Life and Crimes

Notes from the Wilderness: New Jerk City

2011-05-07T10:48:00.000-07:00

Fuck if I'll ever play the city again.

I get that you're a tired old, for lack of a better term, "promotor," and you don't care if we've been on tour for three weeks, smell like shit, feel and look homeless, but with seventy-five plus people there paying eight bucks a pop I think we can do a little better than twenty-seven lousy bucks. I get that we didn't bring the most people (although I counted nine tally marks next to our name, which should have allotted us at least sixty bucks), but maybe if you didn't schedule us at seven o'clock for the punk rock matinee show some of our friends could have gotten off work and made it. I almost wanted to give the money back and tell her not to worry about it, but she was so busy burying her face in cocaine in the back room she probably wouldn't have noticed.

But tonight is Brooklyn, and lord do I love Brooklyn.

Didja hear how we got wasted in Danbury? We'll be back up for the annual Gut Rot Crew July 4th BBQ. Now that we're official members and all.

Notes from the Wilderness: A Tired Kindness

2011-05-04T14:08:00.000-07:00

Two weeks left of tour. I am sitting in a bar where we will be playing tonight. I feel mildly sick and out of wits. The bartender is moderately to very attractive. Last night I slept in the driver's seat of our van. I struggled for all of the night and most of the morning to find comfortable positions, getting very creative to find my comfortable "curled up in the fetal position" position. As I was twisting and turning myself into all sorts of grotesque shapes I started thinking on the kindness and trust that so many people bestow upon you while you're a touring band. I don't know if it's us specifically, the people we meet, or just the all-encompassing, iron-clad "rules of the road" that makes it easy for folks to take us in, feed us, allow us to use and defile their facilities, and so-on-and-so-forth.

Take the other night for example in Fredonia, NY. We had played another goddamned coffee shop show (albeit we played well, though admittedly a bit awkwardly and made a decent chunk of bills) and went out with some locals. They were nice enough I suppose, not exactly the biggest party animals though how could you be in a shitpit like Jamestown, NY? Either way, they told us that Fredonia was the cool place to play, and hang out. So around 11:30 we left for Fredonia, which is about a half an hour north, got in around midnight and tried to get a show for our day off the next night at some college bar where they have shows, we heard.

The place was fucking packed, I mean wall-to-fucking-wall, as some big end of the semester street concert was going on. All of the bastards were around us. So with nothing to lose, and little to gain we asked the bar back Tim, who also booked for the joint, if we could jump on a show the next night. It was obvious that the bar staff was tired, ornery, and looking forward to a night's peace. The kid is unsure about a show, but, he offered, he could set us up with a place to stay. He brings four strange men to his lady's house at three in the goddamn morning sight unseen. It's a strange a beautiful thing.

In case you're wondering we're sitting in a quiet coffee shop somewhere in Massachusetts while a man across from us plays our songs over the speakers on his computer. Somewhere a slow death is required.

Notes from the Wilderness: Warrior v. Champion

2011-04-30T15:23:00.000-07:00

Author's note: I wrote this at 6 AM coming down from mushrooms, stoned out of my gourd, and drunk on Bush. There was truth in it, probably more so than the last few entries, or any subsequent entries. I am not discontinuing Life and Crimes, but I am moving onto a bit different programming. I also might export it to tumblr. I haven't yet decided. So without further ado, the tired ramblings of a madman.

The entirety of Life and Crimes has become a self-referential mess. Constant allusions to drunken and debacheurous nights have worn thin on myself, and I assume the readership. I am bored with constantly chronicling the repeatative nights "on the road." In summation: We went to a bar, we saw this, we drank that, we consumed everything else. Some people got laid, others didn't. You get it. I get it. We get it. The real reason we do this is because of this phrase I have been rolling over and over in my head:

"Tonight I will sleep a warrior, tomorrow I will arise a champion."

As I knelt down to sleep with my troops like a captain opting to sleep in the brig instead of his quarters I repeated this phrase. A cheap and cliche'd mantra I know, but It makes sense to me and it justifies all the sojourns we traverse. Another two bit piece of prose strewn about a well-walked highway. Blowing in the wind like so many fast food wrappers and plastic bags. Sorry folks, I can't document from this angle any more. It is tiring.

Notes from the Wilderness: Shreveport, LA and Houston, TX

2011-04-22T20:02:00.001-07:00

Of course there has to be a coffee shop on every tour. This was certainly the case in Shreveport at the Naked Bean Cafe. We were told that electric acts have played there before, but a quick survey of the simple square-footage of the place showed that we would have probably blown the windows out. If you’ve ever seen an Only Thieves show you probably know that we are loud as fuck, like, Dinosaur Jr. loud. It’s just in our nature. At that point we made the decision to strip down the set. I was to play an acoustic, Marc through my combo, Aubrey armed with only snare, high hat, and bass drum, and Thomas on a much smaller amp.

To kill some time before the show Thomas, Marc, and I went for a stroll around the neighborhood, which was beautiful, lined with ancient oaks that formed great canopies and old southern mansions (I’m a sucker for relics from Antebellum south) and tried to find where Fangtasia (a bar popularized by the HBO program True Blood) was located. As it turns out THERE IS NO Fangtasia, it’s some bar in Los Angeles. So much for scamming on vamp broads all night. In lieu of that we went to the mall. Shittiest mall ever. There wasn’t even a food court, just a hot dog stand and soft pretzel shop.

We returned to the cafe and had some tea and coffee, because, of course, there’s no booze. The act before us was a staple of the shop, an acoustic act with some life-affirming/observational lyrics and this-and-that about getting high. We played after.

We did a lot of ad-libbing that night, changed up the rhythms on a few songs, played a song we’ve never played before, and just had fun with it. It’s good to know that when pressed we can switch things around, and not completely fuck it up. The six baby boomers in the audience really seemed to enjoy it. Of course “last time these guys played here the place was packed” was used as a tag line. After the show we went over to Chris’s (who played in the first act) house to get high.

It was an awkward experience. The guy was nice enough, but a helluva chatterbox. He just went on and on, and because I was really stoned I kept going in and out of consciousness watching his mouth move not really registering the sounds. At some point we heard some disturbing human noises emanating from a back bedroom. I’ve heard OD’ing sounds before, and these resembled them pretty closely. Chris shrugged them off.

Eventually he suggested that we go out to some bars. Yes, Chris, bring us to the women. Unfortunately there we none to be had. All the bars were packed to the brim with young professionals and their weird wives and girlfriends. For lack of a better term, we asked him if there were any “punk bars” around, but he didn’t have much of a concept of this.

He offered us a place to stay, but then launched into how his roommate would probably awaken us with a gun in our face, and we just have to yell out “Rob, don’t shoot!” and to mention Chris’s name and that he had let us crash there. Remember all these things at some point in the early hours of the morning, hungover, and you won’t get your teeth blasted through the back of your skull. Needless to say we opted to sleep in the parking lot of a Burger King instead.

Upon waking, we made the six hour drive to Houston. We needed a good show. We had been playing incredibly well almost every night to fucking nobody. We needed to be reminded of why we chose to do this. We played a place called the Mink in the backroom space reserved for shows. The first band, Wildcat, actually had some decent songs, they were a little closer to our style, but still miles apart. I was feeling sick, so I sat the second band out in the van. From what I gathered they were too big for their britches and not very good, but thank god there were people there. Not many, mind you, and it was one of those “parents come out” gigs, but fuck it, at least some one was watching us.

The last band of the night was quite a find. They were called Midnight Carnival, and they played some kind of conceptual goth rock deemed “steam punk.” The lead singer looked like Billy Idol, and furthered comparisons by doing the whole sneer thing.

We made friendly with the bar staff and they took care of us very well. I won a Guinness chugging contest. I’ll have to post that video. They offered us a place to stay, but it looked like the beginning of a late night. We were beat to shreds and anxious to get to Austin so once again, we slept in the van.

Notes from the Wilderness: New Orleans, LA and Jackson, MS

2011-04-21T16:25:00.000-07:00

Last time we left you we spun a brief, and an admittedly amnesiac, tale of our drunken night in Pensacola. Well, be sure that the next night in New Orleans (henceforth referred to as NOLA) was just as booze-fueled and chemically enhanced as the prior.

We arrived and went straight to our friend Bethany’s place, which is on a lovely street sandwiched between two strange sketchy neighborhoods. We finally got Gertie (our tour van if you haven’t kept up) tinted for a bit of added security. She kind of looks like an FBI van now. Anyway, we were treated to homemade chicken salad with salty baked goods.

We split for the venue around seven-thirty and ended up driving around and around trying to find Siberia bar with very little luck. Apparently, the place lacks any sort of signage, and when we finally did locate it, it was closed. We were all a bit worried we were about to walk into one of those tour horror stories where the show gets shut down and nobody notifies anybody, but shit, we were in fucking NOLA there was no way a bad time could be had. Luckily, this wasn’t the case and the venue owner/bartender Jenny came and unlocked the door around eight. And the waiting game began...

We got pretty drunk. The first act was a decent acoustic folk thing titled simply GOOD, and the “second act” (the two opening acts were just acoustic duos who traded off singing duties and called it different bands) was something that words fail to define. The best description I could possibly come up with was “an androgynous celestial wood nymph warbling over droning guitars and generally freaking people the fuck out.” It was more outsider performance art than anything, and I’m not quite sure where these people were found. On the brightside it gave us a chance to buddy up with Jenny over our collective distaste for the acts preceding us, and once she saw the we were actually a decent band the shots kept flowing, and the free PBR was plentiful.

The act after us was a form of rock that was okay, but they were jacking off somewhere for most of our set and reminded me of the kids in high school I didn’t like.

We managed to stay on Jenny’s good side long enough to have her invite us out to another bar upon closing Siberia. So along with her boyfriend Micah we headed out into the night.

Long story short: bonds were made, rules were broken, and we left the bar as the sun began to rise. New Orleans as it should be. Honestly, it was one of the best nights on tour I’ve ever had.

The next day was slightly painful. Two hangovers in a row for the first two days of tour can quickly drive tempers to the breaking point. We headed to Jackson, Mississippi for our show at Sam’s Lounge, connected to the Budget Travel Lodge off of I-55.

Upon arriving, I quickly conjured thoughts of that scene in Blues Brothers in the honky tonk where they end up playing the theme from Rawhide. It wasn’t that bad, it really wasn’t anything at all. There were no locals so it ended up being us and another touring band called Senryu who were great, but unfortunately this leads to the 50/50 door split and money out of our pockets. With the relatively low turnout it didn’t account for much. Although, the bar did provide the bands with a cooler full of High Life. Senryu drank hardly any and left for their next show immediately after, ergo Only Thieves got drunk for free with beers left over to take with them (As of press time, I am knocking one back). Win.

We spent the night on some girl’s filthy floor. I woke up to an eviscerated and smashed mouse corpse mere inches from my mouth. At that point I got up to sleep in the van. She did donate some lunch meat that provided us with a few sandwiches, and we were off to Shreveport.

Next time on Life and Crimes: Harrowing tales from Shreveport, and Austin city limits.

Notes from the Wilderness: Return to the Wild

2011-04-14T17:13:00.000-07:00

Alright dammit, we're back in the fucking van.

Currently, I am sitting in a dining room in a house in New Orleans. There are some flowers wilting before me. Our sojourn toward Pensacola was marred by a horrible accident on I-10 westbound. We only saw the aftermath, but a truck hauling horses must have veered off of the road running at top speed. The driver had smashed into a tree and the trailer had crushed the bed sandwiching the cab. Dead horses were strewn about the highway. We were waved through by a smiling cop. Just another day at the office for him.

Needless to say the accident left a black smear on the beginning of the tour.

We got to Sluggo's around 7 and started in on the dollar PBR tall boys. The venue was incredibly accommodating to us. They offered up houses for us to stay, and we still got payment despite the incredible low turnout. One of the two locals cancelled the day of the show. I wouldn't suggest playing with the Noiseheads. I will admit, through all this touring, we have become adept at receiving consolation prizes from the staff. The bartender shared shots of rumplemintz and whiskey and called over to another bar we were heading towards to make sure we got a round on her. We ended up at lounge/package store for karaoke night. A gentleman tattoo artist named Gabe kept feeding us Jameson. Thomas and I did a stirring rendition of "Born in the USA." Brought the house down.

To be completely honest I don't remember much after that. I woke up in the back seat of the van, still very drunk, with Thomas in the seat behind me looking just as confused.

We play New Orleans tonight. I expect to wake up with questions.

The Photo Blog pt. 2

2011-02-08T15:40:00.000-08:00

Kackie x2-Kansas City, MO

I <3 Video-Austin, TX

V for Victory-Austin, TX

Eye of the Capitol-Austin, TX

Feed Me Sluts-Cleveland, OH

Two Real Asses-Gaineville, FL?

Blake and Friends-Baltimore, MD

Gertie in the Snow-Philadelphia, PA

G.B.A.-Washington, DC

Roanoke Star-Roanoke, VA

Gertie the Gator in the Snow-Midwest, US

Triangle St. House/Crash Pad/Motorcycle Club-Danbury, CT

Franz-Milwaukee, WI

The Photo Blog pt. 1

2011-02-06T14:49:00.000-08:00

Side Wall of Nomad World Pub-Minneapolis, MN

Rachel and Friend-Madison, WI

Good Advice-Mac's Bar, Lansing, MI

Stay High-Ypsilanti, MI

Lunch

Cleveland Crash House-Cleveland, OH

Blake's Tiny Bottle-Madison, WI

Oriental Theatre-Milwaukee, WI

Igloo-Minneapolis, MN

Two Real Asses-Davenport, IA

Lobby of the Davenport-Davenport, IA

Ride 'em Cowboy - Austin, TX

Notes from the Wilderness: Austin and Beyond

2011-02-05T17:47:00.000-08:00

We narrowly avoided the Great Blizzard of Kansas City, and began making our grand descent towards Texas. Of course, storms coming in from the West Coast were going to bring freezing rain and a fucking cold front through the entire state completely shattering the beautiful seventy degree weather we had been looking forward to throughout the entire tundra-fied tour. It took us a brutal twelve hours to get down to Austin, sapping up too much of the bucks we had acquired on tour. After the three tanks it took to get down (at just around sixty-five dollars a tank), plus the fifty dollars we spent at Wal-Mart early in the day for provisions, we were still up, but not by much. I'd like to mention Aubrey got very excited to eat some Whataburger when we arrived in the state. We mixed some drinks about two hours outside of Austin and rallied our friends for some drinks when we got in. Luckily, the front wasn't going to sweep in until the next day, so we were greeted with one night of the beautiful, jackets-off-shirtsleeves-up-don't-mind-smoking-outside climate. We met up with our buddies Matt Agrella (who still doesn't drink), and Nick Serino and hit a couple bars. Finally, back in the south.
Matt was kind of to put us up in the one bedroom apartment he shared with his girlfriend, Ellen, for the three nights we were going to spend in the city. The next morning we went to an amazing happy hour at a place called Serranos. Two dollar top shelf drinks, dollar-fifty happy hour appetizers, and a fucking nacho bar. For five dollars I got fed and drunk! Afterwards, Ellen took us on a tour of the city and we all fell a little bit in love with Austin. That night we went out again. First to some sixth street bars with Nick and then to downtown to Matt's bar at some swank hotel. Apparently, Chris Titus was there. Yeah, you don't remember him. I got really drunk on Irish whiskey and forgot how to maintain. A brutal airing of grievances followed. Sometimes the anxieties and stressors of life on the road lead one to misdirect their anger. Sometimes there is collateral damage.
Two days off, and we were finally having a show, and with our good friends Look Mexico no less. Wednesday, we went to the Austin capitol building, and took a tour. We invited our tour guide to the show (she was a friend of Ellen's). We had a few beers before showtime and headed to Beauty Bar. Aims were low seeing as, apparently, Austin-ites are by no means prepared for any sort of cold weather. To be fair it is windy as all motherfucking hell there creating an incredibly inhospitable atmosphere. So, no, tons of people did not show up, and it was a bummer because we were hoping to recoup some of the losses we took on the way down. In the end though we considered it a win because we got to play for our good friends and got to hear them play back to us. More drinking and Aubrey made a new friend.
The next day Matt made us Migas for breakfast, and we met up with Nick for a last lunch and some drinks before we went to Houston. Of course, in the middle of my second mimosa I get a text from Jeff our booking guy letting us know that Houston had been cancelled. Apparently, they are more afraid of the cold than Austin. So we said 'fuck it' and headed to New Orleans to party.

