I hate reading anything that's not split up into paragraphs, so i apologize for not having that happening here....mitchell, that apology is for you....Pardon my momentary digression. Onto more urgent and pressing matters involving gray skies and flocks of sheep. My prediction of a killer show last night came true as i knew it would, as we pulled off a scorching and altogether wicked rendition of No Quarter as our encore. Another more comedic highlight of the performance was a botched monitor to stage jump during the song "freak out" (of course) by yours truly, as i landed in a puddle of my own mansweat, thereby slipping and falling on my ass. To recover, i executed a full backwards summersault into a prone position right in front of my amp, making it seem half way intentional. I believe we may have even captured it on tape, but i may move to destroy the evidence in order to salvage a bit of dignity.
We also got to drink free single malt scotch the whole night, which proved worthwhile and delicious. Thank you Scotland. After the show, we headed back to our hotel and chatted together about the status of the world. The topics covered included global warming, the state of the music industry, and again why George W. is such a fucking monkey. Binzer seemed most passionate about the state of the environment, expressing the opinion that the U.S. as a country is on the whole more ignorant and blithe about waste management and recycling, and that the world is essentially going to hell in a handbasket. We all agreed. In terms of the music industry debate, i made the argument that creative pursuits have historically functioned in cycles, and that we are in for some sort of our own renaissance, as well as a change in the way musicians are capable of making money. I guess that's a bit of my blind optimism at work, but i really have no other choice but to be optimistic at this point. After all, i couldn't possibly do anything else....i don't have the patience, knowledge, wherewithal, or tolerance for authority that building a career in other field would require. Much to my parent's chagrin, I will probably and hopefully be a bassbum for life. As for the subject of George W. being a monkey, i need not delve into that realm. It's too easy.
On a sadder note, i found out on BBC news this morning that Anna Nicole Smith has passed away into the great beyond. My condolences to Howard, her dog Sugar Pie, and anyone else in the Nicole-Smith clan. One wonders, however, if there is really anybody left in her family to mourn her. She was a hero to redneck, big-breasted, stupid women everywhere. She proved that even if you are too high to speak or sit up straight, you can still be famous and marry 80 year olds for their money; a true inspiration. This all seems to me like the first official death at the hands of "reality" TV, as we all guiltily watched her sad opera of the macabre unfold on E, as a fat woman, and then her subsequent transformation -with the help of TRIMSPA- back to the form she held during her soft porn days. I think she may have been one of the first naked women i ever saw on showtime as a kid, in a movie entitled "Skyscraper." If you haven't seen it, do, because there's a wicked sex scene or 45 in there that should provide an apt tribute to her creative contributions to the world. If you take offense to my tone, I understand. But she lived her life in a way that makes the cliche of the American Dream even more cliche, and almost makes me feel dirty. Actually, no. It makes me feel downright sinful for ever having seen Naked Gun 33 1/3 (or was is it 2 1/2). To be fair, i love those movies. And OJ was in them, so that's great too.
Having one's morning start with that headline sets an odd precident for the rest of the day, as i'm sure you'll agree. Actually, i'm not sure when you all found out about that news given the nature of the time difference across the pond, but i'm sure the NY Post had a field day with the story. Anyways, we all arose around 10am slightly hungover from the single malt and the late night politics, hungry for a real breakfast. Binzer's flight left Glasgow at around 2, so he needed to be out by around noon, giving us a bit of time to eat kickass bacon egg and cheeses (yes, they have those here too). After breakfast, we sadly parted ways with the righteous Binzer and took to the streets of Glasgow for a lazy perambulation. Since Nuno, our faithful tour manager and resident road warrior, carried the responsibility of Binzer's ride to the airport, the walk consisted of myself, Shara, and James. The two of them are such a happy and extraordinary couple that it made me miss my own lady back home. Yes, i'm going to get sappy for a second here. Sue me. We stopped off in a little coffee shop for some warm beverages, and i took that opportunity to give Randi a ring, awakening her with kind words and sweetness. blah blah. I'm in disbelief right now, because she is the best thing that's happened to me in a while, and she has come along in a period in my life where almost everything else is going swimmingly - almost all of my boys from high school have made the migration east to the apple, i've found myself in several bands which are sustaining and validating my endeavors as a musician, my family is healthy and happy, and the world is still round. For my departure, Randi wrote me a haiku for every day I'd be away, laminated each one, and placed them in an amazing little box with a compass in the middle so i'd be able to symbolically know where home is. Tell me that's not the best gift a girl has ever presented a boy and i'll tell you are a fatuous ignoramus (look it up...).
