Sweet Bomb Tour 20095/30 Altoona PA, Aldo's
This was to be our last show of the tour. We left Youngstown a bit early for some crazy reason and arrived in Altoona hours before the gig. With nothing to do we went to an all you can eat buffet. I think it was called Bubba's or Hoss's, but I could be wrong. Regardless of the name, this was a highlight of our time in Altoona. There is nothing better than semi-mediocre buffet food that gives you the runs. After milking it for all it was worth we left Bubba's and played wiffle ball in a park. It was here that we found out that Matt is the most apt to hit the long ball and that Mike Strauss throws like a girl. You learn many things about people when you spend every waking moment with them for 17 days in a row. Aldo's had a great stage and a strong PA system. It was surprising to find in this town. Our show went well. Meredith runs Cherry Darling productions and organized the show for us with The Whatleys. She is excellent at what she does and you will never meet a sweeter show promoter. The Whatleys had some new band members and put on an impressive show. Much tighter than the last time we played with them. After the show we drove out to Meredith's place and drank beer around a campfire until we passed out on her living room floor. TOUR OVER.
5/29 Youngstown OH, The Royal Oaks
We arrived in Youngstown and hung out at Joe's new place. Well, it was his girlfriends place really. His old place smelled like dogs and the water didn't work the last time we stayed. Joe's girlfriend, Lindsay, is a sweetheart. Her house is huge. The neighborhood is strange, though. There are all sorts of homeless, druggie, thieving weirdos around that love to talk and hang with you as if you didn't realize they were all fucked up. An old black dude came up to us and hung out for awhile. He wanted a beer and a cigarette. Wish granted. We told him that we were in a band. He looked at Doug and said, "y'all must be in an old school band, right?" That joke was worth a six pack. The Royal Oaks is a great bar in a hard up city that seems to accept us. When I see bands play from this part of Ohio they tend to play rock and roll like it should be played, with urgency, passion, and soul. It is real soul, though. No posers allowed. Many of these bands need the the music as much as the audience. It's a vent. It's escapism. It's their chance to rule over a harsh reality. That's what music is for me, and it takes one to know one. We opened for a local act called Rocket Radio. They were a hot mess of a garage band. The sound wasn't good but no one cared as long as it was loud and there was more to drink. The show went well. By the end we were covered in beer and everybody wanted to party with us. Matt threw his drum set across the room. The fuzzy loving teddy bear that he is became Keith Moon reincarnated. I didn't know that drums would bounce when you threw them. People with no money bought us shots and bought our cd's. By the end of the night Joe was very drunk and fighting himself. He insisted that he did not want a ride home and that we should follow behind him in the van, while he walked us home down the highway. Naturally , we dragged his drunk ass into the van, because his plan was lacking any sort of clarity. The next morning Lindsay gave me a free bright neon yellow t-shirt that I will never wear again, but I do appreciate.
5/28 Cleveland OH, WRUW
We went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Bands get in for free if you bring them a cd. It was my second time there. It was ok, I guess. Their main exhibit focused on Bruce Springsteen. They had a lot of his notebooks with original lyrics in them. The notebooks were protected by huge bullet proof glass cases .Yep, one time long ago Bruce Springsteen wrote some great lyrics in a regular ol' notebook. The same kind of notebook that you might write your shopping list in. Yep, believe it or not, The Boss actually used a pen and scrawled these lyrics on these very sheets here. The same kind of sheets that lesser people like you and I use. Amazing, right? I always figured that he chiseled 'Born to Run' onto a 60 pound tablet of slate and dropped it into the bottom of a hot spring to preserve it for eternity. I'd always figured that was his method. I was wrong. I did, however, enjoy looking at pictures that Jimmy Hendrix drew when he was a child. The Hall had a series of crayon drawing consisting mainly of battle scenes and football players. Some people say that football is simulated warfare. For some reason I find Jimmy's childhood doodles more compelling than Bruce's ratty ol' notebooks. So we played at WRUW. Steve Barret runs the show. He is a scholar rock and roll(this includes punk, junk, metal, classic, grunge, hardcore, noise, indy, grind, emo, screamo, thrash, trash, speed, death, acid etc, etc). Steve is a cool guy to talk to. He showed us around the station and made us feel comfortable. Coincidentally, years ago he put together a huge two disc compilation that my old band, "Don't Stop' was on. Small world. The performance went well, though live radio performances seem surreal to me because there are hundreds or thousands of people potentially listening, but you will never see them.
