Jeremy Porter Road Blog

Road Blog: Friday May 29, 2026 - Dubuque, IA

Road Blog
May 29, 2026
Dubuque, Iowa

We said goodbye to our friends Gretta and Paul at the Hasty Tasty Pancake House in Dayton yesterday and headed northwest. Troy was driving, I was shotgun, and JakeE Jacob was in the back. We cranked some Allman Brothers, BASH & POP, The Babys, and Def Leppard along with some good stretches of USB shuffle and the 7-hour drive went by fairly quickly, through Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and into Iowa.

We checked into our dive motel on the outside of the city and settled in for some needed downtime after the drive, late night and early morning that preceded our arrival. Everybody got caught up on a little sleep, showers, phone time, or TV. The van was running on fumes so we filled up, oddly grateful to see gas right around the $4 mark for the first time in weeks.

We had dinner at this Thai joint, apparently the only one in town, which our resident meal-planner JakeE picked out. Jake’s got a fantastic batting average when it comes to picking places to eat – and a keen sense of cuisine, quality, convenience and cost. It’s one of the hats he wears in this band and we count on his instincts to do right. Welp you can’t win `em all kiddo.

Young fella taking or order was, like the kid at the ice cream stand outside of Syracuse a couple weeks ago, just trying to get by when he’d clearly rather be home making out with his girlfriend and playing Wizard of War (or whatever the current video game thingy is), so we were gentile on him. I’m a sucker for a good satay and this was not a good satay. Chicken was dry, and as I increasingly noticed as ate it, somewhat under-cooked. How one achieves both dry and under-cooked chicken at the same time, I cannot say, but here we are. “What the worst that could happen”? I asked with a smirk as I polished off the last half-raw chicken strip.

Then the boys’ plates came out – drunken noodle for JakeE and sesame chicken for Troy. Food seemed a bit pedestrian but not too bad, given the circumstances. We were starting to wonder what the deal was with my meal when the kid brought this stainless steel, propane fueled, NASA satellite launching pad to the table and started teaching he how to use it while a crowd gathered with lawn chairs, cameras, snacks, and binoculars to watch the launch. “Hey look boss," says I, nicely, "I just want my noodle bowl,” but the old man (me) apparently missed the “cook it yourself sucker haha lol” tagline on the menu item.

A giant iron vat of chili-broth was placed on the launching pad burner before me, and I felt a little like the 3 witches in Clash of the Titans who were cooking the giant eyeball stew that Perseus would eventually use to kill Medusa or something. Anyhow, I was glad to have something that was blocking the propane flames as I was starting to get a tan. The boys’ level of amusement with the situation rose at an equal pace with my agitation. Then, what seemed like hours later, a giant tray of raw meat and vegetables was placed before me, the great chef, and the kid starts to walk away.

“Hey boss hold it right there if ya’ could please. Not being on the kitchen staff here, what am I supposed to do here, just dump this shit in and wait till it’s brown?” The table laughed but I wasn’t making a joke. He gave me a quick little lesson about cooking your own meal at a Thai restaurant and I really, really hope it’s a lesson I’ll never have to relearn. I was nice to the kid and sorry his girlfriend is making out with his best pal in her parents basement while he’s schlepping tables in this dump, but I gotta figure this out.

So anyhow, food was fine, broth was good, noodles were ok. I didn’t ask for broccoli or carrots but the hideous things found their way onto my tray. Clams were kinda pathetic. Yea I ordered clams for some reason. “Why would you order clams in Dubuque?” JakeE asked, then TrooperGirl22 repeated the exact same question word for word an hour later when I called home. They were funky tasting, like nasty river water, and I’m pretty sure they were scraped from the hull next to the toilet drain on the William H Black steamboat docked in the Mississippi river across from the venue. I left hungry, broken, shirt splattered with broth, mentally exhausted, and a bit angry from working a shift in that goddamn kitchen. Surprised I didn’t have to wash the dishes too. I almost offered. The boys retold the story all night, somehow getting the words out between their laughter. The struggle is real, friends.

The Lift is a great room that sits on Main Street in downtown Dubuque, right across from the river. It’s in the basement of an old mattress factory, with cool stone walls. There’s a band room and a bar room next to it. We said hello to Sparrowhawk, from Minneapolis, worked out the logistics for gear, order, and times, and set up for soundcheck. Our friends Erica and Daryl from Illinois made it out, with their (and our friends) Jill N. Tracy, from a ways south in Iowa. Always great to see these wonderful people, and always great to know you won’t be playing to no one.

I stepped out and called TG22 who seems to be keeping the house standing while I am gone, and not having to follow a late-middle-aged punk rocker around with a dustpan all day. She was not surprised about the dinner debacle but blamed me for not being present enough to properly assess the situation, and again, the gross clams. No sympathy for the shit I get myself into.

We went on around 9:40 and pretty quickly had a decent room of people of watching. “Hope we can get this set done before my dysentery kicks in.” I said into the mic as we went into “The Things All Men Do,” expecting that raw chicken to work its ways south at any moment. We tore it up pretty good, had a couple laughs, and wrapped it up about 70 minutes later. Sparrowhawk went on after us as they were exactly what I’d hoped they be after listening to their records – a blend of Thin Lizzy and the Minneapolis sounds of the bands I love; The Replacements -, early Soul Asylum, etx. Great songs and musicianship too, with those always present harmony guitars and melodies. I loved them and got both records which will be cranked on an upcoming #whiskeywednesday.

After one last round and some goodbyes we loaded out and headed back to the dive motel. The boys got into their cans of margaritas and I had my usual bourbon rocks before we realized it was 3am and we’d better call it. I slept like a rock for 5 hours.

Big thanks to Aaron, Sparrowhawk, Daryl, Erica, Jill & Tracy and everyone who rocked out with us in Dubuque last night. Always loved this city and The Lift and can’t wait to come back!

This morning I’m working on the blog, drinking the shittiest lobby coffee I’ve ever had, and looking forward to hitting one of my fav cities – Rockford, Illinois – where we’ll play Marys Place tonight with Half Catholic. I need a winner, Beef-A-Roo so fire up them grills! Always a blast at Mary’s Place. Hope you can join us!