December 12th, 2003 @ 924 Gilman Street in Berkeley
with Toys That Kill, Frisk, Scattered Fall, and Love Songs.
I
noticed that by playing first we always end up trying to find ways
to redirect our adrenaline/energy that we got from playing. Sometimes
it makes us more social, sometimes we end up dancing over-zealously
for the other bands (like when we played with High Speed Scene), but
sometimes it just makes us downright obnoxious. This was one of those
nights.
The
lady selling merch next to us was not happy about our smelly and half-naked
shenanigans, or our sneaking articles of clothing from the free bin
into their merch box, or our relentless messing with their 'customers,'
or making our merch look like theirs, etc. She was very cordial and
friendly at the beginning of the night but by the time it came to packing
things up she wouldn't look any of us in the eye. All I could think
was What would she have done if Mikey were in this band and he were
subject to the riggers of playing first and having to idle the rest
of the night. While we merely have fun, Mikey commits punishable offenses.
Cheers to her for making it as long as she did without punching us,
cheers to Mikey for not showing up and punching us.
December 5th, 2003 @ Kimo's in San Francisco with
Short Round, Secret Janet, Love Songs, and Muffin.
We
knew the stairwell leading up to the stage at Kimos was long and difficult.
To make it easier on ourselves we decided on half-stacks, yet even
if you stacked all the other FOUR band's amps together ours still towered
over theirs. Of course the other bands all rocked proving that our
amps are, in fact, over-compensations for our inadequacies.
November
26th, 2003 @ Pine St Bar & Grill in Livermore. With
New Model Army, Kehoe Nation, Poor Bailey, Audrey Sessions, and Love
Songs.
We
played first on a Wednesday night at an $8 show in a bar in a strip
mall in Livermore to my dad and my boss. That said, our amps were really
tall, we were told to turn down only once, and the bathroom facilities
were much nicer than your average bus station.
November 1st, 2003 @ 924 Gilman St. in Berkeley with
Love Songs, Hang on the Box (China), Brain Failure (China) and Deadfall.
Hey,
two bands from China! How rad! I think Hang On The Box (with 3 gals
and a guy) unanimously won our hearts by unleashing the infectiously
catchy song "You Fucking Dirty Bitch." The chorus ("you
fucking dirty bitch") was followed by a sweet little vocal call-and-response
between the drummer and the singer that went "bitch/you bitch!/bitch/you
bitch!" Brain Failure (also from China) were highly energetic
and friendly and when I tried to defer our door money to them and Hang
On The Box at the end of the night the Brain Failure singer adamntly
refused saying, "you already pay us with your heart." Then
he gave me a hug. Deadfall were super awesome (and fast and thrashy
and hyper) and their guitar player was from Peru. Systema Brutalia's
singer was from Brasil and he had a an interesting dance style. It
balanced somewhere between I'm-uncomfortable-up-here-but-I-have-to-move-because-I'm-the-singer
and the Mashed Potato. In the end Love Songs were the only band of
the night without any sort of foreign attribute. But boy were our amps
tall!
October 3rd 2003 @ Mic's house (527 G st in Davis)
for Mic's birthday party. With High
Speed Scene
New
rule - no more shows in Davis on Friday nights.
As
we were driving up I gave ourselves a 30% chance of playing.
When
we arrived and 2 bands had already played (because it takes so damn
long to get to Davis on a Friday night) and no cops had shown up and
Justin hadn't caught the house on fire or thrown the kitchen stove
out the window I upped the odds to 50%. The High Speed Scene played,
er, fully KICKED ASS, and when they finished I got this funny feeling
in my guts. I let the odds slip back down to 30% and sure enough the
cops came. No More Bands.
The
party was quickly relocated to Dean's house where both his band (a
new version of The Bunny I'm assuming) and Love Songs played full sets.
I had a tooth broken off this summer by a microphone so I was a bit
nervous when the surging mass of drunken college rockers bashed the
mic in my mouth numerous times throughout the set, but thankfully no
harm was done to my (fake) teeth. Our equipment, however, suffered
a much worse fate thanks to various brands of airborne alcohol. ("Remember
when I said drowning in beer would be like heaven? Well this ain't
heaven, this sucks eh.")
