Ah, Vancouver, Wa. - I think it's the only US city named after a Canuck city but what're you gonna do?
I'll tell you what, little mister sassy pants - You're gonna get fairly loaded and play yer living guts out to the very appreciative throng, that's what!
A little history's in order here first. For those unfamiliar, Vancouver lies just across the river that acts as the border 'twixt Washington and Oregon. I'm not sure if it's the Shelbyville to the Springfield-that-is-Portland but it's certainly it's own unique blend of overpaid tech types lured by cheaper housing and a decent public school system and then what I'll just term as the "larry the cable guy" kinda audience. ("You know - morons.")
The 'fats musical roots run fairly deep in this town since one of Foil's previous bands owned any musical hope in that place for a while. "Extended hiatus," aside, it's still impressive to see folks remember this band fondly and are sad to not see 'em playing any longer. It's a shite state of affairs since they left, with really only local heroes Smirk and The Martindales left to fight for any foothold even remotely resembling a legacy or scene.
So when we were invited to play Rachael's birthday party at the club her beau Harry operates at, we saw our opportunity to return some of that old sense & style to that fair land. Throw in a booze cruise of a limo ride and we were all pretty much sold on it.
With temperatures in the low 20s met up at the 15th St. Pub a few hours before our go-time and loaded into the limo. Pulling out of the parking lot we bottomed out and we all found this somehow appropriate. We should test vehicles of such encumbrance, I think. That wasn't the first time of the night nor was it the last that we'd kick out sparks from that thing. Much kudos go to our good-natured driver for not only taking it all in stride but doing his best to minimize it, too. The Misfats stickers Harry had applied to the windows brought back the line to me, "Tinted windows don't mean nuthin'/They know who's inside." Another nice touch was the in-car video roll advertising this particular limo service, billed in the video as, "The Misfats preferred choice of transportation..."
We headed back across the river and partook of the finest establishments for such a group as we for this type of event. The "birthday dance" at Exotica was, shall we say, well worth it; perhaps even more so was our drinking Sparks in the limo, blocking the entrance to the place, laughing at everyone both entering and leaving. We also walked in and immediately owned that place, did our business, and then headed back to the venue for our set.
Upon entering, I hear the non-threatening strains of typical 'couve sensitive rock. Many people who know us ask, "You guys are playing soon, right?" in the manner befitting someone crying for rescue. There were, apparently, three bands before us and while I'm sure they were all fine musicians they, apparently, left out of reverence and defference all the rawkin' of the night to the 'fats (damn straight!). Taking over the men's room we're soon in full battle regalia and ready to face the hungry ones. We tear right in and are immediately met with happy little faces who are very appreciative for this Mother Bird to regurgitate nurturing musical spew into their gaping, smiling maws. Granted, we got stuck by the 2nd song but we more than compensated, throwing that place into an utter frenzy of joyous, raucous, drunken festivities not witnessed since - well, probably since the last time we played. Ha!
Much congrats followed and while we had representatives move on to tend to the after-party (and an appropriately totally wasted birthday girl - yah!) it was time for me to drive home in full makeup and collapse, contended that we had, in some small way, perhaps, made the most of the opportunity to a crowd that knew it well. Thanks again to Harry's generosity, Rachael's energy, and their combined enthusiasm. It set the tempo for the evening's events and never relented. Not too shabby, so "that'll do, pig. That'll do..."
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
Super Glutton Bowl
Much thanks is now and again due to both The Monkey Pub and to Stay Tuned. They proved a "good on" for Seattle. Here's how:
Arriving in separate vehicles (after the trailer debacle; don't ask) we find that we'll be unable to crash for free at Baloney's buddy's, the Cactus Huggers, place due to the NW-equivalent of a hurricane we got hit with Friday night. Seems most places are booked to the gills, too, there in the downtown/University area. Megan (I hope I'm spelling that right) the bartender at the Monkey busts her ass in trying to find us a place by making lotsa calls, continuously checking in with us on it all, and basically being a decent human being. Why more show-related folks aren't like that I don't know but her efforts were well appreciated by us all. Baloney managed to find a great deal, tho', so we got an $88 room for all 4 of us a couple blocks from the venue. Said room didn't involve manass-to-manass action (involuntary, of course), too, which was a nice change. Of course, tell a skinny guy he's gonna share a room with two large guys - large guys who love to crank the A/C in hotel rooms especially after sweating out the equivalent of three children during a set - and he'd better have his own blanket. I think we gave Dr. C.H.O.A.D pneumonia but that's what he gets for not having an Artic-ready layer of protective blubber.
The Monkey's not huge but it is wonderfully isolated from nearby frat infestation. They even take special, Misfats-prescribed drink orders. "Cozy" would be a better word for the place, I think. At least they covered one of the pool tables pre-set to help focus folks there on the bands. The stage is floor-level and the crowd setup is covered by two rows of folding tables and a bunch of chairs. It felt a little '68-comeback-ish...
Stay Tuned and us were the only bands playing so we kicked off by 10:30pm. ST has a healthy amount of gear to setup (which they do with blurry efficacy) so I think it took them nearly a half hour just for that feat. But they were soon into their set, wowing a crowd that had obviously never heard them. That part makes me a little sad, in that a band of their caliber and quality don't have a fanatical following that would embarrass other bands, especially in their hometown. A "prophet is only without honor..." I suppose. They are updating some of their old faves for a variety of reasons and have added some new tunes since last we played together. Most fitting was their version of "The Munsters" theme, dedicated to the recently departed "Grampa" Al Lewis. They stupefied, amazed, overcame, and rawked for the better part of an hour. And like Foil stated to me, "This never gets old, man."
After a relatively quick takedown/setup we got stage-ready in the only private place we had access to: the men's room. It's better than some places we've changed (parking lots, stairwells, that weird space in Ash St.) but, due to the Stygian river of Eternal Urine Stank, it wasn't exactly the most pleasant. Our makeup taking a floor dive during this frenzied activity didn't do much to sell me on it, either.
