I found my old road journal from 2000... some of it is mildly funny.
Mid-West
It's been rumored and it's true. The mid-west loves metal.
We hit St. Louis, Chicago, Madison, Iowa City, Minneapolis, Kansas City, Fayettesville.this week. The shows have been great. My entire family came out for the Chicago and Madison shows. (My dad, bro, 68 yr. old aunt, 67 yr. old uncle, their spouses, my cousins, my younger aunts and uncles) it was a strange scene. As my family never struck me as the hard rockin' crew, I kept expecting an intervention. But they oddly dug it, perhaps it was just the shock since most of them haven't seen me in over 3 years.)
The Madison show was packed. Korn cancelled down the street and the townies were ready to rip it up. Finding themselves at a Bottom and Bongzilla show, they quickly starting bowing down to the royalty of Rock. Walking into O'Cayz was a strange returning for me. My last venture there, nearly 10 years before, was a dark day involving drugs, sirens, seizures, and uncontrollable choas..a small foreshadowing of the crap soon to come. I should have listened to one of the 7 Kevin Kennings of Drivin' and Crying who told me "Just Say No". Sometimes, its impossible to hear wisdom when it's delivered in sound bites.
I was thrilled to see what this joint actually looked like. The place is really cool. It was better to be back here in a clearer state of consciousness. Course that didn't stop me from smoking Big Bong hits with BONGZILLA. Someone else told me everything in moderation is a good thing.
Day 19 – MARDI GRAS – FAT TUESDAY We played with WeedEater, SourVein, Angel Rot (NYC), Scrap and Mustache (ex-legendary Chi-town Rockers TROUBLE). It was a dirt fest. Squatters, booze hounds dope fiends, weed dealers, the dreaded, the dirty, the stank of the earth. Hardcore rockers. This ain't no Van Halen concert and these guy ain't fucking around.
WeedEater was killer, Dixie Dave (ex-buzzoven) is a sick Muddafucka on bass...and totally out of his mind as a front-man. He looks like a dope freak on speed. His eyes spin, twist and satanically pop around and out of his eye sockets when he sings or rather grunts and bellows. As he flailed and staggered about stage, flipping his long Predator-like dreads, I could only image how ridiculously insane a BUZZOVEN show could have been and regret never getting to catch them live. Sick Freaks.
Anyway, back to our New Orleans gig. We played last on the bill just after Mustache, there's like 800 of them, all don-ing facial hair and guitars. They even have two bass players. After Dixie Dave's performance and then the Mustache never ending arsenal of gibsons, I was on a mission. I had already played a show that day, in Lafayette, LA and sucked down a few too many pink slushy hurricanes at the Lafayette parade, my head was throbbing. I needed sleep. But the rock HAD to happen. I had to muster it up, I had to land some kick-ass leads, or else I was gonna get my ass kicked all the way back to Yankee-town.
After the show a bunch of us went down to the French Quarter. The others went back to T-Roy's house From SourVein to crash.
5AM Ash Wednesday, The Quarter was a ghost town. The cops had already cleared the streets. Only skeletal rats, roaches and fiending alcoholics, like myself, remained. We stumble into some bar, which I don't remember the name. I made the mistake of pounding too many DIXIE canned brew and the long drive to Memphis the next day was a bitch. Rumor has it that Dixie Dave nearly puked on Angel Rot’s drummers only jacket. But Scott snatched it out from under Dave's aim, while randomly waking from catching some nines. Scott's a lucky fella.
After grabbing a bag of beignets and coffee, we all loaded back in the van and dropped the remains of the Angel Rot, Sour Vein, and Mustache crew back at Mustache's RV around 9 AM. Clementine, Nila and I headed off towards Memphis.
SXSW – AUSTIN TEXAS
The days are flying bye. We played our 30th show somewhere in texas. I promised myself to keep track as we went a long, but sure enough everything started to blur around show twenty six. My short term memory must be damaged: yesterdays are hard to remember, though stuff a couple weeks past are coming into to focus again. If I try real hard I remember some of the events at SXSW.
I'd like to comment on was the lack of "original" music and "metal" at this hoop-la. Yeehgodds, man...my mother listens to harder music than what was featured here (i.e. Braums, Wagner, Bartok). SXSW was filled with shoe-gazers, indie/alt rockers, poppers, blue cats, country, garage rocks posers passing themselves off as Rock'n'roll royalty and retro-rock galore. The opener and follow up bands to our slot each played a Bob Seger cover, which is fine and dandy but where's the metal and/or the original music, here.
SXSW contained little to no hardcore, hard edge, or low down ass-kickin (as Nila calls it) metal. Scary to think, we might have been it. I checked the gigantic artist directory just to make sure I didn't miss anything. The local newspaper listed Nebula as ex-FuManchu's sludgy metal thing. But sad to say Nebula, though one of my favorite bands in the world and completely amazing and heavy as fuck, they are soft. Soft heavy Metal. SXSW music directory should have had a category called just that: Soft Heavy Metal. There was a bunch of heavy shit kicking around the festival. Mans Ruin Records made sure of that, thank goodness and god bless. Without Mans Ruin, the festival would have been nearly void of any NEW metal completely, with the exception of FuManchu, Nebula and ZenGuerilla.
But what I was in hot pursuit of ....was the HARD, the stuff with an edge. I'm talking about music that makes the ears bleed, and feels irresistibly unsafe. Music that is downright mean and dangerous and not just because somebody in the band blows fire. Flash doesn't count, sparklers aren't hard. Little kids play with fire. I want MUSIC that
makes me watch over my shoulder fearing gettin' clobbered by the gods of ROCK.
Few bands do that anymore, in the way of Pantera, Sepultura, KORN, Buzzoven, Helmet, Barkmarket or Metallica do. They're a dying breed. On the road, we occasionally run into a KORN-Eleven-Biscuit knock off, but these bands don't play SXSW. The hardest thing you get at SXSW is flashy stage shows like the Backyard Babies, Nashville Pussy or the Go rehashing shit the Ramones coined 30- fucking years ago.
At Sub-Pop's Showcase while watching one of these rehasher Ramone wannabe bands, Clementine's ear caught the lip of an industry guy touting, "This is were music is going." WHAT????? I know we're from the big bad ass Apple and have had our fill of and Hey Ho! Long live the Ramones and all, but Let's Go! Perhaps this guy was just swept up in the moment, or perhaps he was making small talk, (Clem is rather beautiful and guys say dumb shit around us a lot). Or Perhaps its because he's from Europe, which I hate to pick on 'cuz they already have such a complex with not being American and secondly Nila's from Europe and she has great music taste. Perhaps he just simply missed a thing or two during that god-awful era, when radio waves were leaden with journey, steely dan, and disco crap (even the Stones had a disco album) when the underbellies of NYC, Cleveland and Detroit stood up (on stage) and punk music emerged. Perhaps he just simply missed the real era of punks, garage rock, schlock rockers and snot faced vinyl collectors that hung around CBGB's hording up all the crappily recorded punk anthems released on LP's, ep's, 10's, and 8 tracks. Perhaps he simply missed the Stooges, MC-5, The Ramones and Black Flag and the millions of garage bands who cranked out the jams circa 1976 thereabouts. unfortunately, we run into this guy too many times.
I wasn't born yet to catch the Stooges or MC-5 live, nor had the opportunity to horde up those vinyl on the first go around, but my theory is that those fanatical collectors did all their obsessing for one reason........ so those poorly recorded garage records weren't all thrown into dumpsters by digital enthusiasts in the 80's and 90's then to be rebought by schlock-rockers and hackers, Americans and Europeans alike, at resale shops for a buck , rehash the crap NOW. But as far as this being were music is going, sorry chum, been there, done that.
My last thought on this is: if you're gonna ripp off 30 year old riffs and chord progression, steal or "barrow" (if your too timid to call it what it is), from the likes of Black Flag or the Stooges. I'd prefer to sing along to Flag's Damage LP. I like most of those lyrics enough to revisit them again and again,
Dispatch: Day 35
hello earthlings. we're cruising along the south states. All's well that could be well in these parts of our nation. The drives have been long. the scenic view amazing. the longhorns by invitation only and the rock has been tremendous.
Its day 35, show 31 and spirits are great. It feels a bit like the Great
Race, we've hit the East Coast, The South, The Mid-west, Texas, SXSW, the South West and are headed towards Californie!
We been dinning too well on the native food, and the locals have been more than good to us. Thank god we've been rocking our ass off or else we surely won't deserve such great treatment.
Along the way we've played with some sick-ass bands. Highlights include: Weedeater, SourVein, Honeymaid, Solace, Spirit Caravan,Sunnshine, 6 Pack, Fatso, Speedealer, disengage, jucifer, Mustashe, and BONGZILLA. the list is too numerous to mention them all. But I assure you the rock lives, breathes and thrives out there.