Nuno returned around 12:30, and we proceeded to load the gear, which we had luckily been able to leave at the venue over night, from the venue into the van. We got on the road at around 1:00 for jolly old England and our next destination, Manchester City. The drive south through the Scottish countryside was pristine as i had expected it to having made a similar trek on my first visit here, even in spite of the grey overcast skies and the spots of rain. My highlight of the drive happened as we stopped off for gas (petrol, as they refer to it in the UK) and got a chance for a sweet photo opportunity with the silliest flock of sheep i've ever seen in my life. I walked up to the fence with my camera and they began to sheepisly (!)retreat until i offered up a vigorous BAAAAAAAAH......which seemed to freeze them in their tracks. I got a couple great shots of the silly creatures, with each one of them looking straight at me in a funny little formation, and each of them with a full winter coat of fluffy, goofy wool. I tried that whole mantra that Babe the magical shepherd pig learns in that movie, but they didn't seem interested. For the record, if you haven't seen the movie Babe, then you're not my friend.
As we got closer to the border with England, the weather grew even more dark and depressing. Today's guest DJ was James, who spun an eclectic mixture of stuff. My favorites included the Archie Bronson Outfit, Psapp, I love you but I've chosen darkness (yes, that's the actual band name), and the solo work of one Earl Harvin, who is the studio stud responsible for the drumming on the MBD album "Bring Me the Workhorse," and the forthcoming album "1,000 Shark's Teeth." I recommend checking out this stuff, because it's all fucking amazing. Earl's stuff is available on myspace at myspace.com/earlharvin. Represent. I took a little snooze for the last leg of our trip, dreaming of things i can't now recall. I have today and tomorrow off in dreary Manchester, and as it is now friday evening and around GO TIME, I will be signing off to make my best attempt at getting embarrassing at the surrounding water holes. I will do my best to get a feel for the scene, and perhaps meet some locals. Perhaps some yocals, too.
Friday, February 9, 2007
me and my manchest-er
I hate reading anything that's not split up into paragraphs, so i apologize for not having that happening here....mitchell, that apology is for you....Pardon my momentary digression. Onto more urgent and pressing matters involving gray skies and flocks of sheep. My prediction of a killer show last night came true as i knew it would, as we pulled off a scorching and altogether wicked rendition of No Quarter as our encore. Another more comedic highlight of the performance was a botched monitor to stage jump during the song "freak out" (of course) by yours truly, as i landed in a puddle of my own mansweat, thereby slipping and falling on my ass. To recover, i executed a full backwards summersault into a prone position right in front of my amp, making it seem half way intentional. I believe we may have even captured it on tape, but i may move to destroy the evidence in order to salvage a bit of dignity.
We also got to drink free single malt scotch the whole night, which proved worthwhile and delicious. Thank you Scotland. After the show, we headed back to our hotel and chatted together about the status of the world. The topics covered included global warming, the state of the music industry, and again why George W. is such a fucking monkey. Binzer seemed most passionate about the state of the environment, expressing the opinion that the U.S. as a country is on the whole more ignorant and blithe about waste management and recycling, and that the world is essentially going to hell in a handbasket. We all agreed. In terms of the music industry debate, i made the argument that creative pursuits have historically functioned in cycles, and that we are in for some sort of our own renaissance, as well as a change in the way musicians are capable of making money. I guess that's a bit of my blind optimism at work, but i really have no other choice but to be optimistic at this point. After all, i couldn't possibly do anything else....i don't have the patience, knowledge, wherewithal, or tolerance for authority that building a career in other field would require. Much to my parent's chagrin, I will probably and hopefully be a bassbum for life. As for the subject of George W. being a monkey, i need not delve into that realm. It's too easy.