We make our way back up to the stage and launch right into our set. It only takes me getting to the 2nd song in the set to screw up - so much so that we have to start the song over. That's what happens when I clamor for adding more than one new song to the set list. Yet the 50 or so folks in attendance were still appreciative and forgiving. We added, "TV Dinner Casualty," "Hollywood Waffle House," and "In the DriveThru" to the already-prodigious list and they all went off quite well, I think. The last song there is a little more obscure, fitting into the "counted" setlist of, perhaps, the more hardcore Misfits fans; and, as such, it kinda missed its mark since those that are fans of that level tend not to really get our schtick or, at the very least, take it all a bit too seriously. But I like singing it and it's a good "snowball dance" kinda song, something missing (perhaps rightly so?) from our prior setlist.
Exhausted, sweaty beyond belief, and suffering from indigestion (I would still recommend "The Exorcist" burger from across the street but, perhaps, not before a workout) we hang out and chat for awhile with those folks remaining. Thanks to everyone for the kind words of appreciation. The Misfats send that love all the way 'round our own equator (yes, we do have one) and right back at ya'. C.H.O.A.D. and I nearly hurl when ST wanna take us out to eat breakfast - not at the idea, of course, but at the prospect of trying to eat anything at that point. We politely decline and find our way to pass out in our hotel, thankful and full of the good feelings that a quality show with quality folks can give you.
Just a few articles to document our part in the festivities that night:
Object closer may appear fatter than they really are...
Feel the envy, feel the love
the Hamzinger in action
So this is how the NW MiniTour begins, huh?
The wonderfully monstrous hybrid that is Stay Tuned and the Misfats.
Well, come out for the 2nd go-'round on March 4th at Tommy's Club. BE there.
Arriving in separate vehicles (after the trailer debacle; don't ask) we find that we'll be unable to crash for free at Baloney's buddy's, the Cactus Huggers, place due to the NW-equivalent of a hurricane we got hit with Friday night. Seems most places are booked to the gills, too, there in the downtown/University area. Megan (I hope I'm spelling that right) the bartender at the Monkey busts her ass in trying to find us a place by making lotsa calls, continuously checking in with us on it all, and basically being a decent human being. Why more show-related folks aren't like that I don't know but her efforts were well appreciated by us all. Baloney managed to find a great deal, tho', so we got an $88 room for all 4 of us a couple blocks from the venue. Said room didn't involve manass-to-manass action (involuntary, of course), too, which was a nice change. Of course, tell a skinny guy he's gonna share a room with two large guys - large guys who love to crank the A/C in hotel rooms especially after sweating out the equivalent of three children during a set - and he'd better have his own blanket. I think we gave Dr. C.H.O.A.D pneumonia but that's what he gets for not having an Artic-ready layer of protective blubber.
The Monkey's not huge but it is wonderfully isolated from nearby frat infestation. They even take special, Misfats-prescribed drink orders. "Cozy" would be a better word for the place, I think. At least they covered one of the pool tables pre-set to help focus folks there on the bands. The stage is floor-level and the crowd setup is covered by two rows of folding tables and a bunch of chairs. It felt a little '68-comeback-ish...
Stay Tuned and us were the only bands playing so we kicked off by 10:30pm. ST has a healthy amount of gear to setup (which they do with blurry efficacy) so I think it took them nearly a half hour just for that feat. But they were soon into their set, wowing a crowd that had obviously never heard them. That part makes me a little sad, in that a band of their caliber and quality don't have a fanatical following that would embarrass other bands, especially in their hometown. A "prophet is only without honor..." I suppose. They are updating some of their old faves for a variety of reasons and have added some new tunes since last we played together. Most fitting was their version of "The Munsters" theme, dedicated to the recently departed "Grampa" Al Lewis. They stupefied, amazed, overcame, and rawked for the better part of an hour. And like Foil stated to me, "This never gets old, man."
After a relatively quick takedown/setup we got stage-ready in the only private place we had access to: the men's room. It's better than some places we've changed (parking lots, stairwells, that weird space in Ash St.) but, due to the Stygian river of Eternal Urine Stank, it wasn't exactly the most pleasant. Our makeup taking a floor dive during this frenzied activity didn't do much to sell me on it, either.
We make our way back up to the stage and launch right into our set. It only takes me getting to the 2nd song in the set to screw up - so much so that we have to start the song over. That's what happens when I clamor for adding more than one new song to the set list. Yet the 50 or so folks in attendance were still appreciative and forgiving. We added, "TV Dinner Casualty," "Hollywood Waffle House," and "In the DriveThru" to the already-prodigious list and they all went off quite well, I think. The last song there is a little more obscure, fitting into the "counted" setlist of, perhaps, the more hardcore Misfits fans; and, as such, it kinda missed its mark since those that are fans of that level tend not to really get our schtick or, at the very least, take it all a bit too seriously. But I like singing it and it's a good "snowball dance" kinda song, something missing (perhaps rightly so?) from our prior setlist.
Exhausted, sweaty beyond belief, and suffering from indigestion (I would still recommend "The Exorcist" burger from across the street but, perhaps, not before a workout) we hang out and chat for awhile with those folks remaining. Thanks to everyone for the kind words of appreciation. The Misfats send that love all the way 'round our own equator (yes, we do have one) and right back at ya'. C.H.O.A.D. and I nearly hurl when ST wanna take us out to eat breakfast - not at the idea, of course, but at the prospect of trying to eat anything at that point. We politely decline and find our way to pass out in our hotel, thankful and full of the good feelings that a quality show with quality folks can give you.
Just a few articles to document our part in the festivities that night:
So this is how the NW MiniTour begins, huh?
Well, come out for the 2nd go-'round on March 4th at Tommy's Club. BE there.
