BANG CAMARO IS ON THE JIMMY KIMMEL SHOW TONIGHT APRIL 29TH,2009 At MIDNIGHT!
Los Angeles Night #3 The Viper Room
This club is legendary for all the wrong reasons. Johnny Depp used to be the co-owner but sold his portion in 2004 in a lawsuit having to do with the disappearance? of other co-owner Anthony Fox. The club opened in 1993 and on Halloween Night of that year, actor River Phoenix snorted a speedball in the bathroom and died on the sidewalk outside of the club.
Inside it's dark. Darker than the night outside on the Sunset Strip...foreboding and ominous. There were thug like ghosts,spirits of vulturous cretins awaiting our arrival, in pounce mode. When our contact/stage manager at the club met us inside, he showed us to what might be considered a green room. But he called it Johnny's room and said Unspeakable things have happened in here, unspeakable."
The stage was small, jutting out in a semi circle, surrounded by a black curtain..that closed around the bands in between sets..for secrets to be exchanged, rules to be broken. We went on after another tip top performance by Leslie and a fine band from Jersey called The Parlor Mob. This was the last show of the tour ...a performance percolating from the culmination of emotions, road residue, exhaustion, tour stop peaks and valleys and hard earned recognition. We were feeling the pressure....we were preparing the final release. The crowd was a packed in mix of LA's finest tattooed service industry turned rock wannabe folks, gamers who had traveled from two states away, and guest list fans.
We gave it our all and purged demons that drove the ghost of every back room drug dealer or bad businessman that inhabited that space right the fuck out of there.
Bang Camaro brought the faithful to fever and entranced those on their fences.
After the show, Alex was approached by a slightly portly blonde gentleman who introduced himself as Tom Zutaut, who said he really liked the band and what we were doing with it. For those of you who don't know rock like Alex and I know rock....Tom Zutaut signed Guns N' Roses and Motley Crue to major labels. He's probably a good person to know. We will see....
We were kicked out of the club at 2 am and mulled around out front for a while with the gaggle of hangers on, well wishers and street people in turbans playing Smoke on the Water(the shred version). I stood by the garbage can on the corner of West Sunset and Larabee where Mr. Phoenix took his last breaths at 23 , and thought about how lucky I was. Lucky as a living breathing person at 40, when so many never made it that far. I'm lucky to have witnessed real crowds, real fans and to be a part of a band that has a future. I'm lucky to have band members who take this crazy life seriously, with dedication and direction.
I'm lucky to have come through six weeks of a nationwide tour unscathed, full of knowledge and with a renewed sense of why I need to create. It is who I am. I will use my time wisely.
We decided to go back to the hotel..believe it or not. There was no climax to this night. I originally planned to stay with the Leslie boys at the legendary Riot House on the strip. This used to be the Hollywood Hyatt where John Bonham rode a motorcycle down the halls of the sixth floor, Keith Richard threw a TV out the window of room 1015, Robert Plant raised his arms out on a balcony overlooking Hollywood exclaiming "I am a Golden God" and Jim Morrison hung out of windows. But the hotel in Culver City was closer to LAX where I was to fly out from in mere hours. Besides, they enclosed the balconies in glass, renovated and renamed the place to attract anything but rock stars. Fuck That Noise! I stood outside the van in front of the hotel and closed my eyes hoping that when I opened them, it would be 1975 and I would have sideburns and bell bottoms to die for as I entered the RH's famous halls. Instead I found myself half asleep and ready to get back in the van.
It is here we said our goodbyes. I hugged the Leslie boys. I will be friends for life with those three...Jonathan, Jason and Sadler. We taught each other so much about rock. The sing a longs, karaoke duets and trivia we passed around really forged our friendship. That album will be finished soon and I will be waiting...singing along to every word of Rescuer.
I said goodbye for now to the choir...Rod, Rich, Morgan, Nick, Steve and Andre (and Zach and Glen included back in Boston)...it was a revelation and a privilege standing shoulder to shoulder on that stage with them every night, bringing the energy no matter if five or five hundred in front of us.