5/27 Columbus OH, Bernies Distillery
It rained so hard during the drive that I could only see 20 feet in front of me. We were all doing about 35mph on the highway through the hills of Kentucky. Betsy doesn't like doing hills on long distance drives. I was rattled and couldn't drive for more than 2 hours, myself. After we switched drivers I read some more of Slash's autobiography. He gives an interesting analysis of groupies in small towns. He explains that when bands come through small towns there are always girls there that want to fuck them, and that girls in small towns need to do this because they are so starved of culture. Slash concludes that this behavior on their part is "almost respectable." We finally made it to Bernie's. Columbus is a huge college town. Ohio State is located there, and though there are many young people, none of them came to our show, except for the sound guy, who's name was Ratboy, and a pussy musician from Austin named Ricky Stein. I only call him a pussy because once he realized that there were no adoring fans there to yearn for his every note plucked and every lyric crooned, he decided to to pack his band up and ditch the show. I guess that Ratboy, 2 Mikes, a Matt, Doug, and a couple of fat drunk girls at the bar do not deserve his performance. Bullshit, his cd sucked anyway, we listened to it in the car the next day. I threw it out the window after track 3. So I'll skip to the good part. We met a fella that helps direct, produce, and act in B horror flicks. He told us about one that he had just completed called, 'Thanks Killing', about a psychotic killer turkey. There is a scene in the the movie where a guy is fucking a woman from behind, when the turkey sneaks up on them and slits the guy's throat. The girl complains that she is not getting fucked well enough when the murdered man falls off of her, so the turkey takes over the sex act without her even knowing it before it eventually kills her as well. That is boundary shattering film making, if you ask me. Now we may have been able to stay at Ratboy's house, but he was missing several teeth, and something tells me that a contact crystal meth high was inevitable by sleeping on his floor. We spent money on our only hotel room of the tour. There, in the room, Doug told us his plans of starting his very own Jimmy John's franchise in Williamsburg. For those of you that don't know, Jimmy John's is a sandwich shop prevalent in the south and midwest. It's northeast equivalent would be Subway. Doug's potential business venture would be the only Jimmy Johns in the north east. We helped him fill out the application. Fingers crossed!
5/26 Nashville TN, The Five Spot
Today we walked around town a bit. I was trying to find a cool western shirt, but I could not find one that would fit me properly, and as much as I would love to own a hip pair of cowboy boots, I simply look like an asshole when wearing them. We also hit up all of the local record stores and put some of our discs on consignment. We checked out Jack White's store. It is tiny. All that they sell are rare White Strips 7 inches and discs. Nothing too eventful. We were staying with Matt's Cousin and her husband. They cooked us more food than we could eat. Later we played at the 5 Spot. It was a decent crowd for a Tuesday night. They didn't pay us shit though, which really pissed me off. Clark, the drummer from the Betty Rats, told us that his girlfriend's uncle had become an aunt. Doug drank much more than he could handle. At the show there was a girl from New York that he knew. I think he brought her to the van to try and make out with her. When I went out to check that they weren't staining my seats with bodily fluid, I found him passed out on the floor in the back. She was just sitting there awkwardly petting him like a dog.