Friday, January 27, 2006
For sale
Misfats merchandise, our foray into the intermahnetizationology. Buy stuff and maybe we can afford to play near you.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Return to the Return of CBGB's
Idiotic traffic and driving rain notwithstanding, we ended up in Eugene last Saturday. This marked our return to John Henry's, a club your humble narrator visited obscenely often whilst living in the confines of that town. Last time there we nearly sold the place out along with four other bands. Going on at 1am and having 200+ people staying is a rewarding experience.
This time 'round we brought along Blondage and The Romanes. Pre-show, having a smoke by the backdoor (since indoor smoking has now been banned there), I get to younger guys asking if they can go in. I tell 'em it doesn't matter to me and they figure I don't work there, so they ask me what band I'm in. Upon my response they both get wide-eyed and there's that dawning grin of pleasure: "Dude! You're who we're here to see!" That always feels just damn good.
The service downtown still sux except, of course, at JH. We had a couple pre-show heavies at the Rogue brewery across the way from the venue. I overheard our idiotic waiter saying that he'd worked at McMenamin's prior to Rogue in Eugene. You will find no worse service in the continental U.S. than in McMenamin's in Eugene. Having lived there 10 years I understand this all too well, having lived through it extensively and, almost, exclusively. If someone living there didn't believe me, that I received horrible service pretty much anywhere I went, I'd invite them out with me to witness it for themselves. Everyone that went through this had to afterward admit to my correctness. Amazing - maybe it's the hippies, maybe it's the college town, maybe it's the combo there, I dunno. But the waiter at Rogue was up to the challenge of being a horrible waiter and an asshole to boot. I sat with a broken beer for at least :15 min. in a place with maybe a dozen people in it. We were even close by the bar itself. Foil's burger order took nearly an hour - for a cheeseburger and for a hungry Misfat, that just ain't cool. I call for a local boycott of that place until that retard is replaced (tall bearded asshole waiter - he should be easy to identify) there. Rogue's beer is far superior to McMenamin's anyway and it deserves to be served by respectable, responsible adults.
That said, the service at JH gets special commendation - they take care of everyone quite well, regardless of band membership or not. We happened to just take a seat at the bar during Blondage's soundcheck and they served us while setting up. That alone is the mark of quality of a bar/bartender - it's not an inconvenience to them, they put the customer first. I especially like that.
Speaking of Blondage's sound can I just say, "Wow!"? The previous time we'd played together was the first time I'd heard them. It was also their first after not playing for a few months. They sounded very solid and spot-on then; this past Saturday? It's like they pulled out all the stops. They sounded incredible, not just in the "tribute band" sense but also in the musicianship sense. Tremendous ability and showmanship there. It prompted my comment from the stage during our set, "We'll now take a brief break from the musical ability of the evening to bring you The Misfats."
The Romanes brought it long and hard, much to the pure enjoyment of the remaining crowd. "Joey" even had to go to work at 7am so they were all headed back that evening, after their set started around 12:30am. I still feel bad and would have had them go on 2nd instead of us - I just wish I would've known sooner! But that didn't stop them from giving the crowd two encores, either. Again, many thanks and mucho appreciation to those guys.
Our set? Man, I was in pain but in a good way. I even cut "Buffet Zombies" off accidentally, forgetting the second verse. The best thing is that we've been playing together long enough now, in varying degrees of sobriety, that the rest of the band can recover from my screwup instantly. That, too, is completely rewarding. The rest of our set went well, tho', and we charged through in proper order. I even got some good digs in on skinny bands (probably 90% of those in our audience met that description) and they gave it back in good order, too. Jocularity ensued and we had a ball.
Afterward, as I'm recuperating in the back "green room," I get two nervous guys just wanting to meet me and get numerous pix. The drunker of the two had a killer tattoo of the devillocked skull on his arm so they were long-time 'fits fans. And, now, they were just fawning over us. Again, that's humbling and rewarding all in the same shot. The lack of musicianship of The Misfats is more than compensated by the fan appreciation and the fun everyone (including us) has at our shows. Word.
Of course, I forgot again that the new black greasepaint isn't good on my eyes. My right eye reacts like I've been stabbed with a meaty finger soaked in pinkeye serum. It stays that way for a couple days, too, giving opportunities for long stares from co-workers and lots of avoidance. I can appreciate those moments, tho', and try to rub my eye and then touch lots of stuff in the breakroom in front of them. Nice, no? That's me making lemonade outta lemons, baby!
!Next show! !Next show! !Next show!
Saturday Feb 4th
Misfats (Portland)
Stay Tuned (Seattle)
@ Monkey Pub
5305 Roosevelt Way NE
Seattle, WA 98105
Doors 9pm, $5, 21+
(Of note, in the user reviews of that spot, is this: "if you want to hang out, have a beer, smoke a cigarette and shoot pool in a nearly frat-free atmosphere in the U-District, Monkey Pub can't be beat.")
This time 'round we brought along Blondage and The Romanes. Pre-show, having a smoke by the backdoor (since indoor smoking has now been banned there), I get to younger guys asking if they can go in. I tell 'em it doesn't matter to me and they figure I don't work there, so they ask me what band I'm in. Upon my response they both get wide-eyed and there's that dawning grin of pleasure: "Dude! You're who we're here to see!" That always feels just damn good.
The service downtown still sux except, of course, at JH. We had a couple pre-show heavies at the Rogue brewery across the way from the venue. I overheard our idiotic waiter saying that he'd worked at McMenamin's prior to Rogue in Eugene. You will find no worse service in the continental U.S. than in McMenamin's in Eugene. Having lived there 10 years I understand this all too well, having lived through it extensively and, almost, exclusively. If someone living there didn't believe me, that I received horrible service pretty much anywhere I went, I'd invite them out with me to witness it for themselves. Everyone that went through this had to afterward admit to my correctness. Amazing - maybe it's the hippies, maybe it's the college town, maybe it's the combo there, I dunno. But the waiter at Rogue was up to the challenge of being a horrible waiter and an asshole to boot. I sat with a broken beer for at least :15 min. in a place with maybe a dozen people in it. We were even close by the bar itself. Foil's burger order took nearly an hour - for a cheeseburger and for a hungry Misfat, that just ain't cool. I call for a local boycott of that place until that retard is replaced (tall bearded asshole waiter - he should be easy to identify) there. Rogue's beer is far superior to McMenamin's anyway and it deserves to be served by respectable, responsible adults.