Speaking
of beer, Mikey showed up and I have to applaud his ability to have
kept his c'mon-your-band-sucks-and-you're-an-idiot face for our entire
set. Afterwards Dean was trying to explain how Your Mother's "Pasture
of Muppets" was as influential to him as Metallica's "Master
of Puppets" and I couldn't take him seriously. Then he said that
by us playing in his living room he was going to be able to lay any
young co-ed in attendance. The only remotely feminine person in the
room was Alex so I said "Have at it" and went outside in
time to catch the tail end of Seth's girlfriend, Jessie, wrestling
a young co-ed. The good-natured sparring went on for a while, wound
up in the bushes and even yielded some blood. If our band has no balls
at least our girlfriend's do. Around 2:30am I made my rounds saying
good-bye. I found Mic and some others sitting in the far corner of
the backyard next to an ivy patch and sharing a bottle of whiskey.
They tackled me when I got close and apparently I spilled Mic's beer
during the scuffle. Mic demanded I refill his glass but instead I took
my weiner out and smeared around the mouth of his cup and tossed it
back at him. He feigned disgust and jumped backwards from a sitting
position. No one knew it but behind Mic was a sqaure cement hole full
of stagnant water and fresh urine and covered over by ivy. He vanished
like Luke Skywalker in the trash compactor and I don't think I have
seen anything that funny since Hot Shots: Part Duex. Happy Birthday,
Mic!
August 23rd 2003 @ 924 Gilman St. in Berkeley. With
Thought Riot, Scattered Fall, Kadena (NY), and Eskapo.
Another
show with only hardcore bands. The band directly following us had an
obnoxiously and belligerently drunk guitar player who rubbed us all
wrong before they even played. We were setting up a merch table when
he made a gay joke from the stage (this after non-humorously berating
everyone in the audience for no reason other than that he was an idiot)
and so Jack started throwing baby tomatoes at him. Don't ask me where
the tomatoes came from because I dunno, but I think they were a gift
form God for such an occassion. Anyway, Jack proceeded to huck the
tomatoes at him and yelling "Woohoo, more homophobia!!" The
guy noticed and politely inquired "Who the fuck threw those tomatoes?!
I'm gonna fucking break his teeth in!" After the show the guy
found Seth outside and in a case of mistaken identity tried beating
him up. Jack stepped up, placed his hand on the guys shoulder and calmly
told him, "It was me, let it go." And so he did. Jack holds
that kind of power. About this time Bradley almost got mugged on the
way to his car but the mugger instead went for two large Samoan guys
across the street. Why choose two large guys over a 120lb white boy
with a large, valuable bassdrum in his hands? Good question. During
our show a bunch of mohawked kids kept calling us pussies (because
hey, I'd be dissappointed too if I wanted to mosh to a band called
Love Songs and it turned out there weren't brutally moshable!) but
then they started slamming hard during the fast songs, prompting me
to recall the Dead Milkmen anthem "You'll Dance To Anything." Ah,
to be young and aimless...
May 17th 2003 @ the Beach House With: Best Pals and
Dead End Career.
Friday
night started with us waiting for Alan so we could drive up to Davis
to stay at Mic's. No, really, we were waiting for Alan. So we finally
make it to Mic's where he had prepared for us 9 feet of TOGOS sandwich.
He also made up a pot of some sort of Peruvian veat/cilantro dish.