Drove eight hours, hemorrhaged more money, all in the spirit of spending more money, but New Orleans is a great city and, what, were we going to stop in Baton Rouge? Fuck that. We stayed with Aubrey's friend Bethany who was nice enough to offer up her home to four strangers and then DD them around the city. We went to my personal favorite New Orleans bar, Molly's at the Market (great juke, Tom Waits, and Whiskeytown) and I spent entirely too much money getting us drunk. But, hey, I ate fucking sandwiches and ramen for a month, not spending shit, and we get to New Orleans and I want some car bombs. I think we deserved it. Got super drunk again and listened to the beautiful bartender regale us with harrowing stories from the Katrina days, and how slowly change is coming to New Orleans. It was actually kind of fucking depressing.

The next day we played Mario Kart for a while and headed to Mobile. The Alabama Music Box is a really nice venue in downtown Mobile. The show was going to be a mixed bag, beginning with us, then a "hip-hop, funk, rock, reggae" band, ending with a large ensemble live band/hip hop type thing (that actually wasn't bad at all). Our last set of the tour was unfortunately not the best (but who says it should be?) as I, personally, was exhausted, and didn't have much to give that night. Every muscle felt heavy. After we played Thomas and I followed some local girls to a gay bar where we were told karaoke was happening. We got there, got bought some drinks, and waited around awkwardly for thirty minutes before realizing that karaoke was not going to happen. We made a hasty departure back to the venue. Since there's no last call in Mobile, the last band could play literally until people got bored. We waited around until about three and collected our portion of the door. With merch sales it wasn't a bad night. We got back in the van and began the three-and-a-half hour drive back to Tallahassee.

We arrived back in Tallahassee just after sunrise and said our goodbyes. I can't stand being home. April can't come soon enough.

Tomorrow I'll do the picture blog and tour wrap-up.

Notes from the Wilderness: Moline, IL/Kansas City, MO

2011-02-04T11:44:00.000-08:00

We left Minneapolis early that morning for the drive down to Moline. We knew it’d be another long one and there was a long sheet of storm that was going to be standing in our path. We’d be driving with it most of the day. It was pretty fucking miserable. Tufts and tufts of snow flew towards our windshield further covering the top of Gertie with fine, white powder, while her bottom half picked up blackened muck from the sides of the road. That combined with all the salt trucks furiously driving beside and in front of us, throwing their pellets down made for a pretty nasty cocktail. She needed a wash bad. We got to Moline right around nightfall and found out that the original venue, the Moline Club, decided that afternoon that they no longer wanted to do the show. The promoter, Alex, was able to secure a basement space for us to play in. This had never happened to us before and some of us in the van were feeling down about it. Personally, I thought it could be very cool and, in the end, more lucrative. We started driving towards the house and noticed that the neighborhood was pretty decent, really nice in fact, pretty suburban, and when we arrived at the address saw that it was no college kid’s house. The mother peeking through the blinds was a dead giveaway. We got out of the van and were greeted by the kid who lived there. A quick glance and it was apparent that the median age of most of the show-goers was about, oh, sixteen. We got a case of Coors and decided to have fun with it. Honestly, it was one of the better shows of the tour. It was dark and sweaty and a mosh pit started. It was like a mini-Warped Tour! This is the demographic to be playing to. I guess all those nu-Emo band have it right. They donated like crazy and bought shitloads of crap from us. We were worried since most of these kids obviously lived with their parents that we wouldn’t have a place to stay. Luckily Alex was able to secure a place with his friend Carl who lived in this bad ass converted hotel in Davenport. We went out with a few locals to a dive that boasted dollar-fifty beers and two dollar wells. We went back to Carl’s and got high and drank scotch. He took a really great picture of us. It’s currently our default on Facebook so check it out. That little shutterbug.

Next it was off to Kansas City, Missouri. By this point I admittedly was feeling a bit fatigued. The tour was coming to a close with only a few more dates left, and that night I really felt like I didn’t have it in me. We also found out that the next day a blizzard was going to tear through the state so expectations were low for the show. The Record Bar is a pretty nice place to play, though the locals will tell you that Lawrence is the city to have a show in. Either way, they had a beautiful 24 (y’know, Special Agent Jack Baur)pinball table and bands got half off food and drinks. I had a sandwich and a shot and the waiting game began. The first band decided to play at seven forty-five though they weren’t slotted to play until eight thirty. They were done by eight fifteen leaving us and the other band Bowinero (pronounced Bow n’ Arrow) scratching our heads. They split pretty quick and we were left to stall some. Bowinero were next and played a sort of Killers-y brand of rock, which wasn’t bad. It was only there fourth show, but they expected the turnout to be a little better. We had heard that a lot. We played around ten thirty to our friend Kackie and four drunk girls dancing. They were pretty hot and pretty good dancers so I didn’t mind watching. The rest of the crowd was packed into the back at their tables. I’ll tell you one thing I hate: A venue that is 80% tables and 20% floor space. What the fuck are you? Sort of a bar, sort of a restaurant, sort of a venue. At least move the tables at the front of the stage! I can’t stand playing to people sitting down. I feel like I’m the fucking entertainment at Medieval Times. Dinner and a show! Grab some grog and a giant leg of turkey! Jousting later! I got sort of drunk, but not drunk enough and Kackie and her boyfriend put us up. A Wal-Mart trip and a twelve hour power drive down to Austin were on the menu for the following day.

Notes from the Wilderness: Milwaukee/Minneapolis

2011-02-03T10:00:00.000-08:00

We took Rachel and her friend Catherine (I hope I'm spelling that right) to Milwaukee with us for the show. I guess they had some other mutual friends there that they wanted to see, someone was having a birthday party. We unloaded our bags at Ashley and Amanda's house and I cooked a "Shit I Found In Your Fridge" dinner. It was spaghetti noodles with a little bit of Alfredo sauce, various cheese dips, sour cream, and spices. It actually didn't turn out bad, and since many of us were high it tasted all the better. We hung around the house and played cards until we split for the venue. We had played Y-Not III on the last tour, and had a decent turnout, and since the bar doesn't take any of the overhead (since sound and door are both run by the bands) it can be very lucrative. The room isn't bad, but it's up two flights of stairs and we had to use makeshift microphone stands to support our barely audible vocals. It was fun none-the-less and the turnout was pretty fucking good for a... Thursday I think? I don't know, but it was a weekday and there were a lot of people. Our friends from last time came out and brought a few people, so we can at least say we bolstered the draw a bit. Afterwards we got really smashed and had to unload all of our equipment back down the stairs and into the snowy night. I think I pulled something, or a couple of things. We made last call at some other bar and our buddy Eric bought us drinks before we lead the crowd in an a cappella rendition of "Kisses by a Rose." Then we made our way to the above-mentioned birthday party where we got a lot of weird looks. I met a really beautiful girl who I think I weirded out, and Aubrey talked to a girl with a mohawk and septum piercing which apparently caused her nose to emit copious gobs of snot. I can't remember much of what happened after, but Blake fell down and hurt himself at some point.

The next day the girls gave us goody bags full of candy and Chex Mix. It was very sweet, and we were touched deep down inside and all that. Marc would like me to state that he ate all of his Chex Mix in "like five minutes." We began the drive to Minneapolis, six hours northwest. When we arrived it took us about twenty-five minutes driving around the block to find the goddamn parking lot for the venue. The Nomad World Pub is a historic bar in the Little Somalia area of Minneapolis. We got in and were greeted by the promoter and the owner of the bar (not the same person) and they bought us a few beers. Outside one of the bartenders, Dimitri, had built a giant igloo for chilling in (get it?). We walked down to a bar/restaurant/venue, the Triple Rock, owned by one of the guys from Dillinger Four. I kept thinking of the place as sort of a Punk Rock Disney World. The prices of the food reenforced these thoughts. The venue portion was really nice though and I hope to one day play there. They'll probably read this and deny us one day. Bastards. I bought a bottle of whiskey and we headed back to the venue. We sat around and shot the shit in the basement green room with the other bands. I drank until it was time to play. The band after us was called The Debut and I would highly recommend checking them out. We drank more in the basement and secured a place for us to stay with Ben the drummer from the Debut's house. It was a lovely home with a very warm basement for us to sleep in. We made Ramen, watched the Simpsons and slept.

Notes from the Wilderness: Chicago/Madison

2011-01-31T07:56:00.000-08:00

We left Lansing early for the four-and-a-half hour drive to Chicago. We got in right around rush hour, which has sort of become another running joke. Somehow, no matter how long the drive, or how many times we pit stop or what-have-you we always arrive in a city right around five o’clock. We picked up our buddy Eddy, who is known in certain circles as “Eddy Rage,” from work. We dropped our shit off at his apartment and headed down to the venue. I could feel the scratching sickness start to claw at my throat. My lymph nodes began to swell, congestion, and fatigue. I informed the guys “I’m getting fucking sick again.” We were informed we would be playing last, “headlining” if you want to call it that. We all agreed it was a terrible idea, but the promoter didn’t seem to give much of a shit. Even after we stressed the idea that, as in many cities, everyone, save for our few friends, were going to split after the bands their friends are in play. “That doesn’t happen here” we were assured. I spent the majority of the show sleeping in the van in the relatively warm twenty-five degree weather. I was awoken by Blake when it was about time to play. I drank a little cheap Irish Whiskey and made it inside just inside to see some relatively attractive broad with bicycle tattoos, playing a thousand dollar Gibson hollowbody, warble on about trees, and love and this and that. Apparently, this had been the tone most of the show. According to the guys one of the “bands” consisted of four people, one who played guitar and three who slept onstage as some sort of “performance art” piece. If I’d have known I would have stepped in for the evening and got some shuteye in the heat. As soon as people saw the amps and the drums they began to file out. I figure they had to get to the Henna and patchouli oil convention across town. We played to ten of our friends who had recently relocated to Chicago. Just as we predicted. We went back to Eddy’s and I took a few shots of Nyquil. I fell asleep over a deflated inflatable mattress on the cold, hard floor to the sounds of crust punks with nails for nose rings go on about dumpster’d pizza.

Ate at the Vienna Beef Factory before bidding adieu to Eddy and heading towards Madison. We heard some friends of our from Milwaukee were going to come in town for the show. So that was positive. We figured we’d at least have seven people watching us if it went real south. We hung around at our friend Rachel’s efficiency downtown. It was a closet of an apartment with communal bathrooms in the hallway and less floorspace than our van. But it was warm, and we could easily dig in and make it comfortable. We headed to the The Frequency for load-in. I was still feeling sick and I could hear it in my voice. I was relegated to water with Airborne and Zicam for the most of the day. All I wanted was a goddamn beer and a shot. We were playing third, right after a band from Switzerland on their first American tour. Fuck. Even if we were better than them, they had accents, and a better story. They weren’t bad. Kind of like second or third wave emo with a little bit more of a power-pop edge. The name is Goodbye Fairbanks if you want to check them out. Our friends Ashley and Amanda from Milwaukee, who we met on our last tour, got into town. I’m not sure if I could actually feel my sickness receding or I just wished it away, either way I wanted to start drinking and I started doing shots. Many times on tour you get get drink tickets for either free beer or discounts. Typically, I hold up the ticket, order my drink and the bartender turns around to fix it. When he returns I simply hand him a tip and return the ticket to my pocket repeating this process as necessary. If the bar is especially busy, they hardly notice. He gets his tip and I get one more free drink. Everybody wins. Rachel had gotten a few of her friends out so we had a decent crowd for the night and she took the liberty of getting a tip jar going and we actually made some decent bucks from that. Maybe we’ll take her on tour next time, BLAKE. With my ticket recycling stratagem I was able to get many drinks for little dollars and we all ended up getting pretty toasted. We decided a change of scenery was preferable. We ended up in the van singing along to favorite hits from the 90’s towards some bar called the Vintage. Asses got slapped, booties grinded booties, Blake got a boner. Ashley was smashing shotglasses on the bar as we desperately tried to get her to stop, but then ended up just joining in. Sometime in the night a Creole-Cuban guy named Lorenzo got mixed into our group, asking for cigarettes and shot, and Blake got head-butted by him in some sort of strange greeting ritual. The Swiss Family Robinson showed up at the bar a tried to get us to go back to their motel room, presumably to fuck our friends. We narrowly deflected their advances. We closed up the bar and stumbled back to the glorified dorm to fight for floor space.

Notes from the Wilderness: Scranton, PA/Cleveland/Lansing, MI

2011-01-30T09:05:00.000-08:00

Okay, we're not too far behind now. I keep publicly flagellating myself for not updating these on the reg, and it ends today. Let's just jump right into it.

Scranton was cold. Fucking cold. Like, if you watch the Office, like I do, you see it snowing, they have their little Christmas episodes and Michael Scott wears an overcoat and a scarf or some shit, but never not once does Stanley complain about having icicles form in his mustache hairs. Maybe it's because he's the stoic strong black character, or maybe it's because he's a native of the north and is used to it. I don't know, but let me tell you: that shit fucking sucks. I believe the saying is "the bitter cold." Anyway, the show was at a nice little joint called the Vintage Theatre. The stage was a little shoddy and there was no booze served there so we had to haul it down the block to get a few boilermakers. One of the lower turnouts of the tour, but we sold some merch and one of the other bands bought us a round at the bar later. Stayed at the promoter's dorm room. For a twenty-year old college kid Christian sure has his hands full. Upwardly mobile. One of the perks of being straightedge I guess. We arrived to the sounds of a girl crying so hard it sounded like an air raid siren was going off. Some random drunk coed had somehow found her way into Chris' dorm as her friends were hysterically trying to calm her down. Her face tear-stained and black with mascara, hair matted to her face, and her nice white fleece North Face jacket tragically covered in streaks of vomit and what appeared to be, allegedly, shit stains. The campus is supposed to be dry, so as one might expect, security was called. They managed to pry her from the couch where she dropped off some of her filth, also managing to sully our nice clean towels. I wasn't even mad. I was impressed. I took a shower and managed to get relatively dry with a hand towel and fell asleep on a floor to Evil Dead.

The drive to Cleveland was the first semi-brutal pull. Not too terrible though. We got to see the better part of Pennsylvania, some mountains and Mennonites and other bric-a-brac and curios. My hopes for Cleveland were low on account of the last time we played there to three kids, who, and I admit this as humbly as possible, loved our shit. I'll tell you one thing, there are a lot of fucking bums in Cleveland and they all want your cigarettes. They come into bars from out of dark corners all spewing the same story of their kids in a broken down car down some street somewhere and all it'll take to get them home is a spare cigarette. The bar started filling so our hopes got higher and we met one of the support acts who apparently wanted to get on the show because they saw we were playing. Apparently those three kids had gone home and spread the fucking gospel to all their friends and suddenly we have a following in Cleveland. It was inspiring. Especially when you look down in a different city and see kids singing along to your songs. That was a first for me. Both the bands were good so check them out: 19 Action News and Steves and Julies. We stayed at Dave from Steves and Julies' house and I chugged more High Life in an hour than I have in years. We got wasted, sang songs, and Cleveland was redeemed in my heart and future tour planning.

We stopped in Ann Arbor on our way to Lansing to pick up our buddy Steven who used to play in a band called Friends of Friends from town. We ate some food and got showers at his place before the hour and a half drive to the club. The venue was a decent-sized dive with a nice sound and good sound guy. It was an early show on a Monday so there wasn't much you can do with that, especially when the second band members all have curfews and sounds like a low-rent Evanescence. The first act though were called City Yards and they were fucking bad ass. If you like power trios who sound like a tougher Hot Water Music check them out. We played to the band (the other band had to go home and get sleep before class, first period, high school) a few of their friends and the sound guy. Definitely the most disappointing show of the tour thus far, but there's always a silver lining. We made a good impression and sometimes that's really what counts... But there weren't any free beers. We went back to Steven's place in Ann Arbor, hit a few bars, played some foosball and got ridiculously high and watched TV. Felt like being at home. A much colder home, but a home none-the-less.