That said, the service at JH gets special commendation - they take care of everyone quite well, regardless of band membership or not. We happened to just take a seat at the bar during Blondage's soundcheck and they served us while setting up. That alone is the mark of quality of a bar/bartender - it's not an inconvenience to them, they put the customer first. I especially like that.
Speaking of Blondage's sound can I just say, "Wow!"? The previous time we'd played together was the first time I'd heard them. It was also their first after not playing for a few months. They sounded very solid and spot-on then; this past Saturday? It's like they pulled out all the stops. They sounded incredible, not just in the "tribute band" sense but also in the musicianship sense. Tremendous ability and showmanship there. It prompted my comment from the stage during our set, "We'll now take a brief break from the musical ability of the evening to bring you The Misfats."
The Romanes brought it long and hard, much to the pure enjoyment of the remaining crowd. "Joey" even had to go to work at 7am so they were all headed back that evening, after their set started around 12:30am. I still feel bad and would have had them go on 2nd instead of us - I just wish I would've known sooner! But that didn't stop them from giving the crowd two encores, either. Again, many thanks and mucho appreciation to those guys.
Our set? Man, I was in pain but in a good way. I even cut "Buffet Zombies" off accidentally, forgetting the second verse. The best thing is that we've been playing together long enough now, in varying degrees of sobriety, that the rest of the band can recover from my screwup instantly. That, too, is completely rewarding. The rest of our set went well, tho', and we charged through in proper order. I even got some good digs in on skinny bands (probably 90% of those in our audience met that description) and they gave it back in good order, too. Jocularity ensued and we had a ball.
Afterward, as I'm recuperating in the back "green room," I get two nervous guys just wanting to meet me and get numerous pix. The drunker of the two had a killer tattoo of the devillocked skull on his arm so they were long-time 'fits fans. And, now, they were just fawning over us. Again, that's humbling and rewarding all in the same shot. The lack of musicianship of The Misfats is more than compensated by the fan appreciation and the fun everyone (including us) has at our shows. Word.
Of course, I forgot again that the new black greasepaint isn't good on my eyes. My right eye reacts like I've been stabbed with a meaty finger soaked in pinkeye serum. It stays that way for a couple days, too, giving opportunities for long stares from co-workers and lots of avoidance. I can appreciate those moments, tho', and try to rub my eye and then touch lots of stuff in the breakroom in front of them. Nice, no? That's me making lemonade outta lemons, baby!
!Next show! !Next show! !Next show!
Saturday Feb 4th
Misfats (Portland)
Stay Tuned (Seattle)
@ Monkey Pub
5305 Roosevelt Way NE
Seattle, WA 98105
Doors 9pm, $5, 21+
(Of note, in the user reviews of that spot, is this: "if you want to hang out, have a beer, smoke a cigarette and shoot pool in a nearly frat-free atmosphere in the U-District, Monkey Pub can't be beat.")
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
How appropriate...
Word of the Day today is "gastronome".
gastronome: a lover of good food and drink.
You can get both on this weekend if you're even remotely close to Eugene, OR, and are 21+ or have some piece of plastic that says as much. The Misfats are proud to be part of, "The Return to CBGB's" bill along with The Romanes and Blondage. Showtime's the usual "9pm" and it's to be found at John Henry's.
Witness the triumphant return!
gastronome: a lover of good food and drink.
You can get both on this weekend if you're even remotely close to Eugene, OR, and are 21+ or have some piece of plastic that says as much. The Misfats are proud to be part of, "The Return to CBGB's" bill along with The Romanes and Blondage. Showtime's the usual "9pm" and it's to be found at John Henry's.
Witness the triumphant return!
Friday, October 14, 2005
Fit v. Fat
So we end up more like fat ring-card girls at the bout: in this corner, weighing a slight amount, we've got Jerry Only and his version of the Misfits; and in this corner, weighing even less, we've got Michale Graves. It's basically 8 blocks of canvas between 'em, too - Jerry down at the Hawthorne Theater and Michale at Sabala's. The former's an all-ages racket, the latter a 21+ affair.
Was it chaotic? Hilarious? Awe-inspiring? I kinda doubt it. We had fun, tho', opening again for Graves at the same place we did over a year ago when he brought Gotham Road to town. Apparently there were maybe a dozen at Jerry Only's show that were over 21. This allowed somebody like Robo to hang out in the crowd unnoticed until some of our old asses hit him up for info. There were a fair amount of kids there, tho', but at $20 a ticket I'm not sure how hardcore this is any longer...
On the other hand, at Sabala's, the $8 show on a Sunday night had some takers, at least more than last year. The Untouchables (no, not that band but another one of kids from Jersey who apparently can't Google band names) opened, then us, then locals The Shift, then Graves. I still apologize for not getting the band names right but, hey, at least I mentioned them this time! Trying to do better at that...
Our set went pretty well (MUCH better than when we opened the Rainin' Blood-fest earlier this year) and, at about :30 min., we just hit the highlights. Foil got to play through a better setup than he ever has thanks to Graves' guitarist Jason needing to borrow his cab to complete his setup. The sound was incredible - even tho' we hardly pride ourselves on gear-geekery it was a nice change. MySpace folks came out in force and that's always a good crowd, too. But the highlight of the audience was prolly Dr. CHOAD's momma getting to witness her offspring ripping through a fat-core set. Decent!
