July 27, 2007
I had incredible nightmares last night, just plain incredible. The kind where all sorts of ex girlfriends show up, and manipulate your brain into some kind of terrible stew, and you’re left publicly humiliated, wearing leiterhozen, dancing the Mambo with a chicken. While actual events may vary (slightly), it was still very frightening, but also reassuring. I like knowing that within our own heads, we have the ability to scare the crap out of ourselves, and then wake up and be like “oh, I just made all that up?” The odd thing was, I didnt wake up in one of those cold sweats, I woke up on a logical note. You know that point where you think “oh, thats not real this is a dream!” so that happened, and I wonderfully transitioned to reality, and just sat there, like after you run a marathon or something (I ran a 10k once at a Phish show at an airforce base, does that count?)
The Old 97’s are playing on a boat tonight, But I am not attending. The price is way to high, and the show starts early, and I’m not about that. I saw Rhett Miller one night at the Hiro Ballroom solo acoustic, and I’m sure the full 97’s could never top that. Its like David Lee Roth once said, “when I’m kayaking down the Hudson, blasting Thievery Corporation, Boozey Boozey BOP” no, after that “if you can’t do the show with one lightbulb and a microphone, you cant do it at all” DLR, you had some mighty pearls of wisdom in your day, how did you go so far down so fast? But in his case, Rhett exposed the beautiful chocolate coated, diamond centered, halo toating levitating soul of his songs, which just seem to become cluttered when 15 guitars and drums show up.
But still…..the 97’s announced a free show at the WTC, with The Hold Steady. Instant Brain Explosion. Then Nick Lowe the next night, and still, M Ward the night after. Whoa. Its the 2nd greatest free lineup downtown of the past decade. the first was Jeff Tweedy 2 nights at some weird auditorium in tribecca, with Ryan Adams the night after, but me and Ry were not homies at that point (yes, I call him Ry, he calls me Steve-0, its a thing we have). But depending on how these go, they might top it. The Tweed tore up the first night, but he lacked it on the 2nd, which i was fully ok with, because the 1st was the only one that mattered.
On this note, I will attack this eerie little friday with some GUSTO. some VALOR. some CHUTSPA!!! i think its going to rain, that fits with the theme.
July 13, 2007
I fancy myself to be a somewhat responsible person. Yes, I fancy myself all sorts of shennanigans. I attempt to get between 7 and 8 hrs of sleep per night, which usually ends up at 7.5, which is Ok with me. I am lucky enough to have similarly responsible roomates (while clearly not as fancy as I) who do not party late at night, the beat don’t stop till the break of dawn, they ain’t leavin till Six in The Morn (six in the morn…) But last night, I took a turn for the worse.
The State Prison Surprise played our 2nd show, which began at midnight. Thats a little rough. On the plus side, I got to give my new car the FIT FIT test. I am not a car guy by any means, but I’m happy to be driving this zippy little bastard about the town. With the back seats completely folded down, we were able to make 2 trips. Has our guitar player not had a phenomenal amount of road cases, and 2 pedal boards larger than guitar flight cases….I’m convinced one trip would have done it.
It was the lowest attended show I have played in my 34 years of performance art, interperative dance, and free style poetry. We drew 1 person. It was midnight on a Thursday, I didnt even ask anyone to come. But, like the hardened road warriors we are, we drove the 2 blocks from our rehearsal space to the bar, and tore up the stage, like a Siberian Lumberjack, stripping the planet of its wonderful precious resources. All in all, the set went well. Rock and Roll in its purest form, If a tree falls in a forest, we still tore it up.
But the thing is this. As we finished precisely at 1am, the sound dude begins to break down things…and over the PA comes “Tango Till They’re Sore”. A drunken mismatched gem of out of tune piano and genius, by none other than Tom Waits. And we all (we being the 6 people in the bar) sing along with the first line with our best Waits accent. The first line has something about “The boys all go to hell and then the Cubans hit the floor” and its just plain amazing. With the hodgepodge happening behind it, you FEEL that line. listen to it, you will get it even if you hate waits. We continued to sing along with random parts as we packed up.
The rest of the album, Rain Dogs, continued to play into the night, and re-ignited my love for the Waits. Not that it was at all diminishing, but it just reminded me of how high the bar has been set. One time I saw him at a New Orleans benefit show, he played right before Dave Matthews- an atrocity. This stupid ass Abercrombie HoBag in front of me was talking to her friends the whole set. As I fought back tears during “The House Where Nobody Lives”, a gem of a ballad off the Frankenstein that is the album Mule Variations, she would not shut her filthy little pie hole. “Oh My God, I could like…Go to sleep to this music, who is this guy? when is DAAAAVE coming on?” she nearly got a Chuck Taylor to the face. Except I dont think I had Chuck Taylors on, conservative black loafer just doesnt sound right though.
Anyhoo, I’m severly tired. My wonderful doorman hooked me up with a secret parking spot last night as drove up to find a packed street at 3am, so he’s my hero for that. Thats all for now.
July 2, 2007
So I’m incredibly antsy. Ever get that feeling? Maybe its because its a holday week. Maybe its because I was traveling in the past several days, who knows. So, while we’re here together at our little informal web meeting, lets discuss some things.
There is a beeping in the ceiling of the studio right now, and I have no cle where its coming from. I timed it, its 1 min apart. We ripped out all the ceiling tiles to find it, alas, nothing. Its driving me crazy, like that chinese water torture shit, which I never completely understood, but I’m pretty sure its close to this.
I made my triumphant return to Boston this weekend after a long hiatus. In order to make up for missing the Warsaw show last tuesday, I was determined to see at least one other Northeast Wilco show on this tour. And when the idea of attending the boston date came up….well…..Chinatown bus here I come. But alas, there would be no Sketchtastic bussing. Since I am a big time professional, just plain Rollin In The Ducatis, I took the train, which was wonderful.
I met up with my homegirl Missy, who I had not seen in many years, since my past life as a Biker Assassin. (come on, basically the same thing)
The only comment I really have, is that the band translates well to any venue I have seen them in, except Madison Square Garden. I felt a little less a part of the show than when I was 5 feet from the stage (we were WAYYYYYYY in the back in boston) but still, there was excitement in the air. Glen slowed down behind the kit, which was nice, and the Tweedy made his usual comic stage banter.
I woke up the next morning at 5, on a couch in Allston, to a cat sitting on my chest, staring me down. This is quite a predicament, considering I am allergic to felines. But for some reason, I lived, and was also not hungover. The amount of beer we consumed was astounding, mainly because I am not a beer person.
The next day was spent stomping through the old stomping grounds, and led to some interesting realizations. I don’t know if this goes for everyone, but the area you attended school in loses a certain feeling after you have left. I was looking for that excited “Back To School” Thang, and it was nowhere to be found. I wandered past my old dorm….which is now….(take a guess) LUXURY CONDOS, like everything else on earth. My school sold the entire side of campus which contained badass old buildings, and built some ugly ass eyesore in the Starbucks part of town. I even took my old route of travel out to my old apartment, still, nothing. It was just as if walking any street in any city. very strange. So, childhood is dead, whatcha gonna do about it, punk?
I’m going to make an awesome electronic album, thats what.
My friend BUD is a true original. There will never be another like him, and I’m pretty sure he’s the first of his kind. One of God’s own prototypes. Too weird to live, to rare to die. ( I stole that, its not mine, look it up) We went to his house in Cambridge, known as The Fort. In his room, is a 5,000$ leather couch, and a pile of electronics. After a demonstration of various circuit bent instruments (casio keyboards bascially Frankenstein-ed…its a verb, deal with it) We began an impromptu jam. My instrument was the Commodore 64, one of the first PC’s ever….turned into a Bass Synth. I am pretty sure I left the planet for a few minutes, and entered an Alternate 1985 reality. The roland TR909 which i picked up for the BUD in Brooklyn was our beat, along with a TB303, and on synth pads and leads…none other than the SH101 KEYTAR. Yeah, you heard me right. It was beautiful.
When we finished, It was decided that we would record an album over a weekend, and its going to blow all of your minds.
Thats it for now, this thing in the ceiling is still beeping, and I have no freaking clue what it is.