Notes from the Wilderness: New York pt. 2/Boston/Danbury, CT

2011-01-26T10:54:00.001-08:00

New York Night 2:

Spent most of our day nursing a couple hangovers. That night we played in Greenpoint, which is around the corner from Williamsburg in Brooklyn so we figured a few of our friends there would come out. Tommy’s Tavern where we played was a real live dive with a converted murder closet for a performance area. A few rugs strewn around the floor, a couple squares of sound proofing hung lackadaisically on the walls, and the mics that elicit a low electric current into your lips when you get too close. Luckily we brought some kids out because the other bands that night didn’t bring out many to speak of. It’s real unfortunate when things like that happen. Because of none of the locals that night bothered to mention that the bands are supposed to run their own door no one did. We expressed to the bartender that we did bring people out who bought drinks, hence money for the bar, and she gave us some cash for that, and with merch sales it was a decent night. Some of the guys went home and some of us went to Red Hook.

Boston:

We split for Boston the next day and it took us an hour to get through the city. Blake was white-knuckle tight on the steering wheel, furiously smoking cigarettes, and yelling at all of us to calm down as he navigated the blocks toward the interstate. Our friends in Movers & Shakers let us use their practice space/recording studio/makeshift venue, Starlab, to play at. The weather was shitty, and cops were driving around telling the city that there was going to be a “snow emergency” and that folks should just go ahead and stay home. Didn’t bode well for our show. Some people braved the snow, and official warnings to hang out and play with us, which was cool. Really the best part was getting to see the M&S dudes again and get fucked up with them. And boy did we get fucked up. Apparently there’s video of me attempting play one of the newer songs and absolutely botching it. My brain could not communicate with my arms and hands. All notion of rhythm was completely abandoned. Words and lyrics were lost in my mouth. It was a total cranial mutiny. Ah, well.

Danbury, CT:

We woke up to a few inches of snow on the ground, and bought lunch with band money, which is always nice. I will say most of our basic needs are being taken care of with money we make. Mostly gas and sandwich makings/ramen noodles from Wal-Mart. As soon as we can start partying with our dough we’ll know that we’ve truly arrived. We got to Danbury just about sundown. It was probably the coldest night so far. The frozen snow blanketed the ground, and blackened pillars of ice stood on every corner. The Heirloom Arts Theatre was probably the nicest we’ve played so far; large capacity, professional stage and sound system, built at least somewhat acoustically. The lineup was totally bananas though. There were already something like six bands playing and we were informed upon arrival that a show in some town close-by had been cancelled and now Casey Jones and Knuckle Up! had been added to the tail end of the bill. Essentially our already packed show had become a mini-fest. We played after this ridiculous band that had a singer who looked like Tom DeLonge and mixed mid-nineties mainstream pop-punk, with metalcore breakdowns, and some out of place death metal wails peppered throughout the songs. It was painful. We did our little boogie-woogie to a bunch of sixteen year olds, and the bands. We soon realized that every band on the bill, save for ourselves, were some kind of horrible Dr. Mureau-style pop/rock abomination evolved from something that once bore a resemblance to actual punk or rock. One band was particularly terrible with a singer who sported what looked to be an excited animal on his head, an 80’s teased nightmare. They did a Grease cover. Luckily the staff was awesome. They were a motley crew (the Gut Rot Crew to be exact) of aging punkers and metal heads. They enjoyed our band and us as people and decided to commiserate with us by feeding us free beers. Chris, one of the owners of the Heirloom, offered up his house for us to crash. Imagine the Paper Street Soap Company from Fight Club, throw in fifteen-plus years of punk rock parties and motorcycle club meetings, a little black mold, and varmints in the attic and you’ve got the Triangle Street House. A holy place to the counterculture of Danbury. In a small way I was honored. Chris cooked some rice and sausage for us, regaled us with stories of times past, and played Dumb and Dumber on VHS.

Notes from the Wilderness: Baltimore/Philly/New York pt. 1

2011-01-22T15:57:00.001-08:00

Back in the van again, freezing my stones off. We’re driving through the mountains now, and it’s sort of beautiful in a really terrifying way. Especially when Marc is driving. Honestly, he just tried to take off his jacket going seventy-five in a sixty-five on a fucking snowcapped mountain.

It hasn’t been absolutely horrible, the cold, just a bit miserable. We’re currently en route to Scranton, PA from beautiful Danbury, CT. There is snow covering every inch of ground save for the interstate. I’m listening to Death Cab for Cutie and have a pink fleece blanket pulled across my knees and shins. I haven’t showered since New York, actually, I don’t think any of us have. We all have coughs, but we don’t stop smoking. I could use a cup of coffee.

I can’t really recall when the last update was. I’ve gotten really bad at keeping up with this thing, but for some reason I just can’t find the time to do much other than load in, play, load out and try and keep warm.

I think my last update was before fucking Baltimore and in that case there’s a lot of ground to cover. Maybe too much. I’ll just gloss over some shit and try and get up to speed.

Baltimore:

Came in a bit too early as the Golden West Cafe is generally a restaurant that they convert into a place for shows/bar/etc. after dinner service. So we found a friendly sports pub to hunker down in that was playing the Jets/Pats game and a bunch of old people were yelling at the television screens. We drank a few boilermakers until it was time to go back over to the “club.” Sat through the first band who I liked at first, but then slowly began to get worn out by the whole 60’s rock revival thing. Anyway, the band did their little song and dance routine (and there were routines), and then we played. Another show, I never have much to say about our sets, but I guess I don’t know what to say. We played our songs, people reacted as they usually do, polite indifference, and compliments after the set and maybe we sell some shit. The girl who books for the place, Bridgette, I hope I spelled that right, was incredible cool and sweet and invited us back, we told her we’d be happy to. We got a place to stay with the sound guy Alex.

Philadelphia:

Played one of the coolest clubs of the tour, Kung Fu Necktie. They had a greenroom with internet and couches and shit, and you could smoke up there. It was definitely a welcomed little change. Plus there was an honest-to-god sound guy and we had monitors. We played with some emo-anthem-Paramore-lite band from Alabama heading to New York for a Virgin Records showcase. At least that was the story. Maybe you’ll hear about them soon. Marc, Blake and I ended up hanging out with my friends Daniel and Codee and their girlfriends while Aubrey and Thomas went off with some insufferable Philadelphia townies. Fast-forward to five AM and I’m slushing through the goddamn snow, liquor drunk and in my red Vans, following Daniel to some godforsaken destination. Then we are taken on one of the longest and most boring cab adventures ever and meet one of the most of annoying girls in Philadelphia. Apparently, Philadelphia is full of annoying girls. The next day we had cheesesteaks from Pat’s.

New York City:

Drove in right about rush hour to my delight. I actually quite enjoy driving in New York. It’s like playing a video game that you can die in. Everyone there knows exactly what the other person is going to do, like there all operating on the same wavelength. We met up with my sister in Brooklyn where we’d be staying for the next two evenings. We bought a couple bottles of booze and set into starting up for the night. We headed to the venue for the evening, the Lit Lounge in the Lower East Side, around seven-thirty. Lit Lounge is I guess a notoriously hip spot where Vice Magazine worshippers blow lines in the bathroom, and according to a friend of mine, off male organs in the back lounge. The show was small, but we managed to bring out about ten people. The other band playing that night I guess didn’t bring many if any and let the crowd knowsaying something to the effect of “Well it looks like everyone left like we thought they would. So fuck you” prior to their set. A real positive way to get people to stick around. They were by no means my cup of tea, and not all the sugar and lemon in the world could make me enjoy it. We went back to Brooklyn afterwards and got shitty until six in the morning.

Notes from the Wilderness: Durham, NC/Roanoke, VA

2011-01-17T16:29:00.001-08:00

Currently sitting in the van, while the guys try to figure out the way to Philadelphia. It’s been too long, blog, my old friend. I think the last time I wrote I was sitting in a coffee shop in Durham, North Carolina with cough drops. Yeah that was it. Cough drops. Well, you’ll be happy to know I’m still coughing, but without the debilitating sickness I was afflicted with for more than a few days. I can safely smoke a few cigarettes (thank god, I was beginning to get real, palpable homicidal thoughts) and drink (okay, I never really stopped drinking, just kind of slowed down, and I guess Nyquil has 10% alcohol. I think I just sort of switched to pharms; Psuedoephedrine, acetaminophen, dextromethoraphan, etc. etc.

Durham was an interesting show. I think that sort of grey area description is going to become quite commonplace in these blogs. Everyone was nice and supportive and I really do like the Pinhook. Kym, who books the shows, is incredibly hospitable and knowledgeable about the area music, but as I am to understand, there’s not too much to speak of. I guess as sort of the little brother (or sister) to some of these more popular areas (Chapel HIll, Raleigh) it is just now starting to make a name for itself as a live music hub. Which can be a double-edged sword when touring through a place like that. On the one hand, if people want to see live music in Durham they’ve got limited options. Although, if there’s a show they’re really interested in attending, the much more happening Chapel Hill is a short twenty minutes away. Eh. Anyway. My illness was reaching it’s peak, and I was not in the mood to play. The crowd was decidedly coffee shop. A lot of people looked stoned, and it was something like ninety-five percent lesbian. Not that I have a problem with that, but it’s not doing me any favors. It’s not exactly our target demographic. Not enough people drinking, just like Charlotte. Fuck. Somebody get drunk for godssake! This solo girl act opened up. Skylar was her name. Great voice, also a really fetching young lady. The name of the third band escapes me right now, and if I remember before I post this blog I will erase this sentence and fill it with the name of the band. They were for the most part tight, and had some well put together songs. Greg the sound guy was nice enough to let us stay at his place that night. It was the first time we didn’t have to stay at some shitty motel. Honestly, I’ll take the floor of someone’s house, with all the familiar smells, and sounds than a motel bed any day. He cooked us potatoes the next morning and we split for Virginia.

My health was worse. Way worse. We took a vote and unanimously agreed to cancel the show in Charlottesville that night so I could take a day off and sleep and medicate and try not to die. We went to Roanoke instead where our show the day after was set to take place. The guys went around to explore the city, I guess as much as you can explore Roanoke, Virginia, and I got a motel room and a veritable boat of OTC drugs to load myself up on. I don’t remember much from that day. I did a lot of sleeping in a hot room wearing many layers.

The following day we had a show at a place called the Bazaar, which is a consignment shop near the edge of downtown in Roanoke which, after close, turns into a sort of DIY music venue. The proprietor was very cordial and well-disposed, and there was plenty of tea, which was good for me as my skull was still full of fluid and I was still hacking up something fierce. On the brightside though I was clear of body aches and felt way less fatigued, as I had been sleeping for two days straight. But, once again, no booze. It’s difficult when you are forced to take the bar rock out of the bar. Even though it was a tight spot we managed to play pretty well, and I sweat out a good amount of my toxic sick. I felt much better after we played. Watershed Conspiracy followed us. They were an older group who played music more akin to a bluegrass/country crowd. Another odd fit for a show, but I understand how things come together at the last minute. We caught a buzz and played Wii GoldenEye with this guy Graham who we met in Roanoke who also let us crash at his place. We got up and a the godforsaken hour of eight AM and started crawling to Baltimore. I’ll be back up to speed soon.

Notes from the Wilderness: Savannah, GA/Charlotte, NC

2011-01-13T13:54:00.000-08:00

I'm currently struck down with a sickness. I am down with the sickness. Something upper-respitorial I think. I keep coughing, and my goddamn headphones are only playing out of one ear. We have found safe harbor at another coffee shop and I have just dropped another cough drop into my chamomile tea. Tonight for our show at the Pinhook I will be donning a souped-up version of my whiskey-soaked rasp. Goodbye to my high notes. Hopefully I'll be over this tomorrow. I think the worst part of all this is that I can't smoke cigarettes, and I just bought a carton here in North Carolina in preparation for the inflated prices up north.

We drove all day from Tallahassee towards Charlotte, completely bypassing Atlanta. In case you haven't bothered following any of the news or the weather Mother Nature is taking a giant shit on the entire world. Unseasonal weather across the nation. Atlanta was completely snowed out. No getting in or getting out. Last time we toured all we heard was "gosh, you guys really brought the nice weather," currently we've been hearing "Yeah, it never gets this bad around here. It's usually much more mild." Great. We're keeping our fingers crossed that they can find the northeastern states under all that snow by the time we start traversing up there.

We stayed over night in Savannah and went to a place called the Wormhole to try and get a show. They were happy to oblige, but by the time it came to start setting up it was still just the bartender (who became the de facto sound girl) and two guys playing with remote control helicopters patronizing the room. We were tired, Thomas was sick, and I was getting there so we made the group decision not to play. We're not proud of it, but we figured this way these people wouldn't have to feel obligated to stay and watch some band practice, and they could close early on account of their slow night. We got some flea bag motel on the edge of town and I chased Jameson with Nyquil.

The next day we made the four hour drive to Charlotte. Most of the snow was turning to ice and melting, and my cough was getting no better. We arrived in Charlotte around three and found a coffee shop to hunker down and escape the cold. A few hours later we went to Snug Harbor (the club). I laid in the van and sipped whisky, and sucked cough drops until it was time to load on stage. We played pretty well despite an apathetic sound guy, and some microphone issues. We did well on the door and sold a decent amount of merch, which sort of a new concept for me. I think we've already sold more merch on the first week of this tour than we did on the entire last one. We finally got to meet our PR guy Chuck which was nice, and once again we were relegated to another motel room. I hate motels.

GIVE US A PLACE TO STAY!

More Nyquil, more Whiskey and some cartoons, and then sleep.

Notes from the Wilderness: Florida

2011-01-12T13:06:00.000-08:00

Day Two of what we are considering the "official" portion of tour. We figured the Florida shows would be pretty strong seeing as we've been playing regionally more and more. Of course, our Tallahassee record release/tour kickoff was about as we expected (well, that is to say, what I realistically expected, though I really, really wanted to run with my big dumb dreams on this one). I'm trying to decide whether I want to come off as a bitter remnant of the Tallahassee "scene" still struggling to get more than forty-five people to his shows, or an optimistic young musician excited at the prospect of being on tour more and more, and releasing a really good album. I'm going to go ahead and bite my tongue and stick with being the latter. Though, I could really rant on and on about the whole situation. Oh, we also played Gainesville, not that anyone on either side would remember.

Orlando was fucking awesome and always is. Check out Andy Matchett and the Minks please. Hopefully we'll be doing a little tour with them upon our return. We also played with Mother Night which features our good friend Kyle Raker on bass. They used to be known as XOXO. They're another band worth checking out. Of course, what blog would be complete without a gloss over of the B-Level debauchery we find ourselves getting into? After the show we drank a handle of Jim Beam, ate sandwiches, and watched girls puke all over themselves. Two big thumbs way up.

The next night was Ybor City at the New World Brewery. I love the folks at New World. They remain genuinely nice people who take care of the touring bands. We got fed pizza. We got fed drinks. Also, Joe who runs THX MGMT down there is a bad ass (yes, I'm kissing a little ass here. Keep your contacts close, right?). And we finally got a chance to meet Marc's family. Quite a treat it was indeed. I think Blake can agree. He and Joey (Marc's brother) made fast friends.

Fun Marc Fact: His cousin played for a short time in Agnostic Front. And now you know.

I think we played the best, tightest and with the most vigor that night. Without sounding like a complete narcissist we definitely kept the crowd the most entertained. Our records are one thing, I guess. I'm sure the other bands we played with sound much better than we do on record. Slowly, but surely we have established ourselves, in our minds (and we are our harshest critics), as a pretty decent live band. I think the music lends itself to that. It was Aubrey's birthday that night so we figured that was a pretty good excuse to get shitty (as if we need an excuse) and party at Czar (a quaint little communist themed bar/club in Ybor. Okay, it's neither quaint nor little. They play porn on the big screens around the bar). I think Aubrey got laid. I'm not sure if he would want me to tell anyone that. Ah well. Our friend Matt put us up for the evening. Blake and I ate some stale bread and hot sauce. The next morning Matt's roommate took us all out to Cracker Barrel. Win.