As we head through the desert towards LA, we are looking forward to our maiden voyage up the West Coast. We are especially excited to pow-wow with other GODs of ROCK, such as Goatsnake, Gammera, acid King, High on Fire, DrunkHorse, and Fatso Jetson.
Hope we might see some of you too.
-sina
WEST COAST
Our west coast stint was packed with killer bills and scenic drives. We played with Goatsnake, Acid King, High on Fire, Fatso Jetson, Smoke in Sunshine, Drunk Horse, and Gammera. We did 4 day's in LA, two in San Fran, then headed up for Eureka, Portland, and Seattle.
Los Angeles rules. I love this town. City of Angels. One strip mall after another. LA makes me want to listen to loud metal and drive fast cars. I ate some killer sushi, drank a beer at a biker hang, walked Sunset Blvd, got pulled over by the cops, drove the hills of Santa Monica, caught some of the Oscar hype, pounded a gallon or two at the COFFEE BEAN and rocked every night.
Legend holds Goatsnake as kings of the heavy riffs and its true. Their sound check was enough to send me reeling Also on the Spaceland bill was 400 blows, who also delivers something pretty scary. They sound guy broke out the crappy mikes for fear of the demolition.
While in San Fran, we visited Man's Ruins HQ. A pretty hip outfit. The crew is way cool and really helped us out while in town. It gets pretty tough to do any work in the back seat of the van, so it was pretty rad to have a desk and a xeroxer for a day or two. Hats off to Frank K and gang, they work ridiculously hard to bring sick ass rock to the world.
The rest is a blur, they got me too pumped up on Red Bull and power bars.
Seattle and Portland were rad. Seattle was our last show before heading East again. Acid King tore it up. the bass player is a way out of control and incredible. High on Fire ruled. They ripp something furious. I was told "they have girlfriends and are Christians". Like I'm some kind of satanic, evil doer. Turns out they're pretty wicked themselves. Their sound is a kin to those Maxell commercial were the guys hair is blowing, only High on
Fire melts your skin off and pushes the flesh back off you skull. The bass player, George, blows up amps more than a pigfucker fucks pigs. Off to Europe for a monther with other Man's Ruin rockers, Alabama Thunder Pussy. I fear the terror they will reap.
Dispatch: Heading East
The past 40 days, NYC's been at our back. But alas, we are East bound again! Its' head spin. We're headed towards New York City, a place we call "home" but reality leaves us without jobs, apartments, and stuff... at a loss for a lot of the stuff that defines "HOME". Fortunately, emails and phone calls from hometown folk has kept that cozy NYC feelin'
alive. We actually bumped into a bunch of Lower East Siders and Motor City Bar regulars at SXSW, which was pretty f***ing cool. So homeward bound we are, and stoked to return, even if only for two days. We'll see you April 22 at Continental.
Til then keep on emailing us.
April 17 & 18 - Youngstown Emissions Fest.
There's nothing I like better than drinking in the afternoon and after 60 shows in 63 days, It was time.. and there's no better place than Nyabinghi - rock mecca. Killer drinks, great bills, good vibes, excellent sound, cool people.
I learned several things at this festival:
1- scotch is a great agent to kill germs & bacteria found in the mouths of stoner dudes.
2 - 1/2 bottle scotch (clem drank the other half), 2 pot brownies, 2 yellowjackets, 6 beers, 1 zanax and 2 joints of ANY weed Bongzilla gives you is a wicked cocktail.(do not try this at home.)
3 - drunken misconduct will directly and largely affect your cell phone bill.
4 - Every now and then you have to pull the screen.
The two day festival was like a family reunion for me. It was such a blast to play. The room was filled with great vibes and all the celebrities were out. Wickerman, Spirit Caravan, Tummler, Rebreather, Moustache, Nice Cat, Boulder, Cuda, Kung Pao. Also to my delight, the fest was full up with friendly scenester - some even barring gifts. The prime heist was a bottle of 12 year single malt scotch (thank you Ian - you know how to win my heart) and Lou's new tunage "half way to gone".
Like a decent orthodox hedonist, I also came barring gifts. These people, myself included, were gonna be falling down stumbling by the time I was done. All would be left head in hands, pondering, contemplating what terrible hell just conspired. It was my goal. It was my mission. I'd been preparing, gathering, collecting the devices
needed on several stops, namely LA, Portland, Denver, Madison.
Eventually, it was saturday nite- time to head out for our gig in Cleveland. Nila drove and we arrived to face a packed club. Our photo was in the paper, oh dear. It was time to rally. I jam a bag of popcorn down my throat hoping to sponge up the booze. We cranked into the set, "Hello cleveland - I'm too drunk to play." It was a fun show. The rest
is a blur.
HOMECOMING - April 22. Occasionally, people tell me they read my roadnotes, emails, etc.. and say, "Give us some dirt. Love the good, but give us some bad."
The HOMECOMING QUEENS GOT A GUN. Here's the reason why: And all her efforts to gain grace, beauty, popularity and acceptance has made her win her hometown beauty pageant, then the State pageant then Miss Universe. She then returns to find her old friends have moved on, her old boyfriend is dating someone new, the old familiar hang out is filled with strangers and the Statue of Liberty been replaced by a giant plastic saluting blow up doll of Adolph Guiliani.
Well, touring living in a car, sleeping on strangers floors is not exactly like winning the Miss Universe title, but I was really excited to see the old gang. I've heard homecomings are hard, terrible even but "ah come on" I thought. I looked forward to telling my adventures, and catching up on them. When I got to NYC, I soon realized how much, I missed everyone (some more that others) Suddenly I started to sport a pissy shitty mood which eventually got in the way of my socializing with anyone. Yeah, I'm a big baby, a big baby singer/songwriter. What did you expect a rob-o-tron of rock? Well, maybe sometimes, but not today, not NewYork City, not in our hometown.
During the show the image of that homecoming queen was so prefect. This feeling of wanting my old life, my old friends, even my old boyfriend rose up and struck a nerve HARD. I saw myself pile driving my guitar into the stage, smashing it to bits. I wanted to storm off stage, I wanted to pull the screen, I wanted to blow this game.
Such a stunt could have two outcomes. Either the incident would focus the hype, furthering the tragedy OR I would quickly have to find a way of getting a place to live, a way to live, a way to deal with the path of destruction I left. Petrified by both, I just played on. Some kind of catch 22, -eh?
Before heading out of town for loop two, I bought a new "device of torture". It's a beautiful tobacco sunburst 1990 Gibson Les Paul Standard. I've always wanted one. Be careful for what you wish. Dreams do come true.
ATLANTA - May 4 - the Earl
here's the dirt. It's no secret that I am a chemical hound but the road has turned me into a professional fiend and Atlanta got the better of me. I'd been getting steadily bigger and bigger in my britches about how much crap I could shove into my body without really losing it. But the last 6 of 7 nights, I've been blurring out most of the details. Subsequently, pissing off people left and right and that ain't pretty. Ask anyone who knows me. But I thought to test this experiment one more time.
The show at the Earl was great. Cool people, good vibes, we even played well. Oddly, I had an itch up my bumm all night about something all night. Probably the amount of crappy pop bands that plaque the planet. I could feel the illness coming on. Post show, the club owner (a reasonably funny guy) started egging me on. We were pounding Jaeger ( a new habit I picked up compliments of Nice Cat). Shots on top of the case of beer in my dressing room. I should have known better. Things were all going well. Everyone was happy.
Magic dust entered the room and things got nasty. Soon enough, I was full on in fists fighting, brawling with the club owner. Not sure even why. Kicks I guess. I could hear Clementine yelling in slo-mo "Sina watch out for your hands." Oh yeah I thought and grabbed the owner hoping the madness would stop. well shit didn't get better. It was a ridiculous scene and one that I am not proud. I remember getting drug out by my band, dislocated thumb and damaged ego. Such a shame the club served up such great tuna steak salads for our meal, too! Guess we won't be asked to play there again.
May 8-The Shim Sham Club :PUSSY Pandemonium PARTY (God, I wish I saved the flyer)!!
It's been rumored and it's true. The mid-west loves metal.
We hit St. Louis, Chicago, Madison, Iowa City, Minneapolis, Kansas City, Fayettesville.this week. The shows have been great. My entire family came out for the Chicago and Madison shows. (My dad, bro, 68 yr. old aunt, 67 yr. old uncle, their spouses, my cousins, my younger aunts and uncles) it was a strange scene. As my family never struck me as the hard rockin' crew, I kept expecting an intervention. But they oddly dug it, perhaps it was just the shock since most of them haven't seen me in over 3 years.)
