That song taught me more than any philosophy course could. John Lennon’s death was still fresh and painful to folks even though it happened almost a decade earlier. I felt the loss but I was also detached from it, he died when I was 9 years old. 

***

The Commitments came out around the time I was first heading into Harvard Square. It was a fun movie about Dublin soul. Bono would later have a guitar that said “The Goal is Soul” and I think he stole the idea from this movie. Glen was the scrawny red-haired guitar player in the movie but what was strange was that it looked like he was actually playing the guitar. It wasn’t some fake pantomime with a telecaster. It was a worn thinline with its black paint already wearing through. It didn’t even look like a prop; he played it like it was his own. 

At the end of the movie Glen’s character, Outspan Foster, can be seen busking on Grafton Street. 

Art imitating life?

***

My generation has had its fair share of musical heroes and plenty that have burned out way to soon. Kurt Cobain’s passing was one of the biggest and it was both tragic and sadly, almost predictable. We watched someone whose pain became mass marketing. What does that do to a person? Chuck Klosterman once wrote that Kurt's fans didn't just love his music, they wanted him to save them. Is it worse to claim you're the savior, or to have millions of people tell you that you are? Either way, it'll fuck with your head.

***

“Take this sinking boat and point it home.”

We're broken enough to know that no one is coming to save us. We have to save each other. We were taught to believe in fairness and doing what’s right will always win only to have that thrown back in our faces time and time again. 

“Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice.”

But what if we could try to live up to these ideals. We can still have hope. Hope can’t die in a wall street crash or a real estate bubble. And we can’t let it die on a motorcycle in Dublin. We can lift each other up. 

Glen did that. He lifted up. Always. 

The stories of him always reaching down to help lift someone else up are streaming in and are seemingly endless now. 

Mine? I gave him a sticker that I knew he would get. “This Machine Shares Love.” My take on the Woody Guthrie “This Machine Kills Fascists.” I knew he’d get it because it is his ethos too. When I told him that I had busked on his street. HIS Grafton Street. He just looked at me and said “My man.” And gave me a big hug. 

It was a hug that lifted up. He saw me, I felt seen. 

Was he a perfect human? Feck no. Was he working towards it? Always. 

I understand why people were lost when Lennon was shot. It made no sense. Why kill someone who makes art and preaches peace? 

Glen’s makes even less sense. A motorcycle? Seriously? A fucking motorcycle? 

***

For years his touring schedule was always the opposite of mine. I’d be in Europe when he was in California and vice versa. I was complaining about our opposite tour schedules to a guy named Jimmy that I was on the road with in Germany sometime in 2015 or so. He had known Glen since his early days with The Frames and Glen would crash at his place in New York City. After Once became a Broadway hit, they would still hang out in the city from time to time. Jimmy told me about Glen dumpster diving to get a jacket out of the trash and saying to him, “You got money now, you don’t have to get your clothes out of a dumpster.” And Glen responding “but it’s still a good jacket.” 

There’s no big takeaway from that story but it somehow underscores the idea that he never left the street. 

***

“Time will be the healer once again.”

I’ve toured solo across Europe and the United States. I’ve spent hundreds of miles where the only voice in my car was Glen’s. I’ve cried alone singing along through New York and the Carolinas and Texas and Colorado and Germany and Belgium when the stresses of being a musician by myself out in the world and trying to share love and positivity just beat you down. I never knew Glen’s specific struggles but somehow, he knew mine. 

“This gift will last forever
This gift will never let you down
Some things are made from better stuff
This gift is waiting to be found.”

I’m not a religious man but I absolutely believe in the power of song. Song can lift us all up to our better angels. To see and feel the struggles of those around us and want to help. The issue may be bigger than me - but maybe I can help. 

Glen started the Christmas Busk over a decade ago as a way of helping the un-housed in Dublin through Simon Communities of Ireland. The busk grew to be bigger than him. 

I’ve been trying to organize one of those in my city for a few years now. The red-tape and unfriendliness towards busking in the U.S. have caused some challenges but strangely, the city got back to me yesterday about making a Christmas Busk for un-housed charity and the local foodbank happen here in my hometown. 

Maybe that’s how this goes on.

***

Glen’s funeral will be next week and broadcast on RTÉ News and in lieu of flowers or gifts, the family has asked that donations be made to Simon Community & Ukrainian Action. Even in death he’s still trying to help and lift up. 

This is why his death hurts so fucking much. He was one of us. He was our brother. He was still living the promise of being a real decent human being and he still fucking dies on a motorcycle by himself in the middle of the night. And goldbrickers who have only taken and never given get to die comfortably of old age with no consequences. And... and! FUCKING AND.

***

I have Joe Strummer’s quote “The Future is Unwritten” and Glen’s “Don’t Give Up” from his song This Gift both tattooed on my arm. I’ve listened to This Gift at least once a day for maybe a decade. It is a constant reminder to be grateful of what it is I do. The gift doesn’t promise everything working out but if you keep showing up for it, maybe, just maybe…

And I am. 

Somedays the reminder to not give up that comes at the end is what pulls me through. Now it’s also a tribute to Glen that I carry with me.  

“If you long enough
And you don't give up
If you're strong enough
And you don't give up.”

The two tattoos almost seem to be in conversation now. The future is unwritten, don’t give up. Strummer to Hansard. 

***

If Glen's life meant something to you, please consider supporting the causes his family asked us to remember.

Ní bheidh a leithid arís ann! 
There will never be their like again!

Dublin Simon https://www.dubsimon.ie/donate

Ukrainian Action Ireland - https://www.ukrainianaction.ie/donate

Ukrainian Action UK - https://donate.justgiving.com/.../ukraini.../donation-amount

Ukrainian Action (Rest of the World) - https://www.ukrainianaction.com/donate

Hey everybody!