And of course, I shared sentiments with Bryn, Alex, Doz and Pete...the masterminds and the men with the instruments. It was made clear to me that I was a "member for life, for better or ill." by the boys and I will do what I can to be a part.
I would like to end this lengthy submission by expressing to you what a wonderful feeling seeing my wife and son after six long weeks was....the look on my son's face and his little wave as I weaved around the slow bodies at Trenton Station to greet them.....the way my wife looked with her new blondeness and summer dress after picturing her in my mind for all of those miles out in middle America....is something I'll never forget. It is also for them that I took this journey. It was not easy..there is much work to be done, but they are worth it. They waited for me. They love me. They need me.
I'll be playing with Bang Camaro again in May in Jersey and NYC....but for now...domesticity awaits. I can still rock while I mow the lawn...watch me!
Thanks for following along for these six weeks. I'll slowly put pictures up, and get back to the regularly scheduled bitching and moaning(and even praising)passages about the world of Rock and Roll...........
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Lost Angels Found
Los Angeles can be the most beautiful place on earth, where dreams are made while standing on a street corner and eating an ice cream cone or smoking a cigarette.
Los Angeles can be a cruel joke of a destination for the too hungry dreamer shuffling off the bus, the big fish in little towns, the pageant winners a few years too far back, the reality TV contestants/famewhores and the casting couch detainees who end up taking your order at In and Out Burger.
Los Angeles was where we were for three days and we were going to see as many sides of it as we could. From high peak to underbelly. We were there to rock, not gawk, talk not walk.
DAY ONE
Our first stop was a showcase for Fontana on Thursday afternoon. Fontana is the distributor for Bang Camaro and they were putting on a "festival" of sorts for all of their hard working employees(read: free stuff) which was held at a club in Studio City. The van rolled up and we strolled in like ornery, dehydrated vampires and took the place over. We were served fried chicken, greens and mac and cheese while we watched a bevvy of hip hop and R and B performers crooning to slow jam backing tracks and rapping old hits to white folk. Names like Master P,Corrupt and Silk the Shocker were thrown around as being in attendance...but being one who would rather take a ball peen hammer to a temple than listen to hip hop, I focused on the spectacle of it all...because that's what you're 'sposed to do in LA. We did our 15 minute set and slammed them hard. I had to laugh at the back line drum kit that Pete played on. It looked like a teeny toy drum set for little boys who might break a bone if they swing at the cymbal too hard.
After the showcase we hit the open bar hard, and gobbled hors d'oerves fit for a B-lister, and hit the bar harder until the Crystal Method came on and impressed everyone but me. It went like this: button, fader, beat, cd, more buttons..repeat..hit a new, bigger button with one ear exposed for concentration. DJs are boring, shouldn't be famous and nobody should care. Everyone is a DJ. But I digress. We overstayed and then went back in for the afterparty and overstayed again. Lucinda Williams showed up and nobody recognized her but me. I drove the van at night's end and went 30 miles in the wrong direction to anything but our hotel. Most of us were drunk, stressed or too tired to care.
DAY TWO
Day two was the jewel in this six week crown of gold thorns....our appearance on the Jimmy Kimmel Show. We woke sort of well rested on 5 hours of sleep,put on our best black and wound up a bit anxious to get there. I had not one ounce of nerves, but was only about 85 percent. Mucus was hiding somewhere in my throat like impenetrable barnacles...and just wouldn't let go. I would not be sidetracked by something as menial as vermin living in my esophagus. Half of Bang Camaro were at a meet and greet for most of the afternoon, so Pete, Nick, Steve, Andre, Jason and I drove down to Hollywood Blvd. and onto the Kimmel Lot. We got our wristbands, and were escorted to the dressing rooms. On the way in, we walked past the legendary Jimmy Kimmel Green Room which has a full bar, pool tables, flat screens and deep, plush couches with stains of unknown origin on them. I could not wait to see and be seen by various hangers on and their instant entourages. We are our own entourage...we are our own party. But that green room looked perfectly suited for a celebratory after party.