I'm in Charlotte now, sucking on a cough drop, and feeling Blake's gaze bore into the back of my skull. Atlanta froze us out, and Savannah belongs to the dead. But that's for next time.

Hell is Fucking Freezing/Who Tours in January? Tour 2011

2010-12-03T15:33:00.000-08:00

"I have wandered at random, yielding myself up indolently to the caprice of Fortune, giving a concert where I happened to find a piano." - Gottschalk

Jan 5th- Gainesville,FL- 1982 Bar
Jan 6th- Tallahassee, FL- Engine Room
Jan 7th- Orlando, FL- Will's Pub
Jan 8th- Tampa, FL- New World Brewery
Jan 10th- Atlanta, GA- Smith's Olde Bar
Jan 12th- Charlotte, NC- Snug Harbor
Jan 13th- Durham, NC- The Pinhook
Jan 14th- Charlottesville, VA- Miller's
Jan 15th- Roanoke, VA- Bazaar Consignments
Jan 16th- Baltimore, MD- Golden West Cafe
Jan 17th- Philadelphia, PA- Kung Fu Necktie
Jan 18th- New York, NY- Lit Lounge
Jan 19th- Brooklyn,NY- Tommy's Tavern
Jan 20th- Boston, MA- O Brien's Pub
Jan 21st- Danbury, CT- Heirloom Arts Theatre
Jan 22nd- Scranton, PA- Vintage Theatre
Jan 23rd- Cleveland,OH- Now That's Class
Jan 24th- Lansing, MI- Mac's Bar
Jan 25th- Chicago, IL- Panchos
Jan 26th- Madison,WI The Frequency
Jan 27th- Milwaukee, WI- TBA
Jan 28th- Minneapolis, MN- Red Sea Club
Jan 29th- Moline, IL- The Moline Club
Jan 30th- Kansas City, MO- The Record Bar
Feb 2nd- Austin, TX- Beauty Bar
Feb 3rd- Houston,TX/Baton Rouge, LA - TBA Need Help!
Feb 4th- New Orleans, LA - TBA Need Help!
Feb 5th-Mobile, AL- Alabama Music Box

More to come... I think.

Notes from the Wilderness: Savannah

2010-07-03T12:29:00.000-07:00

We left Orlando around 2:00 after listening to Kyle Raker complain that his knee hurt for like seventeen minutes and headed towards Savannah. It seems like it should be a much longer drive than it is, but only takes about four and a half hours. The drive was fairly uneventful until we got about twenty minutes out from Savannah when we came upon the accident. A man in wrap-around sunglasses and cargo pants was signaling cars to bypass a mini-van stopped in the middle of the road. As we inched forward, we noticed the streak of red stretching from the underside of the van and ending at a plaid blanket splayed out on the ground. Torn leather could just be seen from one end, and a patch of skin. Further up the road, a gray-blue motorcycle lay in pieces near the metal median. We all felt pretty awful after that.

We arrived in Savannah and found the venue, The Wormhole, which is sandwiched between a run-down liquor store, and the Savannah Homeless Center. Right across the street lays the "Boys-II-Men" barber shop. It was an interesting area. There was only one other band playing that night, and they weren't local. When this is the situation you always know off-the-bat what kind of show you are in for. The first group had decided to go on first before we had arrived which was fine with us. We figured that in this situation the later group would have the attention of the barflies that always stumble in around eleven-thirty.

The name of the other band was David Decoy and the Double-Down Family Fun Time Band, or something of the sort. I guess they had played earlier in the day at some tourist joint downtown. They described their sound as "Soulful Blues a la Otis Redding" generally when I hear that description it's more like "White Guys with Acoustic Guitars Who Sound Like Jason Mraz," granted I've never heard a Jason Mraz song, but I have my ideas. Suffice it to say, it blew. It blew all day. There was a Sublime cover. Fuck it, I don't give a shit, run me up the flagpole. It blew. Music that makes me feel like I'm at the beach generally sucks. Well, let me rephrase: Music that makes me feel like I'm at the beach on a good mixture of the gooey stuff is fine. Music that makes me feel like I'm at the beach buzzed on two Corona's watching middle-aged guys with no calves and giant guts who probably vote Republican wearing Hawaiian shirts doing that awkward "white guy" dance generally suck. This band was the latter. They play covers at college clubs and they'll probably make a million bucks.

We played, we had energy, but we're so fucking loud these days that anytime we play a dive my tubes get rocked in their sockets. I've got to fix this problem. Nothing to write home about. Nothing to write here about. Earlier, we had been invited to some crust punk party where there was going to be a keg and a stripper pole. We collected our thirty dollars and split.

We arrived at the party and walked into a strange collective of people. My eyes burned. Smoke filled the room, mostly cigarettes, but there was some weed in the air. This was definitely the party that brings together different groups of people who constantly orbit the same scene. A summer party. Most of your close friends are out of town, and you kind of know the guy who lives there and you definitely did coke with that guy once so you might as well go because, well, there's a keg and a few decent looking drunk girls, and a stripper pole. Of course, the stripper pole is only being utilized by guys, guys with homemade tattoos and Staph infections. I dumped out an old beer, washed the bottle, and filled it with new beer.

Eventually, on a night as electrically sexual (or sexually electric) as this only two things can happen:
1. A fight will break out.
2. An orgy will break out.

So, you and your friends go outside and smoke a cigarette and talk to the big guy who bounces at a strip club. When you return you find "Hey, there's a orgy going on in the back bedroom." And sure enough, you peek in to that little pink room with all the neon spraypaint anarchy symbols, and expletives carved into the doorframe, and you see five or six people just getting it on. Three girls, two homemade tattoo punks, and one Staph Infection Guy. They try to get Black-Eye Girl to take her shirt off and join in, but Black-Eye Girl just wants to listen to Aesop Rock and dance stupidly.

We drink a few more beers. I am personally interested in the Orgy Aftermath. It's one thing to have a private sex event in your own home, it's another all together to do it in the backroom at a party. And not even a huge hip-hop awesome party. Like, a small get together type party. A few stunned folks stumble out to play video games, a few stay in to finish up the four of us gather ourselves and drive to the house we were crashing at.

We made food and talked in absolute disbelief at what had just transpired. Luckily, we had some weed, and a Super Nintendo.

Notes from the Wilderness

2010-07-01T16:41:00.000-07:00

I'm a little late on these blogs I've taken the first brunt of the driving and due to all of the drinking and sleeping in.

To catch you up to speed with the band: Basically, we are at what some would consider an in-pass, but what I would call a crossroads. Ben is leaving the band, and this puts me and Thomas in a bind. It's a big change for us professional and personally. This is not the appropriate venue to air anything as there is little dirty laundry to do so. This is the first "official" announcement of Ben's departure and I'm sure the small amount of followers we have will find initial wonder and then apathy. Suffice it to say that our lives are diverging. I will continue to make music under the banner of Only Thieves for the time being and continue to take on the responsibilities of releasing "Heartless Romantics" and putting together the coming tour in support of that. This is in no way an ending, simply the beginning of things to come.

As far as the release goes, the physical copy of the final master is en route to my awaiting palms. It sounds amazing thanks to the engineering know-how of one Phil Martin and the mastering skills of the veteran Fred Kevorkian. I think it's going to surprise a lot of people as it is a giant leap from where "Greetings..." left off. All the hooks and bombast are still there, but I think we have definitely refined our skills and matured as a band. Anyway, keep an eye out for updates. Unfortunately, I have also taken on the responsibility of the putting together the artwork, and I am no graphic designer. I suppose one of my greatest faults (and, rarely, virtues) is my inability to relinquish control of anything. But, most people will probably just download or pirate it anyway. Hopefully, after a short CD run it will see a vinyl release (fingers crossed).

I guess I should get into the tour.

We played Tallahassee at one of our more favorite venues The Engine Room. We had a date set and allowed another promoter to use it with the caveat that we stay on the show. We basically got duped into the opening slot and once again we get shit on after three years of regular playing in Tallahassee. I have begun to resent my once beloved city. Thanks to thunderous trip-hop and the recent ban on indoor smoking at the venue we basically played to my ex-girlfriend, one of the bands, and a few bar patrons. I felt like we were in another town. I felt alien in my own city. I feel this way a lot now (it's my blog and I'll cry if I want to). I got really drunk and prayed for a swift departure.

The next day we played an small local outdoor musical "fest" at a 7:00 slot. We've played this same event three years running now, generally around 9-9:30-10 and always done well. Originally, we were planning on playing Gainesville, but that fell through pretty hard, so we asked and got slid on at the "last minute" which, I suppose, we should feel grateful for. I had a hard time feeling grateful. Once again, I felt like a stranger in a strange land.

The lifers always stick around, but Tallahassee being a college town every few years a new slew of faces come in. Every year I grow older, more jaded, and more bitter. The defeatist mentality must be escaped.

The next day we drove down to Tampa and Orlando and played two really great shows (and yes, visited the new Harry Potter Island at Universal... FOR FREE. We played mini-golf too). We were welcomed, people watched, sold a thing or two, and got payed enough to basically justify getting paid squat the rest of the tour (which may happen). Thank you's are to be extended to Joe from Thx MGMT and Kyle Raker from Parafora Presents. We were incredibly proud to play the two shows. Also, I'm sorry for tackling you, Kyle. Like I said, if you are truly my friend, you will probably get tackled at lease once. Tackles of Joy. Also, thanks extended to the Grecian Urns, Alexander and the Grapes, the Working Dead and all the other talented bands we've played with thus far.

I feel as if this blog has all ready ran over a readable length, and by now most people have probably just scanned more juicy bits. So, I'm going to save Savannah, and North Carolina for tomorrow or the day after.

To keep you interested... There's an orgy story.

Wrap It Up

2010-03-22T10:23:00.000-07:00

All right, so here it is the final accumulation of everything one should have inferred from from reading this slop. Keep in mind, all the details are hazy, and you can't trust anyone about the validity of these statements. I tried to get as close to the truth as possible, but where does the truth end and the myth begin? I don't know.

THE TOUR WRAP UP!

4,294 Total Miles logged
602 Gallons of Gas Consumed
1400 Camel Brand Cigarettes
4 Gallons of Jim Beam Whiskey
3 1/2 Gallons of Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer
2 Epic Viking Badass Tour Beards (Blake and I)
2 Scraggle Rock Tour "Beards" (Ben and Thomas)
1 Trip to The Mechanic (Electrical)
2 Trips to Autozone (Headlight, and Gas Cap)
8 Total White Castle Burgers Consumed (regretted)
4 Dudes Who Didn't End Up Hating Each Other, and Are Actually Stoked on the Van Life.

Best Show: Orlando, FL @ BackBooth

Favorite Show: Somerville, MA @ Starlab

Best City: Brooklyn, NY

Favorite City: Milwaukee, WI

City that Partied the Hardest/City We Partied Hardest In: Oswego, NY

Best Venue: Club Downunder in Tallahassee, FL

Worst Show: Jacksonville, FL @ Doozer's

Worst Venue: Doozer's, Jacksonville, FL

Best Bartender: Flav in Milwaukee @ Y-Not III. Honorable Mention: Matt @ Vollrath

Best Food: Kuma's in Chicago, IL

Worst Food: Roaming Gnome in Knoxville, TN

Album Most Listened To: Tie between Aziz Ansari "Intimate Moments for a Sensual Evening" and Look Mexico "To Bed, To Battle."

Most Valuable Playa: Blake Coleman Burnett

Best Inside Joke: "The Black Mamba"

Worst Game Ever: Is constant sac taps a game? Well, either way it was awful.

Phrase Most Uttered: "Anything is Possible." ("Anything is Possibuuuuuhhhle" with arms outstretched.)

I think that about covers it. I'll try to keep this thing from gathering too much dust. I'll fit in an update when I can. We should be back out on the road for another 3 weeks sometime in October, and hopefully doing weekends here and there. The album "Heartless Romantics" should be out in another few months, god willing, so keep an eye out for it.

Thanks for reading, or at least scanning it while your boss wasn't looking.

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Brooklyn, Philadelpia, and the End of the Line

2010-03-20T12:22:00.000-07:00

The next day was our final off day. We spent it driving to, and hanging in Brooklyn. My sister lives in the Carrol Gardens area in a crazy awesome house. We cooked a feast of baby back ribs, marinated and grilled chicken breast, roasted veggies, salad (for the ladies), and snacks and shit that I can barely remember because we drowned all our food in copious amounts of booze. I truly love being in New York (Brooklyn, mostly) because it's almost impossible to have a bad time there. We went out later that night and met a few of our ex-Tallahassee friends at a place called the Levee that has a $4 Pabst/Evan Williams combination and a Big Game Hunter machine. Jimmy Murphy (our ex-bassist) was there and we hung out as his girlfriend accidentally rubbed Ben's leg. As Ben protested he exclaimed "Wrong guy! Wrong guy!" It goes without saying this became Jimmy's friend's nickname for the duration of our stay in Brooklyn. She was nice.

We spent the following day sitting on my sister's roof with Jimmy and Eddy, another friend of ours from Tallahassee, smoking cigarettes and drinking vodka. We exchanged stories, and it was good to catch up with old friends. We all piled in the van and headed to the venue.

The Charleston, as our friend Nick laid on us, is a pretty hip spot in Williamsburg to play. They give you a ticket for free pizza with every beer you buy, and band guys get 2 dollars off. I think it evens out. The pizza isn't much more than a collection of melted, watered down Mozzarella, a minuscule layer of sauce, and some crisped flat bread. The cheese and sauce has a tendency to slip off when you pick up the soggy pieces so I had to do this sort of pick-and-flick-up maneuver to keep my cheese on the crust, rolling the pointed end towards the back layer of the crust, finally shoving half the slice into my mouth at once. But it was pizza, baby, so it was delicious. We drank a few beers, and luckily for us, a surprising amount of our friends showed up.

The Charleston does the tally system (the only venue we played that did this). Basically, every person that comes to the door, the venue asks who that person is here to see. The person responds and it is logged on a sheet in front of the door guy. Not much to it. A quick glance at the sheet could easily tell you who had the most on the click. From where I was standing the place looked packed. All of our friends, and the friends they brought, stayed, clapped, and participated during the set. Some guy we met, Chris, I think, told us he was going to call his friend James in Philadelphia and tell him to come to our show the next day. The other bands we played with were awesome and you should make sure to check them out.
Ghost Robot Ninja Bear
Money/Paper/Hearts
Rest Assured (especially check out the ridiculous drumming of Cullen Clark)

We hung out in Brooklyn with some old friends, mended some bridges, tried to burn some more, but couldn't muster the energy. I guess it's for the best. I lost in foosball 4 times. That part was depressing. We managed to make it back to my sister's house and I stayed up until the sun was well risen.

Somehow, I was the first one awake. I think I was always the first one up during the tour. No matter how many substances are in me, how long I stay awake, or how late I sleep in I always find that I am the first one to rise, rallying the troops to the next destination.

It was well past 4 p.m. when we began our crawl through New York City. It took an hour to get out.

We arrived at the Fire in Philly a bit late, but well before the first band. Unfortunately, we were playing an early show so some shit cover band could trudge their way through off-key Sublime and Doors covers. I didn't watch the first two bands, as I was hungry, needed cigarettes, and then after eating and smoking... Well, you get the idea. We ended up playing to mostly bands, a couple girlfriends, and Chris' friend James who actually showed up on a recommendation! He even bought a t-shirt!

After the show I sat down with Jeff Meyers, our booking agent. He was a really chilled out dude with a sweet Yarmulke spot (that joke for Seth Turnoff). We talked for a while, and I regaled him with hilarious road anecdotes. We decided to drag him out with us, and shirk his very sick girlfriend. Good work, Jeff. We met James at a bar called Tattooed Mom and his friend V pulled out her card and told us that drinks were on her for the night. THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! Why did all the fallen angels land in other cities? It was St. Patrick's day and there were a lot of drunken fools wearing green, and green tinged vomit flooded the gutters on the sides of the city. We got shitty and my billiards streak was finally broken thanks to the team of Jeff Meyers and Ben Marinelli. Fuck you guys. I almost fell down the stairs. Twice. We stumbled down to a convenience store, and bought some food. Jeff set us up with an amazing warehouse to crash at. Thomas slept in the van, and Blake, Ben, and I crashed on some couches.