That man is a work of art, and by 'work of art' of course I mean 'chubby,
stinky, sex-crazed, lunatic.' In a good way, mind you. Then the fun
started. We previewed the new Magicool Doods ("I'm hung like a
baby...9 lbs, 8 oz") then went to a party where I got caught sneaking
some Girl Scouts Thin Mints ice cream from the freezer while Pete shoved
a 40oz into some guy's taint. Also, the house behind the party was
some sort of sorority that felt like doing some collective spring cleaning
in their skivvies at 2:30am. Half our party peered through the fence
like it was a peepshow booth as the ladies scrubbed, mopped and lysol'ed
their way into many a young college student's heart. On the long walk
home we loudly sang every song we could think of but made "cock
and balls" the only usable lyrics. Somehow we inadvertantly got
Mikey thrown in jail and he wasn't even with us, but that's another
story entirely. Anyway, we yelled and screamed till about 5am and then
woke up at 9 to start yelling and screaming again at the Pin A Go Go
pinball convention in Dixon. Then we drove to SF for the show. The
point of all this is that I had no sleep, no food, and no voice by
the time we played. But thanks to the party goods I was sufficiently
supplied with all the chocolates I could handle and were it not for
them I would have surely fallen asleep at the wheel on the way home.
Instead I thought, maybe I should clean my house too.
May 4th 2003 @ Mission Records With Vena Cava (from
San Diego) This Is My Fist, and more.
It
was a bona fide pop punk show! Like when we’d go to Gilman and
see Mr T Experience and Green Day and Samiam. Before the days of 8th
generation punk muzak heard in malls and car commercials across the
world. All the bands were good, everyone had a lot of energy and kids
totally danced around and had a good time. It was, like, special.
Speaking
of The Kids, the girl I took to my prom is now a high school English
teacher in Daly City and the night before this show she took me to
her school’s prom. My god, it was like walking into a Lil’ Kim
video. About 1/3 of the dresses contained no fabric between the neck
and the bellybutton and I saw no less than 10 ass cracks. But oh boy
did the dudes have some style... What style did I have when I went
to my prom? Let’s see, I had the wildly bold choice of wearing
a cumber bun or going all out and getting a vest. Fuck me, was I a
ZZ Top song – or so I thought. When I saw what these kids were
pulling off I was never so embarrassed to have come from such a suburban
honkey school (and believe me, I am embarrassed of that a lot as it
is…). To explain some of the guys outfits think Al Capone meets
Michael Jackson meets Prince and that’s a start. Once again I
was reminded of how little style and soul I have. Hence a white rock
band called Love Songs.
April 26th 2003 @ 1234 47th Ave #4 and International
Blvd in Oakland.. With: The Fountain Street Theater Band, Surf, East
Bay Chasers, Sign for Stereo, Qi and Love Songs.
Kimberly:
I could only watch you play a few songs because it was so crowded and
I got claustraphobic, and then that red light and....
Craig:
But did you at least notice how tall our equipment was?! All our amps
were taller than I was.
Kimberly:
Most things are.
March 8th 2003 @ 924 Gilman Street in Berkeley. With
Damage Done, Diehard Youth, Comeback Kid (Canada).
The
PA we were gonna use to play in the stoar did not exist, forcing us
to play on the stage - an option I was really, REALLY hoping to avoid.
All these hardcore bands, and us. Love Songs. With the cursive-y script
font and the heart and the word 'love.' Love Songs. I figured if we
weren't gonna play hardcore we could at least be a bit more intense
if we were playing in people's faces, but that was not the way it was
supposed to happen.
A
couple bands played. Floors were punched, boxes were kicked, and testosterones
soared. Then we played. "Are you ready to fucking die?" I
growled loudly and angrily at the largely adrenalized sea of boys. "Then
prepare to be bored to death..."
Not
as many people left while we played as I thought were going to, and
believe it or not almost all the cds sales were to males. I couldn't
beleive we sold cds, much less to doods. Standing by the merch table
I was applauded numerous times for having the 'courage' and 'guts'
to play such a show. I didn't think it was so bad, or that we were
THAT out of our element until the next band played. While their minions
danced the most aggressive dancing Gilman has ever seen the singer
called for the 'shirtless bro mob' to 'Fuck shit up! Side to side,
back to front!' Shirts were removed and soon the dancefloor was full
of sweaty, shirtless bros dancing. Think about that - sweaty, shirtless
guys dancing with each other. This was not The Eagle in San Francisco,
this was Gilman St, and I for one was glad to see such homoerotic activity.
