Latest Rumblings...

In an effort to eliminate clutter, I gave my fiancee a pile of clothes to get rid of. Only afterwards did I remember that the USMC coat that'd been kicking around my closet for years a) actually used to fit me and b) was worn on the back cover to "Ultraglide in Black"

Seeing as three of the two dozen Dirtbombs fans in the world might still be reading here, I offer a link to said auction. Bid high! You can even get a letter of authenticity from me if you happen to win.

http://cgi.ebay.com/Vintage-USMC-Military-Dress-Coat-Uniform-Dirtbombs-/320577338149?pt=US_CSA_MC_Outerwear#ht_500wt_1154


Also, Collectors Weekly just posted an in-depth interview I did with them in regards to vinyl production and Third Man Records. Check it out over at...

http://www.collectorsweekly.com/articles/your-turntable-is-not-dead-inside-jack-whites-vinyl-record-empire/

Timmy Lampinen: Kresge Arts Fellow...

While "fellow" may be the last word I'd choose to describe Tim Lampinen (aka Tim Vulgar) in this instance it excites me to do so. Check the news here...

http://kresge.collegeforcreativestudies.edu

This means a nice chunk of change for Tim to focus on his craft. What an exciting thing to be happening in Detroit.

I'm also personally pleased because Tim asked me to write his letter of recommendation. Check the Kresge site for the specifics, but all I remember was that it was supposed to be written by someone who dealt with the applicant in a professional manner. Enjoy my letter below. And congrats to Timmy, a more deserving fellow I could not think of.


To Whom It May Concern:

My path has crossed Tim Lampinen's at many points in the past 10 years. As a drummer in the Dirtbombs, on more than one occasion I've had the unfortunate lot to follow Tim's band Clone Defects with hopes of not being completely overshadowed by their devastating live show. As the owner/operator of Cass Records I had the ultimate pleasure in releasing a 7" single with Tim's band Human Eye and experienced unusually quick sales of all 500 copies of the record, via mail order, to customers across Europe, Asia, Australia and the United States.

But more than anything, I consider myself a fan of Tim Lampinen's. For a genre like rock and roll, oft-criticized, rehashed, gimmicky or just simply fake, Tim has time and time again proven to be the real deal. Whether it's shaving a banana onstage, singing heartfelt lyrics about God or attacking a white cinderblock wall with paint mid-song at the MOCAD, Lampinen has always been the polar opposite of rote and predictable.

Tim Lampinen has consistently been creating intensely captivating sounds and stage shows in Detroit for the past decade. While other local Detroit musicians are simply satisfied with bashing out the same four chords and singing about booze and girls, Tim has never fallen into that trap. He has always pushed himself (and his bands) to create new, original, sometimes difficult work. I firmly believe that Tim Lampinen is in the exclusive company of musicians like Captain Beefheart, the Stooges and Destroy All Monsters…one who creates music that borders on art, one whose live performance borders on theater, one who, if given the extreme honor of this Kresge grant, would no doubt result in multiple important, envelope-pushing and lasting contributions to the cultural history of Detroit.

A few years ago a student at Wayne State put together a mini-documentary about Tim Lampinen for a video production class and I was interviewed for the project. My only memory of the dialogue from that interview was that I said if I ever won the lottery, I would love to just give Tim a stipend, a set amount of money to work with and be his benefactor. Having been in the record business for over ten years and having released records by well-over 50 artists, I can honestly say Tim is the only person I have ever felt this about. His desire to create is so strong, so infectious, so all-encompassing that one can only imagine the potential fruits of his labor if his focus is able to be solely creative and not hampered by having to scrounge for quarters in his couch every time he needs a pack of guitar strings or to put gas in his car.

I've yet to win the lottery but I'm still doing what I can to support Tim Lampinen and in just a few days I'll be releasing a new 7" single by Timmy's Organism. Please be the lottery I never won and help Tim in ways I will only ever dream of.

Sincerely,

Benjamin Blackwell

Motor City Yearning #5

Motor City Yearning #5 by cassdetroit

What I Did at South-By-Southwest...

A bunch of nerds talking about vinyl. Someone actually recorded audio of it. For the tens of folks who asked to hear this panel, prepare to be bored...

http://audio.sxsw.com/2010/podcasts/031810m_HowtoMakeMoneywithVinyl.mp3

You've Got a Funny Face, But the World is a Funny Place...

Title of this post is one of my favorite Mick Collins' lyrics in quite some time. Listen to the latest Dirtbombs song we were paid gross amounts of money by Scion for over here...

http://www.scionav.com/music/scionavgarage/#general6

Should keep Zack neck-deep in tofu for quite some time...

The Podcast Series is Named...Motor City Yearning

Motor City Yearning #4 by cassdetroit



Let me know if the sound of my mouse clicking is too annoying to deal with.

Podcast #3 and Photos with the Ability to Leave Me Completely Dumfounded...

Strange things afoot today. First off, what seems to be some sort of

guerilla stickering campaign leads me to existential questions I'm

not ready to answer...

(photo taken in the Woodbridge neighborhood of Detroit. Stickers also spotted in the Cass Corridor)

Next, a Detroit gas station puts a little too much faith in hope...

(actual un-retouched photo from a gas station on Wyoming in Detroit)

Let's pull it all together with some tunes from the town I love. If
anyone has any insight into any of these shenanigans (sticker, gas,
jams) please let me know.

Podcast # 3 by cassdetroit

Who Let the Bozo in at 1:04?

http://www.storyofdeath.com

Podcast #2 and Setlist from DJ'ing with Greg Cartwright...

Ben 102 by cassdetroit

Notes on the Podcast:

This was actually recorded about three years ago and was intended to be part of Ko's podcast series, hence her cackling all over the thing. The idea was to be an "introduction" to me and all the different things I've done musically. So if you can get past the grating of Ko's voice, here's some notes/corrections to go with it:

At 6:02 I say the Starlite Desperation moved to Detroit in August of 1998. It was actually August of 1999.

At 7:32 I say Belle Isle is roughly 980 acres. It is actually 982 acres. New York's Central Park is 843 acres.

At 17:59 I can't remember if PBS radio is in Melbourne or Sydney. It is in the Collingwood neighborhood of Melbourne.

At 43:46 I say the Lost Kids recording is from 1998. It is actually from 2000.

Also, last night I had the extreme pleasure to DJ with the one and only Greg Cartwright at the Foo Bar in East Nashville. Rather than do a whole new post dedicated to it, I've tacked on my playlist here, all played from original issue 7" singles. Dig.

Bunker Hill - The Girl Can't Dance

Mad Dog & the Pups - Funkey Monkey

the Mighty Hannibal - Jerkin' the Dog

Mel Torme - Comin' Home Baby

the Countdowns - You Know I Do

Hoyt Axton - Double Double Dare

Chris Garrett & Sweet Poison - Family Man

U.S. Bonds - New Orleans

Tina Turner - Whole Lotta Love

the Chain Reaction - When I Needed You

Ralph Nielsen and the Chancellors - Scream

the Canadian Rogues - Keep in Touch

New York Dolls - Stranded in the Jungle

the Music Machine - The Eagle Never Hunts the Fly

Nathaniel Mayer and the Fortune Bravos - I Want Love and Affection (Not the House of Correction)

the Swinging Tigers - Snake Walk Part 1

Link Wray and the Raymen - Hidden Charms

Eddie Floyd - Raise Your Hand

the Parliaments - (I Wanna) Testify

Pseudos - It's a Long Way to Nowhere

the Equals - I Can See But You Don't Know

Dickens - Don't Talk About My Music

MC5 - I Can Only Give You Everything

the Rolling Stones - Not Fade Away

Sandy Edmonds - Come See Me

the Alarm Clocks - No Reason to Complain

the Coasters - I'm a Hog For You

Rochelle Rosenthal & the Kickball Queen - Lottery

Belita Woods - Grounded

Little Eva Harris - Get Ready-Uptight

Eric and the Vikings - Get Off the Streets Y'all

the Fabulous Counts - Girl From Kenya

Vicki Anderson - I'm Too Tough For Mr. Big Stuff (Hot Pants)

Andre Williams - Humpin', Bumpin' and Thumpin'

the Pleasure Seekers - What A Way to Die

Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band - Diddy Wah Diddy

the Underdogs - Get Down On Your Knees

the Mothers of Invention - Why Don't You Do Me Right?

the Kinks - I Need You

Roy Head - Just a Little Bit

the Old Exciting Scot Richard Case - Get the Picture

Mickey Murray - Shout Bamalama

Bob Seger System - 2+2=?

the Groupies - Primitive

Smokey Robinson and the Miracles - In Case You Need Love

Bo Diddley - Crawdad

the Elois - By My Side

DJ Set for the Dex Romweber Duo Performance at Third Man Records 2-4-2010

Everything except the final song played from 7" vinyl...

Bill and Will: Goin' to the River

Bill Carter and the Rovin Gamblers: Baby Brother

The Artwoods: Sweet Mary

The Velvet Underground: Temptation Inside Your Heart

The Jayhawks: Stranded in the Jungle

Ronnie Love: Detroit, Michigan

Edwin Starr: Stop the War Now

Timmy's Organism: I'm a Nice Guy Now

The Driving Stupid: Horror Asparagus Stories

The Black Lips: Katrina

The 5.6.7.8's: She Was Mau Mau

Felt Letters: 600,000 Bands

The Detroit Cobras: Slumlord

The Gories: Telepathic

Jason Merrick and the Finders: I'm Not What You Are

Apparition: Apparition

The Misfits: We Are 138

R. Dean Taylor: There's A Ghost in My House

Louis X (Louis Farrakhan): A White Man's Heaven is a Black Man's Hell

Sound of Imker: Train of Doomsday

A Number of Names: Skitso

My Top Twenty-Seven Albums of the 2000's...