The next day we had cheesesteaks and started on the long road back to Tallahassee. It's a 16 hour drive and we initially planned on breaking the trip up into two parts. About 7 hours in we were all feeling good and decided to do it all in one mega-haul. There isn't a lot to say about it. We rehashed our favorite parts, the best cities, the worst cities, the kindest, and strangest folks and all the other shit we went through to come out alive on the other side. We drove through the night, 8 states, and into Florida arriving at about 7:30 in the morning. We were riding the final high of our first tour, giggling like a bunch of school kids on glue, enjoying the final sunrise of absolute freedom.

Tour End List will be coming soon.

Moving and Shaking

2010-03-19T13:47:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, due to my complete lack of initiative towards the tail end of the tour (I blame partly Movers and Shakers for this as they forced us to drink heavily so often), this next blog (and possibly the one after) will be a bit brief. I'm going to have to gloss over some facts, some bands, and some situations. I promise all the food and booze will make it in.

Rochester, NY: Ben's cousin, Mark, let us crash with him and his roommate and was very kind the entire time. He took us out the first night and showed us a bit of the city, well planned, but with a surprisingly high crime rate. Who knew? The next day was the show, and to kick it off we went to a place called "Nick Tahou Hots" the home of the Garbage Plate here's the description straight from the website: "a base of any combination of home fries, macaroni salad, baked beans, or french fries topped by your choice of meats and dressed to your liking with spicy mustard, chopped onions, and Nick Tahou's signature hot sauce." Delicious. Totally delicious. We played at the Flying Squirrel that night and finally met Movers and Shakers. They played before us, and it was incredible, they were so good. Afterwards, they mentioned something about shows sucking without a bar to get drunk at and we agreed so we took to the van to drink whiskey and many beers. We bro'd down quickly and painfully. After some pre-drinking we hit some club disguised as a bar and shook down until they forced us out.

Oswego, NY: We got an early start and Oswego was only a couple of hours away. We heard some pretty amazing things about the place. Mostly, that the kids go apeshit when touring bands come through because who the hell goes to Oswego? The venue, The Raven Pub, wasn't more than a bar with P.A. and a shoddily crafted stage, which is cool, because at this point we were used to this. The gave us a few beers on the house and we waited around for the M&S guys. They arrived, along with the first band, Yankee Outlaw Gunz, I think was the name. They were young, younger than us, maybe not by much. Pretty loose, but according to them they had only just begun practicing, or had only just formed. We played, Movers played, a few kids trickled in and were into it, and they decided to throw a party for us back at their house. The promoter, Shannon, bought three or four cases of beer for the occasion and offered up the house for the two bands to stay. Something about the freezing cold wind whipping the door and shingles on the house to and fro makes for a killer party. Those kids were down to have a good time, and it's real refreshing when everyone is ready to get as wasted and crazy as you. Of course, we always make it a point to go crazier than the kids. We may have partied the hardest in Oswego.

Somerville, MA: The weather was fucking miserable. This was my first impression of Massachusetts, but I knew it could get better. There's always that fear, that even though it's a big show at a cool venue, shitty weather can easily ruin it. And I just don't mean rain, or cold conditions, I'm talking tiny needles in your face and freezing wind slapping your face every six seconds. Try smoking a cigarette, it's painful. We played at Starlab, which is this bitchin' recording studio/show space/practice space, in the basement, and it was awesome. The kids were into it, and when you're playing a packed downstairs area the energy can be contagious. We sweat horribly, but played well. Ben's family from the area came out and took some pictures, clutched their purses, and dodged flying beer cans. They're good sports. After us was Girlfriends, check them out if you're into that new brand of indie rock. We got nice and wasted and at the end of the night it turned into a pretty awesome jam session. I grabbed the bass, Matt and Mark from Movers and Shakers grabbed the guitar and mic respectively, Danlee (the ridiculously cool owner of Starlab) took second guitar and Reid from Movers and Shakers played drums. It was stupid fun. I haven't played bass in years, nor have I jammed like that. I passed out in the van, and woke up to the calming sound of more freezing rain.

Providence, RI: The next day, we drove down to Foxboro to have a homecooked meal courtesy of Ben's aunt and her boo, Jack. We got to their cozy cottage and took some much needed showers and ate a large scale Italian meal. Gnocchi with Meatballs, and salad, and all kinds of cheese, and Polenta. Holy hell, it hit us at just the right time. We watched some TV, hung around, and then split for Providence. We got to the downtown area and noticed a lot of similarly dressed kids (and some not so similarly dressed) walking around. "Shit" we thought "there can't be this many people coming to the show." There wasn't. We found out later from the promoter at the 201, that Cursive and Alkaline Trio were playing right around the corner. A couple of friends who happened to be in town came out with a couple of their friends so the show wasn't a total bust, and we made a little money and we sold a little merch. The show ended and it was finally time to say goodbye to our new brothers. I think we danced around it for about 30 minutes and took way too many pictures. Finally, we huddled up and sent them on their way with a collective sack tap. Boom roasted, Movers and Shakers. We'll see you in a couple months when you come down to Florida.

Tomorrow or later tonight I'll post the last two dates and tour wrap up.

Cleveland and Beyond

2010-03-15T15:44:00.000-07:00

So, Guitar Center didn't have the bridge I needed, as expected. Virtually, no one carries Jazzmaster parts, as generally people aren't interested in them. It's all Tele's and Strats when it comes to Fenders, and you might find a Jaguar buried around somewhere. As it stands I replaced my Jazz bridge (which I was never so hot on in the first place) with a Stratocaster bridge, and I kind of like it. We'll see how it holds up in the long run. We departed Kalamazoo and set sails for Cleveland.

We got there a little later than usual. The drive was one of the longer ones we've done thus far, actually, they're all getting a little long in this final leg. It's really showing us how much money we haven't been making. Don't get me wrong, we've got enough to plug into the gas tank, and that's pretty much what we agreed on was successful. As long as we're not going into our wallets for gas we're doing all right. Luckily, it's been relatively inexpensive, approaching 3 bucks in some areas, but on the outskirts you'll see 2.70. I think maybe 2.65 was the lowest. My question is: Would Black Flag would have been able to tour these days? How DO we keep doing this forever? I think that's the question on everyone's minds.

Anyway, the venue we were playing at was pretty cool. Welcoming folks, and some decent Mexican fare. Not to mention, they had this free arcade machine with a bunch of sweet games on it. Mortal Kombat, Street Fighter (1, 2, and 2 Turbo! What the fuck? I didn't even know there WAS a Street Fighter 1!) and free pinball (I'm no pinball wizard, alright maybe a little, but that table was garbage. It WAS free, but I wouldn't pay for that shit) and a free standalone Donkey Kong table top. In the room where the bands play (next door to the bar) was a skate ramp. Wish I woulda brought a board. We met the band, the Guystorm, who we were playing with that night, they were nice enough I guess. The other band, I can't remember the name, were a bunch of high school aged pricks who were the biggest bunch of douchebags I'd ever met, and it made me feel good to be getting old. Hah. (More on these prickdicks later).

There were maybe 40 people in the bar before we started playing, and because it was a free show we figured that people would just watch because... Why not? I guess we misjudged the people of Cleveland. As soon as we went into the first few chords the room fucking cleared. Holy shit I never felt more like Paul Fucking Westerberg in my life. Sonically the set was tight, couldn't hear a vocal for the life of me, but I've come to expect that. People wonder why bands sound shitty in shitty bars. It's because the sound is shitty. Duh, cleared that up for you. 1 for me. I guess if you're a good band you sound good anywhere, right? Well, three guys watched us and they were really into it, and bought a bunch of merch, and that really helps with morale. The other bands didn't even watch. It was cool. It alleviated the guilt I wasn't going to feel anyway by not watching them. So we played, whatever, fuck it, we got drunk. An old friend of mine, Pete, from Tallahassee lives in Cleveland now, and he brought a couple friends and it was good to see him, and all that junk.

I'd like to take a moment out to tell you that Blake is snoring next to me in the van.

As we were standing outside smoking a cigarette we heard a young man (and I use the word 'man' loosely) verbally abusing his pretty, young, softspoken girlfriend (I could be giving her too much credit) because she had locked her keys in her car. Well, his friends decided to chime in and do the same. Thomas was nice enough to offer up his redneck slim-jimming skills and help her get into her car (insert joke about 'not the only thing he was trying to get into'). I really thought we'd be doing her a favor by knocking the shit out of her boyfriend. Probably would've gotten us arrested for child abuse.

Anyway, I'm not going to mention the other bands sets, because, frankly I don't give enough of a shit to do so.

We went back to Pete's house and smoked grape flavored blunts with his roommates, and got shitty on Sailor Jerry. Check out that picture of Pete's gay roommates giant train set he inherited. Pretty sweet.

The next day we bummed around the Greater Cleveland area. The guys did some laundry and I started/finished a paper that's due after Spring Break. SPRING BREAK! Ben called up his cousin Mark and secured us a place to stay in Rochester and we hit the road New York State bound.

Kalamaty-zoo

2010-03-09T17:11:00.000-08:00

So the show didn't exactly go as planned in K-Zoo. The boys and I got a little too drunk prior to our set (again, thanks a lot Hello Victor). I suppose that really wasn't the heart of the problem. We partied incredibly hard the night before, and probably didn't need the "road soda's" on the way into Kalamazoo. But I'm getting ahead of myself, let's finish up with Milwaukee. I'm having a great time dwelling in the past.

There isn't too much to cover from the day after. The important highlights are thus:

We met a girl named Amanda who had won a year's supply of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. Obviously, this is a staple of our diet when on the road (and at home) so it was in our best interests to obtain one of these cases. Luckily, people in Milwaukee are endlessly generous and she donated a case of Pabst to the cause. We are eternally grateful. Then we went to a really great little local joint called Plaza Hotel and Apartment Cafe and something something. I got a breakfast burrito. It made me weep. And as quickly as we came, and as saddened as we were to leave, we bid Milwaukee goodbye and hit the nomad road that always leads to nowhere even if that nowhere undoubtedly leads us somewhere.

Kalamazoo. Oh, Kalamazoo. You're food is questionable, your bars smell of must, and the rotting, dusty, crust infested boar's head above the bar exudes a stench inconceivable to most common men of consideration. But your people Kalamazoo, your people, at least the few we met, are tested forged copper and well-wiring. The show, as I stated above, did not go as planned. First of all, it was more than poorly attended. Four people apart from the bands. This is nothing new for us, so it wasn't much of a disappointment. Yet, there was too much drinking and some equipment failure. After the second song things began to go wrong. The Fender Jazzmaster guitar is known for many things. It's incredible tone, fast neck, easy feel, and immediately eye-catching design. Unfortunately for me, it's also known for it's faulty, and poorly designed bridge. Before I could get four chords into "All the Sad Young Men," one of the pieces of my bridge flew off into the "crowd" and was lost forever. I was sick. I was saddened. I didn't know what to do. My low E-string sat sadly in the saddle out of tune and out of commission. I borrowed an oversized Ibanez hollowbody from Devon who plays in Hello Victor. Thankfully it was painted red and black, and I happened to be wearing my red and black lumberjack with the hat to match (r.i.p. Biggs). I played the rest of the show with it. It was generally uninspired, and because the hollowbody lacked a cutaway neck I was stuck without my blazing sweet solos. Bummer. Well, we played, I got all ill-mooded and sat in the van and tried to start writing the next album. I was drunk. It went well. ROAD SONG!

The guys from Hello Victor offered to let us stay in their apartments, which were a floor between each other. We got wasted high and cracked the Pabst case. We spent a couple hours and about 15 cigarettes listening to music and cracking jokes. I slipped down to Eric and Amber's (Eric's girlfriend) apartment and passed out in an honest-to-god bed.

I love being on the road with these guys, but it's like having lifemates for three weeks. You're exclusively in each others company for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and Blake snores like a motherfucker. You have to take every small glimmering gift and savor it because it might be the last good thing to come your way for a long time. So getting some wonderful hospitality, a little bit of grass, a beer, a cigarette and a slab of cotton and foam to lay that heavy head is like a small slice of heaven. Thanks to all our road brothers and sisters who give us a roof, or a drink, or even a little fucking chuckle. 'Cause it's hard out here.

We're in Cleveland now and Ben just played Tom Waits. This bar is pretty great. Free arcade games, free pinball, decent Mexican grub, and a killer juke. Now That's Class. We'll see how the show goes.

Milwaukee's Beasts

2010-03-08T17:52:00.000-08:00

Milwaukee, Wisconsin. A great northern land on the coast of one of those fucking Great Lakes. Lake Michigan. Yeah, that's the one. Where the beer flows like whiskey and the women flop like great tuna on the edge of a murky bay. We rode in early and visited a nearby Border's to geek it up, and I had to take a mid-term. Yes, through all the booze, music, and rampant womanizing I try to squeeze in some learning here and there. I think I did well in case you're wondering. Afterwards, we drove over and scoped out the venue Y-Not III (Y-Not, Y-Not, Y-Not). It was a decent little hole in the wall with a couple felt paintings of the Duke, Will Shatner, and some epic horses. They also had a skee ball table that was out of order. Bummer. Upstairs (two flights) was the actual venue which essentially consisted of a stage and two tower P.A.'s. Our contact, Mr. Whoever-the-hell-he-was, informed us that we were basically going to be running sound, and doors, and setting up the stage for the show. I offered to hop behind the bar while I was at it. He didn't seem amused.

With a few hours to kill we jumped over an amazing little bowling alley/bar/pool hall where smoking was encouraged. Unfortunately, we didn't bowl any as we decided to save our funds, but shit I felt like the fucking Dude walking through the illuminated lanes smoking a cigarette. We shot a few games of pool. I'd like the record to show that currently my win/loss record is something like 8-0. We've been playing teams and I've been (with the help of whomever my teammate is) owning these assholes. Thomas and I beat the shit out of Blake and Ben three times. It felt pretty good. On the way out, we put ourselves on the line and promoted the show to some locals (which we need to do more, for sure) who didn't end up showing anyway, but it was good practice in branching out.

Upstairs in the venue we started setting up the stage. The guy told us there were a couple working speakers on top of some blown speakers we could set up for a sort of makeshift monitors. We tilted them on some cinderblocks and did a pretty damn decent job of making the best of a shit-uation. The bands starting showing up a little later, and we all had a laugh at the events transpiring.

The first group up was Halo of Dionysus. An interesting name for an interesting band. Something a long the lines of new rock mixed with a weird Middle Eastern/Eastern European twist. In my mind, they played entirely too long. Opening bands, c'mon, keep it 25-30 minutes. I know you wanna play all the songs you rehearsed at practice but let's keep it concise.

As per usual we were second and it was probably our tightest set yet. We played a few songs a bit fast, but they were in the pocket. In. The. Pocket. Chord to chord we were on fire, and it felt fantastic. The sound was awful, my vocals sounded like they were underwater, we were so stuffed up there that I kept backing into Ben's cymbals, but fuck it, the passion was there, and that's what people notice. We made decent bank, and had a great time.

Finally, No Sleep for the Bear played, and they were really good. The dudes were super nice so that working in their favor, but there were definitely a few songs that caught my ear as catchy. We spent a decent amount of time at the rear end of the bar chatting with a few local 'sters we met. I'm going to take this time out to mention Flav.

Flav (Flay-V) may have over taken Matt from Indianapolis as the best bartender. We got way more free beers there than anyplace. Well, to be honest, the bands as a whole get 24 Pabst between them, but I'm fairly certain we drank them all. Sorry guys, but it didn't seem like anyone was protesting. But Flav, fucking Flav hooked it up with the shots. Every few minutes the sonofabitch was up in my grill pouring me some Hennessey or Jim Beam or some such shit. It was incredible. I will eternally bow towards the steps of his Kick Ass Temple. The local crew offered to show us around to some hot spots, and we drifted off into the cold, dry Milwaukee night.