The time came for rehearsal, then a short break, then everyone from the actual studio audience was shuffled into the room that housed our well lit and perfect sounding stage and we were on. We performed Revolution and Push Push (Lady Lightning) which would be used as the outtro song to the show that airs on the 29th. You see, Jimmy Kimmel isn't really live anymore...only parts of it are. The rest is up to the viewer to figure out. The performance was B+ but the energy and stage show was A+. The grade didn't matter, the response did. The crowd loved us with aplomb and a fury of fists in the air could be seen through the stage fog. No applause was piped in. It was the real deal...we wrapped and all went over and shook Jimmy's hand after the performance and he told every member the same thing in rapid succession.."You were the best one,You were the best one.....That was the first and last we saw of him, but it was good enough for us. We were going to be on national tv. We celebrated in the green room until they kicked us out for not being beautiful enough(except for Jason- who is the bass payer for Leslie but sings on mic # 8 when needed. His mustache is legendary among teenage girls all over the south.) As we left the building, we just kept repeating that mantra.."We were just on the Jimmy Kimmel Show." We walked on air and the world was our champagne that night.
It was decided that the after party would be at the legendary club The Rainbow Room on the Sunset Strip. This is where Led Zeppelin, Guns N' Roses and various bands with copious hair partied and held court. It is a true piece of rock history and I couldn't wait to get there just to feel the ghosts rising from the booths. I could picture the vodka glasses strewn out in front of a rowdy Bonzo ...I could hear the slurred conversations between Duff and Lemmy, Izzy and Iggy, Slash and Slaughter. I refrained from taking pictures while people ate, but just walked around in awe, wondering from which booth did Robert Plant pluck up barely legal birds to go back to the Riot House with. The Leslie boys actually thought the outdoor bar/tent/patio was the "Rainbow Room"...I had to school those younguns and had them follow me around as their ancient tour guide. A great time was had by all. Try the chicken soup. Its almost the best I ever had. Pee in a urinal and you can be sure Keith Moon was there, too.
Tomorrow is day three and the end of the tour. rest up...its a good one.
Los Angeles can be a cruel joke of a destination for the too hungry dreamer shuffling off the bus, the big fish in little towns, the pageant winners a few years too far back, the reality TV contestants/famewhores and the casting couch detainees who end up taking your order at In and Out Burger.
Los Angeles was where we were for three days and we were going to see as many sides of it as we could. From high peak to underbelly. We were there to rock, not gawk, talk not walk.
DAY ONE
Our first stop was a showcase for Fontana on Thursday afternoon. Fontana is the distributor for Bang Camaro and they were putting on a "festival" of sorts for all of their hard working employees(read: free stuff) which was held at a club in Studio City. The van rolled up and we strolled in like ornery, dehydrated vampires and took the place over. We were served fried chicken, greens and mac and cheese while we watched a bevvy of hip hop and R and B performers crooning to slow jam backing tracks and rapping old hits to white folk. Names like Master P,Corrupt and Silk the Shocker were thrown around as being in attendance...but being one who would rather take a ball peen hammer to a temple than listen to hip hop, I focused on the spectacle of it all...because that's what you're 'sposed to do in LA. We did our 15 minute set and slammed them hard. I had to laugh at the back line drum kit that Pete played on. It looked like a teeny toy drum set for little boys who might break a bone if they swing at the cymbal too hard.
After the showcase we hit the open bar hard, and gobbled hors d'oerves fit for a B-lister, and hit the bar harder until the Crystal Method came on and impressed everyone but me. It went like this: button, fader, beat, cd, more buttons..repeat..hit a new, bigger button with one ear exposed for concentration. DJs are boring, shouldn't be famous and nobody should care. Everyone is a DJ. But I digress. We overstayed and then went back in for the afterparty and overstayed again. Lucinda Williams showed up and nobody recognized her but me. I drove the van at night's end and went 30 miles in the wrong direction to anything but our hotel. Most of us were drunk, stressed or too tired to care.