5/25 Nashville TN, Springwater Supper Club
In Memphis, on the way to Nashville we stopped and ate at a waffle house. Matt was wearing his 'Free the West Memphis Three' t-shirt. The West Memphis Three are a group of teenagers that were convicted of killing and mutilating a young child and leaving his body in a creek along side the highway. One of the three was mentally challenged and was coaxed into confessing the crime after being interrogated for 12 hours without a lawyer by the local authorities. Anyway, it was a very controversial case and there were many lose ends that seemed to suggest that these kids were innocent and only being singled out because of their love for heavy metal music. So Matt was wearing this shirt and a redneck sitting at the table behind us gave a threatening look and asked what we knew about the West Memphis Three. Matt told him that he knew they were innocent. The guy looked like he wanted to kill us and stormed out dragging his young son behind him. Eddie Vedder does not believe they are guilty. Springwater looked the same as it always does. I didn't really want to be playing there again on a Monday, but it was Memorial Day, thus difficult to book anywhere else. There are always a handful of people at Springwater. This time we found four lonely, disheveled souls that were treating the effects of yet another hangover, with more alcohol. This breed of bar fly has no other connection to a world outside of drinking. I recognized all of them. The same people go to Springwater everyday for years and years. The regulars make their daily appearance and shoot shit with the bar tender or knock a few pool balls around the table. Usually there is a visit to the back patio where there always seems to be somebody smoking weed in the shadows. Jeb, from the Betty Rats, came out and met us. We drank free beer all night as payment for our entertainment. Better than nothing, I guess.
5/24 Little Rock AR Circa '77
It pissed rain all day. Upon arriving in Little Rock we found a pizza place called Vino's. What a bullshit setup they had going. You wait in a line that goes out the door(into the rain). The line is ten deep and it takes a half hour just to place your order. Then, you sit at a table and wait another half hour for your mediocre pizza. Score: New York 1, Little Rock 0. Nobody seemed to mind the quality of the pizza or the wait. It was big long line of retards waiting for dog shit pizza as if they were waiting for the latest greatest slice of heaven on Earth. When you finally get your pizza, a waitress comes and brings it to you. Maybe the waitresses they hire at pizza places in Arkansas are too dim to take your order, but are sharp enough to bring it to you. While waiting we asked a fella in line about it. We told him that we were from New York. He says, "New York! I 'll bet you expected all of us to be walking around with no shoes on around here." Yep we did, and when we arrived at the venue an hour later the door guy showed up from outside in the rain walking bare foot. He told us he'd left his shoes at home. Score: New York 2, Little Rock 0. We played with a band called The Crisco Brothers. We were told that they really were brothers and that they had been in a band together for ten years. They were local favorites. The two guitarists were left handed and played their guitars upside down. The bassist did the same and his bass had only two strings on it. Less is more? More awefull in this case. Score: New York 3, Little Rock 0. Calidad sin comprimiso....that's quality without compromise in Spanish. We slept in a concrete room with a couch and a tv behind the venue that night. The next day I bought some records. The best thing about Little Rock was the lack of traffic. We got the fuck out of dodge quickly.
5/23 Baton Rouge LA, House Party
Our show that day was to be at a house party in a part of Baton Rouge that seemed very suburban. There were houses with spacious lawns and picket fences. It seemed very odd to us that there would be a show in one of these houses. I secretly considered suggesting that we ditch the show and look for something else to do. However, we'd already arrived and drank beer and watched the first band called, We like Dogs. Unusual is a word. Three of us sat in a living room watched three other people banging on drums and guitars and moaning. Next up was a band with no name. They were a drum/guitar duo. The guitarist had lots of effects. Doug thought the kid was very good, but that's because Doug isn't that good at Guitar and is easily impressed. They were ok for some youngsters, I guess. Next was an acoustic guy that seemed awkward. Seen one, you've seen them all. Not much more to say about that act. Then we played for a handful of people that seemed attentive and appreciative and polite. I've played for worst audiences.