We danced like fucking deranged animals, flopping around on the beer strewn floor with grace and ease that only appears to those who have imbibed their fair share of spirits. The floor consisted mostly of the band, Blake, and two or three others we had met that night. Other local 'sters were a little less welcoming than our friends we'd met at Y-Not. I did more shots with a man named Eric who I felt a strange kinship with. After last call we were summoned back to their house where we played Apple to Apples for what seemed like an eternity.

So here it is Milwaukee; Thank you for showing us one of the best nights of the tour so far. We will be back as soon as we redeem ourselves in the eyes of our employers, gather up enough money and will, and clean out that smoke-stench-whiskey-stained van of ours. We love you eternally, Land of Beer and Money, and we shall see you soon.

We're here in Kalamazoo now listening to something on the jukebox in a bar that smells like my grandmother's house in Connecticut. BRB.

Dear Chicago (and Indianapolis)

2010-03-07T18:14:00.000-08:00

We pulled into the outskirts of Indianapolis fairly late after spending some time last minutes with our new bro's in Louisville. As I mentioned before Indianapolis is real meth-y, a lot of strange folks running around. Some guys in a car beside us caught Blake perusing an issue of Penthouse (it gets lonely in that van) and accosted us later in the parking lot of Guitar Center. I owed Ben a new snare stand after I snapped his in two at the show in Jacksonville. We spent a few minutes drinking coffee at Borders, which has become a sort of home-away-from-home. It's a little strange, but they have free wi-fi and there's one within 10 minutes of you at all times. We headed to Vollrath soon after. Aesthetically the venue was awesome. As soon as we walked in we heard the Gaslight Anthem playing which is a good indication that you're in a friendly establishment (actually the playlist was pretty solid throughout the night, the Clash, Op Ivy, Social D and the like) of course a couple of pool tables, full bar, a real nice historic look, and one of the friendliest bartenders, Matt, I've ever met. We sat down and had a couple of beers (every band gets a complimentary 12 pack of Pabst or High Life) and chit chatted with the bands. We met the group we were playing a few of the shows with, Hello Victor, and settled in for their set.

An old friend, Cait, from Tallahassee showed up which was nice. I'll tell you, it's fucking great to see familiar faces when you're on the road, especially when you're all the way up in goddamned Indiana.

Hello Victor's set was pretty good. They have the alt-country meets modern rock type thing that (I think) is getting pretty popular these day. We've played with a few bands around Florida that meet this genre type. They were really nice guys and offered to have a few tokes with us before our set. We respectfully declined. I feel like we can get sufficiently drunk before we play and have no problem whatsoever, but on the grass... We're pretty much useless. The next band had a 'z' in place of an 's' in the name which, in my experience, is a pretty good indication of what that may entail. They were a pretty much straight up classic rock incarnation: Big riffs, lots of splash, and a long-haired singer that was attempting a Jim Morrison meets Julian Casablancas thing. It was what it was. People seemed to enjoy it, and that's what counts. We were next.

The set was solid with a few drum pedal problems. It was nothing that couldn't be fixed. The sound was surprisingly good, the venue had great natural acoustics, and the sound guy was incredibly apt, and welcoming. Pretty much everything you could ask for as far as the venue is concerned. The crowd was obviously more interested in the bar and the bands they came to see which is pretty common. There was a few nodding heads and we sold some t-shirts.

One more band went on after, but, to be honest, I was tired, and developing a headache. I guess mostly I was in need of a good quick drunk. So I sat in a booth with the rest of the guys, Cait and her friends and did just that.

After the show we settled up with Matt. Thankfully, the local bands forfeited their share towards the touring bands so we came out with a decent amount after all was said and done. We packed up our gear and headed for downtown Indianapolis to meet up with our friends and continue drinking. We splurged on a hotel room, and the three of us drifted to sleep with the thunderous roar of Blake's snoring to lull us to Nod.

This is a two parter, and in the interest of keeping these entries readable I'll make this one a quickie (that's what she said).

We got to Chicago early and ate some next-level deep dish. It was incredible. We meandered over to the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower and viewed the city from 103 stories in the sky. It's very surreal in one of those sky boxes.
We headed to the venue afterwards, and boy was it a hole. I mean, it wasn't awful, and yes there was a stage and a makeshift PA/Monitor, but it was obviously run real lackadaisically with no one really taking much responsibility (better than where we are now, Milwaukee, but more on that tomorrow. The jury's still out). We met up with guys from Hello Victor and shared a few pints before heading back for the show. The sound guy was sort of unwelcoming. I guess he just wanted to do his job and split, but as we were attempting to sound check he kept rushing us through. C'mon man, I just want to make sure I, and the crowd, can hear a little vocals. In addition to that they put the two touring bands before the two locals. That really pissed us off. I mean, we make most of our money on merch, and if no one is there to hear us play then we don't sell any merch. You gotta sandwich that shit. Hello Victor played, we played, some old friends showed up (Thank you Troy, and Jessica) and we basically checked out afterwards. The bartender was Ronny, and he was generally disinterested in pouring drinks for the bands. He's an old Russian, well, maybe Russian, guy with a big belly, a face like Bukowski and a silver Panther medallion hanging from his fat neck. I won't lie, he was amiable, and left the beer dealing to the bands. That is to say, he didn't seem to mind us pulling a few Corona's from the cooler while he chatted up the younger female patrons of the bar. We split soon after and headed to Kuma's for the biggest and most delicious burgers we've ever had.
We are eternally grateful to the wonderful and beautiful Jesse Frank for showing us around a bit, and giving us a roof over her heads. Not to mention letting us watch her VHS copy of Wayne's World before we went to bed.

We woke up, had some coffee and headed for Milwaukee. A city that I just now learned how to spell consistently.

Louisville pt. 2: Electric Boogaloo

2010-03-07T09:08:00.000-08:00

We had another "show" that night in Louisville and Cullen was nice enough to offer up his house for another day. He also showed us some pretty great local spots. One in particular was a ridiculously delicious Vietnamese restaurant in an unassuming shopping somewhere on the south side of the city. I wish I could remember the name. There was some coffee drink where it drips into a glass of ice and condensed milk, stir that shit around and drink it down. I got Ginger chicken over steamed rice, and they put Siracha and chili paste on the table. I feel really bad for the sensitive linings of our stomachs. We were fighting debilitating head colds, and a half cup of chili paste and rooster sauce on everything really knocked it out.

We spent the rest of the day preparing for our acoustic set. We had been inadvertently booked at a coffee shop, unbeknownst to Jeff, our booking agent, it was originally designed to be, and I quote, "a night of acoustic euphoria." The thing is, for all intents and purposes, we are an electric band. We play loud, usually fast with shitloads of distortion. I take a lot of pride in my guitar tones, but I figured it'd be a good opportunity to strip down the songs, and remember what they sounded like before we piled everything on top of them. I have to say, as we were practicing it was really refreshing to hear them this way. Considering I haven't heard them on an acoustic guitar since I wrote them in my bedroom ("Pioneer Repair" excluded). As we were practicing a couple of Cullen's roommates came home and I think they were less than bemused. Probably a bit pissed, actually. Well, fuck it, if they don't wanna be a part of the party you're part of the problem. Goddamn, we are dicks. A bunch of free-loading dicks.

We got to Derby City Espresso a little early, and already there was problems. We walked in and the owner was being a real douche. A "Douche Lord" (Lord of the Douche)I believe was the term we coined. Some aging hippy with pseudo-afro pulled into a loose ponytail accentuating his European features. He gave us shit about playing electric, but we told him we'd play acoustic. Actually we told him we'd do whatever he wanted, because, frankly, we could do either. "I don't give a shit what you do" was the response. Totally understandable, y'know, because we were being so pushy. He had a little bald buddy, Moonchild, or something, chiming in every now and then "Just feel it out man. Just feel out the vibes." All right, I'm going to feel out about a half of bottle of whiskey and I'll let you know how it goes.

We thought of leaving. Saying "fuck it" and not playing, but the general rule of our tour, really the general rule of the band, is "If it's not worth it tonight it's not worth it ever." Basically, play every show, and play it well. Sometimes we falter, but I think we do pretty well. So we got drunk. We got drunk and stayed through poor Ryan Adams covers, bad Bowie, some really sappy originals. i know, I'm being harsh. These guys really put themselves out there and support each other. It was nice to see, and they helped us out. They knew we were generally electrified, we were out of our element, and there was only 7 or 8 people in attendance outside of musicians. We played our acoustic set and it wasn't that bad. We did five originals, one I have never played live, and one we haven't played live in forever, along with "Can't Hardly Wait" by the Replacements, and "Game of Pricks" by Guided by Voices. At the end of the set the tip jar (the door was nixed by management) was fairly full and for 25 minutes of "work" we made a decent bank. And by the end of it even the Lord had come around. He offered to let us stay at the shop and to make us coffee in the morning... And to smoke some weed with us. He redeemed himself in a small way, I guess.

We went out with Cullen later that night to a couple of nice local haunts, and got drunk. (What else?) We got back to his place and the Drunk Munchies had set in. The guys are going to hate me for telling this, as this may be the most embarrassing part of the tour thus far, but we ate about a half pound of ham... each. I'm no culinary genius (I have my moments) but I can tell you a thing or two about a sandwich.

Here it is: Take two pieces of bread, spread evenly some hummus, lay ham (about a quarter pound), apply generous amount of Barbeque sauce, one more layer of bread, and eat. Feel free to dip this in more BBQ.

We went to bed fat, and thirsty.

Warm Whiskey and Cold Women

2010-03-05T15:54:00.000-08:00

I don't have a lot of time so I'm probably going to gloss over a few things, but I should manage to hit the important stuff. We drove through the snowy mountains of the Carolina's and played in fields of the white stuff (not the kind that is usually preferred, unfortunately) and saw Dolly Wood from afar. The drive, though nine hours, wasn't terrible. We arrived in Knoxville a couple hours early and ate some terrible bar food from a urinal cake smelling joint called the Roaming Gnome, avoid if you're ever there. We got the Longbranch Saloon and met Jordan, the booking guy. He was really nice, personable, and basically let the bands do there own thing. So we grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took it upstairs to the show area. The other touring band dropped off, which was a good things for us since it meant we'd get 100% of the door. The first band was god awful. I've seen a lot of bands and award points for heart and getting up there and doing your own thing, but it was just bad. They played for 45 minutes, took cigarette breaks in between songs, and then immediately left after their set. We played afterward to, basically, the other band Faux Ferocious and a couple of their lady friends. They were really nice guys and offered up their place for us to crash, and to show us around Knoxville. We got paid a small amount of money (enough to get us to Louisville) and sold a couple EPs. We took it as an opportunity to practice in public. We went out with a few of the guys from the band and got wasted, driving dangerously, and without safety belts through the snowy streets of the city.

The next morning I awoke in an accidental cuddle puddle, and a fresh layer of snow on the ground. We took the day to get the van fixed and saw a movie. It was relatively inexpensive (the fix) and a decent watch (the movie). It was really fucking cold, but our collective skins were thickening. We had the day off, and drove to Louisville, taking the backroads... six hours of backroads. We arrive late that night and got a meal, a bottle of whiskey, and because we were all feeling under the weather, a bottle of nyquil. We checked into one of the worst flea-bag motels ever (the Economy Inn outside of Louisville, I suggest steering clear). There was no lock on the door, holes in the walls, and filth dripping from the ceiling. We chased our booze with our medicine and fell asleep on top of the sheets.

The next day we decided to check out some of the local distilleries. We are all fans of the sauce, specifically whiskey, and were interested in the production of it... How 'bout that. Jim Beam was basically a movie, a small museum, and a tasting at the end. The Red Stag brand is god awful, but the Booker's Reserve makes up for it. We booked it towards Maker's Mark (Whose tour was significantly better and informative... Did you know that they spell 'whisky' without the 'e' in an homage to Scottish Whiskys?) before the show.

We arrived at Skull Alley on time to catch the first band, and take in the venue. It's actually really nice, but looks more like an art gallery than a music hall, so the atmosphere is a little awkward. The first act was a toothy acoustic guy with a penchant for animal and food references (kitties, and mayonnaise) with a voice like the dude from the Thermals. We were the second band, we played a decent set, but I blew a fuse on the last song. Solid, but lacking energy. It's hard to get into the groove when no one is smoking or drinking. It was like playing at an art gallery... or a church. Third was The Slow Death, formerly Pretty Boy Thorston. They were solid punk rock with a country twinge. Basically nice dudes, I'm sure they do well at the Fest. Last was Houses in Motion, they said nice things about our band, and we watched their whole set. I guess country rock would be a good description... Country rock with sweep picking. We met Cullen, who plays in a band called Rest Assured (who we are playing with in Brooklyn) and he offered up his house for us to crash. Little did he know we'd be free-loading off of him for the next day and a half (much to the dismay of a couple of his roommates). The night ended in typical fashion. We got drunk and roamed around the city.

I had an ending line for this post, but forgot it. Here's to Indianapolis. Meth-Mouth Capital of the Midwest. Hopefully tonight goes as well as the last couple days.

Brandon, Ybor, and Jackson-vile

2010-03-01T16:01:00.000-08:00

Needless to say, Brandon was fucking weird. We played in a church, which is a first for all of us, and, personally, only the third or fourth time I'd ever been in an actual church. The first being incident being with a friend on a Saturday night sleepover that turned into a Sunday morning congregation and the second being for a funeral. The show took place where it appears that they had the sermons on Sunday. A large post-modern cross was set up in separate incandescent cubes so that viewed from any angle but the center of the room it appeared as a piece of very strange minimalist art. A couple friends of ours from Tampa came to see us, and it was very comforting to see some familiar faces.

The first band was California Baseball (American Football?), a decent alt-country act with bad jokes. They had some really stand out tunes that reminded me of John Stirratt's early Wilco songs. I guess that would just be "It's Just that Simple." It's like if John Stirratt had left Wilco with everyone else, moved to Plant City, and started a band. We played after, and the set was fairly tight. As I mentioned in the previous post we generally write songs that revolve around sins, sinning, and how much fun it is to sin. So, we cut our set short. It's kind of hard to sing, "Here's the coke, man. Where's the whiskey?" To a bunch of high school aged kids in the house of their lord.

The atmosphere was incredibly dry and we all felt a little awkward. I tried to loosen things up, but it wasn't easy. Luckily, I had picked up a few local high school names, and they seemed to like the shout outs. I think this was the first set I had ever played stone cold sober since I was Drug Free and playing in a hardcore band. We were incredibly anxious to pack up and get to New World Brewery to get wasted.

We arrived on time and was greeted by an incredibly, almost ludicrously, nice parking lot attendant. He was reading the book that they based the movie "Valkryie" on. I feel like that's an important character trait. We met Joe, the promoter who also works for Reax, and he made sure we got taken care of by the bar staff. Apparently, when you play New World you get free beer all night. And it's not just Pabst draught or High Life tall boys; it's the good shit. The thick shit that sticks to your moustache and gets you fucked up beyond belief.

We caught Alexander and the Grapes' set and were very impressed. They were tight beyond belief. It was a little ridiculous. You could tell that the crowd was excited and responded well. We knew it was going to be tough to top their set, so we decided to go at it from the pure energy standpoint. Unfortunately, we had slept in the van the night before, and had all ready played a set that day so energy was in short reserve. I slammed a beer and an energy beverage and felt good to go, geeked, sure, but good to go.

(At this point I'd like to take a moment out to say this is the third time today I've heard Blake, our merch guy/best friend, snore. Seriously, this goes on all day. )

We played the set, and have to say it was the most energetic (as if he heard me type it, Blake awakes) set that I have ever played. I could barely keep my feet planted. It wasn't as tight as Orlando as far as actual skill goes, but I don't think it mattered. Maybe I skew my live priorities, but I always put the show before the song. Other bands have other ideals, and hopefully one day mine can coincide, but right now, I'll sacrifice a note or three to be that much more entertaining. Some more friends showed up, and we found that someone we had made acquaintances with previously was reviewing the show for a local rag, so that was exciting. We had a blast and made more money from the merch booth than we ever have, I think.

Needless to say we celebrated… Hard. Look Mexico was the best we had ever seen them. Three sets later, and I still hadn't tired of them. Those guys are seriously incredible, and I can't help but shower them with compliments. (In fact, we are listening to the new record right now.)

We counted the money in the lock box, and, without giving away the sum, got very excited. So we celebrated some more… Even harder. By the end of the night we were all wild-eyed and swimming in puddles of expensive free beer. (Blake is snoring again). We stayed that night in a fortified woodland compound and snacked on pizza and pickled mushrooms. I fell asleep in a bed, and the next morning I awoke to a shower and a fresh cup of coffee. I think we all had the sneaking suspicion that this could be the last of the great mornings.

The next day (last night) was Jacksonville (Jackson-vile which I have officially dubbed 'The New Jersey of the South') and it was awful. We played at a real shit hole called "Doozer's." One of the opening bands uttered racial epithets on stage and played entirely too long. In the interim, we had all gotten way too drunk on Screwdrivers and Genesee Cream Ale. (Ben has now started snoring. At this point, Thomas, the recorded Look Mexico, and I are the only things awake.)

The set suffered. Really suffered. The mic kept shocking me, so any time I'd get close it was sort of like holding those doggie electric fence collars to my lips. Eventually, it got bad enough that I had to pull my filthy sock off and stretch it over the windscreen on the mic and sing into my sweat (I've been wearing one sock since). Total Black Flag moment. Ben was all over the place. (He's going to hate me for that, but this blog is about absolute honesty… I think. Honesty and self-promotion. Besides, I think I may be the only person that reads this.) I got really pissed by the end of the set, and in a bout of extreme drunken childishness, threw my body into the drum set and snapped the snare stand in two. It was the best part of the set, no doubt.

We rebounded though, allowed ourselves to be pissed off, cooled off, and talked it through. We have two weeks left on the tour and can't afford to be angry at each other all ready. Some guy is getting our wolf design tattooed on him though. So, that's sort of remarkable.

What really helped I think was watching Look Mexico for the last time. Those guys are consummate professionals in any and every situations and always play on par every night. It's a goddamn triumph of the human spirit story. I'll admit (in the name of TRUTH) I got a little choked up saying good-bye to the guys. Matt bestowed some tour-hardened knowledge on me, and I think we all grew as people.

Queue the sunset, locking arms, end credit and movie theme song. Although, the first film ended on an uncertain note, and now we move toward the sequel that will no doubt be full of ups and downs, ins and outs, massive highs, and crushing lows. We're driving through South Carolina now on our way to Knoxville, and the cold is all ready settling in. If you're still reading tell my mother I love her, and my lover that I may never return.

We've got a lot of catching up to do, you and I.

2010-02-27T13:43:00.000-08:00

We're well into a new year, and we haven't updated this old girl in a while. I hold myself personally responsible, and I know all our loyal readers are anxious to read of our travels, and travails.

I feel like this is the scene in Wayne's World II when Wayne catches the audience up to everything that's happened over the last few years. Unfortunately, none of us have moved into a converted doll factory, nor have we been exploited by, and ultimately triumphed over a slick executive (though that would make a good story.) Generally, things have been going well. There's been a few bumps and bruises along the way, but those have to be expected.

We are just about finished with our debut full-length that we promised, and was promised to drop late February. Well, late February is here, and almost gone and we are just now tidying up the mixing process, finalizing (well, maybe starting) the art work, and then it's off to be given a nice glossy finish and mastered. It's going to be somewhere between 10 and 12 songs, and if the funds provide us it'll be pressed on vinyl. But who knows when that'll happen. One step at a time.

Currently, I'm sitting in a Borders in the lovely city of Brandon, Florida. I've seen some great strip malls filled with Indoor Putt Putt's, "Pub"'s, and plenty of stores that all begin with "Dollar." This is the third stop on our short jaunt with the dudes in Look Mexico, and so far it's been a blast.

We started in Tallahassee at Club Downunder. With their university bank roll artists always get the best treatment, plenty of snacks, dinner, and a guarantee. Personally, I think the only thing their missing is a private bathroom. Call me crazy. The show went well. I fucked up an old song, blah blah, we got drunk, played some foosball and said goodbye as we began our excursion.

The next night was Gainesville. We played at the 1982 Bar. I'd never been there before, let alone played, and really enjoyed it. You can't go wrong with dollar beers, and Nintendo and Sega Genesis on the TVs. Oh, and Mario Kart. Fucking Mario Kart. The first two bands were pretty enjoyable. I can't remember the first bands name, and I feel like a dick for being to lazy to check the flyer or remembering. But they were good. The second Hey Buddy was a little too... How did Blake put it? That's right, "Wackadoo," for me. A little all over the place musically. Sometimes Beastie Boys, sometimes Kings of Leon, sometimes... Sublime? Not bad, maybe just not for me. Our set felt pretty on fire. Nodding heads, and I think most people stuck around to watch. We sold a few things, but made way less on the door than what was promised... Ah, well, we met a bunch of nice people and got put up on beds with breakfast. The band after was Greenland is Melting, who akin to a slower, quieter, Me and the Devil from Tallahassee. I really enjoyed it. Look Mexico was great as ever. Those fucking guys, man. Those fucking guys.

Orlando last night, and it felt incredible. We ate some pitas when we got in initially, and they were delicious, filling and cheap. Unfortunately, afterwards we were pointed in the direction of a pub by a kindly, old bum called the Pine Street Bar and Grille. What's unfortunate was not the happy hour $2.50 beers, but the free buffet that was offered. Hot wings, and build your own tacos for the low, low price of a beer or drink. If only we'd have known! Another "ah, well" under our belts, but we know for next time. And, if you ever want a cold beer and a hot meal, get to Pine Street Bar and Grille on a Friday.

The show was incredible. It took place at Back Booth (another venue I had never been to) and all the of the bands were really, truly good. First was our friend Tierney's band, the Pauses. A poppy, semi-electronic affair, and unfortunately do to an earlier indulgence in the above-mentioned hot wings, had to make a beeline for the bathroom at a nearby Pita Pit. I'm not ashamed. Shit happens. After the Pauses were An Introduction to Sunshine who were definitely playing to the times. Twangy, reverb drenched guitars, slightly sunny compositions with slightly depressing lyrical themes. They were good, don't get me wrong, and turned out to be super nice. They mostly kept it low key, but had a few decent rollers they pulled out. I think we're all looking forward to playing with both bands again.

Our set felt even better than the Gainesville one. We managed to pull people from the outside of the semi-circle to the front of the stage which is an exciting first in an out of town scenario. Out of the innumerable shows we've played I can think of maybe 10 that this dreaded semi-circle didn't exist and this was one of them. A lot of dancing and drinking, and by the end of our set I think we had won over a lot of new fans... Unfortunately, this doesn't always translate to merchandise sales. I can't say I'm surprised, and I don't take it personally. In an age where generally everyone exclusively uses their debit cards what little cash you may have you'd rather spend on the act you came to see. We just have to find a reliable way to accept credit or debit at shows. We managed to sell a lone t-shirt, though. Luckily, money from the door was able to carry us towards today's gig.

And here we are, drinking coffee and biding time until we play our first set at "The Porch," a local venue inside of a church. All of our songs generally deal with drinking, drugs, depression, and illicit sex. Needless to say it's going to be a short set. But then it's off to New World Brewery to catch a free drunk and hopefully make some bank.

I'll be checking in semi-regularly for the next two weeks as we make our ascent into the frigid northern states.

Worth, Not Worth, and the Value of a Dollar

2009-10-26T13:51:00.000-07:00

We left Tallahassee at 1 pm Monday afternoon to arrive in New York at 7:30 am, Tuesday morning. We had endured two draining drives which left us exhausted on both ends of the trip while hemorrhaging the bulk of the band fund on the way up. 32+ hours, 2,200 miles, $350+, and countless gallons of sweet gasoline for 25 minutes on a shit stage in a dungeon. These facts must beg the question: is the CMJ festival worth the effort/money/time? Short answer: No. Long answer: It can be, if you're already the toast of multiple popular blogs or .com/.net/.orgs that are putting on several different showcases around the city. The fact remains that CMJ is too spread out to be beneficial for bands or fans. One article I read on it explained that the festival now acts "as a coronation, not an introduction," I couldn't agree more.

As a band, our "showcase" was decent, we made some new fans, shook some hands, got some decent live shots, nothing we couldn't have done closer to home though. After the show we went to find the owner as he was the keeper of the door money, we caught him just as he was putting on his coat and gathering his things to go. He threw us some bills and split as soon as we were done. It wasn't a complete failure, we didn't play terribly, but can it be considered a victory? No. Defeat? It was pretty close.

As fans, we spent far too many hours navigating the boroughs to see bands we were interested in, most we could have just seen when they came though town. The interim hijinks were fun. We caught up with some old friends, made some new ones, got right wasted, and spent way too much money on shit we didn't need. We pulled Eleanor (our van) on the long haul and she performed beautifully, no complaints, no breakdowns, so we know she's good for another one and we got all the way back to Tallahassee with only the slightest inklings to want to kill each other which is positive.

We've got two shows tomorrow, the first with our buds in Look Mexico over at Big Daddy's, then we book it to the Engine Room for the Friend's of Friends CD release party. Thursday we head down to Orlando for a big pre-Fest show with the Menzingers, and How Dare You and a bunch of others. It's another big week, time to go back to sleep.

Big News, New Attitudes

2009-10-06T15:38:00.000-07:00

Well it's been a minute or two since we last update. We had some major downers come our way for a while there. We were completely unable to book anything but TWO dates for our Austin excursion, so in that regards we were a massive failure. Not one band from here to there got back to us to provide any sort of assistance... So much for the D.I.Y. aesthetic, a lot of talk, a lot less action. It's hard not to become disenfranchised at times like that, we had a few shitty practices in between, and exhaustion and lethargy began to rear it's ugly head... but life is not without redemption.

Not more than a few days ago we were contacted by the fine folks and CMJ Music Festival in New York and offered a showcase spot at the Lit Lounge. Needless to say we were all shocked, seeing as we were denied over a month ago. See, our names got put on the wrong list by some drunken intern who misfiled a whole heap of talented bands, don't worry, he later got fired. Of course, our papers were shoved underneath the World's Largest Desk and the proper corrections were never made. Luckily, fate intervened. I guess the story goes a band that will remain unnamed got steamrolled during a 2 Live Crew reunion when the city of New Jersey was undergoing some sidewalk replacement. As you could imagined, being flattened somewhere in wild jungles of the Garden State will render you unable to perform. Their grieving families contacted the festival and told them the news, and CMJ immediately called us as we were No. 1 on the standby list.

Of course, this brings up a whole new plethora of problems, seeing as we had no shows between here and New York. We're desperately trying to secure a spot somewhere in North Carolina, maybe the 5-7 people that read this blog knows some people who can throw together last minute shows... Here's to hoping we get another blow of divine intervention. That's not to say we aren't working our dicks off to book this, it's just easier said than done. Venues never get back to us, bands ignore or sit on our requests, our inbox remains full of emptiness. Don't start a band kids, start a fry stand. The moneys in grease and low overhead.

Once we get back to Florida though the REAL fun begins. On the 27th we're playing two incredibly exciting shows in one crazy night! First, we're at Big Daddy's with our boys in Look Mexico, and their buddies Bridge and Tunnel. Then, after all that's done, we book it to the Engine Room to play in celebration of our friend's Friends of Friends brand new CD available for download at the link to the left! It's going to be amazing. A couple days after that we're playing a Pre-Fest show with The Menzingers in Orlando (Thank Kyle) Holy shit, we're pysched. Then it's back up to the Fest to bum around for house shows that we may or may not find. Once we get back to Tallahassee we play with Cheap Girls and Failure's Union at Coolifornia.

We're stressed, we're going to be stressed, we're broke, we're going to be more broke and slowly descending into debt. I guess this is what it's all about.

Ch-ch-changes.

2009-08-16T12:36:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't read the last post, James Cloran Murphy is no longer with us. Yes, he's gone on to a better place. Well... If you like big cities that smell like piss, yuppie scum, and bumshit, then I guess Manhattan is a better place. So out with the old and in with the new. Our old chum Thomas Bacot has joined to play bass and everything is going swimmingly. We've only had a few practices with him, and in that time he's picked up eight songs and is playing them more solid than we've ever heard them played (no offense, Jimbo). It's amazing the life that he's breathed into the old lines, putting his own spin on some of them, which indeed helps them over that hill. Unfortunately for forward progress, Ben and I took a short sabbatical last week, but now we are poised to get right back on that old horse and start churning out the old hits and writing a few new ones. Hopefully by the end of the year we can start recording this fucking full-length. As of now it's tentatively titled "Heartless Romantics."

We have a short tour planned in October. The dates are as follows:
Oct. 21st - Pensacola, FL
Oct. 22nd - New Orleans, LA
Oct. 23rd - Houston, TX/Baton Rouge, LA
Oct. 24th - Austin, Texas - BOOKED: HOLE IN THE WALL
Oct. 25th - Houston, TX/Baton Rouge, LA
Oct. 26th - Mobile, AL
Oct. 27th - Tampa, FL
Oct. 28th - Orlando, FL
Oct. 29th - Gainesville, FL - The Fest
Oct. 30th - Gainesville, FL - The Fest
Oct. 31st - Gainesville, FL - The Fest

As you can see there ain't much to show yet. If you can help us with any of these dates we'd be much obliged! We aren't officially on the Fest, of course, but we're going to go and try our damndest to play a show, house or otherwise, every night. That brings me to my next point... For the Gainesville "sister city" we sure or underrepresented at The Fest. Out of the 200+ bands that are playing so far only ONE is from Tallahassee. It's just a bit of a downer. I'm not saying that Only Thieves is exactly "Fest material" as we only have a couple songs with dedicated sing-alongs, and we aren't exactly the Gainesville Sound, but there are plenty of bands here that fit this archetype that haven't been selected. Ah, fuck it, what do I care? We're moving next year anyway.

So our "triumphant" "return" "show" is September 17th at St. Mikes for this Back to the Garage thing. It should be a lot of fun, and we can finally get Thomas's dick wet.

Until next time.

To Infirmary and Beyond

2009-07-16T09:03:00.000-07:00

We went to Pensacola, and, despite the fun that was had, it was a bit of a bust. Granted, the show was a blast, and we played really well, but the small bit of gas cash we had built up had run dry. So we were running on fumes dug out of our pockets. On top of that we ended up playing with something like six or seven bands, five of which were from Tallahassee. We might as well have had the show at Castlemania, or the Engine Room. There weren't any donations taken, we should have pushed for them with puppy dog eyes like so many bands I've seen through Tallahassee, pushed for the Mandatory Donation. Oh well... Then somewhere like thirty miles outside Pensacola our tank ran dry. We pulled over to the side of the road and awaited a wrecker with a gas can. From now on we go by the half tank rule... Fucking sweet stuff. It was a tense ride home.

After the show in Pensacola we all got to talking, that is to say Jimmy got to talking to us. Long story short he's leaving the band for personal reasons. I'm not going to air them all here, but what it sounded like is basically he's through with music. It's not easy being in a struggling band on the cusp of minor success (as I outlined in the previous blog) and it's not for everyone. There are times when I want to throw it all down, drink beer and watch TV. It's so easy to slide into domesticity, go on and do the whole A to B to C to Death Thing in Life. But that's no life I want to live. We give Jimmy our blessing in all his future endeavors.

That being said, Ben and I have absolutely NO intention of dissolving the band. We are still in it one-hundred-and-ten percent, albeit, at this juncture, bass-less. So we are opening auditions for a new bass player, if you or anyone you know would like to join our ranks please don't hesitate to let us know!

Also! Our last show with Jimmy is this Saturday at the Engine Room. We'll be playing with Me and the Devil, Relondondo, and Tiny Teeth! 9 pm!

Reach us by E-mail!

Or our myspace!