DAY TWO
Day two was the jewel in this six week crown of gold thorns....our appearance on the Jimmy Kimmel Show. We woke sort of well rested on 5 hours of sleep,put on our best black and wound up a bit anxious to get there. I had not one ounce of nerves, but was only about 85 percent. Mucus was hiding somewhere in my throat like impenetrable barnacles...and just wouldn't let go. I would not be sidetracked by something as menial as vermin living in my esophagus. Half of Bang Camaro were at a meet and greet for most of the afternoon, so Pete, Nick, Steve, Andre, Jason and I drove down to Hollywood Blvd. and onto the Kimmel Lot. We got our wristbands, and were escorted to the dressing rooms. On the way in, we walked past the legendary Jimmy Kimmel Green Room which has a full bar, pool tables, flat screens and deep, plush couches with stains of unknown origin on them. I could not wait to see and be seen by various hangers on and their instant entourages. We are our own entourage...we are our own party. But that green room looked perfectly suited for a celebratory after party.
The time came for rehearsal, then a short break, then everyone from the actual studio audience was shuffled into the room that housed our well lit and perfect sounding stage and we were on. We performed Revolution and Push Push (Lady Lightning) which would be used as the outtro song to the show that airs on the 29th. You see, Jimmy Kimmel isn't really live anymore...only parts of it are. The rest is up to the viewer to figure out. The performance was B+ but the energy and stage show was A+. The grade didn't matter, the response did. The crowd loved us with aplomb and a fury of fists in the air could be seen through the stage fog. No applause was piped in. It was the real deal...we wrapped and all went over and shook Jimmy's hand after the performance and he told every member the same thing in rapid succession.."You were the best one,You were the best one.....That was the first and last we saw of him, but it was good enough for us. We were going to be on national tv. We celebrated in the green room until they kicked us out for not being beautiful enough(except for Jason- who is the bass payer for Leslie but sings on mic # 8 when needed. His mustache is legendary among teenage girls all over the south.) As we left the building, we just kept repeating that mantra.."We were just on the Jimmy Kimmel Show." We walked on air and the world was our champagne that night.
It was decided that the after party would be at the legendary club The Rainbow Room on the Sunset Strip. This is where Led Zeppelin, Guns N' Roses and various bands with copious hair partied and held court. It is a true piece of rock history and I couldn't wait to get there just to feel the ghosts rising from the booths. I could picture the vodka glasses strewn out in front of a rowdy Bonzo ...I could hear the slurred conversations between Duff and Lemmy, Izzy and Iggy, Slash and Slaughter. I refrained from taking pictures while people ate, but just walked around in awe, wondering from which booth did Robert Plant pluck up barely legal birds to go back to the Riot House with. The Leslie boys actually thought the outdoor bar/tent/patio was the "Rainbow Room"...I had to school those younguns and had them follow me around as their ancient tour guide. A great time was had by all. Try the chicken soup. Its almost the best I ever had. Pee in a urinal and you can be sure Keith Moon was there, too.
Tomorrow is day three and the end of the tour. rest up...its a good one.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The West Is The Best
The trailer fiasco/mystery has been solved. It was a wheel bearing that had no bearings left and needed replacing. We spent the day in Albuquerque wandering and waiting for that call from the mechanic. The call that packs the dirty clowns back into the van..the call that deploys the circus onward into tour oblivion. And away we went... The next stop would be San Diego... a mere twelve hours of desolate desert driving away. away....away.... Do you hear that echo? The echo of your thoughts bouncing around a small moving space and fighting with clusters of jokes, sweet beefs,recaps of the previous nights events... Have you ever sat with your knees nutcrackered against your chest while confronting an oncoming cold for hour after hour. You start seeing shamans descending from starry skies in a medicine haze out of the van window and wonder when they will come to take you.