Later, we hung out in the backyard while the last band played inside. The party seemed to pick up at that point. We decided to take some mushrooms that we'd acquired. All of the sudden Fleetwood Mac was playing in the living room that we had just played in. Before the mushrooms kicked in I didn't care who the band was, but now, as far as I was concerned Fleetwood Mac was playing in a living room in Baton Rouge, and we'd just opened for them. Everything changed very intensely, and even though I new all of it was not exactly true, or at the very least, was an interpretation of the truth, this was how things were going to be for the next few hours. Everybody was seeming to have a good trip. I did not. Mine was a teetering, second rate carnival with at best I managed to keep it together though, in between barfing like a polar bear on their nice suburban lawn. My barf later became a midnight snack for someone's dog. I didn't want to freak out any of the others so I started rolling around in wet grass with Mike. Doug tried to kick it to some southern girls, but he lied about his name to one of them and she slapped him across the face. Ronnie is not a good fake name to use, and some of these southern women will not take any shit off of anyone. Doug made it up to her, though, by prank calling her ex boyfriend and pretending that he was calling to arrange a gay rendezvous with him. Doug has a very convincing gay man's accent. We later learned that this girl had fucked some other band guy in the bathroom on another night. If only Doug had given his real name he may have gotten lucky, though I think she would not be so easy to please.
Josh organized the show and made us some jumbalia. He took care of us all day. I wish we had some more mushrooms to share with him, but we didn't. Loubie lived in the house we played at and let us crash there. He is a great, nice guy. I hope to party with him again sometime. There were some questions the next day about his sexuality. I forget who thought so. We did find a great soft core porno book on his coffee table, though, which in my mind answers the question. One series of photos that I remember vividly, had sparsely dressed women hunting with muskets and then getting naked and doing lesbian stuff on a fallen log. It was very sexy, yet tasteful. Doug claims he knew some of the women in the book--another lie by Doug.
5/22 New Orleans LA, The Saint
Today Jordan took us to a local snow cone vender. It was called Hansen's. This shop has been a family institution for three generations. The lady at the counter gave us the history. Her great grandfather had built the ice shaver that she was using and it is the only one of its kind. A cherry slowblitz is a rather delicious treat on a hot day. I'm not sure what part of the city this was in but it was surely off of the beaten path. There were no tacky tourist traps to be found. I think that it was at this point that Mike Strauss decided once and for all that he is moving down to New Orleans in the next couple of months. We'll see about that Mike. Later we played at The Saint, a very hot and gritty dive bar. The vibe was kind of wierd for our performances, though. There was a crowd, but they seemed unresponsive to our music. An old hippy drinking in the corner was the most enthusiastic, but I had the feeling that he'd done enough acid to make the sixties last forever. Wexler played piano in Sara Quintano's band. She has an amazing old timey voice. She reminds me a lot of Annie.
5/21 New Orleans LA, Hi Ho Lounge
We knew that New Orleans would be a good place for us all to recharge because Matt's friends Wexler and Jordan lived there. Their houses were not infested with anything, they were not raging alcoholics or coke heads, and it was not likely that I would catch any STD's by sitting on their toilet seat. In fact, Jordan warned us not to leave any of our pubes on her bar of soap. We were dirtier than the place we were staying at for a change. That night we played at the Hi Ho Lounge. It appeared to be a relatively cool music spot, however there was hardly a soul to be found. I think we took it easy and went to sleep early that night. Actually, I think I took a nap outside in the van before I even played. My nerves were shot.