1. the Walkmen Bows and Arrows Record Collection (2004)

I'm still as compelled by this album as I was upon first hearing it in 2004. I did a tour on drums for the band Weird War and while I sincerely wanted to play with them because I loved their music (and their previous tour employed a drum machine), I was really excited when I found out all the dates were opening for the Walkmen. At this point in time the Walkmen had played two shows in Detroit…one at the Gold Dollar and one at the Magic Stick. I saw them at the Magic Stick show with approximately twelve other people and when upon meeting the band told them I was at said show they couldn't believe it. That show was before their first album was officially released, they were selling their "black" and "white" 12-inch records at the merch table that night but I bought the early copy of Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me is Gone and while not completely impressed by it, felt that they were still a band I needed to keep paying attention to.

So the tour was amazing…not only was it a blast listening to Ian Svenonius' ramblings every night, all while I'm trying to keep a straight face, but the guys in the Walkmen could not have been any nicer. I used Matt's drums the entire tour. They let me engage them about Jonathan Fire*Eater. We both reveled in the absurdity of a horrible Valentine's Day gig in Northern California (the city escapes me). Their soundcheck in Pomona was comprised solely of Fire*Eater songs (tour highlight for me). The whole time, I paid attention to their show but don't know if I ever really got it or found myself engrossed with it. Not until a week or two after the tour had ended did it click for me. It was winter in Detroit. It was gray and depressing. It was the first winter in memory where I wasn't attending school. It was a very transitional time. The tour with the Walkmen felt like some briefly perfect balance of things…music, life, travel. As that tour faded more and more to just a memory I found myself turning towards Bows and Arrows more and more. While I could say it for just about any album on this list, I will reserve it for just this one…it is perfect. Paul Maroon being a criminally underrated guitarist is only overshadowed by Matt Barrick being an even moreso underrated drummer. Those two are instrumentalist team-players to the core. They are the heart and soul of that band. The fusillade guitar attack of "The Rat" is unnerving. And yes, that song seemed classic the instant they first played it…it was everyone's favorite before the album was even released. Coupled with Hamilton Leithauser's universally understood lyrics and what you have is a masterpiece. Lyrics like

"When I used to go out I would know everyone that I saw

Now I go out alone, if I go out at all"

Are so pure, so devoid of flourish or style or intent. I like to say that the Walkmen are a musician's band. Maybe it's my way of explaining why they're not massively popular. But little things like the bass on "My Old Man" how it thuds on one note for nearly the entire song and just when you thought you'd figured it out, Pete Bauer slyly throws in two extra notes at the 3:55 mark, as if he's only trying to see if you were paying attention. That, to me, is a musician playing for other musicians. Other things like the opening song and the first words on the album, "What's in it for me" while seemingly benign, to me feels like a seething indictment on modern culture and this generation. Followed by the words "I came here for a good time and now you're telling me to leave" is simplistic beauty. The lyrics all have a conversational quality to them, to the point where it's hard to imagine them being tooled or worked on and not just phrases plucked from actual conversations. To find inspiration in the every day, or even just to make it seem like you did, is heavenly.

I once wrote about this album that it was "sad, angry, pleading…everything an album should be" and while all the blabbering above suggests otherwise, that's really all you need to know.

2. Dan Sartain Dan Sartain vs. the Serpientes Swami Records (2003)

I searched out this album because of Everett True's review of it in Careless Talk Costs Lives. I was mainly intrigued because Dan and I are roughly the same age and I couldn't fathom how he was already releasing his third album at only 21 years old. No store in Detroit had this album in-stock. I had to special order it. I vaguely remember Brian Smith (my then-editor at the Metro Times) saying he'd heard it and that he "didn't get it" or something equally as clueless. I should've taken that as a sign. Anyway, what Sartain does on the Serpientes album is puts it all out there for the listener. The image you get of Dan Sartain by listening to this album is EXACTLY the Dan Sartain that exists in real life. There is no characterization, no marketing, no subterfuge. He lays himself out on the line and everyone benefits because of it. The "Walk Among the Cobras" trilogy here is gut-wrenching. When Dan bellows

"You don't know what it's like to be alone

And you don't know how it feels

To have the cobras snapping at your heels"

I tear up. It's clear that Sartain knows exactly how this feels and his earnestness makes me question the validity of any of my own feelings. Dan Sartain speaks powerful stuff. The secret weapon on this album is Beehive and the Barracudas as his backing band, a shit-hot group that never got their due. While all of Sartain's songs are consistent, this album seems to have been recorded/captured/performed with something that seems missing from the rest of his. Dig that "Leeches Pt. 1" is the best song the Misfits never wrote and it took some rockabilly kid from Alabama to do it. I did two tours playing drums for Dan and the songs off Serpientes were always my favorite to play. I find it weird that I didn't hear this album until six months after it was released. When I finally got that silvery disc in my cold grubby hands it felt like it was made just for me. Dan Sartain vs. the Serpientes will forever be timeless.

3. Kelley Stoltz Below the Branches Sub Pop (2006)

While Antique Glow is what originally grabbed my ears, Below the Branches is flawless in every way. In a weird way, Kelley actually let me pick the track listing for this album. He'd sent me a handful of cd-r's of different mixes and sequences and outtakes and after awhile I think he'd become a bit overwhelmed by it all. I remember writing to him "you have to open with 'Wave Goodbye' as it's the build-up and launching point for the entire album" or something to that affect. I didn't know Stoltz actually went with my track list until after the album came out. When I asked Kelley about it he said "well, I figured you know this songs better than anyone else" I was a little unnerved when he said that, but after having toured as his drummer and having lived these songs, I truly feel that way now. "Prank Calls" tugs at my heart with…

"I got you, you got me,

and though our love may never truly be free,

it's much cheaper than the price of gasoline"

But "The Sun Comes Through" is what completely wins me. While rehearsing for our Euro tour I stayed with Stoltz in his apartment. One night he spent the night at his girlfriend's and told me to feel free to crash on his bed that eve. I slept like a baby and when I woke up I noticed that of the two windows in his room, one had a curtain that didn't completely obscure the light. As I wiped the sleep out of my eyes I was absolutely overjoyed to see the sun come through the window on the right. My fascination comes from the main lyric of the song,

"And the sun comes through the window to the right"

4. Liars They Were Wrong So We Drowned Mute (2004)

There was no mistaken Liars sophomore album for their debut in what is arguable the most dramatic shift in approach between records by ANY band ever. A concept record about witches, this album is seriously a life-changing record in my book. From the raunchy digital hook in "There's Always Room on the Broom" and its peaceful "oooh-ooooh-oooh" vocals to the wicked-catchy syncopated drums that propel "Broken Witch" (and are still being aped by Pantano and I at soundchecks) this is an album that the Dirtbombs, as a whole, adored. Rolling Stone gave this record one star and I guarantee you in ten years this will be cited as a landmark, watershed, game-changer.

5. Whirlwind Heat Flamingo Honey Dim Mak (2004)

Ten one-minute songs, written and recorded in a day and they run the full gamut from subdued whisper pop ("The Bone") to spazz punk with one of the sickest drum beats of the decade ("The Meat Packers") to elect-faux hop stealing its title from an obscure Adam Mackay SNL digital short ("The H is O") to rubbery Beck-indebted bass sludge ("Muffler") to forlorn pump organ lament ("Lazy Morning") and they ably cover all their bases and it took me longer to write this than it did to listen to the album. Hands down the best 10" record of all-time.

6. Sonic Youth NYC Ghosts and Flowers DGC (2000)

With recent sentiment for Murray Street rising I could very easily be writing about that one here. But what puts NYC Ghosts and Flowers at the head of the SY class for me is the words. For an album to claim influence/dedication to or from Beat poetry is one thing, but to actually achieve it is another. The lyrics to every song on this album could exist solely as poetry and be as equally as captivating. Criticism against this record runs rampant with such claims as "they sound like they're playing without listening to each other" and to me, that seems to be an ideal musical approximation of the Beat style. This is not a tuneful or catchy album. It is musical art.

7. The Duchess and the Duke She's the Duchess, He's the Duke Hardly Art (2008)

On paper this is an album that completely turns me off. Somehow, this male/female duo managed to make "campfire punk" interesting without being sissy. Lyrics that weren't afraid to be honest, even if that meant being a little bit dreary and negative, coupled with complimentary acoustic guitars. People will only love this album more in the coming years.

8. the Breeders Title TK 4AD (2002)

I literally waited nine years for this album. Last Splash was the first CD I ever bought with my own money and I loved the shit out of it. I needed more Breeders. This record was nothing like I'd expected yet everything I was hoping for. The sinister vibe is there and Kim's vocals shine. With the amount of time spent on this record, there's got to be some outtakes kicking around, right? Give 'em up already.

9. Tyvek Fast Metabolism self-released (2007)

The sound of a city rebuilding and crumbling at the same time. Only one song over three minutes, songs referencing microbiotics, and pre-industrial understanding and the dada-tastic "Can you drive a Honda like I can drive a Honda?" is the best musical question asked in decades.

10. Sleater-Kinney All Hands on the Bad One Kill Rock Stars (2000)

While already a fan of S-K by the time this was released, I wasn't explicitly aware of its release. I was at the Border's in Grosse Pointe and just happened to glimpse this in the racks. Instantly in love with the tunes. "Milkshake and Honey" still gets sung in its entirety (to myself) every time I go to Paris. History nerd points for name-dropping the Monitor and the Merrimac in a song called "Ironclad." The one-two punch of the ominous title track coupled with the sugary-sweet pounce of "You're No Rock N' Roll Fun" is unbeatable. The cover is the only use of a found photo I've ever felt legitimate. Got to see four shows on this tour and the crazed college kids in Oberlin got a treat that eve, even if they didn't let S-K or the White Stripes into the house party later that night..

11. Beck Guero Interscope (2005)

The first "Beck" album in a long time. Sea Change was aping Gainsbourg and Midnite Vultures earnestly pointed out the hilarity in nu-funk and even Mutations as much as I love it, felt like a left-turn. So the old standby of the Odelay-sound was the quintessential summer album.