It's been a while.
All
in all I had a really fun time and made some new friends. I even got
to raise a fist to the last's bands cover of the Gorilla Bisquits' "New
Direction," reminding me that in the big picture there wasn't
too big of a gap between our style and their style. And at least nobody
called us emo.
February 15th 2003 @ 3558 SE Morrison St. (Heather's
House o' Humpin') in Portland, Oregon. With Morse
Code Heartbeat and Samus Aran.
If
there’s one thing Portlanders know how to do, it’s to look
hip. I never, ever feel like I have less style then while in Portland,
and I never, ever want to be less stylish than when in Portland. It
used to be that merely seeing someone in my hometown with pins on their
jacket or a funny haircut meant we probably had some sort of kinship,
but then that all changed when the new commercial punk esthetic exploded.
Now they’re a dime a dozen. But in Portland these folk actually
seem to outnumber the common citizen. To not have died hair or a tight
black shirt or a white belt is to stand out. It’s haute couture.
It’s impossible to escape.
It
made me feel like wearing the squarest clothes I could find (squarer
than Bradley’s even!) but since I didn’t actually bring
a change of clothes I had to settle with what I had. Instead I ended
up buying a snakeskin-textured leopard-print trench coat. What the
fuck!? I don’t even like leopard print or snakeskin!! Portland
was rubbing off on me and I had to break free. Hanging out with Scott
Jones helped. He may have moved to Seattle and got tattoos on his knuckles
and gained 80 pounds and got a job bouncing at a strip club but he
is still the same outcasted, misunderstood dork he was when I met him
in 7th grade. And this is a (very) good thing. Sometimes talking about
driving his Suzuki Samurai at full speed through the high school parking
lot after some jocks put it in neutral and wheeled it halfway to Livermore
is grounding. Sometimes reminiscing about cleaning the dining room
where we worked with exposed testicles is a stark reminder that life
is not some superficial fashion show, and that we are all real people
with geeky pasts and pensions for crank calling people who stiffed
us after we delivered their pizza.
While
talking about this all with Pete (who has pins on his jacket) he was
quick to point out that neither Joel from Lopez nor David Hayes (both
Portlanders, both at the show, and probably two of the most punk-active
people I’ve ever met) looked the slightest bit hip. And as if
they weren’t already stand-up guys as it was… Power to
them for looking like nobodies!
Oh,
the show was fun. Half the people there used to live in the Bay Area.
And Alan’s new band, Morse Code Heartbeat, was fantastic. You
can take Alan out of Your Mother but you can’t…
February 14th 2003 @ The Crux Community Center on
Vashon Island (Near West Seattle) in Washington. Love Songs, Spring
Break and more. "Valentines' Day BASH featuring Love Songs."
We
drove through the night to Pete’s house in Portland. As soon
as we crossed the border into Oregon the roads became bumpy and chewed
up leading us to wonder if maybe Caltrans really does make a difference.
Seth speculates that they just make the 2 miles of road near each border
really nice to give the illusion that all of California’s roads
are smooth and safe.
Got
to Pete’s by midday ate the first of many delicious vegan meals
during our stay in Portland. Jack finally got to meet Alan, who is
rumored to be Jack’s doppelganger, or vice-versa. Beforehand
I asked him if he was nervous and Jack said of himself, “I am
confident that there have been some definite improvements in the newer
model.”
In
Pete’s van we sped up to Vashon Island, off the shores of Seattle.
At a gas station along he way the clerk snidely and for no obvious
reason called Jack a ‘smartbutt’ then proceeded to come
outside and write down our license plate number. Pete, who is happy
to walk into any situation if it will make someone uncomfortable walked
back in the gas station and asked what the reason for that was. There
was no reply and we continued on towards our ferry.
I
was the only one quick enough to hide under some blankets once we got
to the docks. Even still, the ferry cost over $20 to pay for everyone
in the van. Worse yet, the venue (a teen center) charged everyone not
in a band, including our ‘roadies’ and Jack and Seth’s
girlfriends who drove 600 miles to see the show. Later we were to receive
$23 from the door but let’s not let that taint the more pleasurable
experiences we had on Vashon Island.