5/20 Tuscaloosa AL, Egan's
Today Doug almost killed us. I was in the back reading Slash's autobiography (recommended reading for any fan of rock and roll). Suddenly I heard a loud bang and the car swerved. It sounded as if the tire blew out, but it didn't. I dropped my book and looked at Doug. He seemed shocked and dazed. We had hit something on the road in the shoulder. It woke Doug up and he swerved back onto the highway. None of us knows how long he was asleep, but the road kill, that we could later smell outside of the car, had saved us. Alabama was a bit intimidating to me. We arrived at the bar early and had a drink to smooth the edges. I could hear the local drunks at the end of the bar refering to me as a 'longhaired'. Later, outside the bar a pickup truck drove by us and a bunch of dudes inside yelled out to us and called us niggers. I'm not sure what to make of that. In the end, the show turned out quite well. There was a good crowd there for a Wednesday night. The place was close to full. Ashley, the bartender, poured shots down our throats while we played. He is an afficianado of alcohol. Later we slept at Ashley's house It was teeming with roaches. Ashley insisted that we stay up to watch a DVD that he had of The Oak Ridge Boys doing a very lame version of Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes. The performance was the antithesis of cool.
5/19 Athens GA. Flicker Theater
Today Doug played another Jonathan Richmond song endlessly in the car again. "I don't see her much since she's been riding with horses. I don't see her much since she's started to ride." It's a catchy tune and I was in good spirits anyway because Mike figured out how to fix the new amp before we hit the road this morning. Athens has a pretentious music vibe that is similar to New York's. There is nothing worst than the snobby record store guys that seem bothered when you try to converse with them. I mean christ, I'm sorry we interrupted your debate about REM in your little Athens indie music store, you tool. How cliche can you get? I guess pretentious record store guys in Athens are still stuck on the REM thing. Jim from Ham One set the show up for us at Flicker Theater. That was nice of him to do that for us. He played with his side project. I don't remember their name, but I did watch their entire set. Jane Bonham's drumming was more akin to that of John Bonham's drinking. By that I don't mean that she was proficient, prolific, or consistent. What I really mean is that she plays the drums like a drunk person. It was a weird, bad and useless show. I cannot fathom why a venue would book rock bands and then tell them to turn down. Later Jane Bonham had taken quite a liking to me. She showed me her bruises under her t-shirt. Her t-shirt had, "Dirty South", printed across the boob line. That night we hung out with Matt and Doug's friend Kristy. She was cool to hang with. The band slept in a camper behind her house that night, probably because her husband felt funny about a bunch of handsome hot rockers sleeping in his house. Her stinky old dog snuck into the camper and tried to sleep on my face. This was still a step up from a potential late night 'jam session' with Jane Bonham.
5/18 Charleston SC, Tin Roof
"You take the plane, and I'll take the bus this time."--Jonathan Richmond---this is a great driving/travelling song that Doug made us listen to about 5o times today. What I forgot to mention about the Greenville show was that our amp crapped out. Today before leaving North Carolina I bought a brand new version of the amplifier that ate shit. It cost me 800 dollars. That is probably more money than the van is worth. Quality without Compromise. Once we had finally arrived to the venue we ate. Their specialty was grilled cheese sandwiches. I had one called 'The Cleveland Steamer'. Just based on the name alone, I had to have it. I believe that ingredients are mozzerella, potatoes, and hot peppers. Mui Delicioso, as they say in Spanish. Half way through our set, the brand new 800 dollar amp crapped out on us. We borrowed another and soldiered on. Later I met a fella from a local Rockabilly band called The Defilers. His name was Arleigh. I think his band will be at the Heavy Rebel Weekender again this year. Something tells me that we will be getting smashed with him in the upcoming months. After the show we stayed at Doug's friend Katie's house. I think that they 'knew' each other in college. She showed us a picture that she had of Doug's penis in a hot dog bun. The picture was kept in a shoe box in the closet. It only took her a moment to find it.