Graves finally got on stage and earlier than we'd anticipated which, on a school night, is always good. He did a good mix of his own stuff (off the "Web of Dharma" album which is actually pretty alright) and the stuff he wrote when with the 'fits, both that which was recorded and that which didn't make it. He's got an amazing set of lungs and a good amount of energy. His line, "I'd rather play in front of two people than play with Jerry Only again," was saddening but enabling and good for his crowd. He played a good set but ran out of steam (his own admission) by the end.
I'll say this for the guy: he's gotta good sense of humor, a good work ethic, likes to have fun through his music, and seems pretty much a straight-up guy. I don't know if I could say the same for Jerry and his version of the Misfits but I'd like to find out someday. Robo's thought was that we should've been opening for them but who knows? It's a strange disparity, a grudging tolerance we enjoy being who we are and what we do and, more importantly, the way we do it. Maybe some day...
Eat out,
-Glenn
Was it chaotic? Hilarious? Awe-inspiring? I kinda doubt it. We had fun, tho', opening again for Graves at the same place we did over a year ago when he brought Gotham Road to town. Apparently there were maybe a dozen at Jerry Only's show that were over 21. This allowed somebody like Robo to hang out in the crowd unnoticed until some of our old asses hit him up for info. There were a fair amount of kids there, tho', but at $20 a ticket I'm not sure how hardcore this is any longer...
On the other hand, at Sabala's, the $8 show on a Sunday night had some takers, at least more than last year. The Untouchables (no, not that band but another one of kids from Jersey who apparently can't Google band names) opened, then us, then locals The Shift, then Graves. I still apologize for not getting the band names right but, hey, at least I mentioned them this time! Trying to do better at that...
Our set went pretty well (MUCH better than when we opened the Rainin' Blood-fest earlier this year) and, at about :30 min., we just hit the highlights. Foil got to play through a better setup than he ever has thanks to Graves' guitarist Jason needing to borrow his cab to complete his setup. The sound was incredible - even tho' we hardly pride ourselves on gear-geekery it was a nice change. MySpace folks came out in force and that's always a good crowd, too. But the highlight of the audience was prolly Dr. CHOAD's momma getting to witness her offspring ripping through a fat-core set. Decent!
Graves finally got on stage and earlier than we'd anticipated which, on a school night, is always good. He did a good mix of his own stuff (off the "Web of Dharma" album which is actually pretty alright) and the stuff he wrote when with the 'fits, both that which was recorded and that which didn't make it. He's got an amazing set of lungs and a good amount of energy. His line, "I'd rather play in front of two people than play with Jerry Only again," was saddening but enabling and good for his crowd. He played a good set but ran out of steam (his own admission) by the end.
I'll say this for the guy: he's gotta good sense of humor, a good work ethic, likes to have fun through his music, and seems pretty much a straight-up guy. I don't know if I could say the same for Jerry and his version of the Misfits but I'd like to find out someday. Robo's thought was that we should've been opening for them but who knows? It's a strange disparity, a grudging tolerance we enjoy being who we are and what we do and, more importantly, the way we do it. Maybe some day...
Eat out,
-Glenn
Thursday, July 14, 2005
:20 seconds over Sabala's
So the last show was weird. Weird in that sense that we were even on the bill for a weekend-long psychobilly show, even weirder that we started the whole thing off, and weirdest of all that we were done playing then went outside into the sunlight (heavily rain-filtered but "daylight" at least). What gives?
'twas the "Rainin' Blood" festivale, a fairly decent mishmash of music, cars, BBQ, and personalities. At least we got free beer, free event shirts, and some good response. That made up for the indifferent 2 dozen folks lingering in the joint at 7pm and lasting until 7:20pm. That was our set. And the assistant stage manager telling us to wrap up in the middle of the obvious last song ("You guys need to wrap it up?" and my reply, "Hey, whaddya know - we are!") and coming on stage and killing our smoke machine. The regular sound guy appreciated us helping out by doing things right like getting on and off in no time and helping get our gear outta the way. This other douchebag is another story altogether, tho'. I like playing Sabala's alot and we chatted up a good many folks in the sidebar (3D drawings covering the walls and a free jukebox with the Cockney Rejects on it). But that situation was a bit tough for any band to play in, much less us.
I called it a good dress rehearsal since everything we're doing now is pointing to the show in SFO.
And I think we're all looking forward to this Saturday's show at Porky's Pub. We always seem to have a good time there and we're busting out the full damn set this time 'round. Maybe it's the lure of cheap booze in Jell-O form, I dunno, but it should be a hoot. Come see it and you can be a "hoot'er".
'twas the "Rainin' Blood" festivale, a fairly decent mishmash of music, cars, BBQ, and personalities. At least we got free beer, free event shirts, and some good response. That made up for the indifferent 2 dozen folks lingering in the joint at 7pm and lasting until 7:20pm. That was our set. And the assistant stage manager telling us to wrap up in the middle of the obvious last song ("You guys need to wrap it up?" and my reply, "Hey, whaddya know - we are!") and coming on stage and killing our smoke machine. The regular sound guy appreciated us helping out by doing things right like getting on and off in no time and helping get our gear outta the way. This other douchebag is another story altogether, tho'. I like playing Sabala's alot and we chatted up a good many folks in the sidebar (3D drawings covering the walls and a free jukebox with the Cockney Rejects on it). But that situation was a bit tough for any band to play in, much less us.
I called it a good dress rehearsal since everything we're doing now is pointing to the show in SFO.
And I think we're all looking forward to this Saturday's show at Porky's Pub. We always seem to have a good time there and we're busting out the full damn set this time 'round. Maybe it's the lure of cheap booze in Jell-O form, I dunno, but it should be a hoot. Come see it and you can be a "hoot'er".
Friday, May 20, 2005
Worthy of a post on its own
Finally! A sammich worthy of the Misfats! See it here and disregard the flimsy retard posing with it.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
You gene, I gene, we all scream at Eugene
Wow - what a show last Friday.