The
whole event was very high school, very John Hughes, right down to one
of the young lassies wearing a pink prom dress. Everyone danced while
we played. All the ladies were all over Alan. Spring Break ruled. Just
as many guys bought CDs as girls, for a change. We gave out patches
with impunity and only one guy refused – he had a leather jacket
and denim vest, both littered with patches. Before we played I offered
him one and he looked at the heart, cursive font, and the word ‘love’ and
decided against it. I asked if it was too sissy and he said yes. Duly
noted. After we played I asked him again if he wanted a patch and he
said he wasn’t into ‘emo shit’ then compared us to
the Get Up Kids whom I’ve never heard but have been described
as a poor man’s Weezer. I can see how someone would think maybe
our logo or name might imply emo-ness, but after having just listened
to us I was a little shocked to hear him say that. One to grow on.
Conversely, another older, more cultured guy with a tie said we were ‘true
to the punk rock roots.’ He even went so far as to say we were
very reminiscent of early Black Flag and Minor Threat. Geez Washington
state, get your shit straight! Which are we? Blistering, aggressive
hardcore or sissy emo shite?
Either
way, Vash on, doods…
February 13th 2003 @ Primo's Swiss Club, 3406 Broadway
in Sacramento. With Getaway, The Magicool Dudes and The Bunny.
In
true punk rock fashion we borrowed Bradley’s parent’s Ford
Aerostar minivan for the weekend. This vehicle insures that all of
our luggage and equipment will smell like bulldogs but hey, at least
we can have all of our luggage and equipment and a way to transport
it.
First
stop was Mic Mucus’ house in Davis where he spent his whole tuition
check on the entire Togo’s menu for us to gorge on. He also made
a huge batch of bean soup which will surely make the drive to Portland
that much more entertaining. And if that weren’t enough he DJ’ed
for our entertainment, being sure to play the entire “Let It
Shit” LP by Italy’s Tampax. You can take all your crusty
bands’ war atrocity album covers and your death metal bands’ gory
record covers and stuff ‘em because none of them hold a bloated,
scabby, pus-riddled finger to this record cover.
We
headed to Primo’s Swedish Bar in the low income hovel of West
Sacramento. Our first sight was of Primo himself pissing on the side
of his building. (For the record, neither him nor his bar are remotely
Swedish.) We walked inside and found ourselves amongst lots of drunk
under-aged kids. Good start. My friend Hank showed up with his good-sported
but uncultured-in-the-ways-of-Upside-Dan-and-Mic-Mucus’-sense-of-humor
lady friend, and just as Dan and Mic’s band, Magicool Dudes,
started in on their catchy hit “I Like Little Boys.” Hank
and his friend and I stepped outside just as the ABC showed up. Primo
(who had already passed out TWICE by this time) tactfully informed
his patrons that “I am fucked! I am going to jail! If you are
under 21, get out! Have a good time, I am going to jail to get fucked!” The
ABC agent had merely asked him to card everyone and kick all the under-agers
out. The Magicool Dudes, by the way, were in the midst of their classic “Wrestling
with a boner is not wrong – but it’s frowned upon” while
all this was going on.
February 7th 2003 @ Joe's House (1151 South 7th
St. San Jose.) With The Unit Breed and S.H.A.T.
I've
played at Joe's over 10 times with 5 different bands and I'm just now
making the realization that it's one of those venues where I never
seem to play well. I enjoy playing there, I love hanging out there,
and it's usually an overall good time, but I don't think I've ever
finished playing and thought "We were ON tonight!"
For
some reason there was a circle pit while we played, but then a drunk
dude claiming to be pregnant was so off his rocker that it took most
of the slam dancers just to keep him from falling into us, thereby
disrupting the pit's (counterclockwise) flow. After we were done a
guy with a mohawk and studded, sleeveless denim jacket said, "Thanks
for the music so I could mosh." Fuck man, thank You!
