the get so far down it actually counts
west coast tour 2wenty10
“the party adopt’d all the morals…” kevin’s chatting political in the living room. its recovery day. tours officially ovre & i’ve collect’d a wasp nest of dirty bruises to prove that as a blurr’d out fact. sitting here staring at the monitor there’s a feeling that continues to surface that i remembre from being 3thousand miles away when the sway of the crowd resemble’d what i think of as a flagstaff-ian charm. picking out the ‘jj valentine’ of that town or the ‘pickle’ from the crowd. its rad. seeing all our hometown friends last night was like a beach’d shark sliding through wet sand back into violent waves. being jst on the othre side of familiar to feel almost dangerous while the movement glows so similar you barely catch onto the fact that the ‘present’ is brand new. rad is the same/new/old rad.
flagstaff, az // custody battle. japanther. ugly stick bruisers -
homecoming was last night & was a fucking blast’r of a party. wet before i knew it. blood in the mouth right off the bat. kids above the crowd. heads banging. fists shaking like rattle cans. beautiful in sweat infest. play’d the newest haus show department in town called big haus & the flagstaff hearts were all way down to the ground & up to the ceiling. the big haus residents kill it & the hospitality was of the ‘what goes around comes around’ feel aka ‘be excellent to eachothre’. custody battle ripp’d it up, again in their dirty lead clean smash style to a relentlessly cheering crowd & japanthre turn’d the kids into a beautiful wet smear of song birds playing fun like babies on sugar pills. taking out ian & the drum set multiple lovely times. i know its lame but i had to leave right as ugly stick bruisers started. though i’m positive from past experiences that they tore up the room w trobadour punk, fingres & bows on string trinkets. hopefully the audience respect’d it. cuz they floor me.
note-able acts : our friend thats about to be a teenagre came out to her first show that night & iasha play’d the washtub till her fingres bled. Ian playing an entire sweatfest in a long sleeve dead moon shirt. Killer.
la // dick moves art showcase – green & wood & fuck yeah. featuring art by nil ultra & sterling bartlett -
fell through. whatevre, fuck talking shit on kids. i’ll leave that to someone else. dick moves, by all means.
note-ables : liz arcata totally show’d som of her true colours & help’d till the end on helping w a last minute show, from across the state. word, girl.
oakland // early graves. pills. until your heart stops.
a tunnel made out of graffiti leads you into a cocoon of colours. skulls. curse words. neon lettres drawn ovre shattre’d walls that could blind a city if a large enough black light & channel of mirrors swam onto the attack. pirate punks. this was our first interaction, nearly verbatim… ‘how you doing’ – ‘i could use more drugs’ nice. street art & fuck’d up-ed-ness. two friends that nevre tire me.
al blotto is the personification of carving initials into a tree trunk w a new friend aftre a sunny day swimming in cut off denim & throwing rocks at passing trains. sweet & harmless though totally worth dying fer. like the plot of ‘stand by me’. totally modest, extremely humble, absolute rulre. when johny call’d him up he was casual about setting up one of the most killing-est shows of tour. we were in good hands from the get go.
the ‘music’ throughout the night clung to yer bones like an affectionate drunk. a little touchy & totally in yer face, though thoughtful w eyes bulging in courteous intention. each band seem’d to have a plan that involve’d aspects of a ‘punk’ sound though solidly push’d their own direction through. pills had a touch of advance’d repeat math in the vein of ‘pre’ w an epeleptic tare of shouts/screams from an irish kid in a camo jacket who could easily front a ‘mohinder’ covre band. early graves are all those semi-rational & totally mean things you want to say to yerself if you could go back a couple years. advice bettre taken w a bottle of aspiren & not particularly verbatim. give up, kid. has few connitations to it, though i think there’s a chance that makh might mean it. gtrs & drms all slay’d something wicked. the back of makh’s jean jacket sums it up. pure hell. fuck yeah. until the heart stops beating reminds me of the bands i was supre into ten years ago, & still am cuz the sound is so good. screams ovre feedback & droning chords. gang vocals during breakdowns. not youthcrew style, angsty. ‘blood of the young’ records style.
during our set most the kids were outside smoking or in othre rooms though slowly trickle’d back in & at som point mid-set makh grab’d me around the neck & start’d the pit. nick gomez participated until loss of balance sent him body first into gregs drums, taking out som particulars & johny’s mic which i scramble’d to locate though was hidden so well i gave up & feedback wreak’d through the next song until grg had a chance to fix it. brittny & racheal dance’d on the stage w som othre locals while we play’d on the ground looking up at them. Radical kids.
load out was garbage city. not kidding. someone had broken the toilet during our set & sewage was leaking out onto the floor. at which point one of the awesome folks there grabb’d some grocery bags to tape around greg’s feet, as he had left his shoes in bellingham a week earlier. no surprise there, right. i need’d to wash my hands badly as i have a bad habit of chewing on the tips of my fingres. whoah, punk warehouse living up to its punk past.
we were the only band not from the bay that night. the night was sick. w the cancellation of the next nights show this end’d up being our last before playing back home & couldn’t have ask’d fer a bettre bookend. soften’d the blow of losing la. johny had som energy left so instead of staying in the bay we got in the van & start’d driving. johny’s a maniac behind the wheel. not like a crazy drivre, like he will go ferevre. we arrive’d back in flagstaff around 11 hours latre. i was falling in & out of sleep the entire time. flipping mix-tapes jj valentine had made fer us. different scenery & eclectic soundtrack each time i open’d my eyes. it was surreal to say the very least.
notable : al blotto. ‘your haus’. the toilet broke (smash’d, i hear) during our set & som wonder punk put plastic bags on grg’s feet. we don’t know where his shoes were lost, but they’re gonre, kid.
reno // elephant gun. guts hanging from a tree. witch-lord.
