| |
Finally, with great love (and procrastination) Nas gives us the Tour Journal. Or at least a peice of it, which took much longer to get to us than the tour took to complete. You should see how late Nas arrives to practice. Aren't drummers supposed to have good timing? More to come. Nas
I'm actually writing this on Saturday afternoon. Kinda lame. I was gonna
pretend that I was writing it all down the night of, so you'd believe it was
all immediate and vital, this journal. But I hate the lies. All the lies.
Like the Catamaran. A big lie. But that's Friday.
Thursday - What a great show! Even after working all day, I had the energy
to rock, and we were super-tight. Dylan Martinez, of Static Halo and the
Baja Bugs (until recently) took the reigns of lead-guitar duty - 4 practices
and lots of soul later, he played like a champ. I kept smiling this goofy
grin when the energy was up and I saw Jason, Adam and Dylan moving on stage.
Billy Shaddox came up and played lead guitar on Dead Flowers by the Stones.
At the solo, Adam, doing his "best" Mick, stepped on the tuner and killed
Billy's guitar. After a minor panic, we got it back and ran through the
solo again, which no one minded. Awesome. We blazed through the set, but still had to cut it short - Adam was
disappointed, since the crowd was so great, but Ben at the door was adam-ant
(tee-hee). We asked the crowd, and Bart Mendoza and Mel Martinez were loud
about requesting Radio, Radio by Elvis Costello, so we skipped Mossy
Nissan/.in Bed.
Awww, bummer. ;-P
Bobby Shaddox, of Billy Midnight and Bobby Fantasy, a recent hero of mine,
was vocal about his enjoyment of our set. This, I realize, sounds like
name-dropping, but it means a lot to me to be peers with such amazing
musicians. Hearing praise from people I admire never gets old, and shouldn't, right?
There was a guy at the show SCREAMING "Fuck Yeah!" between our songs, like
we were the greatest band ever. Journey we ain't. (As we went into "Dead Flowers", he was yelling for Jane's Addiction, so I sang "Stop!" over the intro. -ed) Afterwards, when we were loading out, Ben told him they wouldn't be serving
him drinks anymore, and he stormed off into the night without a word. He
appeared to be, either:
A: So drunk he'd retarded himself, or
B: Physically disabled + drunk + excitable. Either way, he got a laugh out
of the crowd, and I almost had to stop playing 'cuz I was laughing so much.
It was energizing.
Plural had opened the show, and were awesome as usual. Scott and John had
their voices on that night, and the whole sound was really solid. Their
drummer, who fixed his cracked bass-drum outer ring on-site, was amazing, so
it was a great compliment to have Scott and John give me props for my
playing. Seriously, folks, I couldn't fit my head out the door by nights
end.
The whole night saw a great crowd. Billy M. played a sweet set, and the
closed the night on a good note. The Shaddox Bros. sing really well
together, and their solidity astounds me. Why has it taken me till now to
get into them? I have no idea.
A late night. Shan and I got home at 2 AM and I crashed, dreaming of
Sasquatch and heavy bass drum massaging my back.
OK. The first Cannibal Bar gig we did for SDAM was a debacle. Poor sound, poorer situation and I had to PAY FOR PARKING! TO PAY!!
The pay for the show swayed Adam, but I don't know if it was worth it. Good business is not always good fun. Still, they asked us back cuz Adam and Jason saved their asses with acoustic shenanigans when Red Pony Clock blew it for the first gig.
We opened for Anya Marina, 94.9 DJ and local blond pretty voice/face. Steve Poltz was there to play with her, which we missed because we had to hit the road. For $250, we got a big stage, strange stage direction from the sound guy, and no drink tickets. Hmmm. Free soda, though, which was nice anyway.
I field-tested my new cymbals, which really sound great. My others have broken under the stress of RAWK!, so I purchased new High-Hats and a Ride. There was a very clean sound onstage; Coupled with new instruments, the vibe was weird. I wasn't sure at first that I liked what was going on.
The show was all right. Friends and Adam's parents showing up was cool, and the new "R/C Caution" sign we swiped from the bathroom is a great stage prop. However, we talked too much, since we thought we had more time, and had to ditch 3 songs as a result. LAME. Oh well, the audience laughed. It was a beachy, AAA crowd, so it was all right. And the money, if they ever send the check (we're as yet unpaid for the last gig) will help pay for the trip to SF and LA.
Personally, I could care less if we play the Catamaran again. They almost made me pay for parking AGAIN. To play?! I chewed out the attendant, who was just trying to do his job, but still... Ugh. Afterwards, we loaded up, and I sent Shan home as we hit the road. We got the road-music rolling with Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again", then Weezer's blue album. Hayseed Dixie put me to sleep. We arrived at Jason's brother Isaac's house in Santa Barbara about 3 AM, all set to crash on the concrete floor. Yes!
(kissass editor: they paid us, we LOVE the Catamaran! Nasr's got no spine when it comes to paying for parking. Just say "Do you know who I am!?" I made Red Pony Clock late. For reals.)
We woke up at about 9. I was first out of the sack, and after a bit, Isaac and JJ, his buddy who stayed the night too, made some herbal tea. Nice. RC politely declined the morning treat. It smelled funny.
We all went to breakfast at the Mesa Cafe in Santa Barbara. What a great eatery. Good thing I don't live in SB, or I'd spend all my time there. Awesome. There's not much I like more than a crowded cafe with good service and good coffee.
We hit the road at 11, and I drove the first couple hours. We listened to an early copy of the new Static Halo album that Dylan brought along. I love it. Dylan's voice is great, and the whole multi-guitar rock never tires me. I look forward to getting my own copy.
After a lunch break, I read, wrote and slept all the way to our next destination. Adam's cousin, Becky, is cool. She lives in the Berkeley area, very near the school. All her roommates were out, so we had a great, empty apartment to crash at. After unloading our sleeping stuff, we walked down the hill into Berkeley proper for dinner. We ended up at Naan & Curry, a very good Indian restaurant. While getting yogurt for desert, we found our name in one of the local rags under the Stork Club listing.
Arriving at the club later that night: It was all decorated in Christmas motif, run-down and grungy. Lots of folks milled about, and I hoped for a good show...
Next Day Follow-Up:
WOW! What a great show! But it started all wrong.
Most of my previous entry was done in the van last night before the Spinning Jennies went on, a band Adam has emailed and spoken with quite a bit before. As I wrote, I saw a van pull up and a bunch of guys in loungy suits and pointy dancing shoes get out. One of the other bands? Turns out it was John Wilkes Booze from Indiana. More on them later.
At any rate, Dylan delivered my 1 drink ticket that actually was only good for a free domestic, like Coors or Miller. I got a Pale Ale and had to pay an extra buck. The bartender lady was nice though, and I didn't really mind. She told me to "break a leg" as I walked off. It should be noted that the Stork staff is exceedingly friendly and helpful. The place reminds me of Scolari's in SD. A lot of local been-arounds plus kids who come to see the shows. One of the old salts got out and danced during "Last Nite"! That was great. It put a nice cap on our show, right before we topped it off with "...in bed".
HOWEVER- We started off a bit shakily. It appears I lost a cymbal at the Catamaran. That'll teach me to condone theft. It all comes around. I had to borrow the Spinning Jennies stand, and he doesn’t use tighteners, so I had to pirate one from my splash. I didn’t have time to freak out, though, cuz I discovered it only right before we played, as I was setting up. (Always, always load your own drums, man!)
Thanks to the Jennies, that crisis was averted, but during our second song, TEH, Jason’s mad flailing caused his glasses to fly off – and disappear. We spent about 3 minutes apologizing and looking for ‘em, with Jason on hands and knees. Funny, but no one laughed. Even though the crowd was friendly, they seemed to have little humor. Jason finally resigned to playing blind. Then my bass pedal started sticking. Aargh! Still, the energy stayed high with us, and we made the most of it. We played tight and kept up the RAWK! I think we sold 1 CD, and we got some nice compliments from staff and the other bands.
For me, it was some damn hot in the club, and I sweat like a freak, but the workout felt good, and I kept trying to up the energy whenever I felt a little stagnant.
We tore down quick, and John Wilkes Booze set up just as fast. Six guys in suits from Indiana. What do you get? You get one of the highest energy performances I’ve ever seen. Period. These guys started rockin’ and didn’t stop to breathe. Think punk-soul; Think the bastard child of James Brown and Johnny Rotten and you’re close. Maybe. Just amazing. They have a sax player who is seriously under utilized and a sweet old keyboard that injects a great vibe. I think they only played about 20 minutes, but it was just enough. Ridiculously cool.
We loaded out after them as The Mirrors started. They’re very experimental and trippy, sitting down on plush chairs and playing toys and such. We didn’t stick around, which was fine by me, though I’d like to give ‘em a fair shake.
Outside, we chatted with the boys in John Wilkes Booze. They’d been on the road for a week, and as their drummer said, it felt like a month. I can dig it. Even these couple days feel longer than my whole vacation with Shandree. Must be the newness, the pressure to perform, and the stress of logistics. But so far, fun, fun.
Anyway, they seem to be rockers doing an experiment in soul. Their albums/EPs are called The Five Pillars of Soul, vols. 1-5. I picked up Vol. 5, “Yoko Ono”.
I can’t say how nice it is to meet and chat with good musicians and share experiences. I just want to be able to share things that are meaningful and have lasting quality. Sometimes, I feel like I waste my time with vanity. I need to evaluate this constantly.
The Stork paid us $50 for playing, which is nice, and will likely cover the cost of a new cymbal stand. That’s good.
A note about the neighborhood we played in Oakland; As I was getting my jacket from the van at the end of the night, a kid maybe 15 or 16 years old walked past me and kinda free-style rapped, “I fuck your bitch and fuck your ‘ho.” I just looked at him, a bit dumbstruck, and he said, “I’m just kidding man. Hey, you got a dollar for the bus?”
Well I did have a dollar. For the bus. But something told me it wasn’t really for the bus, so I said, “no”. He sorta sulked away, and started asking the crowd outside for “.50 cent” and cigarettes. Some clowns asked him if he had any weed. He admitted he did, and they said, “Let’s smoke it then.” The kid tried to play it cool, but they’d thrown him for a loop. I was intrigued by the “well fed” dopers ridiculing the “ghetto” doper, and felt bad for the kid. His choices seemed limited, and yet he was forced into a class war, even among other users, who felt superior because they bought their own drugs without having to beg for money. Weird.
Towards the end of the night out, a tall, gorgeous singer from Call & Response, one of the bands that played a show we went to when we were up in SF last time, started chatting with Adam. I had been really impressed by them, and so stood near to the two, hoping to hear a “good show” or some other flattering acknowledgement. But I felt stupid for doing so. It’s my pride acting up. I want so much to be respected by others that I come close to sacrificing my own self-respect. I finished loading my drums when I realized what I was doing.
We got back to Becky’s late. I was tired, sweaty and gross, but had no trouble falling asleep. I nabbed the single bed and Jason got stuck on the floor. I’m sure it’ll be opposite at Aug’s, so that’s cool. I passed out into dreamless nothing.
ON TO PART 2
BACK TO MAIN TOUR DIARY PAGE
|
|
|