I am the last guy to get sick on the tour. I was so surprised to have lasted this long as my immune system has been shoddy and assailed by any virus not on a computer for the last two years. Dan had a cold. Morgan had a fever. Andre had strep. Bryn had congestion. Rod had bad allergies. Sadler lost his voice. And so on. Toss it my way and see what sticks. But not in California....if I'm gonna get sick, let it be in Allentown...not in California! But here I am drowning myself in water and gobbling ibuprofen as I write from sunny San Diego. Last night before the show at the legendary Casbah, I took my wife's advice and went looking for raw garlic to consume. She claims that raw garlic will knock a cold out of you faster than a normal relentless path of treatment. So I found some and made the mistake of nibbling on the clove rather than just going for it gangbusters. My tongue went numb, my tears dripped holy water and my chest blazed under my shirt. I am now safe from Nosferatu, The entire cast of Twilight, that crafty Lestat character,Morbius and any one of Buffy's slayees. I don't know if my cold will go away. I will will it away in time for the Jimmy Kimmel Show and the Viper Room Show. I will rock like someone half my age!(otherwise known as anybody else in the van)
Last night's show was exciting standard fare. Hot Rockin' hair flipping metal madness..and despite the threat of mucus...I had no problems hitting the notes..The spell of being in Southern California wast cast by the skinny jean wearin' west coast wizards and shone through during Leslie's set. For the last two shows, Sadler has pulled out the deep cuts which are always a thrill for this card carryin' classic rock envoy. Hearing those boys tear the blues a new asshole is a wonder for me. Bring on the gooseflesh, old body of mine.
Bring on the sun today. Sun makes me think of home no matter where I am. My wife loves the sun and she gets all of those pretty summer clothes out of hiding right about this time every year. That vision might just make my cold go away faster than any old vampire deflecting drug store remedy will. She's got a long stride in a short skirt........
Today the sky is the limit and LA is the destination. Where many rock dreams begin and end in a whirlwind of addiction, attraction, destiny, luck, waiting tables and bartending.....Let's do it to it.!
I am the last guy to get sick on the tour. I was so surprised to have lasted this long as my immune system has been shoddy and assailed by any virus not on a computer for the last two years. Dan had a cold. Morgan had a fever. Andre had strep. Bryn had congestion. Rod had bad allergies. Sadler lost his voice. And so on. Toss it my way and see what sticks. But not in California....if I'm gonna get sick, let it be in Allentown...not in California! But here I am drowning myself in water and gobbling ibuprofen as I write from sunny San Diego. Last night before the show at the legendary Casbah, I took my wife's advice and went looking for raw garlic to consume. She claims that raw garlic will knock a cold out of you faster than a normal relentless path of treatment. So I found some and made the mistake of nibbling on the clove rather than just going for it gangbusters. My tongue went numb, my tears dripped holy water and my chest blazed under my shirt. I am now safe from Nosferatu, The entire cast of Twilight, that crafty Lestat character,Morbius and any one of Buffy's slayees. I don't know if my cold will go away. I will will it away in time for the Jimmy Kimmel Show and the Viper Room Show. I will rock like someone half my age!(otherwise known as anybody else in the van)
Last night's show was exciting standard fare. Hot Rockin' hair flipping metal madness..and despite the threat of mucus...I had no problems hitting the notes..The spell of being in Southern California wast cast by the skinny jean wearin' west coast wizards and shone through during Leslie's set. For the last two shows, Sadler has pulled out the deep cuts which are always a thrill for this card carryin' classic rock envoy. Hearing those boys tear the blues a new asshole is a wonder for me. Bring on the gooseflesh, old body of mine.
Bring on the sun today. Sun makes me think of home no matter where I am. My wife loves the sun and she gets all of those pretty summer clothes out of hiding right about this time every year. That vision might just make my cold go away faster than any old vampire deflecting drug store remedy will. She's got a long stride in a short skirt........
Today the sky is the limit and LA is the destination. Where many rock dreams begin and end in a whirlwind of addiction, attraction, destiny, luck, waiting tables and bartending.....Let's do it to it.!
