First of all, let me apologize for slacking big-time on my gig summary duties as of late. In my defense, it’s been a really crazy three weeks. I finally got a new job, and let’s just say that I no longer have fourteen free hours a day to putz around on the web. In fact, I honestly think that this past week of work was perhaps the hardest I’ve ever had to work in my entire life. So yes, that means testing software can sometimes be harder than:
OK, so #4 was a fifteen year old’s wet dream, I admit. But all of those other jobs sucked, I swear. Although Burger Kind turned out to be pretty cool, because I ran the drive-thru for my entire senior year and everyone at Plano knew me as “BK Dude.” Which of course sounds awful, until you realize that all of these people were coming through my drive-thru and giving me beers for when I got off at the end of the night. By 2 AM, I had a vast assortment of delicious cold brewskis to choose from, and they were all free. Considering that I was seventeen at the time and looked twelve at most, this was a huge bonus. Come to think of it, the same thing happened delivering pizzas in Austin too. Beer city baby! And did I ever tell you about the time I delivered to three girls who were in their nighties, and they were really drunk, and they held a contest to see . . . well, never mind. I’ll save that one for another day . . .
So back to my point: I worked my ass to the bone the past for weeks. Throw in gigs on three consecutive weekends, and I barely had time to pleasure myself, much less write gig summaries. So what you’re getting here is a composite gig summary: three whole shows wrapped together in one tasty package. Jack In the Box might call it a gigawrap or something stupid like that, but we’ll forgive them. Why? Because those 2 tacos for 99 cents buy a lot of forgiveness. Throw in some onion rings, and you have the best hangover cure this side of a bloody mary chased with Alka Seltzer Plus cold medicine. So anyway, on with the Ultimate Bacon Gig Summary . . .
Shit, this was like three weeks ago. I don’t remember a fucking thing.
Gig No. 2: The Barley House, April 24, 2004
Now THIS I remember. Who the hell forgets signing your first ass? I only hope it won’t be the last. I suppose the fact that she asked me to sign it “Neil Diamond” sorta takes a little of the fun out of it, but hey—when was the last time you signed an ass?
I thought so.
As for the gig itself, I think the second set may be the best we’ve ever played. The crowd wouldn’t let us stop, so we played until like 2:20 when the lights came on. A whole pack of drunk hot girls magically appeared in front of the stage about 1:30, and they were just having the time of their lives. Come to think of it, Eric looked pretty damn pleased himself with his front-row view of the ladies. Afterwards, Dietrich heard one of the girls proclaim that we were “the best band ever.” But unfortunately, she didn’t ask me to sign her ass. Dammit.
To tell you the truth, I can’t wait to get back and play at the Barley again. Where else will the bartenders wear sparkly sequined shirts in your honor? And where else can you hear the early 80s classic “Switching to Glide” on the jukebox moments before playing? If that doesn’t pump you up, nothing will. C’mon, you remember:
No? Well, we may just have to play it next time we’re at the Barley to refresh your Q102 memories.
AFTER-PARTY UPDATE: With “the House” but a distant memory, the official gig after-party moved to its new location: my house. Since I had alertly purchased a bottle of Monopolowa vodka earlier that day, everyone was very happy. We were even happier when Jay and Matt finally arrived, as the dumbasses didn’t bother to tell anyone that they were hitting the Taqueria Lupita over on Hendersen. Here we thought they were dead in a ditch somewhere, and they were actually trying to avoid ordering goat brain tacos on accident. Happily, they were fine and even shared some of their precious bounty with us. Thanks guys.
EPILOGUE: I woke up with a nasty headache the next morning, and I didn’t even remember how the party ended. I stumbled downstairs to get some aspirin, and there was my answer: I had whipped out my vinyl copy of Vital Signs by Survivor. Bless you, Jimi Jamison, for finally making my friends finally get the fuck out so I could sleep. (In case you’re interested, we also listened to Journey’s Escape, Def Leppard’s Hysteria, and even The Blitz by Krokus—but everyone stayed. If Survivor hasn’t worked, my copy of Starship’s Knee Deep In the Hoopla was ready and waiting...)
After all this time, our first show at the Cavern—truly one of our favorite bars. And to make things even better, we were playing with Oliver’s Army. Can I tell you how much I love these guys? Can I also tell you that I trashed my voice by singing along with their entire set before we even hit the stage? Oh well, it was a fucked up night from the beginning anyways. Greenville was under water from that massive storm, so we were happy that a few people even bothered to show up despite the weather. It was also Matt’s birthday, so we drank a lot, played a few tunes, and watched Jay set the world record for “Longest Time to Change One Guitar String.” Sometimes I wonder if that boy is on dope, and if he is, why isn’t he sharing?
Honestly, we didn’t play bad. We just didn’t play well either—I think we were just a little bored after playing the same songs three weeks in a row. Happily, we’re taking May off, and the plan is to return in June relaxed, refreshed, and possibly with an all-guitar show. We always say we play Neil like The Who, and now we’re gonna show you that we mean business.
After we boarded the Ark for safe transport after the show, we went to Matt & Sarah’s for the Survivor-free after party. Unfortunately, there’s something even scarier than Survivor lurking at Matt & Sarah’s: their ninety-year old neighbor. We all huddled in the kitchen, afraid to make a peep. Do we know how to party or what?
Hey, I just remembered something about the LBG gig! Melissa sang “Flowers” with me and was great. I drank a lot of cider. And Chelsey showed up! Sorry, that’s all I got.
Thanks to all of you for coming out, and we hope you enjoy your month off from our beautiful noise. I know we will. Until next time, I leave you with this:
Aren’t you gone yet? Get the fuck out!