The air tastes different in reno. Maybe the size of such a big city cramp’d into an otherwise sleepy town has something to do w it. The blizzard we drove through between here & last nights show in SanFran curated the feeling that we’re in some kind of secret. The kids are radical here. Played a couple of times now over the last few years & the sincerity of their enthusiasm hasn’t wain’d a bit so I’m thinking these birds are down.
Place was referr’d to as the hen den. Neighbors of the headquarters where I actually had to run to when hen den ran out of t.p. & the alcohol needed release. Nice being in both haus’s which layouts look so similar you could fool yerself into thinking they re-decorate’d while you slept. If you slept.
Felt the floor shaking a little bit. Low drone of noise. Headed downstairs after talking to som old friends. Some even from flagstaff. No lights, jst candles & incense. Which was too mch fer the sensitive part of my sinus’s so I only caught a few songs which were somewhere between sun))0 & john wiese on a field recording. beautiful noise.
Two of my favourite kids in Reno have start’d a new project. Actually start’d a new project the day before the show. not sure the politics behind the situation however they practice’d the night before & play’d w one practice under their belt. Scaught & Morgan. A two piece not to fuck w. the project is called guts hanging from a tree & is both them plus gtr that had been pre-record’d that they played to. Scaught’s debut on the mic. No disappointments. Screams. Blast beats. Crashes. Gnarly gtr from the heaven pre-record’d metal lives in. I caught an elbow in the cheek & couldn’t have been more content w the soft pulse of near bone to eye socket penetration. Scaught’s a lanky man & his elbows turn into needles when his hand nears his mouth. Can’t wait to see what comes of this.
Conversations in kitchens really showcase the spectrum we’re talking about that is reno. Some old friends nevre change, they jst continue evolving into radical 2.0 versions of themselves while you find out som radicals got swallow’d up by shadows or left the punk rock underground as a past life in pursuit of riches in a casino. A beautiful reminder that life changes, regardless of the direction.
Notables : three crosses as a face tattoo. Clark’s giggle. guts hanging from a tree… best band name in a long time. maybe ties w val kilmers sick ass portrail of doc hollywood in wyatt earp.
san francisco // useless children. Fix my head. Gain to lose.
Ordering food isn’t always easy. On the road it could be quite obnoxious, as you probably know if you’ve ever had specific diets or dietary allergies. We pretty mch eased our way through every taqueria w sch grace their charm radiated from our plates.
We ate at a taqueria a few blocks down from sub-mission & the portions were so enormous the bathroom was in a cage they had to buzz you into. That & mission is crawling w bathroom dwellers ready to camp out while kids explode in line. Most plates run 5bucks it seems & the radical employees seem to respect the fact that if you ordre extra or want to take something off you actually mean it for one reason or another. Big word to our friends in the taco shops. Most kids could learn a lot from you…
Everyone wants yer spot on the sanfran streets. They see a body & flash the hazards. Or smack yer windows. Ben show’d up fer a surprise club van visit w a slap on the window. Startled us a bit. White van pull’d up a few minutes later on the other side & johny motion’d them on. Brian hillbilly was in there cheering. Contact w two radical friends in minutes of sitting on the corner of mission & 18th.
Sub-mission is a latino art space that beyond kills it. Unfortunately not too mch art on the walls this particular show. none the less, the façade was drench’d in culture based rattle can lov. We’re so down.
Shared gear w three Australian noisey garage birds. Rob, steve & cinta (who plays the drums w a micstand position’d between the snare & her legs. Look’d so fucking awkward though sound’d so unbelieveably shred). The sound guy said he doesn’t recommend the mic infront of his speakers & I said “it should be cool” pointing at the two horns found at the nau surplus that once powre’d som voices over parking lots or sporting events, who knows. he did that sort of shrug, raised eyebrow, total smile thing motioning, the floor it is. Radical show.
Notables : I kept my promise to the useless children & didn’t take my ‘u.c American tour’ shirt off till we got home. martin from los crudos was at the show. didn’t say anything though.
Euerka // they came at dawn. Important documents.
Young angry punks are darling as young lovres on long distant calls. Clad in total destroyer outfits that dream of an earlier birth. Dog collars & safety pins remind me of my confuse’d life at central high school. Bleach’d hair full of shit & crushing on punx w eyes so sunken in eyeliner you could barely believe they were open. I can say this now cuz I’m turning 30 latre this year. All my friends are slowly going the way of an overflowing rivre – safety nets & booies are nothing w out the threat of a horrible accident. We’re going on & on. E2 was full of us ten/15/20 years ago. So nice.
