Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Tourin'
Not surprisingly, the check list I made was useless. I forgot the 5 lb. tub, for one thing. Not that there would've been room for it. The rental place "ran out" of the van we requested, so they gave us an Explorer. Luckily we're only a trio. We put down the seats and packed that shit to the gills.
Phoenix was fun, but ended up a bust. We played a venue called Jan's European Restaurant and Bar (that's "Yon's" -- see how European they are?). It was in a strip mall across from a Hometown Buffet and Applebee's. The hip part of town was the opposite direction, we were told. Still, despite the single-digit crowd, we rocked on. After the first song, the wench at the door walked to the stage and said, "This is not to say anything about your guys' talent, but you drove all the way and there's no one here and it's St. Patrick's Day. So if you want to stop, that's cool with us". Had we not already been humbled by the night's events, this could very well have humiliated us off the stage. But we kept playing. Wench left to catch up with her St. Patty's Day plans, along with the rest of Phoenix.
The other band that night joked that Jan's would pay us in meth. Apparently we were in That Part of Phoenix. The part that's always featured on Cops, I suspect. Seemed everywhere we went people were either desperately looking for, or on drugs (the front desk dude at the hotel with the dagger tattoo turned checking in into a 30 step process).
We did play really well, which lifted our spirits. Knowing we had a long ride the next day, we declined an invitation to hang out with the other band. We drank some beers at the hotel and fell asleep watching a really bad Patrick Dempsey movie.
We hit the road for El Paso at 11am. Outside Tucson, we started seeing signs for The Thing? At first they just asked, What Is The Thing? As we went further, more and more signs with increasingly scarier font told us when and where The Thing? would occur. How could we not go??
I can't tell you what The Thing? was. That would break the Roadside Attraction code of honor. I can say we saw many things that were not The Thing? before we got to The Thing? We paid $1 to walk through tents full of artifacts of questionable authenticity, as well as weird Tim Burton-esque wood carvings. Then we walked into the last tent and BAM! There The Thing? was. (There's also a DQ next door, so it's totally worth it).
Not far from The Thing? in New Mexico, we saw a man sprint across the freeway. He hit the other side and kept going. From where he'd fled, we saw a group of police cars. It was a big moment for us. We honked a kinship with our new on-the-lam friend.
Texas welcomed us with stench. Right before we entered, we passed the biggest slaughter house in the world. Seemingly miles and miles of cows stewing in their own shit. At least, that's what you'd think from the way the smell lingered in our car.
We thought the venue in El Paso, Skate El Paso, was a skate park. And it was. Sort of. Just of the rollerskating variety. Unfortunately, no one was skating. The owners turned Friday nights into a showcase for live music. They'd built a big stage with a clear sound system and.... a fog machine! The bands were mostly from local high schools. Played a kind of metal-emo.
We held a crowd and made $50, but clearly stuck out. I couldn't tell what the kids thought of us until the last band went on. The lead singer (all the bands had lead singers), eyes a-glazed, prefaced a song with, "This last one goes out to those hippies in Muso... It's called 'Smokin' the Bong'..."
I started to think we should hire an image consultant.
We got back on the 10 around midnight, drove four hours to Fort Stockton, slept five hours, and kept on to Austin in the morning. Aside from a speeding ticket, local beef jerkey, and some rain, it was without incident. West Texas is pretty sparse.
By the time we arrived in Austin, caffeine and exhaustion were duking it out in all of us. The show was at a gallery that doubled as a music venue. Family showed up early (Josh and Parker are from Austin), and friends, including some of my homies from California, trickled in. The low cement ceilings made us louder than usual, much to our audiences' chagrin. But everyone had nice things to say, and we made enough money to put a big dent in our gas expenses.
That night I met up with my brother and got tizanked. I wanted to crash out early, but the thing about Austin is there's a lot of great beer on tap and many cool places to drink it in. Plus, I was catching up with my brother, so there was no choice.
We began the 22 hour trip home the next day, me still underslept and with a wicked hangover. Parker blessed us by driving the first 12 hours.
Texas shitted, "goodbye!".
I took the reins around 2am, and inhaled Double Shots and ciagrettes to keep me awake through the desert. There was much black, empty nothing. At times it looked as if I was driving in space. Usually these were occasions for more espresso-in-a-can.
Only mildly retarded from exhaustion, we got into L.A. around 10:30am yesterday. I slept for 15 hours and I'm still tired.
By the way, our website is finally up. It's in-progress, but you can still learn more about the hippies behind the music.