Baloney and I lived in the town of Eugene, OR, for way too long and always get the same feeling of creeping, insidious dissatisfaction whenever returning. But not this time (for me, that is - Baloney still went insane after getting a parking ticket :20 min. after pulling into town).
Here is a copy of the writeup we received in the local alt.rag, the Eugene Weakly-er, Weekly. With that kinda prep on the place we should've known there'd be such a kickazz turnout but we were a little skeptical. We arrived early (naturally - the ONE thing we're not lazy about) and, after unsuccessful attempts to get into John Henry's yielded negative results, we mosied on over to Lucky's. Now, before the citywide indoor smoking ban, this was a great pool/cigar bar that sold $.95 glasses of Henry's and was literally around the block where I "worked." Now, tho', it just seemed kinda sad. Competing for our biz that night, local faves Floater were also playing downtown (but for $15). Any band that describes themselves as "art-metal" needs to have some metal artistically wrapped around their head in ultraviolent fashion. One cat, upon seeing our attempts to roust someone at John Henry's, said, "You should skip that and go see Floater!" Dr. C.H.O.A.D. retorted with one of his better ones, "'Floater'? You mean like a turd?" In true oregonian fashion this cat kept walking and muttering out loud but it felt good to already take that bite.
Speaking of bite, two things sorta related. The show featured 4 bands and started "promptly" at 10:30pm. But the bar staff was great and kept shoving handfuls of drink tickets at us so who are we to say anything bad about that setup? The first band, tho', was so abysmally awful as to drive me outside to hang with old peeps. This led to me finding the hot dog cart on the corner, a vendor selling yer basic Cossco dawgs but offering such fine ammenities as real bacon bits, grilled red peppers, and chipotle mustard. Slathering on a boatload of onions, I enjoyed every bit of the $2.50 it cost.
Thankfully, that band closed up (this their first and most likely last show - aren't we the favored ones?) and the night moved along. The Anxieties tore through a :25 min. set of Screeching Weasel songs and, to my pleasure, did belt out the hit, "I Hate Led Zepplin." Short and sweet, it was a nice break from the previous band and, for me - who seems to be the only SW fan around much - a decent enough time. A seldom seen Turbonegro cover band, Burt Reynolds Overdrive, was up next. They put on a great energetic set and I don't even like Turbonegro. Go figure. Or maybe it was the contact high I was getting waiting in the green room before their set (this is eugene, after all). In any case, they, too, were a welcome addition to the night - plus it was good to see the sadly now-defunct Courtesy Clerks doing something more.
At about :10 after 1am we hit the stage. Normally, when this happens, so many folks have cleared out of the given place that we're just playing to the other bands that are stranded there. Not so the case this evening, tho'. While not as packed as earlier in the night the true faithful remained to raise some fists, guffaws, drinks, and laughter. Thankfully, we'd had the foresight to cut Baloney's mic 'cuz he was buzzing offa 6 long islands and a broken bass strap - still staying in tune and focused, tho', which was damn impressive. Everything he also threw out to the audience got chucked back at us nicely, too, and even a few things that we didn't supply found their way on stage. The pizza to my crotch was a nice touch, too, 'cuz this place didn't serve any pizza. I still think it was thrown by one of my chickenshite enemies from The Old Days who's all fat now and was sorta half-turned to the stage but still stayed through our entire set but who knows? We were all on the edge of puking or passing out our entire set but we were also actually in tune and having a ball. Everyone there seemed to be very much into it and we'd like to thank 'em all, especially those that started the pit and kept it going. Fantabulous!
We had our great haul at the end of the evening, not the least of which was the invitiation to return whenever we wanted. That sure sounds good to us but we've got some miles to put on our soles first. We'll be back, Eugene, with a new setlist and more raucousness, just you wait!
Baloney and I lived in the town of Eugene, OR, for way too long and always get the same feeling of creeping, insidious dissatisfaction whenever returning. But not this time (for me, that is - Baloney still went insane after getting a parking ticket :20 min. after pulling into town).
Here is a copy of the writeup we received in the local alt.rag, the Eugene Weakly-er, Weekly. With that kinda prep on the place we should've known there'd be such a kickazz turnout but we were a little skeptical. We arrived early (naturally - the ONE thing we're not lazy about) and, after unsuccessful attempts to get into John Henry's yielded negative results, we mosied on over to Lucky's. Now, before the citywide indoor smoking ban, this was a great pool/cigar bar that sold $.95 glasses of Henry's and was literally around the block where I "worked." Now, tho', it just seemed kinda sad. Competing for our biz that night, local faves Floater were also playing downtown (but for $15). Any band that describes themselves as "art-metal" needs to have some metal artistically wrapped around their head in ultraviolent fashion. One cat, upon seeing our attempts to roust someone at John Henry's, said, "You should skip that and go see Floater!" Dr. C.H.O.A.D. retorted with one of his better ones, "'Floater'? You mean like a turd?" In true oregonian fashion this cat kept walking and muttering out loud but it felt good to already take that bite.
Speaking of bite, two things sorta related. The show featured 4 bands and started "promptly" at 10:30pm. But the bar staff was great and kept shoving handfuls of drink tickets at us so who are we to say anything bad about that setup? The first band, tho', was so abysmally awful as to drive me outside to hang with old peeps. This led to me finding the hot dog cart on the corner, a vendor selling yer basic Cossco dawgs but offering such fine ammenities as real bacon bits, grilled red peppers, and chipotle mustard. Slathering on a boatload of onions, I enjoyed every bit of the $2.50 it cost.
Thankfully, that band closed up (this their first and most likely last show - aren't we the favored ones?) and the night moved along. The Anxieties tore through a :25 min. set of Screeching Weasel songs and, to my pleasure, did belt out the hit, "I Hate Led Zepplin." Short and sweet, it was a nice break from the previous band and, for me - who seems to be the only SW fan around much - a decent enough time. A seldom seen Turbonegro cover band, Burt Reynolds Overdrive, was up next. They put on a great energetic set and I don't even like Turbonegro. Go figure. Or maybe it was the contact high I was getting waiting in the green room before their set (this is eugene, after all). In any case, they, too, were a welcome addition to the night - plus it was good to see the sadly now-defunct Courtesy Clerks doing something more.