The Madison show was packed. Korn cancelled down the street and the townies were ready to rip it up. Finding themselves at a Bottom and Bongzilla show, they quickly starting bowing down to the royalty of Rock. Walking into O'Cayz was a strange returning for me. My last venture there, nearly 10 years before, was a dark day involving drugs, sirens, seizures, and uncontrollable choas..a small foreshadowing of the crap soon to come. I should have listened to one of the 7 Kevin Kennings of Drivin' and Crying who told me "Just Say No". Sometimes, its impossible to hear wisdom when it's delivered in sound bites.
I was thrilled to see what this joint actually looked like. The place is really cool. It was better to be back here in a clearer state of consciousness. Course that didn't stop me from smoking Big Bong hits with BONGZILLA. Someone else told me everything in moderation is a good thing.
Day 19 – MARDI GRAS – FAT TUESDAY We played with WeedEater, SourVein, Angel Rot (NYC), Scrap and Mustache (ex-legendary Chi-town Rockers TROUBLE). It was a dirt fest. Squatters, booze hounds dope fiends, weed dealers, the dreaded, the dirty, the stank of the earth. Hardcore rockers. This ain't no Van Halen concert and these guy ain't fucking around.
WeedEater was killer, Dixie Dave (ex-buzzoven) is a sick Muddafucka on bass...and totally out of his mind as a front-man. He looks like a dope freak on speed. His eyes spin, twist and satanically pop around and out of his eye sockets when he sings or rather grunts and bellows. As he flailed and staggered about stage, flipping his long Predator-like dreads, I could only image how ridiculously insane a BUZZOVEN show could have been and regret never getting to catch them live. Sick Freaks.
Anyway, back to our New Orleans gig. We played last on the bill just after Mustache, there's like 800 of them, all don-ing facial hair and guitars. They even have two bass players. After Dixie Dave's performance and then the Mustache never ending arsenal of gibsons, I was on a mission. I had already played a show that day, in Lafayette, LA and sucked down a few too many pink slushy hurricanes at the Lafayette parade, my head was throbbing. I needed sleep. But the rock HAD to happen. I had to muster it up, I had to land some kick-ass leads, or else I was gonna get my ass kicked all the way back to Yankee-town.
After the show a bunch of us went down to the French Quarter. The others went back to T-Roy's house From SourVein to crash.
5AM Ash Wednesday, The Quarter was a ghost town. The cops had already cleared the streets. Only skeletal rats, roaches and fiending alcoholics, like myself, remained. We stumble into some bar, which I don't remember the name. I made the mistake of pounding too many DIXIE canned brew and the long drive to Memphis the next day was a bitch. Rumor has it that Dixie Dave nearly puked on Angel Rot’s drummers only jacket. But Scott snatched it out from under Dave's aim, while randomly waking from catching some nines. Scott's a lucky fella.
After grabbing a bag of beignets and coffee, we all loaded back in the van and dropped the remains of the Angel Rot, Sour Vein, and Mustache crew back at Mustache's RV around 9 AM. Clementine, Nila and I headed off towards Memphis.
SXSW – AUSTIN TEXAS
The days are flying bye. We played our 30th show somewhere in texas. I promised myself to keep track as we went a long, but sure enough everything started to blur around show twenty six. My short term memory must be damaged: yesterdays are hard to remember, though stuff a couple weeks past are coming into to focus again. If I try real hard I remember some of the events at SXSW.
I'd like to comment on was the lack of "original" music and "metal" at this hoop-la. Yeehgodds, man...my mother listens to harder music than what was featured here (i.e. Braums, Wagner, Bartok). SXSW was filled with shoe-gazers, indie/alt rockers, poppers, blue cats, country, garage rocks posers passing themselves off as Rock'n'roll royalty and retro-rock galore. The opener and follow up bands to our slot each played a Bob Seger cover, which is fine and dandy but where's the metal and/or the original music, here.
SXSW contained little to no hardcore, hard edge, or low down ass-kickin (as Nila calls it) metal. Scary to think, we might have been it. I checked the gigantic artist directory just to make sure I didn't miss anything. The local newspaper listed Nebula as ex-FuManchu's sludgy metal thing. But sad to say Nebula, though one of my favorite bands in the world and completely amazing and heavy as fuck, they are soft. Soft heavy Metal. SXSW music directory should have had a category called just that: Soft Heavy Metal. There was a bunch of heavy shit kicking around the festival. Mans Ruin Records made sure of that, thank goodness and god bless. Without Mans Ruin, the festival would have been nearly void of any NEW metal completely, with the exception of FuManchu, Nebula and ZenGuerilla.
But what I was in hot pursuit of ....was the HARD, the stuff with an edge. I'm talking about music that makes the ears bleed, and feels irresistibly unsafe. Music that is downright mean and dangerous and not just because somebody in the band blows fire. Flash doesn't count, sparklers aren't hard. Little kids play with fire. I want MUSIC that
makes me watch over my shoulder fearing gettin' clobbered by the gods of ROCK.
Few bands do that anymore, in the way of Pantera, Sepultura, KORN, Buzzoven, Helmet, Barkmarket or Metallica do. They're a dying breed. On the road, we occasionally run into a KORN-Eleven-Biscuit knock off, but these bands don't play SXSW. The hardest thing you get at SXSW is flashy stage shows like the Backyard Babies, Nashville Pussy or the Go rehashing shit the Ramones coined 30- fucking years ago.
At Sub-Pop's Showcase while watching one of these rehasher Ramone wannabe bands, Clementine's ear caught the lip of an industry guy touting, "This is were music is going." WHAT????? I know we're from the big bad ass Apple and have had our fill of and Hey Ho! Long live the Ramones and all, but Let's Go! Perhaps this guy was just swept up in the moment, or perhaps he was making small talk, (Clem is rather beautiful and guys say dumb shit around us a lot). Or Perhaps its because he's from Europe, which I hate to pick on 'cuz they already have such a complex with not being American and secondly Nila's from Europe and she has great music taste. Perhaps he just simply missed a thing or two during that god-awful era, when radio waves were leaden with journey, steely dan, and disco crap (even the Stones had a disco album) when the underbellies of NYC, Cleveland and Detroit stood up (on stage) and punk music emerged. Perhaps he just simply missed the real era of punks, garage rock, schlock rockers and snot faced vinyl collectors that hung around CBGB's hording up all the crappily recorded punk anthems released on LP's, ep's, 10's, and 8 tracks. Perhaps he simply missed the Stooges, MC-5, The Ramones and Black Flag and the millions of garage bands who cranked out the jams circa 1976 thereabouts. unfortunately, we run into this guy too many times.
I wasn't born yet to catch the Stooges or MC-5 live, nor had the opportunity to horde up those vinyl on the first go around, but my theory is that those fanatical collectors did all their obsessing for one reason........ so those poorly recorded garage records weren't all thrown into dumpsters by digital enthusiasts in the 80's and 90's then to be rebought by schlock-rockers and hackers, Americans and Europeans alike, at resale shops for a buck , rehash the crap NOW. But as far as this being were music is going, sorry chum, been there, done that.
My last thought on this is: if you're gonna ripp off 30 year old riffs and chord progression, steal or "barrow" (if your too timid to call it what it is), from the likes of Black Flag or the Stooges. I'd prefer to sing along to Flag's Damage LP. I like most of those lyrics enough to revisit them again and again,
Dispatch: Day 35
hello earthlings. we're cruising along the south states. All's well that could be well in these parts of our nation. The drives have been long. the scenic view amazing. the longhorns by invitation only and the rock has been tremendous.
Its day 35, show 31 and spirits are great. It feels a bit like the Great
Race, we've hit the East Coast, The South, The Mid-west, Texas, SXSW, the South West and are headed towards Californie!
We been dinning too well on the native food, and the locals have been more than good to us. Thank god we've been rocking our ass off or else we surely won't deserve such great treatment.
Along the way we've played with some sick-ass bands. Highlights include: Weedeater, SourVein, Honeymaid, Solace, Spirit Caravan,Sunnshine, 6 Pack, Fatso, Speedealer, disengage, jucifer, Mustashe, and BONGZILLA. the list is too numerous to mention them all. But I assure you the rock lives, breathes and thrives out there.
As we head through the desert towards LA, we are looking forward to our maiden voyage up the West Coast. We are especially excited to pow-wow with other GODs of ROCK, such as Goatsnake, Gammera, acid King, High on Fire, DrunkHorse, and Fatso Jetson.
Hope we might see some of you too.
-sina
WEST COAST
Our west coast stint was packed with killer bills and scenic drives. We played with Goatsnake, Acid King, High on Fire, Fatso Jetson, Smoke in Sunshine, Drunk Horse, and Gammera. We did 4 day's in LA, two in San Fran, then headed up for Eureka, Portland, and Seattle.
Los Angeles rules. I love this town. City of Angels. One strip mall after another. LA makes me want to listen to loud metal and drive fast cars. I ate some killer sushi, drank a beer at a biker hang, walked Sunset Blvd, got pulled over by the cops, drove the hills of Santa Monica, caught some of the Oscar hype, pounded a gallon or two at the COFFEE BEAN and rocked every night.
Legend holds Goatsnake as kings of the heavy riffs and its true. Their sound check was enough to send me reeling Also on the Spaceland bill was 400 blows, who also delivers something pretty scary. They sound guy broke out the crappy mikes for fear of the demolition.
While in San Fran, we visited Man's Ruins HQ. A pretty hip outfit. The crew is way cool and really helped us out while in town. It gets pretty tough to do any work in the back seat of the van, so it was pretty rad to have a desk and a xeroxer for a day or two. Hats off to Frank K and gang, they work ridiculously hard to bring sick ass rock to the world.
The rest is a blur, they got me too pumped up on Red Bull and power bars.
Seattle and Portland were rad. Seattle was our last show before heading East again. Acid King tore it up. the bass player is a way out of control and incredible. High on Fire ruled. They ripp something furious. I was told "they have girlfriends and are Christians". Like I'm some kind of satanic, evil doer. Turns out they're pretty wicked themselves. Their sound is a kin to those Maxell commercial were the guys hair is blowing, only High on
Fire melts your skin off and pushes the flesh back off you skull. The bass player, George, blows up amps more than a pigfucker fucks pigs. Off to Europe for a monther with other Man's Ruin rockers, Alabama Thunder Pussy. I fear the terror they will reap.
Dispatch: Heading East
The past 40 days, NYC's been at our back. But alas, we are East bound again! Its' head spin. We're headed towards New York City, a place we call "home" but reality leaves us without jobs, apartments, and stuff... at a loss for a lot of the stuff that defines "HOME". Fortunately, emails and phone calls from hometown folk has kept that cozy NYC feelin'
alive. We actually bumped into a bunch of Lower East Siders and Motor City Bar regulars at SXSW, which was pretty f***ing cool. So homeward bound we are, and stoked to return, even if only for two days. We'll see you April 22 at Continental.
Til then keep on emailing us.
April 17 & 18 - Youngstown Emissions Fest.
There's nothing I like better than drinking in the afternoon and after 60 shows in 63 days, It was time.. and there's no better place than Nyabinghi - rock mecca. Killer drinks, great bills, good vibes, excellent sound, cool people.
I learned several things at this festival:
1- scotch is a great agent to kill germs & bacteria found in the mouths of stoner dudes.
2 - 1/2 bottle scotch (clem drank the other half), 2 pot brownies, 2 yellowjackets, 6 beers, 1 zanax and 2 joints of ANY weed Bongzilla gives you is a wicked cocktail.(do not try this at home.)
3 - drunken misconduct will directly and largely affect your cell phone bill.
4 - Every now and then you have to pull the screen.
The two day festival was like a family reunion for me. It was such a blast to play. The room was filled with great vibes and all the celebrities were out. Wickerman, Spirit Caravan, Tummler, Rebreather, Moustache, Nice Cat, Boulder, Cuda, Kung Pao. Also to my delight, the fest was full up with friendly scenester - some even barring gifts. The prime heist was a bottle of 12 year single malt scotch (thank you Ian - you know how to win my heart) and Lou's new tunage "half way to gone".
Like a decent orthodox hedonist, I also came barring gifts. These people, myself included, were gonna be falling down stumbling by the time I was done. All would be left head in hands, pondering, contemplating what terrible hell just conspired. It was my goal. It was my mission. I'd been preparing, gathering, collecting the devices
needed on several stops, namely LA, Portland, Denver, Madison.
Eventually, it was saturday nite- time to head out for our gig in Cleveland. Nila drove and we arrived to face a packed club. Our photo was in the paper, oh dear. It was time to rally. I jam a bag of popcorn down my throat hoping to sponge up the booze. We cranked into the set, "Hello cleveland - I'm too drunk to play." It was a fun show. The rest
is a blur.
HOMECOMING - April 22. Occasionally, people tell me they read my roadnotes, emails, etc.. and say, "Give us some dirt. Love the good, but give us some bad."
The HOMECOMING QUEENS GOT A GUN. Here's the reason why: And all her efforts to gain grace, beauty, popularity and acceptance has made her win her hometown beauty pageant, then the State pageant then Miss Universe. She then returns to find her old friends have moved on, her old boyfriend is dating someone new, the old familiar hang out is filled with strangers and the Statue of Liberty been replaced by a giant plastic saluting blow up doll of Adolph Guiliani.
Well, touring living in a car, sleeping on strangers floors is not exactly like winning the Miss Universe title, but I was really excited to see the old gang. I've heard homecomings are hard, terrible even but "ah come on" I thought. I looked forward to telling my adventures, and catching up on them. When I got to NYC, I soon realized how much, I missed everyone (some more that others) Suddenly I started to sport a pissy shitty mood which eventually got in the way of my socializing with anyone. Yeah, I'm a big baby, a big baby singer/songwriter. What did you expect a rob-o-tron of rock? Well, maybe sometimes, but not today, not NewYork City, not in our hometown.
During the show the image of that homecoming queen was so prefect. This feeling of wanting my old life, my old friends, even my old boyfriend rose up and struck a nerve HARD. I saw myself pile driving my guitar into the stage, smashing it to bits. I wanted to storm off stage, I wanted to pull the screen, I wanted to blow this game.
Such a stunt could have two outcomes. Either the incident would focus the hype, furthering the tragedy OR I would quickly have to find a way of getting a place to live, a way to live, a way to deal with the path of destruction I left. Petrified by both, I just played on. Some kind of catch 22, -eh?
Before heading out of town for loop two, I bought a new "device of torture". It's a beautiful tobacco sunburst 1990 Gibson Les Paul Standard. I've always wanted one. Be careful for what you wish. Dreams do come true.
ATLANTA - May 4 - the Earl
here's the dirt. It's no secret that I am a chemical hound but the road has turned me into a professional fiend and Atlanta got the better of me. I'd been getting steadily bigger and bigger in my britches about how much crap I could shove into my body without really losing it. But the last 6 of 7 nights, I've been blurring out most of the details. Subsequently, pissing off people left and right and that ain't pretty. Ask anyone who knows me. But I thought to test this experiment one more time.
The show at the Earl was great. Cool people, good vibes, we even played well. Oddly, I had an itch up my bumm all night about something all night. Probably the amount of crappy pop bands that plaque the planet. I could feel the illness coming on. Post show, the club owner (a reasonably funny guy) started egging me on. We were pounding Jaeger ( a new habit I picked up compliments of Nice Cat). Shots on top of the case of beer in my dressing room. I should have known better. Things were all going well. Everyone was happy.
Magic dust entered the room and things got nasty. Soon enough, I was full on in fists fighting, brawling with the club owner. Not sure even why. Kicks I guess. I could hear Clementine yelling in slo-mo "Sina watch out for your hands." Oh yeah I thought and grabbed the owner hoping the madness would stop. well shit didn't get better. It was a ridiculous scene and one that I am not proud. I remember getting drug out by my band, dislocated thumb and damaged ego. Such a shame the club served up such great tuna steak salads for our meal, too! Guess we won't be asked to play there again.
May 8-The Shim Sham Club :PUSSY Pandemonium PARTY (God, I wish I saved the flyer)!!
We entered New Orleans via the bridge across Lake Pontchatrain. Holygoddamn, what a bridge! Longest in the world. We drove directly to the French quarter and spilt up to wonder the streets.
I hung around Jackson Park eating beignets with high powered java from Cafe du Monde. People were laying out, making out, and hanging out in the park's shade. Partnerless, I stumbled round Bourbon and Decatur. In search of my Fat Tuesday hang, I found a crew of locals bellies up, heads down to the bar. I pounded a Dixie Beer and split to pop in andout of voodoo, goth, and knickknack shops for a while. The coolest being "Armed and Dangerous." on St Ann. It had that real meticulous vampire vibe. with perfect displays of velvet, candelabras and marble busts.
I had another Dixie Beer at a pub on St.Ann and Bourbon and watched the locals. It was a lazy dive. If you ever go into a local dive in NYC, folks are there for one reason: to get drunk, to get fucked up. But here in N'awlins, they we're just killing time. I wished I had time like that. Which reminded me: it's loading time.
The show promised to be lean. Jazz Fest just ended and the Melvins played Saturday. But hell, it was Monday, we were guaranteed and the PORN-moter hooked us up with a couple cases of PBR. The sound guy was also pretty cool, hyped on coke but way on top of me breaking stuff during our set. He was faster than a jack rabbit and he let us jam for a while at sound check.
