I step up the mic after we finished an unusually tight version of 'Cures' - the instrumental track we wrote back in days we still jammed in Real's parents basement. The song has such a simple progression, but it's nice to play something that feels comfortable. We junked up the breakdown but it didn't matter, we tightened up for the last verse which felt pretty fucking good.
My lower front tooth second from the middle is aching, I really feel it when I get close enough to the buzz from my mic. I can't seem to remember who/what hit me, why and how hard. I slipped through the words of most our of new songs, I'm really surprised how good we sound. This tooth reminds me of home, dentist appointments in the winter and my absolute hatred/fear of medical freezing. I'm thoroughly enjoying our set tonight, we sound like a band as opposed to musicians and I can see why the guys stood by me all this time.
I'm a big believer in the 'no-encore' policy, but we actually played one tonight and it wasn't quite as stupid as it should have felt. We just ripped out an old song at 1.5 times speed, did some gang vocals and left the stage.
We sat and cooled down in the back area, watching the techs scramble to pack up all the gear and throw all the merch into totes. I remember why my tooth was sore, the night before as I was mumbling my drunken way through out set I banged the head of my guitar into my face. And here I assumed it was a fist that did the damage. Maybe tonight's set will help melt away some of this drunken paranoia that won't fade, I can't seem to shake it.
The highway is kinda magical tonight, the snow is still padding the edges of the road and the neon sky is keeping me company...
March 20th, 2007 (part I)
I woke up this morning with a sick gut, cough syrup in my lungs and frosty windows caused me to blink all night long as I slept. Fuck I hate this tour already. I’ve been hating our tours more and more since the record dropped. It’s become less and less about drunken performance and more about the riders and the groupies. My band, once my passion has faded into the reason I’m away from my bed, my girl, and my dog. I miss home.
It’s hard to even get through this sound check, the club is fucking freezing and my guitar sounds like shit. The stage hands are less helpful and more irritating at each venue. I want to get through this so I can go for a long walk through downtown. I can’t even remember what city we’re in, it’ll come to me. Oh right, it’s Bismarck, North Dakota. Five dates into our “Lost and Found” tour and I’m still waiting for the latter.
I get sick of the new songs, favoring to pepper the sound check with songs I wrote in a more American time in my life. The looks from the crew and my band-mates get me fuzzy when I kick into “The River” by the Boss. I get through the first verse before I get the obligatory “Can you play something for our level check?” I look around to see the band chatting amongst the buzz, so I nod and we kick it into our new single “John, Be Careful.” The levels are fine for the venue, they’re always fucking fine. We play through two or three more songs and that’s it.
With that out of the way, I’m free to carry on with my own sad sick depression. This town makes me smile, long grey buildings hover without being overbearing, it’s boring and comforting. The people walk quietly, it’s about 15 Fahrenheit so the main concern is getting shelter. My main concern remains this fresh air and the new scenery. The Missouri River runs through Bismarck, so that’s my next goal. I can’t stop this new found obsession with bodies of water. The Mississippi is still my favorite.
I stumble back into the venue, a small crowd has colonized by the main entrance, so I kick around back and sneak in the shipping door. The fire escapes are amazing, they all intertwine and drop down to the earth like a maze of reassurance. The stainless steel kitchen makes me nauseous, the smell of chicken wings and stale piss makes me smile. Not so much for the city but more for the tour. We should have called it “Chicken Wings and Stale Piss ‘07”.
The Disaster Recovery Plan is just tuning up as I sneak through the mess of cords, cases and amps and knell down by the stage door. These kids remind me of myself about 7 years ago. Except they’re tight as fuck, and they’re better musicians than anyone in our band – yet the crowd seems disinterested. For once I would like to walk out on stage to this type of disinterest. There are about 30 kids on the floor who know TDRP, they’re currently an internet hype band but it won’t be long before they’re telling interviewers how they got their start on this shitty tour. Johnny (bass player) is from the same town as Clubs from Kick The Case so it was a pretty easy tour to bring together.
Their set is made up mostly of songs from their demos (which are incredible) and two songs from their new EP. I could sit and watch here all night feeling like an imposter or I could drop back into the crowd and drink myself into a mood for our set. I dissolve into my glass - dark cola tanned with vodka as the boys destroy a Hot Water Music cover. I stare into my this plastic glass and look at this lime wedge trying to stay afloat, bogged down by the syrupy cola and frayed by the alcohol. I feel citrus.
-Tristan
It’s hard to even get through this sound check, the club is fucking freezing and my guitar sounds like shit. The stage hands are less helpful and more irritating at each venue. I want to get through this so I can go for a long walk through downtown. I can’t even remember what city we’re in, it’ll come to me. Oh right, it’s Bismarck, North Dakota. Five dates into our “Lost and Found” tour and I’m still waiting for the latter.
I get sick of the new songs, favoring to pepper the sound check with songs I wrote in a more American time in my life. The looks from the crew and my band-mates get me fuzzy when I kick into “The River” by the Boss. I get through the first verse before I get the obligatory “Can you play something for our level check?” I look around to see the band chatting amongst the buzz, so I nod and we kick it into our new single “John, Be Careful.” The levels are fine for the venue, they’re always fucking fine. We play through two or three more songs and that’s it.
With that out of the way, I’m free to carry on with my own sad sick depression. This town makes me smile, long grey buildings hover without being overbearing, it’s boring and comforting. The people walk quietly, it’s about 15 Fahrenheit so the main concern is getting shelter. My main concern remains this fresh air and the new scenery. The Missouri River runs through Bismarck, so that’s my next goal. I can’t stop this new found obsession with bodies of water. The Mississippi is still my favorite.
I stumble back into the venue, a small crowd has colonized by the main entrance, so I kick around back and sneak in the shipping door. The fire escapes are amazing, they all intertwine and drop down to the earth like a maze of reassurance. The stainless steel kitchen makes me nauseous, the smell of chicken wings and stale piss makes me smile. Not so much for the city but more for the tour. We should have called it “Chicken Wings and Stale Piss ‘07”.
The Disaster Recovery Plan is just tuning up as I sneak through the mess of cords, cases and amps and knell down by the stage door. These kids remind me of myself about 7 years ago. Except they’re tight as fuck, and they’re better musicians than anyone in our band – yet the crowd seems disinterested. For once I would like to walk out on stage to this type of disinterest. There are about 30 kids on the floor who know TDRP, they’re currently an internet hype band but it won’t be long before they’re telling interviewers how they got their start on this shitty tour. Johnny (bass player) is from the same town as Clubs from Kick The Case so it was a pretty easy tour to bring together.
Their set is made up mostly of songs from their demos (which are incredible) and two songs from their new EP. I could sit and watch here all night feeling like an imposter or I could drop back into the crowd and drink myself into a mood for our set. I dissolve into my glass - dark cola tanned with vodka as the boys destroy a Hot Water Music cover. I stare into my this plastic glass and look at this lime wedge trying to stay afloat, bogged down by the syrupy cola and frayed by the alcohol. I feel citrus.
-Tristan
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