12. The Black Lips Good Bad Not Evil Vice (2006)

The fact that these guys are as big as they are is still mind-boggling. While not re-inventing the wheel, they take Garage music (in this sense I feel a need to capitalize) and own it. They were babies on the first album, confused on the second, poised for greatness on the third and fully actualized by the time they re-appropriated this nugget from a Shangri-Las song for an album title. To sample the Swamp Rats "I'm Going Home" and the Savages "The World Ain't Round, It's Square" takes equal parts genius and demented. "O Katrina" is timeless and "Bad Kids" is an anthem. I rest easy at night knowing that someone is pushing the Back From the Grave sound on the world's youngsters.

13. Franz Ferdinand s/t Domino (2004)

There are no songs here that warrant skipping. Every one is a stone-cold solid jamfest.

14. A-Frames Black Forest Sub Pop (2005)

A band that I'd followed straight from the get-go and completely surprised me with their wiz-bang of a third album. I love how the title track is on the album in three different formats, increasingly abrasive. The tones captured here are the height of ideal and should be taught in all your fancy-schmancy recording schools. Memorable songs from the last place I'd expect it.

15. Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks Pig Lib (2003)

Malk's entry in the guitar-god hall of fame should simply be this album. His guitar has a voice like none other and it sings like a choir. "Face the Truth" is equally as godhead, but he uses the word "elucidate" twice on that album and it patently rubbed me the wrong way. It struck me odd that the song "Dark Wave" was as synth-heavy as it was and when I asked Malkmus if it was in reference to the Lost Sounds who had earlier released an album called Black Wave that seemed to presage the sound of "Dark Wave" Steve neither confirmed or denied it. The guitar phrasing on "No More Shoes" is like manna from the heavens.

16. Yeah Yeah Yeahs Fever to Tell Interscope (2003)

YYY's opened for the Dirtbombs in 2002 and played most of the songs off Fever to Tell that night. I ran a tape of their set from the soundboard without telling them and am infinitely glad I took that chance because I listened the shit out of that tape. While I felt that I liked the self-titled EP on principal, I always felt it lacked a certain something. That something is loud and proud and spitting in your face right here. Nick Zinner = guitar transcendance.

17. the Hives Tyrannosaurus Hives Interscope (2004)

Completely Swedish in its precision. The singularity of vision from these five guys is machine-like. Not sure if any band could touch them in terms of being a "unit" and the extra set of legs added to the back cover of this album was snidely brilliant. "Diabolic Scheme" wins for me because I still can't tell if they used a real or canned string section on it.

18. Melvins A Senile Animal Ipecac (2006)

This is what I've always wanted two drummers to sound like. A band 20+ years into their career isn't supposed to make an album this great. New blood in the form of Big Business reinvigorates the tunes and "A History of Bad Men" is the pinnacle of heavy.

19. BLOW The Bonus Album K (2002)

Recorded on a lark, to fill the merch table while waiting for her "real" album to be available, The Bonus Album is the crystallization of disparate thoughts and styles converging sublimely and in less than twenty minutes. A more beautiful voice may not exist and the a cappella "The Touch Me" is the ideal platform for it while "Jet-Ski Accidents" is achingly personal and revealing. I've still never heard the "real" album this was a bonus to and don't want to for fear of it failing to captivate.

20. The Starlite Desperation Go Kill Mice Flapping Jet (2000)

The soundtrack to senior year of high school. What rock and roll is supposed to sound like.

21. Reigning Sound Too Much Guitar In the Red (2004)

Every song a winner. Greg Cartwright's masterful marriage of words and guitar is frustratingly transcendent. Album title comes from the (former) organist's thoughts about the songs before he quit. Dork.

22. Rage Against the Machine Renegades Epic (2000)

A good covers album should make you search out the originals. An amazing covers album is one where you prefer the remakes to the originals. So while I don't rate Rage's versions of "Kick Out the Jams" or "Down on the Street" better than the Stooges or MC5, and their "Street Fighting Man" is pale, they actually hold their own to Dylan's "Maggie's Farm." That's right, I said it. The updated instrumentation far better approximates the heft of the lyrical content. As for the rest of the songs, they ALL top the originals. Renegades suffered because it came out after the band had broken up. I know it's hard to say about a million-selling album, but it really is underrated. Take into account how many poor white kids with no clue this introduced to the Stooges and MC5.

23. Clone Defects Shapes of Venus In the Red (2002)

Nothing is more punk than the lyrics "You'll never be down if you walk in God's light" My first-ever paid writing gig was doing the bio for this album and I gave myself bonus points for not using the word "punk" once while doing it.

24. The Strokes Room on Fire RCA (2003)

Too much chatter about the first album, the second one with its reaching high school lyrics and identifiable "You Talk Way Too Much" is where it's at. They played three of these songs at their Radio City Music Hall show with the White Stripes and in the elevator after the show Ryan Adams commented that they "were like the new Smiths". I have no idea what in the hell that space-case meant, but those three songs (a faster "You Talk Way Too Much", "Between Love and Hate" and "The Way it Is") still resonate the deepest reaches of my heart.

25. Jay Reatard Blood Visions In the Red (2006)

I just wish I could give the guy a hug right now.

26. Weird War If You Can't Beat 'em, Bite 'em Drag City (2004)

Pseudo-intellectual dada funk from DC.

27. Datsuns s/t V2 (2003)

New Zealand lays their claim to the invention of the "riff"

By the numbers:

Bands on here I've been on tour with: 12

Bands I've never met any members of: 2

Albums I'm thanked on: 1

Least Represented Years: 2001 and 2009 each with no entries

Albums not on my iTunes: 3 (Below the Branches, Pig Lib and Shapes of Venus)

Albums I'm certain I paid for (my initial copy): 6

Albums I own on more than one format: 19

White Stripes albums that would've made the list had I wanted to write about them: 3

Bands I've seen perform at the Magic Stick: 15

Bands I've pressed records on: 4

Bands I've asked to do records with: 7 (not including the 4 I actually did records with)

Detroit Podcast #1

At the urging of more than a few and with hosting help of a wily Irishman (that's the seanear1ey), please enjoy the first in what will be an ongoing series of Detroit/Michigan focused podcasts. I would post the playlist here, but then what would be the point of even listening? So hit play and enjoy a half-hour of my dull voice and highly compressed mp3's. And if anyone has a good name for the radio show, let it fly in the comments section.


Podcast #1 by seanear1ey

Archer Record Pressing Master Numbers: A Number of Names versus Cybotron in the Ever-Confusing World of Record Chronology

Archer Record Pressing began in Detroit in 1965. The original location was 6552 East Davison and after a few years the operation moved to 7401 East Davison where they still press records today. The building is, without question, one of my top 3 favorite places in Detroit. The actual pressing of records is a holy process to me. So the feeling I get walking into Archer must be analogous to that my grandma got when she walked into St. Peter's Basilica.

(this folk art is my Michelangelo)

In it's forty-plus years of operation, Archer has been the go-to for local Detroit labels and musicians self-releasing music. The stuff pressed there dizzys the mind...Sonic Rendezvous Band, Death, Tribe Records, Von Records, Ollie McLaughlin stuff, Touch and Go, Blue Rose Records, Metroplex...I could go on, but I think you get the point. Such a repository of local music history, lore and juju does not exist outside of Hitsville.

Any recording brought into Archer without a catalog number (and occassionally those with one) will be assigned an AR number for internal reference. After seeing these over and over again and realizing that they are issued sequentially, it became evident that if one compiled a large enough list of these numbers, you could feasibly start to date records that were previously undated or in question. So here's my contribution to that process. Any years or dates come directly from Archer invoices of information listed on the label of the actual record itself.


AR 489 - Mandingo #1 (Four Tracks)
AR 493 - King Soul #493 (Gloria Taylor)
AR 665 – Gordoon Records #10011 (Crystal Myth)
AR 724 - Tru-Ba-Dor #724 (Soul Generation)
AR 857 - Demoristic #857 (The Ravins)
AR 884 - Leo #884 (Jay Rhythm)
AR 939 - Gatewood #939 (Alphonso Hamilton)
AR 953 - Magic City #007 (Mad Dog & Pups)(1969)
AR 1074 - Magic City #008 (Soul Tornadoes)
AR 1670 – Mutt Records no # (Detroit Night Riders)
AR 2501 – C.O.G.I.C. no # (Rev. Drayton) 1-24-1972 300 qty, repressed 500 qty 3-27-72
AR 2579 – C.O.G.I.C. no # (Rev. Drayton) 3-27-72 500 qty
AR 2590 – C.O.G.I.C. no # (Rev. Drayton) 4-10-72 1000 qty
AR 2657 – C.O.G.I.C. 1000 qty 5-26-72
AR 2691 – C.O.G.I.C. LP 500 qty 8-22-72, 300QTY 10-24-72
AR 2838 – C.O.G.I.C. LP 300 qty 10-17-72
AR 3271 – C.O.G.I.C. no # (Rev. Drayton) 500 qty 7-16-73 (AR-2657 side 2 re-used as b-side)
AR 3618 – Blackman Records no # (Quixotics)
AR 4132 – Lobo Records no # (Norm Wade and Detroit Gold) 500 qty 3-31-75
AR 4977 – V.F.H.L. Records no # (Herman Harris & Voices of Faith, Hope and Love) (1977)
AR 5726 – Get Down no # (Sahara)
AR 5930 – Big City Record Company no # (R.U.R.) (1980) 7"
AR 6180 – CLC Records no # (Chuck Cole) (1981)
AR 6212 – Capriccio Records P-928 (A Number of Names) (1981) (see#6374, 6344, 6312)
AR 6406 – God's City's Sounds no # (Highland Park Community Choir) (1981)
AR 6591 – Dazia Records no # (Somerset) (1982/83)
AR 7352 – VU Records no # (A-tack) (1986) 12"
AR 7357 – Tripple Star no # (Paul Garrison) (1983) 7"
AR 7390 – E.R.C INC no # (The Eveready Crew) (1986) 7"
AR 7481 – Sims Entertainment no # (Livewire) (1987) 12"
AR 7511 – J.F.I. Recordings no # (KC and Crew) (1987) 12"
AR 7583 – Mack Records no # (Klash) 12"
AR 7586 – Bassment Records no # (Worthy D and the Boys) 12"
AR 7689 – MBE no # (Frinz) 12"
AR 7830 – Ren Sin City Records (K-Stony Jamm) (1988) 12"
AR 7976 – 12th Precinct no # (MC King and DJ Boywonder)
AR 8063 – T.C. Real Records no # (Real'n'Smooth) (1989)
AR 8147 – Pretty City Records (Pretty City Boyz) 1989
AR 8150 – Midwest International no # (Curtis Gadson)
AR 8300 – Frontear no # (the Darkskin Cats) (1990)
AR 8347 – Motor City Records Inc. no # (Fresh Boys) (1990)
AR 8587 – ICUPP Records 001 (Gangster Fun) 7"
AR 8696 – Bass-X Records #0-16389 (A.U.T.H.O.R.I.T.Y.) (1992)
AR 8881 – Monokon Records no # (K.B. and the Fearless)(1992)
AR 8882/9992 – Psychopathic # 1004 (Insane Clown Posse "Carnival of Carnage")

