Before we left for this private party, we ran through A Horse with No Name one more time.
Not because it is especially complicated. Quite the opposite: it has two chords. But we had attempted it once before by request and somehow managed to play different chords from each other. Two musicians who have worked together for years, defeated by a song with roughly the harmonic complexity of a doorbell.
So we did our homework. We worked out the harmonies, the solo, the bass line, the guitar and piano parts, then gave it one last check before heading out. This time it became a little two-chord redemption story—and a reminder that even the simple songs deserve more than a hack version.
A Trailer, Some Dogs and New Technology
We set up outdoors on a trailer, with several dogs nearby enjoying the nice weather. The booking gave us four hours to stretch out, with two short breaks and background music keeping things moving while we stepped away.
It was also our first show using the new interactive request technology Greg has been building into the website. Plenty of requests came through, which meant Greg got a real-world look at where the system needed adjustments. Nothing tests new technology quite like taking it out to a party and asking it to behave while you are also playing guitar, piano and everything else within reach.
The requests took us into songs we rarely play—and some we had never played at all. Pancho & Lefty was a particular treat. Then came Rhinestone Cowboy, a song we had never received as a request before. We both love Glen Campbell, and Greg was more than ready to play it.
The Lights Had Their Own Set List
Once the sun was out of the way, the lighting setup got to do its part. Greg does not simply run one sound-synced program and hope for the best. He has different scenes arranged for different kinds of music, so he rotated the lights throughout the night.
We also got to catch up with friends we had not seen in a while. By load-out, Tom may have had more energy than when we started—which is a useful trait when the instruments, stands, cables and lights all have to find their way back into the vehicle.
The Glamorous Road Diet
Of course, no short Bell & Field road trip is complete without carefully planned culinary support. Greg stopped at McDonald’s on the way there. The party was far enough into the country that Taco Bell was not waiting conveniently on the route home, but after dropping Tom off, Greg corrected that problem with his usual bean burrito and steak quesadilla.
And there it was: outdoor trailer stage, dogs, shifting light scenes, unusual requests, one successfully redeemed two-chord song and fast food on both ends of the trip. The working-musician life, at least the version where nobody is handing you a catered dinner.
If that sounds like the right kind of music for your own gathering, you can take a look at booking Bell & Field. We’ll bring the songs—and we promise to agree on the chords.
Audience Gallery
Audience photos from the show.
Sunday afternoon shows are starting to grow on us. There’s something about loading out while there’s still daylight that feels like we’re getting away with something.
When we arrived, Lisa welcomed us, recorded a quick pre-show welcome video (Tom handled the talking; Greg did his usual “stand there and try not to look awkward” routine), and showed us where to pull the cars around back so we could unload right next to the performance area. We will never stop appreciating an easy load-in.
We’d played the night before, and Greg’s voice had already taken a beating. He’d slept badly, got up around 7:00 a.m., and by the first song at Tres Rojas, it was clear his voice was mostly air.
Tom also took a few solo turns, including “Heart of Gold” and an original called “Our Time,” which Greg hadn’t heard him play in ages. There’s a different kind of focus in the air when we play an original. Covers tend to trigger shared memories; originals ask everyone to lean in and listen to a story they’re hearing for the first time.
We’d heard about Tiny Acres out near Monmouth, but driving down that long country road for the first time felt a little like we’d taken a wrong turn into someone’s private farm lane. Then the trees opened up, the pond came into view, and suddenly there was this whole little event world laid out in front of us.
The place itself is impressive. There’s the 1850s ceremony barn up on the hill, looking over the pond, with rows of chairs set up like it’s permanently five minutes before a wedding. There’s an overnight cabin, outdoor spaces with grills and picnic tables, and the main event building where we played. You can tell somebody actually thought about how people move through this place.
Once we got set up and sound‑checked, we realized this room was built with sound in mind. No weird slapback echo, no dead zone at the far end. People could be standing at the bar and still hear the music clearly, but we never felt like we were blasting anyone out of their chairs. It’s rare that a long, rectangular room feels that balanced, and this one did.
Somewhere later in the night, someone tossed out a request for “Gin and Juice.” Not exactly in the Bell & Field standard catalog. I gave it a shot anyway—one verse, acoustic, very tongue‑in‑cheek—then stopped, laughed, and admitted that was probably as far as I could responsibly take it. That one verse got a bigger reaction than some full songs, and it reminded me how sometimes you don’t have to nail a request to make it fun; you just have to meet people halfway.