Monday, April 20, 2009
Where There's Smoke
Yesterday was one of the most eventful days of the tour and rock music had nothing to do with it. The terrain quickly changed as we headed west from Amarillo en route to Albuquerque. To the left it looked like a panorama found in the best spaghetti westerns. I kept looking for a man on horseback in the distance, clad in a poncho continuously lighting his homemade cigar, squinting his way across the prairie. Wild horses were running free in front of painted and craggy mesas jutting up from the earth... To the right, longhorn cattle sedated and grazing, makeshift meth labs on secluded hillsides, junkyards frozen in time and dusted tumbleweeds rolling into rusty swingsets.
Then about 40 miles outside of our destination, (a club called The Launchpad in downtown Albuquerque) a woman in an Altima speeds up besides the van with her window rolled down, frantically waving her hand,subsequently to warn us about something. We pulled over and jumped out in time to see the rear right trailer wheel spewing smoke and tilted slightly out.....Deeepppp Breathhhh as we realized the tragedy narrowly averted. The wheel had either lost its bearings or the axle had bent to the point where that thing could have come off in a matter of minutes..going 70 miles an hour. The trailer could have swung out on to the highway,hit another car, the fulcrum plus speed could have flipped the trailer full of gear and the van with 15 men inside causing serious injury and/or a pile of broken bodies.
We then realized that we all were safe. We would be late. We would have to wait in the middle of nowhere for a tow truck for several hours to get us out of there. But we were safe. That stranger on the highway basically saved our lives. 15 men did not smell the burning grease and smoking metal of that wheel. 15 men were either sleeping or talking or deep in an ipod playlist or book and had no clue what was happening at high speed behind the van.
A tow truck did eventually come and towed the trailer right to the club for us so we could get our gear out and set up for the show. The weariness and stress and low turnout was a factor during the show, which was not one of our best. But in the thick of the 10-12 people that were there were on a Sunday night were some insanely rabid fans. One freakshow of a guy was so into the rock that he picked up the monitor wedge right in front of Bryn and I and threw it hard onto the stage in a bodyslam like motion. He also came up onstage and screamed into several mics without warningin a haze of wannabe. I was pissed off about the monitor toss. He could have crushed Bryn's foot in his wastoid state...Bryn seemed to laugh it off...I guess the reality of the days events tugged a bit at my emotions. The guy was a super fan. The repetitive motion of slugging back tequila until his wits disappeared must have contributed to his stupidity.
Today we wait for a mechanic to either fix or give last rites to the trailer before heading to San Diego...a 12 hour journey with only desert and more ghosts of dead cowboys and desert shamans in front of us......I'll keep you posted.
Then about 40 miles outside of our destination, (a club called The Launchpad in downtown Albuquerque) a woman in an Altima speeds up besides the van with her window rolled down, frantically waving her hand,subsequently to warn us about something. We pulled over and jumped out in time to see the rear right trailer wheel spewing smoke and tilted slightly out.....Deeepppp Breathhhh as we realized the tragedy narrowly averted. The wheel had either lost its bearings or the axle had bent to the point where that thing could have come off in a matter of minutes..going 70 miles an hour. The trailer could have swung out on to the highway,hit another car, the fulcrum plus speed could have flipped the trailer full of gear and the van with 15 men inside causing serious injury and/or a pile of broken bodies.
We then realized that we all were safe. We would be late. We would have to wait in the middle of nowhere for a tow truck for several hours to get us out of there. But we were safe. That stranger on the highway basically saved our lives. 15 men did not smell the burning grease and smoking metal of that wheel. 15 men were either sleeping or talking or deep in an ipod playlist or book and had no clue what was happening at high speed behind the van.
A tow truck did eventually come and towed the trailer right to the club for us so we could get our gear out and set up for the show. The weariness and stress and low turnout was a factor during the show, which was not one of our best. But in the thick of the 10-12 people that were there were on a Sunday night were some insanely rabid fans. One freakshow of a guy was so into the rock that he picked up the monitor wedge right in front of Bryn and I and threw it hard onto the stage in a bodyslam like motion. He also came up onstage and screamed into several mics without warningin a haze of wannabe. I was pissed off about the monitor toss. He could have crushed Bryn's foot in his wastoid state...Bryn seemed to laugh it off...I guess the reality of the days events tugged a bit at my emotions. The guy was a super fan. The repetitive motion of slugging back tequila until his wits disappeared must have contributed to his stupidity.