Not surprisingly, the check list I made was useless. I forgot the 5 lb. tub, for one thing. Not that there would've been room for it. The rental place "ran out" of the van we requested, so they gave us an Explorer. Luckily we're only a trio. We put down the seats and packed that shit to the gills.
Phoenix was fun, but ended up a bust. We played a venue called Jan's European Restaurant and Bar (that's "Yon's" -- see how European they are?). It was in a strip mall across from a Hometown Buffet and Applebee's. The hip part of town was the opposite direction, we were told. Still, despite the single-digit crowd, we rocked on. After the first song, the wench at the door walked to the stage and said, "This is not to say anything about your guys' talent, but you drove all the way and there's no one here and it's St. Patrick's Day. So if you want to stop, that's cool with us". Had we not already been humbled by the night's events, this could very well have humiliated us off the stage. But we kept playing. Wench left to catch up with her St. Patty's Day plans, along with the rest of Phoenix.
The other band that night joked that Jan's would pay us in meth. Apparently we were in That Part of Phoenix. The part that's always featured on Cops, I suspect. Seemed everywhere we went people were either desperately looking for, or on drugs (the front desk dude at the hotel with the dagger tattoo turned checking in into a 30 step process).
We did play really well, which lifted our spirits. Knowing we had a long ride the next day, we declined an invitation to hang out with the other band. We drank some beers at the hotel and fell asleep watching a really bad Patrick Dempsey movie.
We hit the road for El Paso at 11am. Outside Tucson, we started seeing signs for The Thing? At first they just asked, What Is The Thing? As we went further, more and more signs with increasingly scarier font told us when and where The Thing? would occur. How could we not go??
I can't tell you what The Thing? was. That would break the Roadside Attraction code of honor. I can say we saw many things that were not The Thing? before we got to The Thing? We paid $1 to walk through tents full of artifacts of questionable authenticity, as well as weird Tim Burton-esque wood carvings. Then we walked into the last tent and BAM! There The Thing? was. (There's also a DQ next door, so it's totally worth it).
Not far from The Thing? in New Mexico, we saw a man sprint across the freeway. He hit the other side and kept going. From where he'd fled, we saw a group of police cars. It was a big moment for us. We honked a kinship with our new on-the-lam friend.
Texas welcomed us with stench. Right before we entered, we passed the biggest slaughter house in the world. Seemingly miles and miles of cows stewing in their own shit. At least, that's what you'd think from the way the smell lingered in our car.
We thought the venue in El Paso, Skate El Paso, was a skate park. And it was. Sort of. Just of the rollerskating variety. Unfortunately, no one was skating. The owners turned Friday nights into a showcase for live music. They'd built a big stage with a clear sound system and.... a fog machine! The bands were mostly from local high schools. Played a kind of metal-emo.
We held a crowd and made $50, but clearly stuck out. I couldn't tell what the kids thought of us until the last band went on. The lead singer (all the bands had lead singers), eyes a-glazed, prefaced a song with, "This last one goes out to those hippies in Muso... It's called 'Smokin' the Bong'..."
I started to think we should hire an image consultant.
We got back on the 10 around midnight, drove four hours to Fort Stockton, slept five hours, and kept on to Austin in the morning. Aside from a speeding ticket, local beef jerkey, and some rain, it was without incident. West Texas is pretty sparse.
By the time we arrived in Austin, caffeine and exhaustion were duking it out in all of us. The show was at a gallery that doubled as a music venue. Family showed up early (Josh and Parker are from Austin), and friends, including some of my homies from California, trickled in. The low cement ceilings made us louder than usual, much to our audiences' chagrin. But everyone had nice things to say, and we made enough money to put a big dent in our gas expenses.
That night I met up with my brother and got tizanked. I wanted to crash out early, but the thing about Austin is there's a lot of great beer on tap and many cool places to drink it in. Plus, I was catching up with my brother, so there was no choice.
We began the 22 hour trip home the next day, me still underslept and with a wicked hangover. Parker blessed us by driving the first 12 hours.
Texas shitted, "goodbye!".
I took the reins around 2am, and inhaled Double Shots and ciagrettes to keep me awake through the desert. There was much black, empty nothing. At times it looked as if I was driving in space. Usually these were occasions for more espresso-in-a-can.
Only mildly retarded from exhaustion, we got into L.A. around 10:30am yesterday. I slept for 15 hours and I'm still tired.
By the way, our website is finally up. It's in-progress, but you can still learn more about the hippies behind the music.