Eureka’s not full of a starving anger or sophisticate’d assholes dropping nods on past lives of elders, its full of youth. Spitting movement & shoulder-tapping youngsters. In the parking lot the kids were chugging 40oz’s & could maybe pass fer 17 at best. They mention’d they need’d to finish them before the first band so they don’t miss anything. So radical. Their internet search kept directing them towards ‘as blood runs black’ which the bouy seem’d a bit bumm’d that they wouldn’t play a town like eureka, which I don’t think is true. If someone excludes that tiny town in northern ca they are foolish & have no idea the night they’re missing.
e-2 is a brick building hidden off the bay in a warehouse district w a door hard to find aftre driving from pdx on that beautiful stretch of highway. simple once you know where it is, really. our eyes were jst soaking up the district & the sparse amount of activity was direct’d in all directions. we had yet to really see the sun this trip & eureaka was jst as grey as it was last time. which in all honesty was in the early 2k’s in our old band stab city sliwrists. the last few times through we’ve play’d a punk palace across the bay in arcata call’d ‘firehouse’ aftre som close friends happen’d across it on a tour. thank god, cuz we’ve met som pure crazy delight at that haus. randy is the adopt’d lightning bolt of neon fusion & the club. first time we met him he gave us a v.i.p. pass to gett salty on pina colada’s & mudslides in cute glass bottles w a neck almost as large as the body. like a weight liftre shooting up powre in the wrong vein. the firehouse kids know how to kill it, in a good safe way.
i entre’d to som crazy high-pitch’d laughtre from som kid that look’d like brian eno though more charm & less hot jets. he was next to liz whose eyes were nearly pinch’d shut from her amazingly huge smile. big hugs. i look’d closre at ‘eno’ & it click’d… fucking randy! yes, randy sans huntre orange antartic hat, which he had left in flagstaff. almost immediately they push’d red cups full of what smelt like shampoo & energy into grg & my faces while cackling. which is the international sign fer precious. whatevre jet they syphen’d that fuel from needs to be ground’d fer life. i actually prefre’d the taste that everyone seem’d to dislike… they thought they had one up on us lazy hill drunks, but jake hawkins (firehouse, now flagstaff) has taught us well. i ran back to the van to grab my huge ’12.o panthre juice’ to kick off the night w alchoholic energy sampling. what mine lack’d in taste it made up fer in fuck-ed-up-ed-ness.
the night was a blurr & i remembre our set was loud in that high ceiling’d warehouse though not loud enough to mask high pitch’d laughtre & cat calls. kyle’s new band was awesome & play’d ontop of blue light from the floor. important documents were pretty stoic which isn’t bad, they tore through their set & the singre direct’d the circle-pit like a composre. a girl in cut off army uniform & earings in her face kept stepping on my feet which didn’t sych me out as mch as the way she would push peoples faces into their skulls. goes to show, punk isnt’ always pretty but its always there.
julia introduce’d herself aftre our set, she keeps the place open & the kids in loose grip aka red cups if yer drinking & no smoking indoors no mattre the elements you’ll have to fend yerself from outside. she paint’d a huge canvas during the whole party. splice’d image of a nude woman on leaning back on her elbows. place can’t stay open all night so we load’d gear, said our goodbyes before heading across the bay & she gave us som magic beans. fuck yeah. visit eureka/arcata if you know whats good in life.
notables : smoking magic beans at the now defunct firehouse w crazy kids. huge co-op two blocks away from e-2. aftrehours party all night – footage up soon. lv that town.
thats it fer now. this is merely part one. if you’ve read this far, please send or comment any stories you’ve got about us all getting sweaty in yer town or here. this or past tours. cuz its yers too. get down.
oh – in flagstaff related news – the fire is burning like crazy & the evacuations have only been fer folks on the outre edges. stab mtn is only a fiery fierce desire in the heart. not on the roof.
our dear friends in custody battle are heading out on tour in a few weeks, so keep yer eyes on the flyres & get down w these three post-greg ginn-flannel-core-bandits. travis, lauren & pickle are fucking amazing. privilege is all mine that our paths have cross’d. i know i sound like a basket of optimism but i’m not. i’m really into getting stoked on the bettre things going on. fuck all that depressing mess fer right now (i say this while lstn’ng to early humans on repeat).
alright. part two up soon. which could mean anything.
“the ocean in black in white” is still available from end theory records. maybe som marble left… also check out the distro. www.endtheoryrecord.com/distro
our split w transient is nearly out of press, so get yer hands on it while you can.
“xerox yer scrt” 12″ is out of press. ebay that fuckre, get all coy & dangerous. tell em you ain’t paying shit fer dirt.
“youngre, strangre” 7″ is still available. barely.
alright. word count. 3100. time to get way gone.
get down kids.
lv jsh
playlist :
‘trash talk’ by chain & the gang
‘first name : william’ by early graves
‘regroup’ by custody battle
‘god of science’ by honduran
‘ganglord’ by morrissey
‘apoptosis’ by transient
&
‘chrome life’ by past lives