AR-6212 is "Sharevari" by A Number of Names, widely considered to be the first Detroit techno release. Invoice #6212 only lists mastering, processing (plating) and test press charges. The second Detroit techno record, "Alleys of Your Mind" by Cybotron, is invoice # 6237 (invoices and AR numbers are interchangeable, but because "Alleys" had a customer-supplied catalog number of 107034 it fails to have an AR number on the label or its run-out grooves).

The "Alleys" invoice is dated 10-29-81 and gives a quantity of 1000 initial copies, making it literally twenty days after the "Sharevari" invoice. BUT...it seems that actual PRESSING charges for "Sharevari" don't show up until AFTER the "Alleys" pressing charges.

I remember hearing stories about "Sharevari" debuting on-air during the Electrifyin' Mojo radio show and Mojo even giving the group their name. So it's possible (but not necessarily probable) that "Sharevari" was recorded first but languished for awhile before it was actually pressed. In that time it seems Cybotron flourished and recorded their own debut and POSSIBLY pressed it before A Number of Names pressed/released "Sharevari".

There were also numerous invoices (referenced above) that show "Sharevari" being repressed while I didn't notice any subsequent invoices/orders for "Alleys".

Either way, it's fascinating that both of these groups were germinating at the same time, seemingly unaware of each other and their releases being the initial salvo in the blast of Detroit techno. The mechanics of when the songs were recorded, compared to when they were test pressed and/or released is merely insight into a previously undocumented side of it all.

(please feel free to set the record straight, correct, critique or hurl eggs in the comments section)

Disclaimers: None of this information is definite. Most of it is gleaned from records in my personal collection, listings found on eBay, or time briefly spent combing through Archer's old invoices. Some numbers can prove difficult especially if they were repressed later with different label art/years (hence the A-tack VU Records seeming out-of-place that's causing me to pull out my hair). Please feel free to add any records you may have in your collection or have AR numbers for (found either on the label or etched in the run-out groove) in the comments and I will add it to the master list.

Outta My Wednesday Moanin' Mind...

I feel like I've got a lot of scattered thoughts but none significant enough to warrant enough bile-spew, so instead I figured I'd sorta employ the old Joe Falls ramblin' format. In writing that sentence I found myself troubled to recall if it was either Falls or Bob Talbert who made familiar-to-me that style. If you're reading this and know who both of those people are (and more importantly, who used that style) please forgive me as it's hard to accurately recall the specifics of newspaper columnists at the time I was ten years old.

Is it just me or are CD's increasingly looking a lot like cassette tapes right about now? At the record store yesterday I was torn between the CD and 2xLP formats of the remastered version on Nirvana's Bleach. I already own, by my estimation, four copies of this album on vinyl and one copy on CD. Both formats come coupled with a previously-unheard live show from the era. The CD was priced $9.99 while the LP was $26.99 and came with an mp3 download code. I legitimately felt like I really only wanted the mp3's, if only because a) I don't see myself listening to this release very much, b) if I want to indulge in a vinyl listen, I already have four different colors to choose from, c) having spent plenty of time with live Nirvana recordings, I don't find myself going back to them too often. In spite of all that, I STILL bought the LP.

Did you know Dutch Elm Disease did not originate from the Netherlands (ie, the Dutch) and was merely first identified in that country? The disease originated in Asia and the introduction into America can be traced to a single shipment of logs from the Netherlands, said to be slated for use in Ohio furniture production as veneer. Despite the claims of people my parent's age, I think the eventual diversification of Metro Detroit's tree stock was, in the long-term, worth having cut down a shit-ton of trees. See also The Virgin Suicides or anything else Eugenides has written as it is utterly phenomenal.

Being away from Detroit has made long for music from there in weird ways I could've never predicted. I'm buying the most random records on eBay for the stupidest reasons… like the labels share the same zip code as the house I grew up in (48224) or the mere fact that it's FROM Detroit. I am also legitimately looking for copies of 7"s by Friends of Dennis Wilson, Bang Bang and Child Bite. These are all bands I have never listened to and never saw perform live. I guess I'm merely overcompensating in trying to maintain a bit of Detroit musicologist cred. But seriously, if anyone has a lead/line on any of those singles (and let's not forget that Grayling 7" with the man fishing on the cover or the Ethos single with the pic of the girl in tight-fitting skirt from behind) I am legitimately interested.

I've lately been envisioning something bigger for the time I've dedicated to Detroit music and its history. If I had half a brain it would manifest itself into a weekly podcast dedicated to the topic and featuring NOTHING but music of the city from the past 100 years…but barring someone physically workshopping me through that process I don't see it happening. Maybe it has more life as an informative website…label scans, release years, other pertinent info. All of this I see as moreso dedicated to the unheralded music of Detroit (I have to fight the urge to refer to it as "this" town and keep reminding myself I don't live there anymore) as info about Motown or Hideout has already been exhausted. But what about Fiddler's Music Productions…one of those labels that shared my childhood zip code and also housed a music instrument store where I bought my first pair of drum sticks? Or Blue Rose Records, seemingly the earliest purveyor of rap on vinyl in Detroit? I can't be the only one thinking these things. Also, I am by no means making a claim on the merit of ANY of this. I'm not reticent to admit that a LOT of this music just does not speak to me, that it is downright BAD and is probably ignored for a reason. Regardless, it has, whether positively or negatively, contributed to the musical fabric of the city and the continuing narrative that runs throughout our history.

Blue Rose Records is indicative of a larger obsession for me of late…early Detroit rap and hip-hop. For the past few years I've gobbled up every last shred of info surrounding this seemingly forgotten area…Freddy Fresh's Rap Records Book is a good place to start for discographical information, but he's still missing A LOT of info. I've taken to buying any rap record I can find from pre-1991 Detroit. I've knocked on doors in Detroit neighborhoods I'd never imagined visiting in hopes of tracking down Darryl Nicholson. From what I can gather, Nicholson was EVERYTHING behind Blue Rose…the writer, the performer, the publisher, the label itself. I even had some help from a private investigator in tracking him, but still no luck.

(I understand that in the ultra-territorial world of record nerds tracking down old record makers that offering up this info is considered uncouth. But at this point, I honestly don't care. If anyone else can track find this guy, all the better. Hopefully they are as well-versed in his history as I've become and just ask him the right questions. And if they can find a spare copy of the Breeze 7" I would be glad to pay handsomely)

My interest in Detroit rap stems from the decidedly rich musical history of the city and the seemingly nonexistent information available about it. While my heart lies much closer to the world of Sixties Back From the Grave-style garage rock, that vein had been mined for a good twentysome years before I even knew what it was. For anyone to truly consider themselves a fan of music, they need to grow more accepting and less discerning with time. While I would just love to discover an unknown garage 7" from 1966 with a 48224 zip code, I know the chances are slim that will ever happen. But as the field of rap history is one still emerging into its own I stand a much larger chance of making an impact in that area.

Tip: next time ANY organization asks you for your zip code, offer up 48222 (commonly referred to as the "triple-two" amongst area postal enthusiasts) as it will routinely render useless their efforts of marketing. 48222 is the zip code for the JW Westcott, the mail boat that services passing freighters at the foot of the Ambassador Bridge.

If anyone has a copy of Nicola Kuperus' First Edition book (hardcover or softcover) I will gladly pay you TWICE the amount you paid for your copy. Can't believe I slept on this one and word is she does not plan to print any more any time soon. Viva Detroit photography.

Cass Records will have new releases available before 2010. Our first release in over a year (blame the fire and the move) will be a 7" by the Readies, followed up by a 7" from Nashville's own Turbo Fruits and then a 12" single from the Dirtbombs.

Last week the Dirtbombs became, by my estimation, the first band to play all four rooms of the Majestic Theater complex, with performances in both the Café and on the Garden Bowl Lanes in the same evening. I'm not sure if this is a feat to be praised or not, but the sheer incalculable number of hours I've spent on that block must be staggering. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I dare anyone to find a band that has played the Magic Stick stage more than us.

Making a want list is the best thing you can do as a record collector and I can't believe I've gone almost two years since I last published one. Look over at http://trembleunderboomlights.blogspot.com/2007/01/bens-wantlist-for-2007.html to see my original wants and clearly you will be as amazed as I am about how many of those I've obtained in such a seemingly short time. Let's see how quick we can cross these off the list…

Rodriguez "Inner City Blues" 7" on Sussex
-"To Whom It May Concern" 7" on Sussex
-"Sugar Man" 7" on Blue Goose
The Fourth Movement 7" Tryangle Records
Mudhoney Promotional Cake Mix Box for Piece of Cake album
The JuJus – Do You Understand Me? 7" (United Records)
The Birds – You Don't Love Me (You Don't Care) 7"
BMW – Chillin 12" (Blue Rose Records)
BMW – Rock the House12" (Blue Rose Records)
The Breeze - Breeze Rap 7" (Blue Rose Records)
The Coloured Balls "Ball Power" LP
Danny Dell and the Trends "Froggy Went a Courting" 7-inch
The Misfits "Bullet" 7-inch (Plan 9 records, black or red vinyl)
Spiritualized Ladies and Gentleman… LP
Paul Nichols- Run Shaker Life 7"
Fireworks – 10"
The Sloths – Makin' Love 7"
Tribal Sinfonia – Something Has You Turned Around 7"
the Lee VI's – Pictures on My Shelf 7"
Kack Klick - Lord My Cell is Cold b/w One More Day, One More Night 7"
Reverend Drayton - "By and By" b/w "On the Battlefield" Cogic Records
The Black Diamonds – I Want, Need, Love You 7"


I'm absolutely enamored with Bored to Death and am sad that the season finale is already upon us. When originally presented with the premise as "It's a modern take on the classic private eye story with some dark humor" I was extremely skeptical. But with a perfect trifecta of main cast (Jason Schwartzman, Zack Galifinakis, and the absolutely phenomenal Ted Danson) supported by exciting guest stars (Kristin Wiig, John Hodgeman, etc) and what emerges is clever but not ironic, funny but not pandering, relevant without being preachy and personally, the position of Schwartzman as the possibly-succesful novelist-turned-PI beholden to the whims of his eccentric mag editor boss (not so secretly modeled after Graydon Carter of Vanity Fair) doesn't seem the least bit far-fetched to me. Not since the debut of The Tom Green Show on MTV have I been so excited about a television program. Let's hope season two is timed to run at the same time as season two of Hung and thus make my Sunday nights complete.

I've recently come into possession of one of the coolest, most unique items of Stooges memorabilia I can fathom. I talk about it in-depth in Robert Matheu's illustrated official biography of the band so search out my exact words there (and enjoy the unreal photos he unearthed for the tome), but for now, absorb the absolute beauty that is the Armed Forces Radio and Television Services label for the Stooges Fun House album, side two.

(this is the first and most likely last LP I've ever wanted to frame)

I mean, I miss Detroit music so much I actually purchased a used CD copy of Deastro's Moondagger yesterday. It's as if the other bloggers have won some prize no one wants.

I've currently been engrossed in Chuck Klosterman's latest collection of essays Eating the Dinosaur If you haven't already indulged, do yourself a favor and search it out as CK is quite possibly the most incisive pop culture critic we will see in our time. He is also one of only two living people that I sincerely want to meet (the other being Dave Grohl). I feel like Chuck and I have enough in common that we could engage in mutually beneficial conversations and legitimately be friends.

Anyway, a few thoughts on issues CK brings up in Dinosaur:

-his comparison to David Koresh and In Utero-era Kurt Cobain is, while completely absurd, insanely captivating. I was especially dumfounded with the clarity of one particular line…

"Koresh decided he was literally God. Cobain was told he was figuratively God. Taken on balance, which would make a man crazier?"

-the insight into laugh-tracks and all things laughter is equally as compelling. His observation as to German people only laughing when they are legitimately amused seems peculiar, but when broken down to analyze that Americans have three laughs (real, fake real and filler) is especially interesting when he explains…

"People halfheartedly chuckle throughout most casual conversations…it's a modern extension of the verbalized pause, built by TV laugh tracks."

I'll be damned if that didn't open my eyes to a previously un-tackle-able line of thought.

-Klosterman waxes about the connection between Pepsi and its efforts to align itself with the hope-happy ideals of the Obama campaign and ties it all in with references to Mad Men and how the advertising world seemingly operates. My only beef with this argument is that he fails to raise the most obvious point. That is, did you not see that Pepsi re-jiggered their logo to almost completely ape that of the Obama campaign? I mean there were more than just a few articles on this on websites as significant as Slate. How did this fact manage to elude not only you, but your editor, your agent, your wife and seemingly anyone else who read your words before they went to print. To talk about Obama and Pepsi and to not even make a passing reference to the similarity of their logos is egregious. See below...


-CK's assessment of football is, to me, someone who really does not care for the sport, insightful to a point that I almost want to pay attention to it now. Almost. The breakdown of the implementation of different defensive and offensive strategies and how they can mostly be traced to individual progenitors within the past 50 years seems incredible to me. I also wholly dig that Klosterman unabashedly mixes writing about music and sports.
Again, please do search out any of his writings (I particularly like Dinosaur and Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs) and you will not be disappointed.


Mick once told me he had a MS Word file that was nothing but an exhaustive listing of Detroit record labels of years past, complete with their addresses. He never gave it to me. Does anyone have it? Can some enterprising soul fabricate an easy-to-navigate map of this information, complete with color-coded pins according to genre and hyperlinked to available discographies? Or do I need to do it all by myself? Seriously, the things I'd do for Detroit…

A lot of records aren't expensive…they are just rare. But somehow, when I want a copy of a record that's "just rare" is soon becomes expensive.

Another Detroit music nugget I've stumbled onto lately is the Archer Record Pressing numbering system. When I first mentioned this to a local record store impresario he started with "Oh great, here we go…" as if I'd gone off the deep-end. When I'd discovered that records mastered through Archer have a sequential numbering, it became clear that once a significant amount of those records have been compiled, it makes it possible to date undated/mystery/unknown records.

In the grand scheme of things this isn't that big of a deal, but it can prove to be very helpful if trying to answer some music nerd questions.




In the above-pictured example, notice on the right side register of the label the AR8594 code. This is what I'm talking about. With seemingly no other relevant information pointing to an actual date of this release, based on what I've compiled, I can tell you that this record was mastered sometime after 1989.

The idea of all this excites me…I just wish I had more time to devote to it. Full-time jobs really limit the scope of geek-outs lately.

Did you know that Election Day warrants no mail delivery in Nashville? And in Pittsburgh you cannot purchase alcohol on Election Day. Is that not fucking weird?

Seriously, not only did I just buy a Deastro CD, but I went trolling around for rare, unheard, unreleased, whatever Detroit electro shit. Found this with help from a friend who wishes to remain anonymous. Dig it?

http://www.sendspace.com/file/6erbj3

And I'm spent. Feel free to fill up the comments with critiques, likes, dislikes, leads on my want list, suggestions, bacon recipes, AR-XXXX catalog numbers and anything else of note.

West Coast Part Two: All You've Ever Wanted to Know About Playing a Decent-Sized Rock Festival But Were Too Bored To Ask...

Woke up early Saturday morning to properly facilitate smooth sailing with all things Outside Lands.

I must make an aside to let everyone here know what an absolute task it is to set-up all the necessary crap for playing a festival of this magnitude. There's a reason bands have tour managers and it's shit like this. It's not any one particular person's fault or error, but there's just soo much shit that comes into play…emailing a stage plot, sending a guestlist a week beforehand, figuring out how many meal tickets we need, giving advance notice that we need to be paid day-of-show in cash, sorting out our load-in time and parking permits for our vehicles, signing off on permission for Internet broadcasts, coordinating to have our credentials dropped off at our hotel the day before we arrive…as the one taking care of all of it, I was startled by how thorough it all was. I can only imagine the added difficulty if we had merch, needed transport from our hotels, rented gear or any other possible headaches.

All band members met at the Hotel Phoenix and we made way to the fest in two vehicles. Z and I were in the minivan designated as the "equipment" vehicle with access to park directly behind the Twin Peaks stage where we'd be performing. Dorien's rental Prius with the rest of the band inside had "guest" parking which was basically just an unassigned spot on one of the public streets snaking thru the park. Confusingly though they'd failed to include a guest parking pass in our credential pack, so THAT vehicle had to phone the stage manager when they were approximately 5 minutes away from the entrance so that a runner could be summoned to meet them with a pass.

We waited ten minutes to get the minivan behind the stage because the doof manning the gate said the path was blocked. The stage manager finally waved us in and proved that said path was indeed not blocked. Loaders unloaded our shit, we set it up while the Mars Volta's gear was soundchecking (even thought ALL correspondence from the festival explicitly said NO band would receive a soundcheck, that was clearly false)

Once we'd all set-up our equipment a palpable serenity came over us. It was early and backstage was empty and we were just able to relax like a calm before the storm. We were permitted one "specialty" item on our rider and since I was the one doing the advancing that one item was a case of XXX Vitamin Water. I honestly wonder if anyone in the history of Vitamin Water has drank more than I did on that sunny San Franciscan day. I easily downed at least six full bottles and would not be surprised if the grand total was somewhere closer to eight or nine. I clearly achieved my goal of remaining hydrated.

Onstage doing a line-check and the Miracles' "You Really Got a Hold on Me" came over the PA and at that moment, it felt like everyone in the band was instantly assured, by mere presence of Smokey and company, that everything was going to work out just fine.

And work out fine it did. Despite the intense scrutiny we placed upon ourselves in trying to stay within the confines of a fifty-minute slot, our set felt natural. Hell, we ended ten minutes early. I was hoping for some sort of finale, but we ended respectfully without anyone jumping into the crowd or carelessly throwing equipment. Ultimately, it feels a bit anticlimactic. At the same time, I was just completely overjoyed to be playing Kelley Stoltz's drums. To think how man of my favorite songs were recorded with those very drums just left an enormous smile on my face.

As soon as we'd finished I began breaking down gear and loading it into the minivan, much to the dismay of the stage manager who had to politely, yet firmly, tell me that he was paying stagehands to do that work. Me, I just don't have the patience to wait for those guys, so I grab shit and load it myself, saving EVERYONE some time.

I was quickly given a DVD of our performance and immediately asked to list what songs we wanted featured on the official Outside Lands YouTube channel. You can go search that out to see what songs I picked.

Following that I walked a half-mile to the payment trailer. I'd arranged for us to be paid in cash and all I had to do was cross out the band name off a schedule with a highlighter and sign a sheet of paper, all while Raphael Saadiq rocked a version of "Search and Destroy" on the mainstage.

