Author name: David Berkeley

In the past few weeks I’ve had the distinct privilege of riding the rails through England, Belgium, Germany, France, Holland and these United States of America. If I knew an anthropologist, I might propose a study of cultural difference seen through the windows of the various moving trains. Instead, this hastily written blog will have […]

  A warning to you, kind reader: this blog entry has nothing to do with fatherhood, music, skies or anything else that other posts have considered. If those are the only topics you care to read me ramble on about, read no further. But if you’ve long wondered about my opinions on the controversial relationship

Driving the sixty miles home from the Albuquerque Airport (or Sunport as it’s been somewhat annoyingly named) back to Santa Fe is always a shock to my system. On “paper” (now known as wikipedia), Albuquerque has about the same population as Atlanta. But unlike Atlanta, which seems to sprawl almost into Tennessee, once you leave

Of late this here blog has become more about my mishaps around the house and the yard than about the sky or, hey here’s an idea, music. And in fact this past week could warrant a lengthy post on the same. I removed a pyracantha bush last week (also known as, I learned later, the

Yesterday I found myself teetering atop a metal patio chair, a seven-pound sawzall in my hand and maybe 200 yards of daisy-chained extension chord trailing behind me. I had decided to trim the wooden fence between our yard and our neighbor’s (for those of you wondering, I wisely chose not to use my axe). It

(Pictured: The path to the gig…what you can’t see is the wind.) A long overdue post coming to you from my kitchen in Santa Fe. I just returned home from a quick tour in the upper midwest. Chicago, the middle of Wisconsin and the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, to be exact. The astute among

When someone asks if “that is your blue Prius parked outside?” it’s rarely good news. You know, if you hear them calling a license plate number out over a loudspeaker in a store or an airport or a dentist office, it’s not like the Pick 6. You don’t want the number to be yours. You’re

I now own an axe. As of yesterday. Yep. And I’m not talking about an electric guitar like the one Kerry King (Slayer) uses. I’m talking about an actual axe, i.e. blade and shaft, i.e. this baby. Sarah gave it to me for my birthday. It’s an awesome gift, one I was certainly not expecting.

I’ve just released my new album on vinyl, so I wanted to put down a quick word on the medium. We have a record player. (It looks more or less like this.) We bought it for cheap (so can you), and apart from having to throw $9 and a screwdriver at it to change the

A quick one today for the road back from the Gila Wilderness was a long one, and I need to work on other things. But while it’s fresh in my head, I wanted to sound a virtual trumpet call in praise of the venue I played at this weekend: The Buckhorn Saloon and Opera House,