This is a picture of us at Mt. Everest base camp. Why, of all the great photos we have saved on Nitzan’s camera, are we choosing to show you this one?Because our fall 2005 tour is officially over. And on the last fleeting hours of Tuesday, November 22nd, as Jack and Nitzan took turns racing out of the room to be sick, as Misha and I stood reeling from the 43 hour drive and trying to keep our borrowed instruments from feeding back violently into the monitors, as the set wound down on what had unexpectedly become the last show of our tour, due to a Bay Area cancellation mere hours before, the same nine words kept dancing through all of our heads:

“This is exactly like the time we climbed Everest.”

Our Spring 2005 Everest expedition had brought out the best, as well as the worst, in Speechwriters LLC. We did it, not because it made sense for us to do it, not even because it “needed doing” in any larger sense; we did it because it was there, and because something inside of all four of us hungered for the experience.

And what happened? Then, like now, we lost a lot of our gear, came back in terrible physical condition, and were lucky to have survived it at all. But we knew, deep down, that we had made it, and we found ourselves counting the seconds until conditions were right for another ascent.

This is a picture of Misha and I coming home from our first national tour, back in early 2002. Our resemblance to returning Roman centurions, both physically and emotionally, is uncanny. It’s weird to be back from a campaign, readjusting to life as a civilian, and I think that’s why none of us have felt quite ready to hit the keys and give this tour the wrap-up she’s so desperately been needing.

But it’s time. I mean, my God. It’s almost Christmas. I know we say this all the time, but you, all of you, plural and collectively, are the greatest fans a band could ask for. We feel weird calling you fans, even, because you’ve made such a group point of coming out to shows and writing us emails, to the point where we know most of you by name and consider us all to be legitimately friends.

So seriously, thank you all for helping us make this tour happen. We love you, and rest assured that we’re holing up this winter not to hide from you, but to write our best album yet:

Sincerely,

Dave Lowensohn

Speechwriters LLC

(-)

the van was broken into and two guitars, the gasbag (ziplock with a few hundred in cash and all the receipts needed for the books with respect to this tour), and my knife were stolen. new york’s finest has no leads, per se, but suspects this to be the work of whichever particular crackhead gang claims this particular block as there own and we will, in all liklihood, never get any of this back and forever bear the sadly common scars of a band that has been raped. there are other details surrounding this that make it even more wretched and fucked up, but they affect others that i don’t feel justified in speaking on the behalf of.

(+)

it was a good crowd in new york, which i think we were all honestly surprised by. dave was saved by cherub rock on a bridge, i calmed down because of a frozen mud puddle and the postal service. misha got to see old friends with fake names and samurai hair, and nitzan got a decent sandwich at three am. we are all alive and we are unhurt and there are people that love us in places that we will see soon.