As I walked out of the trailer with an envelope overstuffed with cash, I wondered if I could have just as easily walked up and said "Ah yes, I'm here for Dave Matthews Band…can I get paid now?" I mean really…they had no idea who the hell I was and the fact that they were handing me a large amount of cash made me think they would have done SOMETHING to check my shit.

From there I met the rest of the band in catering. The main attraction seemed to be a construct your own Philly cheesesteak station. I said "hi" to Cedric from the Mars Volta. Zack said "hi" to Tom Morello.

At that point, we ventured to the promo area of the festival. As it works, a bunch of different companies pay a fee to be able to set-up a tent and have the opportunity to give artists free shit. We were promised one Altec-Lansing digital iPod/iPhone boombox for the band and I had my hands on the little post card that entitled the bearer to it. So when I happen upon the Altec tent and watch Zack being pitched hard, not saying a word, I didn't think much of it. As the lady finished her spiel to Z with "So do you want one?" I was completely caught off-guard. Apparently my possession of the post card meant nothing as Zack exhausted our alotted iPod dock.

I wasn't really mad at Zack, because he doesn’t really know any better. He's still the new guy. And if I was in his position I would've done the same thing. I guess it just means he feels comfortable to scam an iPod dock without consulting with his bandmates, (who've invested far more time and effort into the whole endeavor of the Dirtbombs). I didn't even know if he had an iPod either…I seem to remember him always asking to borrow mine because he lost the charger to some old Sony mp3 player he had.

The whole situation only worked to bring feelings of awkwardness to the surface for me. Personally, I love free shit. And the idea of having an area at the festival where performers, of which I am legitimately one, can get a bunch of free shit…it seems like a no-brainer.

But what comes into play is the interaction with the people giving the free shit. You see, some shit is truly free and free to everyone…like ice cream from the Ice Cream Man. He does not scrutinize. Ice cream to the masses. Other things are merely free to all artists without discrimination. Given my "artist" wristband for the festival, this presents no inherent problem. Where issues arise is when there's a booth where shit is free to certain artists, but not all artists. Granted, it's not like these people state that as their policy, but it's clear.

I've encountered this before at Bonnaroo. If you had to specifically define the practice, it would be something like "if you're an artist big enough to be able to pay for whatever is being offered, we'll give it to you for free." It just makes the whole fucking thing slimy and gross and has absolutely nothing to do with music or art or performing in front of a crowd and has everything to do with elitism. I feel like I gots to do a song-and-dance to get the goods. You folks already got my song, that shit was on stage, you ain't getting the dance too.

I can't remember what the name of the sorry company was, but there was a booth at Outside Lands with an impressive display of sunglasses. I perused the stock with mild interest and was surprised, yet not really surprised, to see a sign that said "Special Festival Artist Pricing: $69" Yet I'd bet our entire payment from the festival that if Dave Matthews or Eddie Vedder walked over the reps from Lame-Ass Sunglasses Inc. would be tripping over themselves to give them whatever they wanted for free.

We, as a band, then made way to the Onitsuka Tiger tent. The folks from Onitsuka had seen our set and personally asked us to come over so that they could outfit us with shoes. I was ecstatic because, at this point, I do not even own a pair of sneakers and could legitimately use them (zipper boots, despite their badass quality, aren't terribly versatile with a pair of shorts).

The dude asked everyone their size and quickly came back offering boxes to everyone. Ko, Zack and Mick all received, by my estimation, shoes that looked totally badass. I remember liking the brown and blue of their specific kicks. My 10 1/2's were not so fortunate. They fit and were comfortable, but the overwhelmingly white sneakers with accents of black, silver and red were just not my style.

So here's another awkward situation. I want, no NEED, a pair of these shoes. They will clearly be free. I sat there, internally struggling with whether or not I should ask for a pair in blue or brown (I mean seriously, white shoes? Do I look like I work in a hospital?) In my eyes, if the company wants me to wear something because there's some sort of inherent prominence placed in the absolute non-ability to play drums on-stage, I want to at least be completely in love with the shoes I am supposed to be wearing. I don't think that's too much to ask for on my side of the agreement.

Zack egged me on, saying I should lie and ask for a different size in hopes of getting a better color. Instead, I told the rep, in earnest, how the shoes fit great but that I just wasn't crazy about the colors and really just wanted a pair that I was in LOVE with.

He looked at me like he was a kindergarten teacher trying to explain to a pupil why they have to sleep at naptime. To paraphrase, he said something like this, totally condescending, "We REALLY don't have a lot of pairs of shoes with us, so I can't really do much on different colors. I can SEE if there's anything else back there in a ten and a half, but I won't make any promises."

Which I responded to with a sincere thanks and mention that I would be content with whatever they had but extremely happy to have a different color. He returned shortly thereafter to say they didn't have anything else available in my size. I thanked him and said the red/white/black/silvers would work fine. We were all then given free earbud headphones and posed in group photos excitedly holding our schwag.

Fast-forward a couple days later, I'm in Nashville and wanting to get away from the zip-boot footwear and pull out my Onitsukas. Imagine my dismay to find two silver/black/red/white monstrosities that are not only different sizes (10 1/2 and 7) but are also both left feet! I can never be sure, but I want to think that because I had the temerity to ask for a specific color that the guy handing out the shoes decided to fuck with me and if he did, I must say, well-played.

But in a pending deal with Onitsuka customer service, I should have a pair of Onitsukas arrive via post any day now and not only will they be of the same size and for opposing feet, but they will be a color of my choosing. If so, then I win.

Ran into Alex Minoff in the gifting area. He was there playing with Extra Golden and I think I'd only seen him once since we played together in Weird War back in 2004. It's the unexpected people you run into like Alex that make festivals an extra-special bit of surprising and fun. We talked for all of sixty-seconds (about what, I cannot even recall) but I definitely felt that much better because of it.

We made our way back to the stage just before Mastodon went on. For my thoughts on Mastodon, please check out my All Tomorrow's Parties post. Anyway, as I waited in line for the porto-john, a little toe-headed kid, no older than 4-years-old, walks up to me and hold his arms up. I can gather that he either 1) has been watching to many episodes of "COPS" or 2) wants me to grab his arms and swing him around. Being the fun-loving guy that I am, I grab his arms and start twirling around in a circle. I feel dizzy merely typing about it. After a few rounds of twirls I was able to convince him to climb up my legs while I held his arms and do a flip. His mother, who'd apparently been pre-occupied up until this point, came and kindly grabbed him saying "You don't even know this man" to which I without thinking replied "It's okay, I don't know him either."

I would later find out the kid's dad was one of the guys from Mastodon.

Feeling a bit tired, I decided that I wanted to leave. This was just as Mastodon was starting their set. Ko, Zack and Pat all wanted to stay and I didn't really have the patience to find/ask Mick his opinion, so I took the minivan filled with all the equipment and left the fest. Since James Kim's place was right around the corner I dropped off his drums in his garage.

On the drive to drop off gear back at Kelley's and Ink's I found Zack's iPod. Hoping for something good to listen to, I put my thumb on the clickwheel and tried to spin it, but something felt wrong. It barely moved. I was nervous because I thought I had broken it. I clicked over to the info setting to see how many songs are on there to be smacked in the face with a grand total of 70. That's not an iPod…that's two mix-cds. And you need a fucking dock for that!

I took solace in sending Zack a text message that read: "Just because you have it listed as Randal Chabot and not Deastro does not make having 'Tree Frog' on your iPod any less gay."

His response was "You were not supposed to see that."

I checked into me/Mal's and Ko's rooms at the Phoenix and then dropped off the rest of the gear by myself. I nap a bit before heading to soundcheck where I enjoyed the blonde Oreos that had been laid out for us. Introduced myself to Ty Segal and told him I couldn't walk five feet without seeing his name lately. Was amazed to see how young he is. He looks like a baby.

Went back to the hotel after soundcheck. Mal and I walked a block to some decent Thai place around the corner and had a late dinner there.

Made it to the Rickshaw shop while the Sermon was playing. Was bummed to miss Ty Segal but I really did need dinner.

The club was packed and it translated to intensity on-stage. I think Mick got popped in the mouth by the mic by rowdy fans. A few dudes from TV on the Radio showed up. I felt like I played as hard as I could, coming off-stage completely out-of-breath. Ty, watching right beside my drums, said he'd never seen us play before but that he was very impressed. I felt happy hearing that. I guess I usually just assume the "kids" don't understand us, so kind words from Ty, the next great garage genius, were that much more powerful.

Back to the Phoenix and we walked up the street for some so-bad-it's-still-bad pizza, tasting like someone just ran the whole thing underneath a grease faucet. We ate it with impunity and slept like kings.

I didn't want to do shit the next day. As the one who'd booked the flights I'd arranged for a Monday evening flight whereas everyone was leaving Sunday. This gave Malissa and I some much-needed chance to relax. She felt strongly about going back to the festival and while I initially didn't agree, there wasn't much else going on. My arm = far from twisted.

Took a cab to Golden Gate Park and breezed through security with our wristbands. What I had not anticipated was how nipple-twistingly cold San Fran can get in late August. I showed up in a jeans and t-shirt (because I didn't even bring anything like a coat or sweater for the trip) and insanely cold. I held my bare arms across my chest and rubbed both of them looking shaken-up like someone who'd just been pulled from a burning house, saved from drowning or tenuously extricated from a hostage situation.

We slipped backstage, said a quick' "hello" to the Dead Weather and then took a spot side-stage to watch them play. At the start of their set I looked out at the crowd and, feeling completely honest, said "there's not that many more people to watch the Dead Weather than were here to watch the Dirtbombs." After another two minutes or so I had to admit that there were a SHIT-TON more people watching the Dead Weather than the Dirtbombs.

Their performance was superb and personally, I loved the fact that they played so many new songs.

Backstage after DW 's set I met DangerMouse. He just happened to be hanging out in San Francisco and was just checking out bands at the festival. When it came up that I was in the Dirtbombs, he perked up and said "I really wanted to see you guys, but you just played way too early."