I had hoped to have Clearlight or Sourvein on the bill, but the promoter nixed it for a better idea: an evening filled with girl PUNK and PORN, Pink Pandemonium Pussy Party (No joke, I kept the flyer). Clem, Nila and I were a bit weirded out. We normally don't play "event" nights, even in NYC, with all its "Greendoor", "Squeezebox" "RockCity" happenings. The club even had a big silver curtain, that they drew as we were line checking. My head sort of spun as it happened: "what is going on?" "Are we Disneyland, are we the main attraction?" dear god.
Early in the eve, a bunch of the Clearlight, Eye Hate God, Sourvein, and even old Buzzoven gang showed up. They quickly killed the event theme. The "event" should have been called "Illers: Evil Drug Rock from Hell." But hindsight is always 20/20.
A DAY OR CLEARLIGHT – May 9
We had the day after our N'awlin show off. We were now under the care and guidance of Clearlight's Papa Ross. He lives up to his legend of Evil Preacher, tour guide, and bbq master. He woke us up with a quick stop at the daquari drive thru, then took us for a tour of the House of Shock, an interactive haunted house he started with Phil Anselmo and other friends. The afternoon was spent tripping through one of the local cemetaries, then back to Ross' hq for a four meat BBQ. This dude can cook like he plays the B3. We also got to feast our ears on the upcoming clearlight record, which is due out in summer. Over catfish, steak and crushed ice drinks, I got to wrap with Jimmy from EyeHate God/Clearlight about guitars. Yeah, I'm a gear head. I was in heaven.
Topped off with white cake and phone sex under the southern sky, my last night in N'awlins came to an end. Now I understand the decadence that this town is famed.
SOUTH OF MARKET, SAN FRANISCO- day 95. I spent a large part of the night wrestling, detaining and distracting a friend from going to cop dope. As if it was any of my business, but I had enough whiskey in me, I was convinced that "friends don't let friends go cop dope." We played at the Covered Wagon which is located in San Fran's mission district, so scoring was a pretty easy hit. After an hour of struggling, a scrap and spitting contest with the bouncers, I lost my hold and my chum was out of my control. Drugs are a powerful killer. Black out drunks are wicked.
"When you hang out with scumbags, that's what you get." Frank Kozik. Rock and Roll = Sex, drugs and violence. You can fight it, or You can remain a purist. As I say, "why put one foot to the path unless you're prepared the reach you destination."
I awoke to my cell phone at my hotel in Oakland. Sure enough, it was the call i knew would come. I slept with my boots on, keys in hand, ready to bolt down to the van. I flew back over the Bay Bridge. Like an elephant's homing sensor, i navigated to satan's city, south of market. Fear makes you think fast and clear. Less than twenty minutes had passed since I bolted out of the hotel and I had already found my blacked out, beat up, blood spittin friend. He was sleeping standing, lent up against a phone booth. "fuck you, you fuck." Peace was restored to land.
Karma always gets you. San Fran gave me a bit of my own medicine.
NATURE TRIP 2000
Okay, the last bunch of entries in this here journal have been chemically...focused. So to prove that I'm living a balanced lifestyle, here's a bit for all the nature lovers and folk that want to sign me up for rehab.
The greatest mountains: It's a toss up between the Dragon Mountains on the western border of New Mexico and the glaciers of the Jasper National Forest on the eastern border of British Columbia, Canada. The Dragon Mountains rise up out of the high desert like tooth shaped fins of a scaly beast. The peaks are ragged, sharp and jet black against the powder blue sky. I kept waiting for the beast to stand to it's haunches and scorch us in fire. The canadian glaciers are tremendous, downright huge. Much like the US Rockies,
they jet straight up from the seemingly flat land around it, but these are barren and dirty with sand-like soot that covers the ice masses beneath. Other areas are covered with dark green pine and icy white waterfalls. Driving through the 'Jasper Preserves', ram-type mountain goat, two times the size of horse, coiffing gigantic curled horns, were just strolling down the road. I've took pictures from the van so close I could have spit on 'em (but that wouldn't have been lady-like). We also came across black bear, and antelope. The locals said a black bear sighting is rare. Oh ---but the 1000 pound mountain goat was no big deal.
Re-entering the States through Minnesota, we stopped off for a cold beer and a bite at a local-yocal kind of roadhouse in Pelican Rapids, MN (about 45 miles from Fargo). The "2 tacos for 2 bucks" special was a hit and the yokels were pretty damn friendly. Soon enough we were on our way to Tom and Ryan's ranch to observe their herd of BUFFALO. Tom and Ryan had 50 buffalo, a handcrafted pine log house, a couple farm dogs, a pickup truck, and neighbors that raise pack huskies.
We entered the range via Tom's pickup at dusk. Huddled in the back, perched over the roof, we rolled over the first dell. The buffalo were close, just a top the next hill. As the truck's headlights cast upon the herd, I saw a couple of males charging each other. Head butting "for sport" said Ryan; thus, proving even in the wild, boys will be boys. The animals grazed in a circle, bulls to the outside, little ones in the center. We watched awhile and eventually the herd charged away to the another part of the range. Even a pack of 50 buffalo can make a pretty good thunder as they stampede. The buffalo safari was on. We followed over hill and dale in the back of the pick up. Finding ourselves a cozy spot, which Tom called "quite vulnerable if the herd elected to stampede", we anchored down to watch the night sky, and the subtle movements of a half-grazing half-sleeping herd.
The safari continued in the morning. We woke to the howling of the neighbors huskies around 4:30 or 5. We went back out to go catch a daylight gander of the buffalo and the range. The sky was clear blue, the range was a brilliant sweet green and the buffalo were actually quite colorful and silky looking, ranging from a subtle khaki to a rich velvety black. Tom and Ryan were chuckling to our enthusiasm and zeal. Hey, we're city folk, new york city's nature watch consists of rats and Abandoned cats. Sneaking up on buffalo is just too cool.
Dispatch: day 110 - Iowa City
We're nearing the tale end of lap two and heading east. We'll be back in NYC at CBGBs on Saturday, July 17, then off again. We just dropped down to the midwest after a weeklong run through western canada. Cana-duh was a nature trip: glaciers, ram, black bear, mountain goat, woodpecker, antelope, and even a buffalo safari near Fargo.
Other than that--shows are going great. Meeting lots of cool people. Going on and going strong. There's been some drama (San Fran, Atlanta), but mostly cool adventures. The van just hit 50,000 miles on the mileage counter. We scraped the space pod in New Orleans, to be more stealth, more fuel efficient. We're looking forward to playing this years SHoD festival over labor day. We'll be unveiling lots new material.
over and out.
-sina
MOTTO:
I hung around Jackson Park eating beignets with high powered java from Cafe du Monde. People were laying out, making out, and hanging out in the park's shade. Partnerless, I stumbled round Bourbon and Decatur. In search of my Fat Tuesday hang, I found a crew of locals bellies up, heads down to the bar. I pounded a Dixie Beer and split to pop in andout of voodoo, goth, and knickknack shops for a while. The coolest being "Armed and Dangerous." on St Ann. It had that real meticulous vampire vibe. with perfect displays of velvet, candelabras and marble busts.
I had another Dixie Beer at a pub on St.Ann and Bourbon and watched the locals. It was a lazy dive. If you ever go into a local dive in NYC, folks are there for one reason: to get drunk, to get fucked up. But here in N'awlins, they we're just killing time. I wished I had time like that. Which reminded me: it's loading time.
The show promised to be lean. Jazz Fest just ended and the Melvins played Saturday. But hell, it was Monday, we were guaranteed and the PORN-moter hooked us up with a couple cases of PBR. The sound guy was also pretty cool, hyped on coke but way on top of me breaking stuff during our set. He was faster than a jack rabbit and he let us jam for a while at sound check.
I had hoped to have Clearlight or Sourvein on the bill, but the promoter nixed it for a better idea: an evening filled with girl PUNK and PORN, Pink Pandemonium Pussy Party (No joke, I kept the flyer). Clem, Nila and I were a bit weirded out. We normally don't play "event" nights, even in NYC, with all its "Greendoor", "Squeezebox" "RockCity" happenings. The club even had a big silver curtain, that they drew as we were line checking. My head sort of spun as it happened: "what is going on?" "Are we Disneyland, are we the main attraction?" dear god.
Early in the eve, a bunch of the Clearlight, Eye Hate God, Sourvein, and even old Buzzoven gang showed up. They quickly killed the event theme. The "event" should have been called "Illers: Evil Drug Rock from Hell." But hindsight is always 20/20.