We packed up through that magic load‑in door, said our goodbyes, and headed back down the long road to Monmouth. On the way out of town, we hit Taco Bell, debriefed the night, and started game‑planning our show at Tres Rojas Winery the next day. It’s hard not to feel lucky when your “work meeting” is about playing songs you love and eating bean burritos and tacos.
Late November in Iowa usually means coats in the car, short days, and people deciding whether they’re ready for winter yet. A Friday night at a winery and distillery sounds like a pretty solid way to delay that decision for a few hours.
Going into this one at Coal Creek Brewing in Princeton, we honestly weren’t sure what we were walking into. A Tuesday, 5–7 PM, a private group Jim was hosting, and a room we’d never played before. We didn’t know where we’d set up, how loud we should be, or if people would be listening closely or just chatting over us.
One of those musicians was Payton Schott, who owns West Main Coffee & Books in Toulon. I used to play music with her a few years back. Our side project never totally found its lane, but it ended on good terms, and I’ve always thought the world of her as a person and as a musician. She’s also the one who helped connect us with Jim for this Coal Creek date, so this gig was kind of the Toulon–Galva–Princeton triangle closing a loop.
Between sets and after we wrapped, we worked through that beer flight Tom had ordered, comparing notes like we actually knew what we were talking about. Tom eventually settled on a full 16 oz of a blueberry/blackberry wheat draft called “Plot Twist,” which pretty much nailed the whole night in one phrase. Neither of us expected a Tuesday at Coal Creek to turn into one of our favorite recent gigs, but there we were.
Sometimes you pull into a town, start unloading gear, and you can just tell it’s going to be a good one. That’s how it felt rolling into Monmouth for our Market Alley Wines show on July 11.
Once we kicked off the first set, it felt like the whole alley kind of clicked into place. There was that low hum of conversation, glasses clinking, and then this slow shift as people started actually listening. By the time we hit “I Feel Fine,” Greg was sneaking in some extra piano runs and Tom just looked over and grinned. Those are the little moments that make a live acoustic duo performance fun for us.
We wrapped up, packed the gear, and then hung out a bit with Sarah and Jeff to catch up. They’re the kind of venue owners that make Market Alley Wines entertainment feel like a collaboration instead of just a booking. Monmouth’s got a good thing going with them anchoring that alley.
If you’re the kind of person who likes a low-key Saturday night where you can have dinner, catch up with friends, and still hear the words to the songs, this one is right in that lane.
Outdoor gigs in July are always a bit of a gamble. Heat, humidity, storms – usually at least one shows up. Our live acoustic duo performance for Valley View Club’s 60th anniversary in Cambridge managed to flirt with all three and still let us get through the show.
his whole night was about anniversaries – 250 years of America and 60 years of Valley View Club. The course has been there for about one-fifth of the country’s history, which is kind of wild when you think about it.
We wrapped the main part of the night with “Wild Night,” which is always a fun one to end on, and then closed things out with “America the Beautiful” on the eve of the 4th. Greg and Paul leaned into a version that stays close to the Ray Charles arrangement – soulful, patient, and not rushed. It felt like the right way to nod to both the country’s birthday and Valley View’s 60 years.
We don’t play a lot of museums, so getting asked to be part of the Kewanee Historical Society’s 50th birthday party already felt a little different in the best way. Instead of a stage or a corner of a bar, we were set up on the mezzanine, looking down over the main floor while people came in, grabbed food, and found old friends.
The star of our setup area, though, was this bright orange vintage sofa under a painting of a Hawaiian woman who is… let’s just say, not overdressed. The painting used to hang at the old Waunee Farms restaurant, and once we saw it, we knew there was no way we were getting through the night without a photo or two.
Our second Father’s Day at Tuggers in Port Byron looked pretty different from the first one. Last year it was all sunshine on the patio and people hanging out by the river. This year: nonstop rain, temps in the upper 50s, and us hauling gear inside instead of out to the deck. Still, by the time we finished playing, it felt like exactly the kind of Father’s Day we both needed.
This show had an extra layer for Tom: his whole family was there—parents, kids, significant others, Malissa—taking over a couple of tables and making it very clearly a Father’s Day thing. Somewhere in the middle of the set, Tom took a short break to open his gifts. From Greg’s vantage point, it looked like a mini living room scene right there in the bar, which fit the mood of the day perfectly.
This was Tom’s first gig since turning fifty the week before, and that milestone was definitely in the back of his mind, as he reflected on his appreciation for family, life, and music.
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