I
can't wait till he tells his friends the next day, "I was totally
moshing last night, doods! I was fully fucking shit up!"
"Yeah?
What was the band called?"
"Um,
er, Love Songs..."
January
11th 2003 - @ 924 Gilman Street in Berkeley. Copy & Destroy
Tour SPEAKERS: The Urban Hermitt (sic), Joe Biel, Harmony Heartsun,
Alex Wrekk, and Shawn Granton. BANDS: Love Songs and All or Nothing.
By
the end of the night the mismatched bill (including a group of writers/speakers,
an LA hardcore band, and us) all ended up knowing each other through
The Probe. Small world, small show, still remarkably fun. Jack is looking
and acting more like Alan with every show and that's a little disconcerting... Check
out the pictures.
January 10th 2003 - @ Mic's House, 527
G Street in Davis with Bunny, Corpse Fuck Corpse.
"The
last time I came to a party here I had to throw my shoes away." -
J Howell.
The
party people slowly tracked mud in the house and eventually we were
able to draw pictures in it with the toes of our shoes. Shortly after
we finished playing the mud became so thick that it was impossible
to even spy a glimpse of the hardwood floor. The whole house was like
this. Mick said it ultimately took 10 days to clean because it had
to be dealt with in waves - wet it down, scrape off a layer, let it
dry and repeat. Totally unreal. I didn't have to throw my shoes away
but I did have to wash them if I ever wanted to wear them to work again. Check
out the pictures.
November
23 2002 - @ The
Crawl Space in San Leandro. First to last: The Sherrlyn Fenn,
Mishap, Love Songs, Suiciety, and Dialog.
Review written by "One of the Few People Paying Attention"
So
here it goes. I am basically being forced to write a show review, having
never done this nor having ever seen "Love Songs" prior to
last Saturday nite. Guess that's what happens when you rave too much
following the show. Or maybe it is cuz I have certain "ins" that
come with being the focal point of a song or two. Regardless, I want
to make it clear what biases I have. First of all, the songs refering
to me are not necessarily the happiest, most positive, or loviest songs
ever written. Second, I am not part of this music scene and don't know
much about it, except that Bradley is a phenomenal drummer. And third
which is related to number 2, it isn't really my musical taste.
So,
let's start at the begining of MY evening at the "Crawl Space." The
first band, not sure their name, had a guy with a great mohawk who
was very energetic. I was told this was melodic skate rock... and as
I commented at the time, it may be a good idea for these guys to look
up 'melodic' in the dictionary. This is exactly the music I don't understand.
Lots and lots of instrument noise, yelling, and jumping around all
of which is clearly intentional....only it's made to look random or
at the least chaotic? But it seemed like they were good at what they
were doing.
Then
came "Love Songs." It was a very tight set with briefs moments
between songs, each of which were a punch to the face/gut/wherever
depending on how tall you were. Keep in mind I have somehow never heard
these songs before, so I was completely floored by how together the
band was, how connected the guys felt, and how well-developed the songs
were. The energy of the 2 front men was great, occasionally Jack would
burst into a flurry of movement, and if you've seen Bradley before
you know nothing more needs to be said about his grace on the drums.
But the music itself was the real pleasure. the songs had so much variety
within them, rhythmically and musically, that it was all you could
do to not hold your breath waiting for the next change so you wouldn't
miss it by passing out. Honest.
It
was commented that there wasn't much response from the audience, although
it was also noted that there was less of that side murmuring from people
who weren't paying attention. This, dear love song mates, is because
you grabbed us into each song, let go for the 5 seconds between, and
then caught us out of the daze and yanked us into the next number.
Can you clap while free falling?
September 14th 2002 - @ G# Studios in San
Leandro with Methuselah.
METAL
UPSTAIRS said the sign on the front door of Dan's Gymnastics. A little
misleading. Yes, but if gymnastics are called upon, we will answer.