5/17 Greenville NC, The Spazzatorium
Greenville is always one of my favorite stops on tour. I still to this day have fans from there based soley on the blogs that I write about this town. As usual, Greenville lived up to its reputation, in my mind. I always remember the extracuricular activities more than the shows, thought the shows are usually pretty awesome, as was this particular one. We won the chance to see Kenny's penis again. He was showing it to Doug (Sweet Ones) this time because Doug had never seen it. Doug is the kind of guy that will give any dude's nuts more than a quick once over because he wants to compare them to his own. I didn't ask him for his analysis, but I'm sure that he had one. Later on Doug was kicking it to a girl (this will be an ongoing theme of this blog because he was the only single one of the bunch of us). One of her friends came over to Matt and I and asked us how old he was. We figured that it would benefit him not to inform her that he is an elder statesman of the junk rock scene. The Richard Gear of Punk Rock, as we like to refer to him. Anyway, Doug ended up leaving with this girl and committing very dirty, unmentionable acts with her, I'm sure. Meanwhile, Matt, Mike and I ended up staying at the House Jeff always lets us stay at. The same one that I thought was a whore house when I was tripping on mushrooms the last time I was in town. This time we were drinking whiskey. The house has similar conotations when drunk. At one point I walked into a room to look for a bathroom and I found Matt watching internet porn. Across the room mingling on a bed where two heavier set girls talking about boys and eating hamburgers. Needless to say I think we all passed out soon after that.
5/16 Norfolk VA, The Taphouse
The Taphouse in Ghent has been an awesome gig for us in the past. Tonight it was almost close to the same. There was a smallish crowd, but an energetic one. The phrase, "a small crowd, but an energetic one" is one that I use while trying to stay positive. The trick with this show was trying find a place to sleep that night. Luckily I'd met a drunken sailor named Sonny. He took us to his off base apartment that he shared with some other sailors. (So far this story sounds very gay, but it's not what you think.) These kids were all between the ages of 18 and 22, and absolutely shit faced obliterated. They had just returned from a 7 month stint at sea. Their boat was the first to respond to the Somalie pirates that had hijacked an American boat. Sonny was a redneck from the sticks of South Carolina. He wore a confedarate flag hat, but somehow I don't think he meant it. He told us that there was evidence of an uptick in herpes cases since the advent of beer pong. He made a convincing argument. I'm not sure of his sources, but his sincerity was believable. It was hard to get to sleep that night because these guys could not consume enough alcohol. There was another fella there that ate a bowl of ice cream covered in Jagermeister. I will say, that in the morning when we left the apartment, he was passed out on the livingroom floor wrapped up in a carpet. And surprisingly the apartment was immaculataly clean for a bunch of bachelors. I think that the navy had certainly instilled a strange set of values in them. It was the dichotomy between alcoholism and cleanliness that was the most puzzling to me.
5/15 Chapel Hill NC, The Fuse
The Fuse is a quaint little place in the downtown area. We arrived early and they gave us free meals and beer. The food was rather delicious and seemed healthier than our usual road food. We opened for my buddy Branden's band, The Morning Stars. This was my first time seeing this particular project of his. I usually see him perform with his other band, Twilighter. I get the impression that The Morning Stars do not play that often, but I did like it as a whole. I liked their drummer a lot. I forget his name. He was an older black fella. We chatted a bit before they played. He'd recognized our version of Motorbreath, but confessed that he prefered Metallica's newer material. It was strange enough that we were both headbanging like James Hetfield before the night was done . His drumming was unique more in technique, rather than style. His arms and body were extremely tense while he played. It looked as if he were struggling to keep the time, but every beat was pin point deadly accurate. It was funny to watch him play.
5/14 Baltimore MD, The SideBar
When you start writing the tour blog, you find that the first day or so always seems a bit uneventful. Maybe it's because you are not so far from home. Or maybe people closer to home don't seem as interesting. We played at the Sidebar, in Baltimore Our buddy Matty Pants books there and set it up for us. The turnout was decent for a Thursday night. We played with two local acts. One was called International Jet Set. They were a less exciting version of the The Might Mighty Bostones. I think that their name was more interesting than their music. The other local band, World Class Rejects, were pretty good. They had a particularly spastic bass player. He had pink hair and huge raver pants. I haven't seen raver pants like that since Daft Punk and The Chemical Brothers broke out in the mid 90's. Maybe that kind of style is coming back in fashion. Maybe I'm getting old. Or maybe that bass player is nuts.
|