A DAY OR CLEARLIGHT – May 9
We had the day after our N'awlin show off. We were now under the care and guidance of Clearlight's Papa Ross. He lives up to his legend of Evil Preacher, tour guide, and bbq master. He woke us up with a quick stop at the daquari drive thru, then took us for a tour of the House of Shock, an interactive haunted house he started with Phil Anselmo and other friends. The afternoon was spent tripping through one of the local cemetaries, then back to Ross' hq for a four meat BBQ. This dude can cook like he plays the B3. We also got to feast our ears on the upcoming clearlight record, which is due out in summer. Over catfish, steak and crushed ice drinks, I got to wrap with Jimmy from EyeHate God/Clearlight about guitars. Yeah, I'm a gear head. I was in heaven.
Topped off with white cake and phone sex under the southern sky, my last night in N'awlins came to an end. Now I understand the decadence that this town is famed.
SOUTH OF MARKET, SAN FRANISCO- day 95. I spent a large part of the night wrestling, detaining and distracting a friend from going to cop dope. As if it was any of my business, but I had enough whiskey in me, I was convinced that "friends don't let friends go cop dope." We played at the Covered Wagon which is located in San Fran's mission district, so scoring was a pretty easy hit. After an hour of struggling, a scrap and spitting contest with the bouncers, I lost my hold and my chum was out of my control. Drugs are a powerful killer. Black out drunks are wicked.
"When you hang out with scumbags, that's what you get." Frank Kozik. Rock and Roll = Sex, drugs and violence. You can fight it, or You can remain a purist. As I say, "why put one foot to the path unless you're prepared the reach you destination."
I awoke to my cell phone at my hotel in Oakland. Sure enough, it was the call i knew would come. I slept with my boots on, keys in hand, ready to bolt down to the van. I flew back over the Bay Bridge. Like an elephant's homing sensor, i navigated to satan's city, south of market. Fear makes you think fast and clear. Less than twenty minutes had passed since I bolted out of the hotel and I had already found my blacked out, beat up, blood spittin friend. He was sleeping standing, lent up against a phone booth. "fuck you, you fuck." Peace was restored to land.
Karma always gets you. San Fran gave me a bit of my own medicine.
NATURE TRIP 2000
Okay, the last bunch of entries in this here journal have been chemically...focused. So to prove that I'm living a balanced lifestyle, here's a bit for all the nature lovers and folk that want to sign me up for rehab.
The greatest mountains: It's a toss up between the Dragon Mountains on the western border of New Mexico and the glaciers of the Jasper National Forest on the eastern border of British Columbia, Canada. The Dragon Mountains rise up out of the high desert like tooth shaped fins of a scaly beast. The peaks are ragged, sharp and jet black against the powder blue sky. I kept waiting for the beast to stand to it's haunches and scorch us in fire. The canadian glaciers are tremendous, downright huge. Much like the US Rockies,
they jet straight up from the seemingly flat land around it, but these are barren and dirty with sand-like soot that covers the ice masses beneath. Other areas are covered with dark green pine and icy white waterfalls. Driving through the 'Jasper Preserves', ram-type mountain goat, two times the size of horse, coiffing gigantic curled horns, were just strolling down the road. I've took pictures from the van so close I could have spit on 'em (but that wouldn't have been lady-like). We also came across black bear, and antelope. The locals said a black bear sighting is rare. Oh ---but the 1000 pound mountain goat was no big deal.
Re-entering the States through Minnesota, we stopped off for a cold beer and a bite at a local-yocal kind of roadhouse in Pelican Rapids, MN (about 45 miles from Fargo). The "2 tacos for 2 bucks" special was a hit and the yokels were pretty damn friendly. Soon enough we were on our way to Tom and Ryan's ranch to observe their herd of BUFFALO. Tom and Ryan had 50 buffalo, a handcrafted pine log house, a couple farm dogs, a pickup truck, and neighbors that raise pack huskies.
We entered the range via Tom's pickup at dusk. Huddled in the back, perched over the roof, we rolled over the first dell. The buffalo were close, just a top the next hill. As the truck's headlights cast upon the herd, I saw a couple of males charging each other. Head butting "for sport" said Ryan; thus, proving even in the wild, boys will be boys. The animals grazed in a circle, bulls to the outside, little ones in the center. We watched awhile and eventually the herd charged away to the another part of the range. Even a pack of 50 buffalo can make a pretty good thunder as they stampede. The buffalo safari was on. We followed over hill and dale in the back of the pick up. Finding ourselves a cozy spot, which Tom called "quite vulnerable if the herd elected to stampede", we anchored down to watch the night sky, and the subtle movements of a half-grazing half-sleeping herd.
The safari continued in the morning. We woke to the howling of the neighbors huskies around 4:30 or 5. We went back out to go catch a daylight gander of the buffalo and the range. The sky was clear blue, the range was a brilliant sweet green and the buffalo were actually quite colorful and silky looking, ranging from a subtle khaki to a rich velvety black. Tom and Ryan were chuckling to our enthusiasm and zeal. Hey, we're city folk, new york city's nature watch consists of rats and Abandoned cats. Sneaking up on buffalo is just too cool.
Dispatch: day 110 - Iowa City
We're nearing the tale end of lap two and heading east. We'll be back in NYC at CBGBs on Saturday, July 17, then off again. We just dropped down to the midwest after a weeklong run through western canada. Cana-duh was a nature trip: glaciers, ram, black bear, mountain goat, woodpecker, antelope, and even a buffalo safari near Fargo.
Other than that--shows are going great. Meeting lots of cool people. Going on and going strong. There's been some drama (San Fran, Atlanta), but mostly cool adventures. The van just hit 50,000 miles on the mileage counter. We scraped the space pod in New Orleans, to be more stealth, more fuel efficient. We're looking forward to playing this years SHoD festival over labor day. We'll be unveiling lots new material.
over and out.
-sina
MOTTO:
"The world is filled with opportunity. Think about things which are forward. Let skeletons turn to dust."
......sina's father.
TYPICAL DAY:
Did you ever see that Bill Murray movie 'Ground Hog Day'?. here's mine.
**dependent to hotel accommodations
11:00 - wake to Clem singing "good morning to you, good morning to you, we're all in our places with bright shiny faces, good morning to you."
11:01 am - flick Clem off, roll over.
11:20 am - wake up late for check out**
11:21 am - sneak shot off Clem's whiskey flask
11:25 am - shower
11:30 am - hang up on the front desk calling to if we're checking out today**
11:45 am - pound coffee at the convinience store, fuel up the van
11:50 am - wait for Nila to get into the van.
12:00 am - drive 6-8 hours to next destination, check email, return business calls via cell, listen to cds on headphones, sneak shots off Clem's flask, deny the events of the previous night.
6:00 pm - load in
6:15 pm - harass soundman
6:25 pm - sneak shot off clem's flask
6:30 pm - change strings, sound check
6:55 pm - give sound guy shot off clem's flask
7:00 pm - dinner, and peruse local headshop
8:00 pm - haggle the bartender for free drink as I've yet to get any drink tickets.
8:15 pm - get drink tickets or rider provisions from club promoter (rider:1 case Heineken, 1 bottle stoli, some Jaeger, 6 "bottled" waters, towels, fruit)
8:30 pm - doors open
8:30-showtime: swill drinks, smoke with friends, and fraternize with other bands on bill, harass soundman, check out other bands, exchange emails.
12:00am - rock for 45-50 mins.
1:30 am - drink remaining rider provisions.
1:40 am - ask for more rider provisions
1:45 am - get paid
2:00 am - fight club owner for no particular reason.
2:15 am – be drug out of bar by scruff by Nila.
3:00 am - load van.
3:15 am - drive to place to crash
3:50 am – make crank phone calls.
5:00 am - realize I've locked myself out of van with no idea where Clem and Nila are.
5:05 am - beg the hotel concierge to show me to my room**
5:10 am - except hotel clerks refusal**
5:15 am - pass out on front lawn
5:25 am - awake to security guard kicking my foot, "you can't sleep here."**
5:26 am - Clem waves me on to nearby safe haven.
5:28 am - sneak shot of Clem's whiskey flask.
5:30 am - pass out cozy, warm and dry.
Dispatch: Loop III, day 7-Chicago
We just hit the four month mark on our tour, we've dug a groove so deep it looks more like a trench. NYC marked the start of Loop III. DC and Long Branch were our first stops and now we're moving west again. The entire troop has the flu, I got hit the hardest and have been running a fever since Detroit, which has now developed into a severe case of bronchitis.
TYPICAL DAY:
Did you ever see that Bill Murray movie 'Ground Hog Day'?. here's mine.
**dependent to hotel accommodations
11:00 - wake to Clem singing "good morning to you, good morning to you, we're all in our places with bright shiny faces, good morning to you."
11:01 am - flick Clem off, roll over.
11:20 am - wake up late for check out**
11:21 am - sneak shot off Clem's whiskey flask
11:25 am - shower
11:30 am - hang up on the front desk calling to if we're checking out today**
11:45 am - pound coffee at the convinience store, fuel up the van
11:50 am - wait for Nila to get into the van.
12:00 am - drive 6-8 hours to next destination, check email, return business calls via cell, listen to cds on headphones, sneak shots off Clem's flask, deny the events of the previous night.
6:00 pm - load in
6:15 pm - harass soundman
6:25 pm - sneak shot off clem's flask
6:30 pm - change strings, sound check
6:55 pm - give sound guy shot off clem's flask
7:00 pm - dinner, and peruse local headshop
8:00 pm - haggle the bartender for free drink as I've yet to get any drink tickets.
8:15 pm - get drink tickets or rider provisions from club promoter (rider:1 case Heineken, 1 bottle stoli, some Jaeger, 6 "bottled" waters, towels, fruit)
8:30 pm - doors open
8:30-showtime: swill drinks, smoke with friends, and fraternize with other bands on bill, harass soundman, check out other bands, exchange emails.
12:00am - rock for 45-50 mins.
1:30 am - drink remaining rider provisions.
1:40 am - ask for more rider provisions
1:45 am - get paid
2:00 am - fight club owner for no particular reason.
2:15 am – be drug out of bar by scruff by Nila.
3:00 am - load van.
3:15 am - drive to place to crash
3:50 am – make crank phone calls.
5:00 am - realize I've locked myself out of van with no idea where Clem and Nila are.
5:05 am - beg the hotel concierge to show me to my room**
5:10 am - except hotel clerks refusal**
5:15 am - pass out on front lawn
5:25 am - awake to security guard kicking my foot, "you can't sleep here."**
5:26 am - Clem waves me on to nearby safe haven.
5:28 am - sneak shot of Clem's whiskey flask.
5:30 am - pass out cozy, warm and dry.
Dispatch: Loop III, day 7-Chicago
We just hit the four month mark on our tour, we've dug a groove so deep it looks more like a trench. NYC marked the start of Loop III. DC and Long Branch were our first stops and now we're moving west again. The entire troop has the flu, I got hit the hardest and have been running a fever since Detroit, which has now developed into a severe case of bronchitis.
Luckily, we have a brief layover and R&R in Chi-town. We look forward to having a couple days to re-coop and furiously get some new material together before heading farther west! The key word here is NEW songs. Along the way, I've been scratching out song ideas and lyrics in the back of the van. After 150 days of spam, spam and more spam--it's like the slop sergeant is serving up deep fried and powdered donuts all of a sudden. We're so excited!
Thank yous to everyone who have come out or posted us emails. It keeps us going and means a lot to see and hear from everyone!
All hell can't stop us now! Over and Out,
-sina
NIAGRA FALLS - day 118
On our drive from Toronto to Albany NY, we hit Niagara Falls. The fever I was running since Detroit was peaking pretty high by this point but such an amazing nature event can't be missed at any cost. We parked on the canadian side with the huge horseshoe shaped falls and headed straight for the Maid of the Mist boat ride ticket booth. We bought tickets and put on our complimentary rain smocks and ran to the front of the ship.
With a loud bellow from the ship's horn we pulled away from the dock and were off, heading straight into the mouth of the fierce waterbeast. From a distance these falls are beautiful with rainbows and reflecting light, awesome with the roar of rushing water, and romantic in a sort of oh-my-god-this-thing-is-so-fucking-huge-we-better-hold-on-to-eachother kind of way. As you get closer the sound of the thundering, crushing water grows to a tremendous volume. At the center, the water swirls, spins and thrashes with the power of a circular saw. The passengers of the enormous metal ship start gripping the hand rails and holding onto their loved ones and screaming. All kinds of questions pop into your head? How much water falls over each second? Where does all this the water come from? Do fish live after they get sucked over the edge? How long would I last if I fell over board? How did that kid who fell in a few years back survive? How could anyone think to ride over this thing in a barrel? What kind of sick fucks would throw a beautiful maiden down this thing tied to a raft? That's the one I get stuck on. Again, the human condition never ceases to amaze me, the fucks!
TEXAS ROCK SHOP: day 135:
Tall whiskeys, killerBBQ, bad-ass cowboys, and big rock; hell, yeah... I'm talking 'bout Texas. We hit Dallas, Austin, and Houston. We played with Archie Bunker, Transfixr, and the infamous Speedealer. Being billed with Speedealer was a high for me cuz back when I was a yout' hangin' round CBGB's catching the traveling touring bands, Speedealer, a.k.a REO Speedealer back then, always stuck out in my mind as one killer rock outfit. The bass player and front man/singer/guitarist have played over 2,500 shows together, which is mind blowing! Bassist Rodney's secret to their success: head phones! From the destruction at the Club Clearview, these guys are still dealing out big bad motherfucka rock'n'roll, tejas style!
Re-gathering the original ARCHIE BUNKER line up and adding a fresh bass player for spice and someone to torture, the new AB are heavy with all the stoner riffs and grooves one could ask for, plus a sick demented gen-u-ine front man to boot, which is kinda novel and rare for the genre. A night out with Archie Bunker not only means serious bong-loading and boozin' but also stocking up on the prime heist at Henry's ArchiesRockShop. Henry's got all the cool stuff: Kyuss, Sons of Kyuss recordings, old Buzzov*en and EyeHateGod videos, Magnet videos, new shit by Unida, Mondo Generator, QOTSA, High on Fire. If you're looking for something and can't find it, Henry's your man. Henry can hook you up with almost anything just email him through Arhiesrockshop.bigstep.com. Tell him I sent ya! He'll chuckle and save me a bong hit.
SMOKIN” BOWLS: Day 145 - Portland
We tagged onto the Man's Ruin post CMJ showcase bill in Portland. Yeah, yeah, we're not...techincally..on Man's Ruin, but its such a love fest when we see the men of Porn, Acid King, and High on Fire - we couldn't pass up the hugs, it gets lonely on the road. We tried to make it up for the Smokin' Bowls bowling tourney, but the long drive from San Fran ran long and we arrived to Satyricon fashionably late, 20 minutes before our set. High on Fire played most of 'the art of self defense' plus 2 new tunes, which were blistering and left me reeling with my head in my hands. One is called "Eyes and Teeth", the other title, i didn't catch but sounds like a steamroller tearing across the universe at full throttle. Yeee gods! Holy Fuck! Bow down to High on Fire and the Green Amps!
GREEN AMPS! Day 146 - Spokane
Not much comes to mind when you think of Spokane, WA, 2nd largest city in Washington with a population of 300, 000 people. Well, not much except the FUMES, the World's Expo in '74 and the US HQ for MATAMP Green Amplifiers, which is really the only reason to put this town on the map other than that it's just plain pretty. Our host for the day and a half would be none other than Joel from MATAMP/GreenAmp and his wife Tracy.
We arrived late about 11pm after our five hour drive from Portland, which took 11 hours. We missed dinner, but no worries, Joel invited us over to the Green Amp office for cocktails. I died and went to heaven. I sat delirious, sipping Jamesons among the heavenly smell of Green Amp vinyde (the green vinyl covering of Green Amps) while yapping and carrin' on about Deep Purple, dealing with Brits and tomorrows arrival
of GREENS from the land across the Atlantic. Joel is a way cool cat and one busy mutha; he's involved in all kinds of rock projects such as 12 Planet Records, dealing and tweeking Green Amps, building websites, playing guitar in Soot, and promoting/hosting touring rock bands such as ourselves in the building/hotel he manages that's kinda like the Jack Nicklsons Shining mansion, minus the psycho killers.
Our experience has told us to go straight to the rock source and stick close by, good things will happen, and this was a perfect example: The next day we lounged in our rooms til it was time for 'load in' at the Fort Spokane Brewery, known for their particularly strong beer. As we're leaving the hotel, Joel starts loading up his van with Green stacks, three 4x12s, one 2x15, and a variety of heads. It was gonna bea good night. They say there's jet planes at 175 decibels, trains at 145 decibels, Matt Pike at 125 decibels, then there was BOTTOM in Spokane. We're at five month two weeks on our tour, all our gear is breaking, cymbals shredded, amps blown, squealing' and tinking, drums warpin', basically we are a band, crippled, still running the marathon. Spokane was another planet. Post-gig-quote-of-the-day screamed at me by a deafened man, "Fuck, you are the loudest band, ever!. Fuck!" On that note, Thank you Joel and Tracy for having us.
