south by all over again

We pulled into a gas station in far west Texas late on Sunday night and immediately spotted three other vans full of bands. Everyone had left Austin at the same time, headed to shows at points west. We all circled each other warily, and made our introductions: "So... what band are you in?" Everyone was friendly and earnest, and soon enough we were exchanging CD's and phone numbers. One of the bands, Arizona, came out to see us in Phoenix and we all shut down a bar together after the show. We're planning on seeing the other band, Casper and the Cookies, on our off-night in San Diego (where we'll be staying with the Album Leaf, another band we met on the road). We'll probably end up putting up some of these bands when they play New York. Four days in Austin is enough to make anyone extremely cynical about this weird, dirty business we're in. It was nice to be reminded that we have the support of all these other bands who are out there struggling to get by, just like us.

"Is he dead?"

The other morning I was awakened by a cop asking if I was dead. The night before, after playing with Earl Greyhound in Ybor City, we had set off towards Gainesville in search of a hotel and a good nights sleep. Alas, every hotel room in Florida was claimed by spring-breakers. Finally, exhausted, we parked at the edge of a Best Western parking lot to get a few hours sleep in the van. George was snoring like a bandsaw and it was a lovely night, so I put my sleeping bag down in a grassy field and tried to put all thoughts of hungry alligators out of mind. The police found me a few hours later and asked me what I was doing there. I told them that we were in a touring band and the hotels were full.

"Where'd you play last night?" he asked.

"Oh...uh....uh...we're in Florida right?"

"Right. You can't sleep here son."

I crawled back behind the wheel and off we went, four men in a yellow van, in search of coffee to clear our heads.

checking email at tito's house.

Tito and co. came out to the show last night, as well as Michael and Suzy, and our new buddy from the mountains of Georgia, Steve, who was in town for some golf. Thanks for coming everybody. and thanks to Tito and Steve for letting us crash at their respective homes.

we've got a week of shows in Florida now, which should be good, for some reason, kids in florida like us.

no photos to post, I no longer have a camera. Jin got us the video camera, but no one ever remembers to bring it out of the van, so all we have is footage of us sitting in the van. fantastic.

BEAT DOOK

Saturday night we played Chapel Hill at the Local 506 with Grizzly Bear. I've always been impressed with their records, but the happy surprise was the tight-ass rock show they put on. Everyone in the band plays delay pedals like jazz musicians, looping and layering themselves into a great big dense warm cloud of oohs and ahhs. I was mesmerized.

Sunday was an off day. We went to Best Buy and got a real stereo installed in the van. We've been living with an AM/FM radio and one of those shitty iTrip doodads for a long time, and it's gonna be a much happier band traipsing around the country now. Then we met up with Glenn, the owner of the 506, for the UNC/Duke basketball game, which was played about a mile from where we watched it. The Heels were awesome. They're fast as hell and have a deeper bench than anyone. By the time the last ten minutes rolled around the Duke boys looked flat as hell and UNC ran away with it easily. The scene at Bub O'Malleys, just off of campus, was electric. It's the one game of the year where Heel-love and Duke-hate coalesce into one trancendental surge of emotion. It wasn't until the final seconds of the game, when Duke's Gerald Henderson decked Tyler Hansbrough with an elbow to the nose, that the "FUKE DUKE" chants really got going in earnest. We followed the crowd out to the main intersection in the heart of town, where they proceeded to set things on fire.

I took some video of the craziness. I'll post it asap.