At about :10 after 1am we hit the stage. Normally, when this happens, so many folks have cleared out of the given place that we're just playing to the other bands that are stranded there. Not so the case this evening, tho'. While not as packed as earlier in the night the true faithful remained to raise some fists, guffaws, drinks, and laughter. Thankfully, we'd had the foresight to cut Baloney's mic 'cuz he was buzzing offa 6 long islands and a broken bass strap - still staying in tune and focused, tho', which was damn impressive. Everything he also threw out to the audience got chucked back at us nicely, too, and even a few things that we didn't supply found their way on stage. The pizza to my crotch was a nice touch, too, 'cuz this place didn't serve any pizza. I still think it was thrown by one of my chickenshite enemies from The Old Days who's all fat now and was sorta half-turned to the stage but still stayed through our entire set but who knows? We were all on the edge of puking or passing out our entire set but we were also actually in tune and having a ball. Everyone there seemed to be very much into it and we'd like to thank 'em all, especially those that started the pit and kept it going. Fantabulous!
We had our great haul at the end of the evening, not the least of which was the invitiation to return whenever we wanted. That sure sounds good to us but we've got some miles to put on our soles first. We'll be back, Eugene, with a new setlist and more raucousness, just you wait!
Monday, May 02, 2005
Monday, March 28, 2005
The good news is...
from The Ramones official site.
MARKY RAMONE CALLS IT A DAY - AND IT WAS FUN!:
As you know, I have been playing with Jerry Only from The Misfits and Dez from Black Flag, but I've decided that four years is enough. The last shows I will be doing with them will be in Mexico. I will be doing other things on my own, mainly Ramones related business; I will finish my book, and I will be a d.j. on Sirius Radio. I want to thank again, everyone who has made "Raw" and "End of the Century" a great success. I will be seeing you soon, with my own band. I give Jerry and Dez the best of luck.
MARKY RAMONE 03/25/05
It's shy of an apology for, "Project 1950," but it's at least welcome news.
MARKY RAMONE CALLS IT A DAY - AND IT WAS FUN!:
As you know, I have been playing with Jerry Only from The Misfits and Dez from Black Flag, but I've decided that four years is enough. The last shows I will be doing with them will be in Mexico. I will be doing other things on my own, mainly Ramones related business; I will finish my book, and I will be a d.j. on Sirius Radio. I want to thank again, everyone who has made "Raw" and "End of the Century" a great success. I will be seeing you soon, with my own band. I give Jerry and Dez the best of luck.
MARKY RAMONE 03/25/05
It's shy of an apology for, "Project 1950," but it's at least welcome news.
Bands we love
Check out the link to Darkbuster in the nav. section of this music rag's site.
SFO show is coming and it's gonna be mammoth, my friends...For example, if I were to say words like Jewdriver or Knights of the New Crusade, what would you do?
You'd tear your fucking head off in ecstatic glee, that's what you'd do. Then you'd figure out how to reassamble yerself by early June.
SFO show is coming and it's gonna be mammoth, my friends...For example, if I were to say words like Jewdriver or Knights of the New Crusade, what would you do?
You'd tear your fucking head off in ecstatic glee, that's what you'd do. Then you'd figure out how to reassamble yerself by early June.
Monday, March 21, 2005
Ash St. show - 03.19.2005
To be honest, I'd kinda forgotten about this show until the Wednesday previous. But our pre-show practice went well, running through about 8 songs, trying a few tempo changes and all. We decided to head down a little early and avoid the parking snafus related to The Great Douchebaggery occuring at Kell's that night. That's a long time to sit down at the Ash Street, tho'...
Filthy White Trash were already loaded in, as were The Cooks, when we got there around 7:15pm. FWT even had a banner outside promoting the show and, between them and Monkey Fur, they'd pumped alotta hype around this show which was super cool on their part. I didn't chat with anyone from The Cooks but everyone else I talked with seemed pretty laid back and, alternately, stoked for the show. That alone got me much more in the mood for it all.
The show came with an emcee, Tres (the "s" is silent, he told me; I responded with, "As in "fox"? but he didn't get it), who talked alot but was a pretty good natured guy. He supplied us with an entire bucket of his Voodoo Doughnuts for our set so I'm not complaining AT ALL. Heck, even Elvis opened up with a few crowd favorites to set the tone for the evening (really!).
The Cooks were alright - think less "home cookin'" perhaps and more "cooking school" and you get the idea. They didn't piss me off anyway.
Monkey Fur were up next. Before their set the emcee introduced Kitty and Master Cylinder, SG-lookin' strippers who acted more like ringcard girls. They seemed to think very highly of themselves but did successfully parade the bands' names on placards before their sets (except for The Cooks - sorry, guys; I guess that's the price of being more on time than a stripper). They were also taking care of raffle registrants, apparently. Not a bad idea, altogether, but their collective brain power wouldn't light a glowstick and since when is an "A" cup size acceptable for a stripper? What's wrong with this freakin' country?!?
Monkey Fur more than made up for it with pure decadent noisepunk fun. Despite some folks' objections to their wearing masks ("too 'Slipknot' for me" which is understandable) they rawked right in the gutter from the get-go and had a ball doing it. Their guitarist was a quite-capable shreddist, too, and their stage show included another pseudo-stripper/super-annoying chick gyrated with them for most of the set. Unfortunately, the lead singer didn't heed my oft-yelled advice to punch her in the head but whatever. She and another alterna-chick got all friendly on stage, this same broad who later told us, as we entered to get on stage, that we "looked HOT!" Brash, noisy, and super-messy, Monkey Fur lived up to my expectations and I can't wait to play with 'em again.