Seth was asked if we'd play this show 2 days beforehand. It was billed
as a stoner rock show and the band after us did a pretty good job of
compensating for our lack of stoner-rock riffs. They played one song
and - I kid you not - it was 40 minutes long. They were called Methuselah.
Everyone was really nice and this living-space-loft cum venue will
be pretty cool once more people know about it. Sounds good too. And
Hey! Free show!
August 25th 2002 - @ Chloe's House in San Francisco with Blood
Party (Boise), and FxUxNx.
Chloe's
garage rules, so long as the cops aren't called. I finally got to see
BP without distraction and they were great. FUN played the only 4 songs
we knew and it was, well, FUN. During the LS set a small child kept
bashing the microphone in my mouth. It was sorta cute until he moved
onto Seth's microphone. Finished the night off with some Jay's seitan
cheesesteak, no BBQ sauce.
August 24th 2002 - @ Mic's House in Davis with Blood Party
(Boise), Sharp Knife, and Magicool Doods
First
off, I appologize to everyone who ate at Redrum Burger on account of
me. I counted 12 people sick to their stomach just as the party was
getting under way, thanks presumably to the bad BBQ sauce we had on
our fries. The cops came again while BP played, but this time in response
to the bonfire Justin had set in the backyard. The flames went well
over the house and scared a lot of people away, but honestly, I've
seen much worse at this house. The last time I saw Justin start a bonfire
here he tore down the doghouse and storage shed and used them as kindling,
not caring that the splintered wood led straight back to the rest of
the house. This after he threw a case of beer through his kitchen window.
But oddly, I don't know anyone who would refer to him as a violent
guy. Anyway, the show resumed with the Magicool Doods stealing it.
Just as BP was about to start I went down the street to try and barf
up the dinner I could feel bubbling in my stomach. After our vehicle
left for back home Alex said the BP guys wrestled all night on the
neighbors lawn while people watched while sitting in plastic chairs
somehow stuck in the tree. Check
out the pictures.
August
23rd 2002 - @ SPAM in Oakland with Sharp Knife, Dismembers, Blood
Party (Boise), Vena Cava (San Diego), and Civil Dysyntery.
Next
time you look at a map for directions take note of whether you're looking
for numbered streets or numbered avenues. Before you leave. We missed
CD because of this, but we (Blood Party and us) were high on the fuzball
table my roommate just got so our spirits were still intact. While
BP played I spent the time outside listening to Corbett fight a losing
battle with the police. The man upstairs (known for parading around
town with a huge sandwich board pleading NO ANAL) called them and later
came down to help argue. He was obviously insane, but somehow Corbett
was able to one-up him and the cop left not knowing who to haul down
to the station. We promised to turn the volume down and I got the neighbor
to agree to come down and warn us if he was gonna call the cops again.
The rest of the bands played a tag-team set and all went well. BP and
us came back to my house where at 12:30am someone threw a stick of
dynamite under the car next door.
August 18th 2002 - @ The Gaslighter in Gilroy with Day Two
(Utah), Bound To Happen, and Speed/Lab.
At
$8/head we shouldn't have been surprised when NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON
living within 50 miles of Gilroy attended the show. Even the club owner
and his wife lived out of town. The only draw was Jack's girlfriend
(on our guest list), two guys who came with Speed/Lab (on their guest
list), and about 8 young girls that I swear I saw in the audience on
the Teen Choice Awards earlier tonight (hey, I was at work). They came
to see the god-friendly stylings of BTH whose guitar player definitely
had some holy sweeping arpeggio skills. But back to Gilroy, we also
could find NOT ONE SINGLE RESTAURANT open that served anything especially
garlicky. I resigned to buying a clove of garlic from a produce stand.
Regardless, we still came home smelling like Gilroy. And we had a blast
breaking Jack in.
February
2nd 2002 - @ Mission Records in SF with The Bananas, Sharp Knife,
and Me You And The Boys.
Our
first show and the only real mess-up was when Bradley botched his least-favorite
drum fill. He says he was sick, I say he was dodging something Mikey
threw at him. Check
out the pictures.
LOOKING
FORWARD: