Road Report: Young the Giant Rely on the Kindness of Strangers

Young The Giant has had a busy year, supporting bands like Steel Train, Minus the Bear and most recently Marina and the Diamonds, but perhaps their most exciting moment is yet to come. The SoCal five-piece will be digitally releasing their self-titled debut on iTunes on October 26.

The band recently kicked off their tour with the Futureheads, but having learned nothing from their last go-around, the band only gave themselves two days to get from L.A. to Seattle. Thankfully, the kindness of a stranger helped them get on their way. Read singer Sameer Gadhia's new Road Report, complete with personal photos, after the jump.

After the Marina tour, we were given a week of relax time at our homes in Orange County and Los Angeles. We all dined, drank, and spent time with our loved ones in a frantic, obsessed fashion, not unlike a man just released from prison. We knew that our domestic days were numbered, and all of us found pleasure in things like simple house chores and cooking, picking up groceries for the family and shopping for furniture. With a few days of extreme lounging under our widened belts, we were once again ready to set off for the Futureheads tour. We apparently hadn't learned anything from our Lincoln to Boston fiasco earlier, because we allotted a measly two days to get up to Seattle for the first gig.

By evening of our first day on the road, we reached San Francisco; a place that has been like a second home to all of us the past three years. Unfortunately, due to the grueling schedule we had forced upon ourselves, we couldn't spend the night in S.F. In relatively loose terms, we had arrived in San Francisco for very important business.

With the dying sunlight on the backs of our shoulders, we raced through city traffic to pick up our confidant and photographer, Alex Shahmiri. Earlier in the week, the idea had been pitched for us to film some acoustic performances atop a scenic cliff point just north of the city. This would only work with the daylight to light us. This was, clearly, very stressful business.

Now that Alex was tumbling around somewhere on the floor of our van, we gassed it up to the cliff just in time to film and shoot during the last slivers of the day's sunset. The view was breathtaking, and by the time we had finished our second song, the sun was completely engulfed by the sea. After picking up some curbside Thai food in Marin County, we said goodbye to Alex and made our way further up north. We eventually stopped off in a highway truck town just south of Redding at around 2 a.m.

We got an early start on the road the next morning, and although the scenery of northern California moving in to Oregon fared nicely for the long hours, by nine at night, we had all decided it was time to stop off for dinner. We drove slowly through the dampened streets of outer Portland, looking for something that would hit the spot. We finally stopped off at a soul food joint called Christopher's Gourmet Grill. The place only took cash, and because we didn't have any on us, we were told to locate a nearby ATM. We ruffled up our hoods, slightly annoyed, and began to make our way out of the restaurant. Before we could leave, a tall, amicable fellow stopped us in our tracks. The man was named Darren, the owner of the grill.

"I need to make a run to the liquor store. I could give y'all a ride to the bank's ATM if you'd like?"

We figured we were in good enough company, so Francois and I made the drive in his mat black SUV to the only ATM open downtown. On the drive over, Darren informed us of Portland's rapid gentrification. The reason why most local business closed before 9 p.m. near the kitchen's neighborhood was because of Portland's rampant crime and gang violence in the previous decade. Darren said there were times he feared for his life working the late shift at the restaurant. As Portland's music scene began to flourish, however, young wealthy liberals and couples began to move in to the neighborhood, providing a change of scenery for many like Darren living in the bad parts of town. The talk wasn't all scholarly. After the dust settled, we began to exchange tall-tales of adventure and romance. We were in downtown Portland now, and in our delirium, had completely lost track of time. We hurried into Darren's favorite liquor store with malted thirst. As the cashier bagged Darren's favorite scotch, our new friend asked us if we were going to pick anything up. We quickly shook our heads as we turned our empty pockets inside out. Darren took pity of us, and in an extreme act of kindness, treated us to a small handle of our very own Maker's Mark whiskey.

By the time we reached Christopher's Gourmet Grill again, the other guys had already finished eating. We explained the happenings of the last hour with much excitement and presented the bottle to them in all its liquid glory. After Francois and I finished up our savory foods, Darren toasted to our health and safe journey. We promised him a spot on our guest list in Portland (our next stop after Seattle), and requested his attendance.

Three hours later, we were in our hotel near Seattle Airport, toasting Darren and our good fortune. We had successfully arrived in Seattle a night early, and not without spirits. Darren ended up coming to the show, but missing everything but our last song. We promised that we would get him in the next time we rolled into town.