Zack was the only other Dbomb who'd show up at the festival on Sunday and he relayed a funny story about being backstage. There was an "exclusive" area of trailers that was meant only for those with artist wristbands. As he had one it wasn't a big deal. But Ween was the next band onstage and their crew was trying to clear out the area of anyone who wasn't in their crew.

Zack said, to whom I'm not exactly sure (and possibly just me) "Jack White's back there chilling, not asking people to clear out and you think anyone is going to give a shit about what Ween says?"

Ran into Sunny Kay from GSL backstage and again another welcome surprise encounter. We tried to figure out where the master tapes to the Lost Kids album were located and we didn't have a solid answer. I also geeked out in telling him how, for a summer or two, I bought every 7" GSL released regardless of whether or not I knew anything about it. I was pleasantly surprised more often than not.

Zack and I ran into the dude from Onitsuka again and he said he wanted to give us some ear buds. Having received a set each already we were slightly confused, but I honestly thought they might have newer models than the day before. He hands them to us and asks us to pose for a photo and then makes reference to some friends/colleagues as us being the band Cage the Elephant. We bit our tongues hard. I guess to the reps from Onitsuka, we all look the same.

We walked the long walk toward the main stage. Had the bright idea to stop by the Alternative Apparel tent and see if they had any free clothes I could wear to warm my ass up. Being the final day of the fest their pickins were slim, but I was ecstatic to score a Mr. Rogers Eco-Vertigrain Cardigan.

It wasn't particularly thick. When buttoned it made me look like a sausage. The "ash" color wasn't ideal for absorbing heat, but god-damn if that last trip to the gifting tents didn't totally save the day. Thank you Alternative Apparel for the $45 cardigan you gave to me for free in a time of personal climate crisis.

MIA started soon thereafter on the main stage. Her sound was absolute shit. The bass was completely overpowering and her vocals were almost non-existent. Seemed like she could've benefited from a soundcheck, or at least an engineer who knew what her songs sounded like.

Nevertheless I enjoyed hearing "Bamboo Banga" live. Most of her performers were wearing Michael Jackson t-shirts. She had twin pale-skinned, red-head dudes dancing for her and it was strikingly odd. Highlight, for me, was her new song that sampled the synth part from Suicide's "Ghostrider."

At this point in the show we'd met up with James Kim, managing something like VIP concessions and he hooked us up with a plate of free calamari. Fuck yeah.

After "Paper Planes" we decided to leave. On our way out of the park we were stopped by two kids asking for passes to get in. Always looking to help out, we slid the cloth wristbands delicately off our wrists, told them they were all-access artist's passes and to enjoy themselves to the fullest. The look of excitement/bewilderment on their faces was priceless and I hope they lived it up for the brief time remaining for the festival.

Cabride back to the Phoenix found the driver blowing through an intersection as the light turned from yellow to red. I commented "I didn't see it turn red" to which he replied "Neither did I" and Malissa followed with "We're from Detroit, red lights don't apply to us."

The driver, Eddie, perked up. "I'm from Detroit too."

"Whereabouts?" I ask.

"East Side" he offers.

"Where on the East Side?" I say, really just wishing he'd give me his address already.

"Kercheval and Philip" he says.

I'm amazed. That intersection is approximately a mile and a half from 3424 Bishop where I spent the first twenty-six years of my life.

He went to high school at Finney and worked at Joe Muer's restaurant on Gratiot, a class establishment that I'd only ever heard spoken about wistfully. He told stories of running a flower cart downtown and ultimately of his leaving the city in 1969. Although we grew up both knowing markedly different versions of the city, the camaraderie was undeniable. It goes without saying, but it truly is a small world.

We rested at the hotel before an evening birthday party for our booking agent Dave Kaplan. The party was swell and yet I can't remember anything of note happening worth repeating here.

Our final day in San Fran was pretty chill. Saw Robin Pecknold as I was checking out of the hotel and wondered if he'd spent the previous day listening to the Dirtbombs as I'd spent the previous day listening to Fleet Foxes. I should've said "hi" but got scared that it might not have actually been him. But it totally was.

Time spent in the Haight had me cross paths with Brock Galland (current guitarist with Kelley Stoltz) and upon asking him for any recommendations (he was on lunch break from Amoeba, where usually dispenses this wisdom) he spit out with Ty Segal, Fresh and Onlys and Oh Sees. I felt good telling him I was already on the ball for all of 'em.

Actually met up with Ty (accompanied by the Jeff the Brotherhood bros…seriously, those guys are everywhere I turn) at Amoeba and had a good once around the store with him. Is it weird to say that he seems like a little brother to me? Like I just want to protect him and lead him safely down the path? Anyway, on his recommendation I bought 7"s by Nodzzz, Sic Alps and the Baths. On my own recognizance I bought the RAKS, RAKS, RAKS compilation of 1960's Iranian garage/pop/psychedelic jams, the 3rd installment of Bo Diddley's 2xCD collections from Hip-o-Select Ride On, a prime collection of NorCal 60's garage called Up From the Grave and a collection put together by DJ Shadow called Schoolhouse Funk that fails to list any of the bands playing on the compilation of vintage high school and college marching or concert bands.

Malissa bought an amazing pair of Frye boots at a vintage store and I was more than happy to pay $100+ for them. They look hot. I love her.

Rest of the day would lazily linger. Mexican food and prime record time with Stoltz was really the cherry on top of a sundae of a tour.

Dirtbombs Went to the West Coast for Four Shows...Part One

Flying to Atlanta to get to San Diego, from Nashville? Oh the beauty of airline hubs and the dregs of Hartfield International, a more-despised airport I cannot imagine. In my attempt to explain to Malissa how close the Casbah is to the San Diego airport, I was physically able to point out the window to the marquee of the club approximately 5 seconds before our plane landed. Yes dear, visible-from-the-airplane close.

We arrive to an oppressive, 94 degree heat. Pat’s hanging out with his sister, the rest of the band is running errands for/with Mick. They’ve rented a minivan. Mal’s cousin picks us up from the airport and we go to eat at the Yardhouse. I forgot what I ordered, but Malissa got an amazing mac’n’cheese dish while the rim of my lemonade glass was dusted in sugar. I appreciate the attention to detail.

Arrive at the Casbah just in time to sound check. The Sermon had offered up their gear in exchange for the opening spots on the shows and we couldn’t really say no to that. The day before their van started smoking and they too had to rent a minivan (coupled with a spare truck they were also traveling in) to make the tour possible. Together we felt like soccer moms-in-arms.

We hadn’t played together as the Dirtbombs in about five months. First song at sound check was “What You’ve Got” a song that the band had never played live and only two of us (Mick and I) played on the recording of. I felt comfortable with it but Ko and Zack clearly have trouble making sense of Mick’s complete lack of a follow-able guitar. We then did “Underdog” and leave the stage because the doors were about to open.

First band was the Death Eaters. They may spell that with one word, but if they do, I wonder if they ever improperly addressed as the Deat Heaters? Or kids I knew in St. Louis called the Overtones…did they ever get called the Overt Ones? Or ’76 Kansas City punk unknowns the Vomitones…could anyone have ever called them the Vomit Ones? Oh the needless way my brain chooses to reinterpret band names.

Deat Heaters were a three-piece with a black guy singing lead and playing guitar, an Asian guy on bass and a white dude drumming. Someone made the wise observation that if you added a Mexican and another white dude that they could give the Dirtbombs a run for their money. I sincerely liked how they sounded and I don’t say that often about local openers. I was vaguely reminded of the Reigning Sound. They didn’t have a record. I believe they said they were working on it. Eagerly I await.

The Sermon sounded better than they ever have before. This was peculiar because I only recognized one band member and knew that one of the guitar players was on-loan just for these shows. Nevertheless, it felt as if what before could get caught up in intensity without much intention, this show echoed with effort and exaction. The dirge-y, “Dirt”-like ending tune was a welcome departure as well.

We made the point to actually write out setlists but that action notwithstanding, there really is nothing like jumping onstage with no rehearsal behind you. No net, no take-backs…or as Tom Petty would say, free-ballin’.

The performance was surprisingly acceptable. Upon starting “Wreck My Flow” I felt that the disco boots-pants beat on the hi-hat didn’t seem right. I stared at Pants and for the life of me could not figure out what was wrong. Halfway through I finally realized that I don’t play this song on the hi-hat. I play it on the rim of the snare drum. This was my only “duh” moment of the night.

Encored with the borrowed blue Ludwig Vistalites on the floor in the middle of the crowd as Pants stood over me (on the stage) pouring water all over them for impressive water spouts upon impact. Hands got all wet and resulted in dropped sticks. That shit's funny when you're the only one playing.

Post-show I met up with pal Davey who played in Tall Birds and was in town drum tech-ing for Modest Mouse. Intro’d me to Joe Plummer (MM drummer) who said we’ve met before. I couldn’t specifically remember, but he reminded me that he was at the White Stripes show at Al’s Bar in LA back in 2000. He was with his then-girlfriend Janet Weiss. They bought “Hello Operator” picture discs, Sleater-Kinney asked Jack and Meg to open for them not two months later and it was all downhill for the White Stripes from there.

Nearby Mick was talking with someone and beckoned me over. He said “Ben, meet Alex Chilton.” I was supremely caught off-guard. Member of the Box Tops and Big Star, producer of the Cramps and the Gories(!) and all I could muster was some limp conversation about, shit, it wasn’t about ANYTHING! I was so flustered that I dragged Mal over and she proceeded to have a better conversation with him than I could. Smooth move Ben.

I manned the min-van for the nighttime drive back to San Diego. I was getting a bit sleepy but was too proud to say so. A stop in Orange County found us at one of the three best gas stations in the US (in my opinion). That stop also recharged my constitution and I was easily able to drop off Zack at his friend’s place (where a pack of raccoons were literally climbing 12-foot-tall chain link fences) before the rest of us set up camp at In the Red headquarters in Eagle Rock.