GINKO PETRIFIED FOREST - Day 147:
The vast lands that lies along I-90 between Spokane to Seattle was once the homeland of the Wanapum indians. The peaceful tribe once fished the shores of the Columbia River that ran through the Ginkgo Petrified Forest, the 6,000 acre area slightly south from dead middle of the state. The first reports of the petrified forest were back in 1898, though it was not officially documented by the US Government until 1906, with the vast expansion of the railroads. This land was once a fertile forest rich with a variety of vegetation which was fed by moist winds from the Pacific. With the uplift of the Cascade Mountains the land east of the range became arid. 200,000 years ago, lava flows and eruptions covered this area to a general thickness of 2000 feet(seriously), covering the dead forest. Water erosion eventually uncovered the land, exposing the petrified trees, bringing it to its current state. The Wanapum Indians never signed any treaties with the US government and are now nearly extinct.
Dispatch: July 31
Five months, Fifteen days. We're still alive, we're on vacation. It's been two days with out a show, and we're all jitterbug to get back playing already. High volume addicts? yep....which is cool cause we've planned to write our next record on this break, well that, and enjoy our couple week break from roaddoggin' it in the mystical lands of Humboldt County, in our cabin in the trees. We'll be here till the last week of August, just in time to road test our new tunes before the Labor Day 'Stoner Hands of Doom" festival in Youngstown, OhighO.
Till then, High Bourbons to Everyone!! Thanks for making our last five months killer!! You've kept our spirits high along the way! See ya at the SHoD.
Thank yous to everyone who have come out or posted us emails. It keeps us going and means a lot to see and hear from everyone!
All hell can't stop us now! Over and Out,
-sina
NIAGRA FALLS - day 118
On our drive from Toronto to Albany NY, we hit Niagara Falls. The fever I was running since Detroit was peaking pretty high by this point but such an amazing nature event can't be missed at any cost. We parked on the canadian side with the huge horseshoe shaped falls and headed straight for the Maid of the Mist boat ride ticket booth. We bought tickets and put on our complimentary rain smocks and ran to the front of the ship.
With a loud bellow from the ship's horn we pulled away from the dock and were off, heading straight into the mouth of the fierce waterbeast. From a distance these falls are beautiful with rainbows and reflecting light, awesome with the roar of rushing water, and romantic in a sort of oh-my-god-this-thing-is-so-fucking-huge-we-better-hold-on-to-eachother kind of way. As you get closer the sound of the thundering, crushing water grows to a tremendous volume. At the center, the water swirls, spins and thrashes with the power of a circular saw. The passengers of the enormous metal ship start gripping the hand rails and holding onto their loved ones and screaming. All kinds of questions pop into your head? How much water falls over each second? Where does all this the water come from? Do fish live after they get sucked over the edge? How long would I last if I fell over board? How did that kid who fell in a few years back survive? How could anyone think to ride over this thing in a barrel? What kind of sick fucks would throw a beautiful maiden down this thing tied to a raft? That's the one I get stuck on. Again, the human condition never ceases to amaze me, the fucks!
TEXAS ROCK SHOP: day 135:
Tall whiskeys, killerBBQ, bad-ass cowboys, and big rock; hell, yeah... I'm talking 'bout Texas. We hit Dallas, Austin, and Houston. We played with Archie Bunker, Transfixr, and the infamous Speedealer. Being billed with Speedealer was a high for me cuz back when I was a yout' hangin' round CBGB's catching the traveling touring bands, Speedealer, a.k.a REO Speedealer back then, always stuck out in my mind as one killer rock outfit. The bass player and front man/singer/guitarist have played over 2,500 shows together, which is mind blowing! Bassist Rodney's secret to their success: head phones! From the destruction at the Club Clearview, these guys are still dealing out big bad motherfucka rock'n'roll, tejas style!
Re-gathering the original ARCHIE BUNKER line up and adding a fresh bass player for spice and someone to torture, the new AB are heavy with all the stoner riffs and grooves one could ask for, plus a sick demented gen-u-ine front man to boot, which is kinda novel and rare for the genre. A night out with Archie Bunker not only means serious bong-loading and boozin' but also stocking up on the prime heist at Henry's ArchiesRockShop. Henry's got all the cool stuff: Kyuss, Sons of Kyuss recordings, old Buzzov*en and EyeHateGod videos, Magnet videos, new shit by Unida, Mondo Generator, QOTSA, High on Fire. If you're looking for something and can't find it, Henry's your man. Henry can hook you up with almost anything just email him through Arhiesrockshop.bigstep.com. Tell him I sent ya! He'll chuckle and save me a bong hit.
SMOKIN” BOWLS: Day 145 - Portland
We tagged onto the Man's Ruin post CMJ showcase bill in Portland. Yeah, yeah, we're not...techincally..on Man's Ruin, but its such a love fest when we see the men of Porn, Acid King, and High on Fire - we couldn't pass up the hugs, it gets lonely on the road. We tried to make it up for the Smokin' Bowls bowling tourney, but the long drive from San Fran ran long and we arrived to Satyricon fashionably late, 20 minutes before our set. High on Fire played most of 'the art of self defense' plus 2 new tunes, which were blistering and left me reeling with my head in my hands. One is called "Eyes and Teeth", the other title, i didn't catch but sounds like a steamroller tearing across the universe at full throttle. Yeee gods! Holy Fuck! Bow down to High on Fire and the Green Amps!
GREEN AMPS! Day 146 - Spokane
Not much comes to mind when you think of Spokane, WA, 2nd largest city in Washington with a population of 300, 000 people. Well, not much except the FUMES, the World's Expo in '74 and the US HQ for MATAMP Green Amplifiers, which is really the only reason to put this town on the map other than that it's just plain pretty. Our host for the day and a half would be none other than Joel from MATAMP/GreenAmp and his wife Tracy.
We arrived late about 11pm after our five hour drive from Portland, which took 11 hours. We missed dinner, but no worries, Joel invited us over to the Green Amp office for cocktails. I died and went to heaven. I sat delirious, sipping Jamesons among the heavenly smell of Green Amp vinyde (the green vinyl covering of Green Amps) while yapping and carrin' on about Deep Purple, dealing with Brits and tomorrows arrival
of GREENS from the land across the Atlantic. Joel is a way cool cat and one busy mutha; he's involved in all kinds of rock projects such as 12 Planet Records, dealing and tweeking Green Amps, building websites, playing guitar in Soot, and promoting/hosting touring rock bands such as ourselves in the building/hotel he manages that's kinda like the Jack Nicklsons Shining mansion, minus the psycho killers.
Our experience has told us to go straight to the rock source and stick close by, good things will happen, and this was a perfect example: The next day we lounged in our rooms til it was time for 'load in' at the Fort Spokane Brewery, known for their particularly strong beer. As we're leaving the hotel, Joel starts loading up his van with Green stacks, three 4x12s, one 2x15, and a variety of heads. It was gonna bea good night. They say there's jet planes at 175 decibels, trains at 145 decibels, Matt Pike at 125 decibels, then there was BOTTOM in Spokane. We're at five month two weeks on our tour, all our gear is breaking, cymbals shredded, amps blown, squealing' and tinking, drums warpin', basically we are a band, crippled, still running the marathon. Spokane was another planet. Post-gig-quote-of-the-day screamed at me by a deafened man, "Fuck, you are the loudest band, ever!. Fuck!" On that note, Thank you Joel and Tracy for having us.
GINKO PETRIFIED FOREST - Day 147:
The vast lands that lies along I-90 between Spokane to Seattle was once the homeland of the Wanapum indians. The peaceful tribe once fished the shores of the Columbia River that ran through the Ginkgo Petrified Forest, the 6,000 acre area slightly south from dead middle of the state. The first reports of the petrified forest were back in 1898, though it was not officially documented by the US Government until 1906, with the vast expansion of the railroads. This land was once a fertile forest rich with a variety of vegetation which was fed by moist winds from the Pacific. With the uplift of the Cascade Mountains the land east of the range became arid. 200,000 years ago, lava flows and eruptions covered this area to a general thickness of 2000 feet(seriously), covering the dead forest. Water erosion eventually uncovered the land, exposing the petrified trees, bringing it to its current state. The Wanapum Indians never signed any treaties with the US government and are now nearly extinct.
Dispatch: July 31
Five months, Fifteen days. We're still alive, we're on vacation. It's been two days with out a show, and we're all jitterbug to get back playing already. High volume addicts? yep....which is cool cause we've planned to write our next record on this break, well that, and enjoy our couple week break from roaddoggin' it in the mystical lands of Humboldt County, in our cabin in the trees. We'll be here till the last week of August, just in time to road test our new tunes before the Labor Day 'Stoner Hands of Doom" festival in Youngstown, OhighO.
Till then, High Bourbons to Everyone!! Thanks for making our last five months killer!! You've kept our spirits high along the way! See ya at the SHoD.