It's Gonna be Hot, It's Gonna be Wet, and It's Going to Last You the Rest of Your Life.

2009-07-06T19:53:00.000-07:00

It's hard to look at things positively or negatively in regards to a band, especially when you're fresh in the game. We've been sparring with this idea in our collective heads plenty recently. It's hard to watch hopelessly talentless bands succeed so easily while so many of us struggle to wrench ourselves out of the mires. It's getting fed bits of rope and lines, finding gleams of hope, then watching them slowly unravel and fizzle and fade. Yet, you find yourself coming back because things have a way of turning around sometimes, and you're left no choice but to think "maybe just around the next corner."

I'm sure we could fish around somewhere and find an appropriate anecdote or metaphor to help describe summer in Florida. I know I've mentioned it in previous posts. It sort of lingers and dances around every scenario that we've partaken in, whether it's mentioned directly or not. That being said... It was hot.
We drove down to Tampa unreasonably early to hang out with our friends in the Old Souls for the last time for a while. Unfortunately, due in part to "creative differences" Taylor, Matt, and Ross have splintered from John Gold and are moving to Tennessee to pursue other musical endeavors. In a testament to their character they didn't let these differences impede the holiday at all. We went over to Auntie Donna's for what was promised to be the "cheapest, and best" southern cooking in Tampa. We were not disappointed.
They were having a Fourth of July Party/Michael Jackson Tribute/Free Keg of High Life. It was pretty amazing.

Fast forward to that night where we played a sweltering house show to all of nine people. By the end of the last song I was drenched, my guitar was bleeding sweat and we all felt like collapsing. I think a collective apathy towards the show on the part of the Old Souls lead to its demise. It was their last gig and, in my opinion they were over it, and played it if only because we booked it a month ago, and as a favor to us. Few shows are in vain as we made some new friends/fans and it never hurts to get a practice in. We got tanked and lit off fireworks for the rest of the night. The next day we drove to Orlando for our show at Will's Pub.

There's not much to say about that one. We hung out at Downtown Disney for a few hours, tourists on tour escaping the heat. I hadn't been to anything Disney in a long time. Not much magic. The show was, as expected, poorly attended. We can't complain, it was fun and we appreciate any opportunity to ply our trade outside of Tallahassee, even if it is financially unsound. We got offered another show in Orlando by the promoter that was promised to be bigger and better... We shall see.

JENNFEST!

2009-06-01T15:58:00.000-07:00

As expected, Jennfest was a massive party, and an even more massive success. Basically the story goes as so: For the last three years our friends Jenn and Patrick have brought a bunch of folks into the woods for various outdoor-type activities, music, and, of course, drunken debauchery. We played the fest last year as well and had an amazing time. Jenn, who I hear is an incredibly gifted teacher, worked her ass off and scored a sweet deal to teach in Vietnam. Therefore, this would be the last Jennfest. Bummer. Every year it gets bigger and better and this time was no exception. Unfortunately, due to some technical difficulties (my amp shorting out, and having to take it to the incredible Mr. John McNeese who returned it the same day) we arrived a little late. We managed to catch Tiny Teeth for the first time, who played a blaring, furious, sonic assault of a set (that's a good thing). The multi-talented Adam Reid took the stage after, and I'm always amazed at what that kid can do: Drums, guitar, sing like a goddamned angel. I've been seeing him play for about six years in various bands and he always brings that intangible something to the table. We're playing with him June 13th at Castlemania, so if anyone hasn't seen him before it's for sure worth checking out. Afterwards Mr. Andy Matchett played, also the first time seeing him. The music is nice, down home, singer-songwriter stuff, a little Dylan-esque, infinitely better than most solo acts I encounter. Then it was time for Friends of Jenns, featuring the Nick, Andy, and Adam of the semi-defunct-but-hopefully-not-fully Friends of Friends. They brought the house down, as expected, keeping the pace with seven or eight punk covers. It was our turn next. I think, with the amount of alcohol I myself ingested, we did pretty well. Some said it was the best time they've ever seen us. I might be inclined to agree... We tore through our set pretty quick, kept the people moving, and got some very nice compliments. We were all exhausted by then, but couldn't stop. XOXO was a blast as usual, with their brand of sunny pop and general kickassitude. I must give Andy the MVP award for the night as he really owned that nudity... Kudos friend. After the handle of tequila was gone everything gets hazy. In fact, this entire entry may be a complete fabrication. Can anyone confirm this?

it was a great party.

More Reviews keep rolling in...

2009-05-19T17:59:00.000-07:00

"Power pop hooks, frantic guitars and pounding drums... gritty, dirty rock n roll, these guys do a great job of fuzzing out the guitars and putting the riffs in all the right places." - Tom Haugen, Go211.com

"Taking a decidedly more original approach to their brand of power-pop... ought to be enjoyable to anyone who digs focused, cohesive power-pop." - What We Hate

Orange You Glad Fest, Orlando

2009-05-18T17:41:00.000-07:00

We love Orlando. Sure, it's the home of that strange mouse, Religion Land, various other weird residents, but goddamn has she been good to us. Jimmy peed in the van on the way down. Here's a picture of it. Orange You Glad Fest was a lot of fun, we played at a low-rent hole-in-the-wall venue (not to say this is a bad thing), the sound was sub-par (that kind of is), but the kids were amazing, and the energy was plentiful. We made some new friends, played a great set, and got nice and wasted... All before one a.m.! We were super stoked on Spirit Bomb when we saw them play. Not only do they have a sweet name, but they sound like a more raw, punked up Cap'n Jazz. I'd love to bring them to Tallahassee one o' the days. I think them kids would dig those crazy sounds. We really hope that there is another OYG next year, and we hope that we're on it. Orlando, be prepared to be seeing a lot of us.

After the show we headed to BBQ to hang with Kyle Raker and the Kutch Bro's. It was a raucous affair, what with Florida Music Festival going on at the same time. There was no shortage of dudes walking around looking like your standard "Rocker Guy" trying out for American Idol, plenty of eyeliner, and vests with fedoras. Special thanks to Kyle who preceded to drive us in circles around downtown Orlando, wasted, blaring Avail constantly asking us what street we were parked on. CENTRAL! We managed to get stupid drunk and break into Sean's apartment around three-thirty, and continue getting stupid drunk.

We drove back the next day to our chagrin. We would have liked to stay and see XOXO the next day but, alas, the day job calls.

Until JENNFEST!!

Thirsty and Miserable

2009-05-10T13:54:00.000-07:00

Nobody knows summer until you've spent summer in Florida. The cities got their heatwaves, the country's got their brushfires, Florida's got it all, and on top of that it's wet... Lord is it wet. But we survive, thrive, and multiply.

I think I can speak for the group (including Blake) when I say that we are all incredibly anxious to take this freakshow back on the road. We had such a blast, and are itching for the sequel. I suppose we'll have another tiny taste when we play Orange You Glad Fest next Friday. In fact, we got a little write-up about our sound and our show in REAX Magazine. Check it out here:
Orange You Glad, as covered by REAX

So yeah, we play at 10:15 @ Uncle Lou's, 1019 Mills Rd. Orlando, FL!

And here's what Fist Fight at the Art House had to say about "Greetings from Levy Park, T.L.H.":
"A little dirty rock ‘n roll-sounding, a little poppy, a little indie... a solid slice of music that keeps its energy going from beginning to end... it's good."

More reviews to come...

Tallahassee/Jacksonville, May 4th-5th

2009-05-06T19:59:00.000-07:00

We arrived into Tallahassee in the wee hours of Monday morning. In the parking lot of my apartment complex we watched the end of a heated mustache exchange. Ross of the Old Souls had shaved his off, thereby breaking an agreement, and in doing so agreed to be slapped in the face by Matt. It seems ridiculous to the outside observer, but it's an age old code set forth by our forefathers and MUST be carried on by our generation. So delirious, sleep-deprived, and slightly wasted I watched a grown man get the shit slapped out of him.
The next day, after a full nights sleep, we rejoined with our compatriots who stayed at Ben's house (along with Trevor and Kevin who slept at Blake's) and showed them what NoFla's all about. Some Bar-B-Que was consumed and we went to the show at Castlemania.
We were all a little worried as the turn out seemed like it was going to be low. Tallahassee on a Monday during the summer is not the best time to have a show. This town comes to a grinding halt and shuts down. Apart from that we had Goatwhore to contend with. As the night progressed we finished off a bottle of whiskey and a couple of cases of Pabst, and began to feel better as more people showed up.
Watching John Gold's set (as well as the booze) filled me with a strange sense of well-being, or a who-gives-a-fuck moment. We were going to have a good time no matter what. With that mindset going in we played one of the best, and funnest, shows we've had. Beer soaked, sweating profusely, and yelling until we were hoarse we sold the dream.
` Later that night, over a few post-show beers, we bid adieu to our new brothers in the Old Souls. We talked of summer tours, lack of t-shirts, and backs stuck to seats in the dead heat. We'll see you again, douche bags... You're the men now, dogs.

The next night was Jacksonville. En route we found that the venue we were originally supposed to perform at wasn't going to let us load-in, let alone play, if twenty people didn't show up. Of course, this wasn't going to be an easy task when BOTH of the local acts called and cancelled. No one informed us, or Curious Animals (who booked the gig) until we got there. With some last minute ingenuity and desperate phone calls A.J. of the Animals managed to get the show moved to the London Bridge Pub.
The place was quiet when we arrived. Cinco de Mayo had taken all the locals to the beach. A few people straggled in, but without a local opener there wasn't much hope for two totally unknown bands. There was some rumblings of "is this worth it?" I admit even I was guilty of this mindset, but then I realized, if it's not worth it tonight, it's never worth it. Here it is, I thought, what it's all about, playing in front of nobody and the other bands. All those books tell you exactly that... Welcome to Punk Rock.
Curious Animals played fantastic as usual, getting more and more solid every time. We played well as well, and drank beer blindly. Around midnight we packed it up and headed home. As we drove down I-10 I saw it all laid out before me. The day-to-day, the bills, the landlords, the empty bars, and the nowhere hearts all came into view. It's time goddammit.... Fuck it into infinity.

Until "Orange You Glad Fest" March 14th.

Tampa/Gainesville May 2nd-3rd

2009-05-04T15:11:00.000-07:00

I was a sweat-soaked mess on a dirty futon in Tampa, awoken by the strained snores of The Captain around 10 AM. I rolled over and wiped the dirt from my fingers into my eyes and sat up. Blake snorted to a start and I stared at two blackened pairs of feet on a massage table in the kitchen. I found my pants, wallet, and shoes and Blake and I went to get coffee.

Luckily, we stumbled upon the coffee shop where Matt (Guitarist/Good Dude, John Gold and the Old Souls) worked and scored some espresso and bagels. We ate and discussed the day. Jimmy would arrive with our friends Daniel and Kaleigh around five or six and we'd drive to Kaleigh's parent's house in Brandon to swim, and recharge our batteries.

We went back to the Old Soul house and watched "The Sphere" with the thunderous sounds of the jets flying back to the nearby Air Force base adding to the drama. If you've never seen this movie I highly recommend it, it's like "Event Horizon" under water. If you like sweet giant squids and Sam Jackson acting like a weirdo bad ass (as usual) then you should check it out. We left soon after for hot wings and beer.

After meeting up with our fellow townspeople we retired to a nice porch to drink, then we left for the show.

We pretty much more than partied again. We played a raucous set, one of

our best for sure, and got nice and drunk for the next act, Nick Shanahan. He was real good Sad Bastard Country, and throw in a cover on Ryan Adams' "Come Pick Me Up" and The Boss' "Johnny 99" for good measure you got a set, baby! Afterwards, the Old Souls played, and they killed it like I thought they would. They have a 90's-ish Alternative sound a la the Gin Blossoms with an airy Country tinge.

The show ended and a bunch of kids piled into a van to go to the store. When the van returned two people were covered in vomit and a few minor explosions happened. Nobody lost any limbs and we were all better people for it. We all slept in real beds that night.

The next morning was blurry and full of headaches. We decided to mee

t at Taylor's house so we could caravan into Gainesville. Before we left we helped the guys load into Taylor's mom's mini-van (not without some good natured ribbing, of course). We got on the road to Gainesville and got stuck in some killer gridlock. We threw a small party that involved one water bottle full of vodka and Emergen-C (don't mix those, for the record) and another full bottle of Jimmy's urine. We made it to Gainesville with time to spare and met up with Curious Animals. After a few huge burritos later we were ready for the show.

All the bands played really well, and the turnout was ample. Apparently, Gainesville is a tough town if, as one amiable local put it, "you don't sound like you're on or could be on No Idea." Fair enough. We rounded up our troops and with a quick pitstop for chips and energy beer we were on our way back to The Real Florida, back to Tallahassee.

Orlando/Tampa April 30th-May 1st

2009-05-02T08:16:00.000-07:00

Last night was awesome. The night before was awesome. I apologize for my lack of vernacular but the collective drunk of the past evenings was just too much for my poor, alcohol soaked brain.

Dear Orlando,

I know the kids are jaded, tragically hip, and awkwardly posed, but they came out anyway to fill Will's Pub. Will's is a nice three-pronged corner bar, one room specifically for pool (although I think I saw more than a few players bang the butt of their cues into the wall), one reserved for the night's musical act, and one is just a good ol' drinking station. We were given seven drink tickets from Kyle Raker at the beginning of the night and told to behave. Jimmy was sullen, still not able to drink. We kicked around, downing Pabst, and shooting the shit with some hometown friends until the first band started. Kyle came wandering over with his sunken and mischievous eyes asking the Blake and I if we wanted to do a shot. We did.

We wandered over to Wally's ("Hole-in-the-Wally's") and took a tall whiskey straight to the gut. I felt the rumble. We got back to the venue and it was time to play.

I feel like we did pretty well. I mean, I felt the intensity in my veins, and it seemed that we had a good portion of the bar watching our set, especially for the last three songs. Of course, we didn't sell a lick of merch, but I don't think many people did. XOXO and Relondondo both did very well. Relondondo is getting better and better every time I see them. Christ, Phil plays with so much goddamned intensity that at any moment it looks like he could just burst. XOXO, with their shining brand of pop is like a strange ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark and seedy bar.

After a saurkraut and pickle soaked Chicken Parmesan Wrap from 7-11, and a Replacements Pop Quiz (which I am pretty sure I won) with our new friend (Jimmy's old friend) Sean, we retired to the former's abode to sleep away our drunks.

We woke up and tried to watch "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." It didn't work out. Sean, if you're reading this, I hope I didn't fuck up your receiver. Jimmy, unfortunately, had to drive back that day to attend his girlfriends graduation, and the rest of us (Blake, Ben and I) were treated to Waffle's and Fruit with Cereal. Awesome.

We downed a few Bloody Mary's at a cafe' that probably costed more money than we should have spent and headed to Tampa.

Dear Tampa,

The jury's still out, but last night was amazing. We started off wandering the streets of Ybor until we headed to the screen printing shop where Taylor (Drummer, John Gold and the Old Souls) works. Soon after we headed to Matt (Guitar, also an Old Soul) and Todd's (amateur tattoo artist) house where we drank beer and made a bunch of new friends. After the pre-drink, we had a pre-drunk, and headed to Flybar, but not before we made a stop at Taco Bell for some Cheesy-Bean-and-something-or-other burritos. There, at this Taco Bell, is where one of the strangest events of my life took place.

A man, in a tie-dyed t-shirt stepped out of what seemed to be a DMC Delorean, not unlike the one featured in the "Back to the Future" series. He had with him: (1) Pocket Knife, (1) overweight wife also in tie-dye and (1) pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes. I believe this man was possibly, probably what I have come to call "Future Blake."

Here's the evidence, you can decide for yourself. After this photo was taken, this man abruptly disappeared, all that was left was the lingering smoke of his cigarette, and a vague peace sign flashing through the night sky.

Afterwards we went to Flybar and got ridiculously wasted. We slept, in relative comfort, Ben on a massage table, myself on a futon, and Blake on the floor. Today we'll hang out with our new friends, and a few of our old friends from Tallahassee are coming down for our show (at the Farm, by the way). We're stoked.