8/24/2012 – Tales from the clubhouse vol XV

In an age when male politicians try to define rape, we need loud guitars more than ever. If only to prove that while we can’t shut these neanderthals up….we can at least drown them out.

We’ve got our first gig upcoming on September 6th. No big deal. Just being filmed for TV broadcast. The boys weren’t too happy to find out they were gonna be splashed across HD screens before they had a chance to riot in a local bar, but they’ve got stiff upper lips and have accepted they we may suck in front of tens of thousands of people. The way I figure it, if you’re gonna suck, you should suck big. And early. To get it out of the way.

I think we’re gonna be non-suckish. We’ve actually rehearsed once….and plan on doing it again. Our set will be all originals. Most of the stuff from the CD, and me doing a few solo acoustic songs so the boys have time to drink beer backstage. We’ll be on for an hour and people are invited to come watch. It’s in a nice theater and everything. Actually, “invited” is not the right word. I’ve been begging folks to come and to scream like we’re the Ed Sullivan era-Beatles. We’re not of course…being nowhere near that cute. But asking folks into an alternate universe for an hour or so seems like such a small favor…especially considering how our regular universe is filled with douchebags like Todd Akin and Paul Ryan. It is pretty funny hearing Wiggy and Condel saying over and over again…..”they know what we sound like, right? I mean…that we’re really loud?” I hope nobody expects any mining ballads.

A small problem to overcome is me being barely able to walk….having done some unknown damage to my left knee a few weeks back. It was my own fault, as I was running. You know….the whole exercise thing. That’ll learn me. Anyway, no swelling. Nothing noticeable at all. It just feels like I’m constantly being stabbed by a midget. It only hurts when I’m not laying down…which means it hurts about 16 hours a day. Lately I’ve been singlehandedly raising the stock prices of the folks who make Motrin. But pain builds character. Somebody said that. I’m not sure who. I’m not sure it’s true either. I don’t feel like I have more character now than I do before I butchered my own knee…but then maybe it’s hidden deep down….ready to come out for the HD cameras. I fucking hope so.

The end of September we’ll be at Vinnie’s place. The V-Spot. The CBGBs of Scranton. That will be our first gig “proper” I guess. We’ll finally be able to totally misbehave and be rewarded with drinks and a few 20 dollar bills. And not have to worry about censors or 10 second delays. Or cameras. All that and free drinks. Is this a great country or what?

Remember that we live in a world where you can get tossed in jail for making fun of former heads of the KGB in a punk rock song. I liked the touch of Pussy Riot doing the song in a church too. On the altar. Probably the least hypocritical thing that’s ever gone down in the place. It’s getting scary out there. I support this band. You should too. When the unsmiling Putinesque dude comes for you, you’re gonna expect someone to have your back. What if there’s no one left? Evil adores complacency….and it’s no secret why when the latter increases the former is magnified.

Well that’s all for now. See you at the gig I hope. Until then, I’m gonna listen to the new Bob Mould record another 100 times. It’s the best thing I’ve heard all year.

In a bit..

tf

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