It's been a minute.

Looking back over the last year, I realized there's been so much happening that I haven't really stopped to tell the whole story.

Here's the short version:

• Too Many Miles is out in the world.
• I've toured 7,000 miles across America.
• I'll be heading back to Europe this fall.
• The Fallen Stars are doing a special Firefly performance at WorldCon.
• And there are a few new projects quietly taking shape...

***

The Fallen Stars are excited to be a part of the WorldCon show going on the weekend of August 29^th at the Anaheim Convention Center. We will be performing a full set of our Firefly “Leaves on the Wind” music on Saturday afternoon. We’re scheduled to perform in the Pacific Ballroom on the Cabaret Stage at 3 P.M. See you there Browncoats!

On Tuesday, August 11, Tracy and I will be part of the Campus Jax Songstage showcase in Costa Mesa. 

***

I honestly didn't know if anyone would want to read twenty years of my journals. Thankfully, many, many of you proved me wrong.

Too Many Miles is not the common rock and roll rags to riches story. No, it is more of a story of perseverance, showing up and constantly evolving within the music business. It is also a story about me learning what it means to be an American while traveling the world. The full name of the book is Too Many Miles: On the Road with an Unofficial Rock & Roll Goodwill Ambassador. 

The book and album have both been out for about three months and getting great reviews.* I’ve done a cross country 7,000 mile California to Boston and back book and music tour already. I’ve sold over 400 books in person and through my website and more through Amazon and online retailers. One of the unexpected honors this year was learning that Too Many Miles has been added to the archives of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. It is currently being translated into German and I’m working on getting the audiobook done as soon as I can. 

The album Too Many Miles is like my greatest non-hits and are the songs I talk about in the book. The album has also been finding its way onto radio across Germany, the Netherlands, France, Italy, the U.K., Ireland, Canada and the U.S., which has been both surreal and deeply encouraging - including being named “one to watch” on the Euro-Americana Charts.

Book and album available here or you can find on Google. 

***

In the past two years I've also released two albums that are so different from everything I've ever done that the algorithms don't know what to do with me. It started when I was stranded in the Liege, Belgium train station and I was staring at the beautiful architecture while also being, you know, stranded. I just started imagining music to fill that traveling space. Out of that was born Music for Train Stations volumes 1 and volume 2. Recorded on a 1964 Steinway & Sons baby grand piano and featuring no guitar, no drums, no words - just sound. They are wonderful records to put on in the background when you're working, napping or daydreaming. Space is the extra instrument in these albums and I've already started composing volume 3 for release in 2027.** 

***

I'll be spending September and some of October wandering across Germany, Austria, Belgium, the Netherlands, England, Ireland and Northern Ireland. If you know a venue, house concert, bookshop or festival that might be a fit, I'd love an introduction. I will be starting in Verden, Germany on Saturday, Sept 5, 2026 and winding my way through Germany, Austria, Belgium, Netherlands, UK, Ireland and finally Northern Ireland. I have reserved a place to stay for about 10 days of those six weeks - so a lot is flexible!

Show schedule here and I also use BandsinTown.

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What’s coming up? 

I'm also putting the finishing touches on my second book, Sometimes You Get Paid in Tomatoes for a 2027 release. If Too Many Miles is about the road, Tomatoes is about the people I meet when when I'm not on stage, but in someone's living room tuning their piano. It's a collection of true stories shared with me by people whose pianos I tuned, stories I was trusted to carry and share. It is a much quieter little book that owes more than a little to WC Williams and Raymond Carver. It's also only 50 pages long

A new album with my buddy Morgan Keating from The Gypsy Mechanics. We booked two days in a studio in New Hampshire and wrote and recorded the whole thing during that time and we’re going to release it in October and have a CD release show in New Hampshire then. Seven songs and one cover of an obscure Pete Townshend & Ronnie Lane song called Heart to Hang on to that felt appropriate to us.

I have some book events happening in November in SoCal with Indie Author Day in Anaheim and Twentyninepalms Book Festival where I'll be on a panel about Route 66 and the enduring legacy of road writing. I also have a book signing on Saturday Nov 21 at The Open Book in Pasadena as well as the Anaheim Library has asked me to be part of their “Let's Talk Music” monthly series where I will be explaining writing, recording, book writing and performing all in a 90 minute show on November 18, 2026.

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I have also updated my FAQ page but I don't spill the tea on Dropkick Murphys.

I’m also working on a very ambitious project for 2027 that I can’t tell you about yet. 

Oh and I got a new guitar:

Thank you for continuing to come along for the ride.

Whether you've been here since the Fallen Stars or Riddle & The Stars days or only discovered me through Too Many Miles, I'm grateful you're here. 

None of this happened overnight. It happened because so many of you kept showing up over the years and I hope to see you at another show soon. Here's to more songs, more stories, more miles and more conversations.

xo
~Bobbo

If you do other social media things - I likely do them too.

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YouTube

P.S. I almost forgot about the free song. By now most of you probably know about my love of toast. A while back my buddy Kris was visiting, and we decided to make some noise in the studio. I had just received a fantastic custom amp from my friend Gio at Black Volt Amplification. The moment I plugged my Gretsch into it, it just screamed Crazy Horse at me.

Cinnamon Girl didn't feel quite right…so I sang about Cinnamon Toast instead.

Enjoy this little rock & roll breakfast treat.

*And if you like footnotes, sweet jesus does Too Many Miles have footnotes. One reader commented that they had read the whole book on their Kindle and then noticed they still had 14% of the book to read - just in footnotes!
**Volume 3 may have a little bit of a Steven Universe vibe to it - depending on whether or not I can get my hands on an Omnichord.