Larry Hardy’s residence on Avenue 45 is the vinyl Valhalla vision in the barren wasteland that is Los Angeles. Mal and I crash in the Dave Katznelson Memorial suite, making this one of only two times at the residence where I failed to sleep on the couch. After about a dozen visits, that couch is part of my DNA (or is my DNA part of that couch?) and to see Ko sleeping on it, I won’t lie, I felt slightly betrayed.

The ability to sleep in the next morning was delightful. Mick, Ko, Pat, Mal and I walked up the street to Auntie Em’s for delectable edibles from Terri Wahl, previously punk who spent time in the Red Aunts and the Screws. The special that day was a lasagna (I think) and me and two of my tablemates all ordered it. We enjoyed it.

Back to Casa de Hardy. Pat scooted off with Mick and they dropped Ko off at her hotel. They went to a gallery doing a show of Polaroid photos. They’d planned to go to the Third Man Records pop-up store too, but somehow got sidetracked and ended up at Amoeba.

Mal and I met up with Steve Macdonald and his son Alfie. We made way to a surf shop in Pasadena in search of rash guard for Alfie’s first-ever swimming excursion the next day. They had no guards. We walked to Urban Outfitters and realized THEY didn’t have rash guards either. From a freeway overpass we marveled at the smoke plume from the wildfires in the distance.

After our QT with Steve and Alfie we went back to Larry’s. Malissa went to hang out with her friend Alia while Larry and I cruised to Hollywood to hang out with Bob Matheu.

Bob has just written the authorized biography of the Stooges. He enlisted me to write a review of Funhouse for the book. I thought it would be just for him to quote from (as he said, he was sick of all the reviews of the album from the era and wanted new words) so imagine my surprise as he shows me the book with my review printed in its entirety.

If that were not enough, alongside my words are the most absolutely stunning photo outtakes from the Funhouse sessions where Steve Mackay looks so damn foxy I feel that my heterosexuality is now negotiable. Add to that a pristine label scan of an Armed Forces Radio and Television Services LP (proudly mentioned in my review) and the whole thing is quite possibly my most favorite thing I’ve ever written. Please do search out the book, officially titled “The Stooges Authorized and Illustrated Story” as it is truly a treasure trove. Pre-order on Amazon today and save!

And if THAT were not enough, he also hipped our ears to some sonic Stooge delight the likes of which have not been heard in 30+ years. That’s all I’m fit to spill here, but let’s just say that there’s still PLENTY of solid material languishing in the vaults that should (hopefully) see a release sometime soon.

I’ve never had the luxury of seeing Larry Hardy so giddy. The original plan was for Larry to drop me off at the Echo and then double-back to Hollywood where he had dinner plans. As we listened to more and more Larry’s eye was increasingly fixated on the time. In what was welcomed desperation, Larry gave me $60 and said “I’ll PAY for your carbide to the Echo if it means I get an extra 15 minutes of listening to this stuff.” I happily obliged and was gracious enough to give him $20 back as the ride was $30 and change and I tipped the driver up to $40.

Brief soundcheck at the Echo and then chill time with my buddy Josh. He has an apartment right around the corner from the club so we hung there a bit before returning to eat pizza slices next door to the club. Not sure if it’s always this way, but the 7” jukebox in there was offering free plays. Naturally I played the Stooges.

Downstairs that evening was Conor Oberest and His Mystic Valley Band. The confusing/interesting thing about it is that the entrance for that club (the Echoplex) is around the corner and down the street from the entrance for the Echo. So more than a few confused fans walked up to the door for our show only to be directed down the block, across the street, down some stairs and back across the street to see Conor. The VIP’s for that show were allowed into the entrance of the Echo and led down a secret set of stairs to the Echoplex. I saw Jenny Lewis and Chloe Sevigny (separate) and couldn’t help but think Chloe’s ensemble was terribly outrageous in the most uninteresting way. Then I wondered if people actually like Conor Oberest’s music.

(although Dungen was opening the show, I made no effort to see them…figured owning the record was good enough and for a band playing that kind of music, the only time I’d seen them live it seemed sterile and rehearsed. I was hoping for more…jamming? I can’t believe I’m actually typing those words. Watching them play felt like jazz to me and that’s not meant as a compliment)

I missed openers Jail Weddings and the Sermon too. Turned out that as de facto tour manager I made a pretty huge goof-up. After LA, we had a day off to drive to San Francisco. The following day, Saturday, we would be performing at the Outside Lands Festival in SF at 12:45pm.

At some point in organizing the tour, the Sermon asked if we wanted to play a show on that Friday and if not, would we be fine if they did themselves? We chose to relish in our day off and had no problem with them booking their own show. Turns out I failed to notify the Sermon that we would still need their gear with us in San Francisco for a 10am load-in at Golden Gate park. And that kind of thing just ain’t possible when they’ve got a late gig in Santa Barbara the night before.

I sat on the curb outside the Echo feeling pretty fucked. As is my usual first instinct on those feelings, I called Kelley Stoltz. He didn’t answer, but I left a detailed message. Before I could even seriously begin to worry, Kelley called back, said he had a drum set and guitar amp we could use. He’d already been in touch with James Kim (his drummer) who proffered up another drum kit and a quick call to Kevin Ink (Stoltz’s bassist/engineer) and we were sorted with another guitar amp and a bass amp. All told, it took maybe twenty-five minutes to sort all that out.

Not that I really needed the reminding, but it was at this moment when I realized how dear and irreplaceable true friends are. I know I would’ve done the same thing for those guys in a heartbeat, but just that feeling of people sincerely making the effort to help us out…there’s absolutely no beating that.

Our set at the Echo was alright. Mic stand started to slide far below Mick’s mouth-level early on and none-other than Har Mar Superstar jumps up and straightens it out mid-song. I scream “anything to get on stage!” while he does so. No one hears it. I still think it’s hilarious.

Crowd seemed a bit thin throughout the performance. It remotely peppered my thoughts and made me feel a bit down. As soon as we start “I Can’t Stop Thinking About It” in the encore Pantano up-and-leaves his drum assignment to bring his kit onto the floor to play in the middle of the crowd. Sonofabitch stole my line. To fight fire with metaphorical fire I pulled my drums onto the floor as well and we ended the entire thing in sloppy, fan-pleasing fashion.

I was exhausted after the show. It was officially Pat’s birthday by this point and he was officially drunk. It was funny, if only because it seems like no one drinks in the band anymore. Load out was slow and steady and we eventually ended up at the Cha-Cha and ate from the fantastic taco truck parked outside there.

We drop off Ko at her hotel, Zack at his buddy’s and the rest of us slumber soundly at In the Red HQ. As per Pat’s b-day request (and thankfully ignoring his bidet request) we awoke early Friday morn to get on the road to SF. I ate some Jack-in-the-Box. I don’t recommend it.

Upon arrival in the Bay Area we dropped off Mick “Where am I Staying?” Collins and Pantano in the Duboce Triangle and made way to the Fisherman’s Wharf Sheraton where the rest of us had paid for rooms that eve. We dropped off Ko and Malissa while Zack and I went to go procure our replacement gear.

First to Hotel Phoenix to meet up with sometime tour manager Dorien who was helping with the whole fiasco in exchange for a pass to Outside Lands. From there to Stoltz’s crib in the Mission. Kelley wasn’t around, so we helped ourselves to the gear he so lovingly laid out for us. I was stretching to find a reason in which we’d need an original German Polydor pressing of Black Monk Time as I know Kelley has one, but we decided against DJ Lethal’s proposition for a live collab.

From Stoltz’s to the Studio That Time Forgot where Kevin Ink calls home. Bass and guitar amps later we were on our way to within hearing distance of Pearl Jam at Golden Gate Park to pick up James Kim’s silver sparkle tubs. I won’t lie in saying that I was really tempted to load-up his Roland synth drums instead and have Pantano work with those, but I relented.

The process of gathering all this gear felt like it took forever. It was dark by the time we returned to the Sheraton. Zack hopped out and I took the minivan to the underground parking and following directions from the attendant, head towards the back where there were more available spaces.

I happened upon a completely empty row of parking spots and with even though it seemed to be a secure underground parking structure, I surmised it was always best to back in when given the chance. What I hadn’t noticed was that these spots were actually underneath a ledge. So as I slowly inch my way back, waiting for the tires to hit the parking block or the bumper to hit the wall, I’m totally fucked.

Because of the ledge, the parking block is placed underneath, somewhere my back tires will never touch but makes absolute sense when parking the sensible front-first way. The back window spider web shattered quietly with a "pop" and remained mostly intact, surprisingly so as what I’d backed into was solid concrete.

For once I had to call Zack without some smart-assed quip. He said he could tell instantly, by the tone of my voice, that I wasn’t joking. So instead of meeting up with Pantano for his birthday, we pulled most of the gear out of the van (the rental place had some clause about not using it for moving cargo) and then drove the 25 minutes to the rental car place at San Francisco International airport, switching spots with Zack before we arrived because naturally he was the only one who was supposed to be driving.

(I’m sure had we followed those rules in the first place we wouldn’t be in this situation)

I sat in the van while Zack dealt with paperwork and crap inside. Just when I thought busting the window out was the clever way to get out of having to refill the gas tank he hops back in and says we need to fill up or pay the $4/gallon charge for them to do it.

We make a wrong turn and soon remembered that they make rental car lots so that you can’t leave without having to pass a security guard. We found ourselves at the mechanic’s station and they stared at us like we had penises on our foreheads.

After doubling-back and finally getting to the security guard we somewhat easily found the gas station we were directed to and filled up. Once back to the rental agency, we carefully switched the gear left inside to our new, identical minivan. After once-overing and double-checking that everything was out, Zack smart-assedly slammed the trunk HARD so as to rain fragments of tempered glass on the black concrete of the parking lot. This was WAY more punk than him breaking that Coca-Cola bottle in Germany.

Finally back at the hotel and looking back I wish we’d have parked in the same spot we busted the window in. Anygay, it seemed like the whole window replacement excursion took us 2 hours start-to-finish on our day off. Ko and Malissa were at some bar and soon arrived back with Mexican food for Zack and I. Passed out watching Fox News. Had nightmares.