On a sadder note, i found out on BBC news this morning that Anna Nicole Smith has passed away into the great beyond. My condolences to Howard, her dog Sugar Pie, and anyone else in the Nicole-Smith clan. One wonders, however, if there is really anybody left in her family to mourn her. She was a hero to redneck, big-breasted, stupid women everywhere. She proved that even if you are too high to speak or sit up straight, you can still be famous and marry 80 year olds for their money; a true inspiration. This all seems to me like the first official death at the hands of "reality" TV, as we all guiltily watched her sad opera of the macabre unfold on E, as a fat woman, and then her subsequent transformation -with the help of TRIMSPA- back to the form she held during her soft porn days. I think she may have been one of the first naked women i ever saw on showtime as a kid, in a movie entitled "Skyscraper." If you haven't seen it, do, because there's a wicked sex scene or 45 in there that should provide an apt tribute to her creative contributions to the world. If you take offense to my tone, I understand. But she lived her life in a way that makes the cliche of the American Dream even more cliche, and almost makes me feel dirty. Actually, no. It makes me feel downright sinful for ever having seen Naked Gun 33 1/3 (or was is it 2 1/2). To be fair, i love those movies. And OJ was in them, so that's great too.
Having one's morning start with that headline sets an odd precident for the rest of the day, as i'm sure you'll agree. Actually, i'm not sure when you all found out about that news given the nature of the time difference across the pond, but i'm sure the NY Post had a field day with the story. Anyways, we all arose around 10am slightly hungover from the single malt and the late night politics, hungry for a real breakfast. Binzer's flight left Glasgow at around 2, so he needed to be out by around noon, giving us a bit of time to eat kickass bacon egg and cheeses (yes, they have those here too). After breakfast, we sadly parted ways with the righteous Binzer and took to the streets of Glasgow for a lazy perambulation. Since Nuno, our faithful tour manager and resident road warrior, carried the responsibility of Binzer's ride to the airport, the walk consisted of myself, Shara, and James. The two of them are such a happy and extraordinary couple that it made me miss my own lady back home. Yes, i'm going to get sappy for a second here. Sue me. We stopped off in a little coffee shop for some warm beverages, and i took that opportunity to give Randi a ring, awakening her with kind words and sweetness. blah blah. I'm in disbelief right now, because she is the best thing that's happened to me in a while, and she has come along in a period in my life where almost everything else is going swimmingly - almost all of my boys from high school have made the migration east to the apple, i've found myself in several bands which are sustaining and validating my endeavors as a musician, my family is healthy and happy, and the world is still round. For my departure, Randi wrote me a haiku for every day I'd be away, laminated each one, and placed them in an amazing little box with a compass in the middle so i'd be able to symbolically know where home is. Tell me that's not the best gift a girl has ever presented a boy and i'll tell you are a fatuous ignoramus (look it up...).
Nuno returned around 12:30, and we proceeded to load the gear, which we had luckily been able to leave at the venue over night, from the venue into the van. We got on the road at around 1:00 for jolly old England and our next destination, Manchester City. The drive south through the Scottish countryside was pristine as i had expected it to having made a similar trek on my first visit here, even in spite of the grey overcast skies and the spots of rain. My highlight of the drive happened as we stopped off for gas (petrol, as they refer to it in the UK) and got a chance for a sweet photo opportunity with the silliest flock of sheep i've ever seen in my life. I walked up to the fence with my camera and they began to sheepisly (!)retreat until i offered up a vigorous BAAAAAAAAH......which seemed to freeze them in their tracks. I got a couple great shots of the silly creatures, with each one of them looking straight at me in a funny little formation, and each of them with a full winter coat of fluffy, goofy wool. I tried that whole mantra that Babe the magical shepherd pig learns in that movie, but they didn't seem interested. For the record, if you haven't seen the movie Babe, then you're not my friend.
As we got closer to the border with England, the weather grew even more dark and depressing. Today's guest DJ was James, who spun an eclectic mixture of stuff. My favorites included the Archie Bronson Outfit, Psapp, I love you but I've chosen darkness (yes, that's the actual band name), and the solo work of one Earl Harvin, who is the studio stud responsible for the drumming on the MBD album "Bring Me the Workhorse," and the forthcoming album "1,000 Shark's Teeth." I recommend checking out this stuff, because it's all fucking amazing. Earl's stuff is available on myspace at myspace.com/earlharvin. Represent. I took a little snooze for the last leg of our trip, dreaming of things i can't now recall. I have today and tomorrow off in dreary Manchester, and as it is now friday evening and around GO TIME, I will be signing off to make my best attempt at getting embarrassing at the surrounding water holes. I will do my best to get a feel for the scene, and perhaps meet some locals. Perhaps some yocals, too.
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