Today we wait for a mechanic to either fix or give last rites to the trailer before heading to San Diego...a 12 hour journey with only desert and more ghosts of dead cowboys and desert shamans in front of us......I'll keep you posted.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
No Yellow Roses Anywhere
Amarillo, TX....Amarillo means yellow en espanol. The only yellow colored thing I saw here was a puddle of piss emptied out of a stumblebum next to the taqueria we stopped at. This place makes Detroit look like Paris in the Spring.
We were booked at a BYOB death metal club in the middle of the wasteland section of Amarillo at a place called the War Legion Underground. We were wrongly booked. neither the outside or the inside of this place was anywhere near finished, but I guess fans of Cattle Decapitation and Cannibal Corpse don't really care.They keep the lights low and the patrons can't really see through all of that hair. The stage was held together by 3 or 4 drywall screws and looked like an after school project for shop class refugees. The drum riser was very metal...being a foot above the stage so most drummers heads can pleasantly graze the ceiling while they are thrashing around. How was this gonna hold 12 guys!!??
Alex decided to form a jam room situation with everyone facing each other during our set. The singers remained on the stage and Alex, Doz and Bryn stood on a curve in front of us on the dance floor...err, pit. The idea was that the 15 people who were there could be surrounded by us and rock out as one tight little unit. It worked and we had a blast wailing away and flailing around.
The staff was friendly, though and seemed bummed at the low turnout. But we ended up selling some merch and signing autographs for the fine folk who actually left their homes last night.
The precursor to this interesting evening was being forced to drive through a sketchy section of the Texas panhandle stamped with a severe threat of a tornado touching down 15 men strong and towing a trailer. I had never seen skies like that..grey talons of dripping clouds just waiting to funnel up and scoop us off of the highway and toss us towards the stratosphere. I pictured being launched into the swell of sky with stray cattle and a tractor or two swirling into the tendrils with us, and ended up calling my wife to check the internet for updates...err, say goodbye. But we made it through and at the next rest stop, I checked my drawers for any pee pee.
Today...we move west towards Albuquerque where a great portion of the meth labs and Krylon huffing Indians of the United States are located. Should be fun....rock on , we must.
We were booked at a BYOB death metal club in the middle of the wasteland section of Amarillo at a place called the War Legion Underground. We were wrongly booked. neither the outside or the inside of this place was anywhere near finished, but I guess fans of Cattle Decapitation and Cannibal Corpse don't really care.They keep the lights low and the patrons can't really see through all of that hair. The stage was held together by 3 or 4 drywall screws and looked like an after school project for shop class refugees. The drum riser was very metal...being a foot above the stage so most drummers heads can pleasantly graze the ceiling while they are thrashing around. How was this gonna hold 12 guys!!??
Alex decided to form a jam room situation with everyone facing each other during our set. The singers remained on the stage and Alex, Doz and Bryn stood on a curve in front of us on the dance floor...err, pit. The idea was that the 15 people who were there could be surrounded by us and rock out as one tight little unit. It worked and we had a blast wailing away and flailing around.
The staff was friendly, though and seemed bummed at the low turnout. But we ended up selling some merch and signing autographs for the fine folk who actually left their homes last night.
The precursor to this interesting evening was being forced to drive through a sketchy section of the Texas panhandle stamped with a severe threat of a tornado touching down 15 men strong and towing a trailer. I had never seen skies like that..grey talons of dripping clouds just waiting to funnel up and scoop us off of the highway and toss us towards the stratosphere. I pictured being launched into the swell of sky with stray cattle and a tractor or two swirling into the tendrils with us, and ended up calling my wife to check the internet for updates...err, say goodbye. But we made it through and at the next rest stop, I checked my drawers for any pee pee.
Today...we move west towards Albuquerque where a great portion of the meth labs and Krylon huffing Indians of the United States are located. Should be fun....rock on , we must.
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