FWT took to the stage next. They had the most crowd activity by far, getting a bit of a pit going a few times during their rawk-filled set. And, yes - they were hipsters disguised as that sect's romanticized vision of white trash (let me show you where I grew up and I'll give you true "whiskey tango" - code for "W/T" or "White Trash" for you un-military types) - but there's no denying their rawkability. Their guitar and bass were out-freakin'-standing and the lead singer had enough David Lee Roth in him to make it damn entertaining. Noisepunk, to be certain, but very well done. The strippers flashing and then making out didn't necessarily hurt, either, but, again, no response to, "PUNCH 'EM IN THE HEAD!!!"
So we were there batting cleanup, I guess, tho' I'm thankful we didn't have to clean up. Stuffed animals, granny grippers, hardcore porn, and donuts littered the stage and floor by that point. And, apparently, much to Miss Kelly's chagrin, she doubled the number of penises that she's seen at Misfats shows as Elvis exposed his ol'self as our "opener." I did appreciate that soundgirl Heather played the theme from "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" as our intro, too. We sped up a few songs primarily 'cuz they sound better ("Some Kinda Meat," especially but also, "Elastic Age") that way; but I also appreciate it so I'm tired sooner in the set but we've done more by that point now. Until I get into better cardio shape and get my legs back under me, so to speak, that works nicely. Band friend Tommy made his appearance and made it worthwhile, shrieking, "I LOVE YOU, GLEN HAMZINGER!" between each song. I told him that never gets old. Jokes about us having more tits on stage than the so-called strippers of earlier (they were looooong gone by the time we started) and their low self-esteem aside, the crowd that was left seemed to respond pretty well to us, I'd say.
I only wish we had $15 for the 3 shirts that were sold versus the $10 we ended up with but oh well. Oh and having my cell phone (and the bottle opener from my key chain) back would be swell, too, I suppose. But I'd still call it a success of a show anyway.
Filthy White Trash were already loaded in, as were The Cooks, when we got there around 7:15pm. FWT even had a banner outside promoting the show and, between them and Monkey Fur, they'd pumped alotta hype around this show which was super cool on their part. I didn't chat with anyone from The Cooks but everyone else I talked with seemed pretty laid back and, alternately, stoked for the show. That alone got me much more in the mood for it all.
The show came with an emcee, Tres (the "s" is silent, he told me; I responded with, "As in "fox"? but he didn't get it), who talked alot but was a pretty good natured guy. He supplied us with an entire bucket of his Voodoo Doughnuts for our set so I'm not complaining AT ALL. Heck, even Elvis opened up with a few crowd favorites to set the tone for the evening (really!).
The Cooks were alright - think less "home cookin'" perhaps and more "cooking school" and you get the idea. They didn't piss me off anyway.
Monkey Fur were up next. Before their set the emcee introduced Kitty and Master Cylinder, SG-lookin' strippers who acted more like ringcard girls. They seemed to think very highly of themselves but did successfully parade the bands' names on placards before their sets (except for The Cooks - sorry, guys; I guess that's the price of being more on time than a stripper). They were also taking care of raffle registrants, apparently. Not a bad idea, altogether, but their collective brain power wouldn't light a glowstick and since when is an "A" cup size acceptable for a stripper? What's wrong with this freakin' country?!?
Monkey Fur more than made up for it with pure decadent noisepunk fun. Despite some folks' objections to their wearing masks ("too 'Slipknot' for me" which is understandable) they rawked right in the gutter from the get-go and had a ball doing it. Their guitarist was a quite-capable shreddist, too, and their stage show included another pseudo-stripper/super-annoying chick gyrated with them for most of the set. Unfortunately, the lead singer didn't heed my oft-yelled advice to punch her in the head but whatever. She and another alterna-chick got all friendly on stage, this same broad who later told us, as we entered to get on stage, that we "looked HOT!" Brash, noisy, and super-messy, Monkey Fur lived up to my expectations and I can't wait to play with 'em again.
FWT took to the stage next. They had the most crowd activity by far, getting a bit of a pit going a few times during their rawk-filled set. And, yes - they were hipsters disguised as that sect's romanticized vision of white trash (let me show you where I grew up and I'll give you true "whiskey tango" - code for "W/T" or "White Trash" for you un-military types) - but there's no denying their rawkability. Their guitar and bass were out-freakin'-standing and the lead singer had enough David Lee Roth in him to make it damn entertaining. Noisepunk, to be certain, but very well done. The strippers flashing and then making out didn't necessarily hurt, either, but, again, no response to, "PUNCH 'EM IN THE HEAD!!!"
So we were there batting cleanup, I guess, tho' I'm thankful we didn't have to clean up. Stuffed animals, granny grippers, hardcore porn, and donuts littered the stage and floor by that point. And, apparently, much to Miss Kelly's chagrin, she doubled the number of penises that she's seen at Misfats shows as Elvis exposed his ol'self as our "opener." I did appreciate that soundgirl Heather played the theme from "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" as our intro, too. We sped up a few songs primarily 'cuz they sound better ("Some Kinda Meat," especially but also, "Elastic Age") that way; but I also appreciate it so I'm tired sooner in the set but we've done more by that point now. Until I get into better cardio shape and get my legs back under me, so to speak, that works nicely. Band friend Tommy made his appearance and made it worthwhile, shrieking, "I LOVE YOU, GLEN HAMZINGER!" between each song. I told him that never gets old. Jokes about us having more tits on stage than the so-called strippers of earlier (they were looooong gone by the time we started) and their low self-esteem aside, the crowd that was left seemed to respond pretty well to us, I'd say.
I only wish we had $15 for the 3 shirts that were sold versus the $10 we ended up with but oh well. Oh and having my cell phone (and the bottle opener from my key chain) back would be swell, too, I suppose. But I'd still call it a success of a show anyway.
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