“Hitler Did Nothing Wrong.” Aaron told me a story that Mountain Dew put up a web page to have the public at large vote for the name of their new flavor. And by a stunning margin that was the name that won. Tastes like hate! Glad to know that our public’s sense of humor is still intact. I think if our band were going to have a soda flavor it would be “Booty Sweat.” Kickin’ names and taken’ ass! Maybe we could franchise with the Juggalo soda Faygo. I think that might be a good target market for us; the inbred white trash of ‘Merica. Somebody put our people in touch with their people.
     I’m not going to lie, LA in the winter is a wonderful place to be. It’s sort of a big fuck you to Mother Nature. We get to have prolonged warm and sunny days as opposed to the usual soupy grey that the Northwest is so infamous for. Living in Portland, by the time February hits, I feel a suicidal desperation for some hint of blue skies and spring. But all that can be avoided by doing as the birds do and head south. The only thing you have to add to this equation is, oh, the 12 million angry and pissed off people around you at all times. And the smog. And how expensive everything is. And the traffic. And the poverty. Hmmm…
     Our show that evening was in Santa Monica so we had the whole day to chill out in Hollywood. Dustin put it to good use by getting some jamming and writing time in. The jam room is awesome! Dean and Peter walked down the road to the store and got eggs, sausages and potatoes. Breakfast would be served proper that day. Actually, there’s not a lot to say about most of our downtime. I could list for you all the small and trivial activities that comprised our afternoon, but then that would be like reading American Psycho without the payoff of gruesome and gory mutilation. I will say though that we met Levi that afternoon. He’s a time traveling mad scientist of a dog. He speaks 13 languages and will never die. His continually blood shot eyes make you wonder about his drug usage. But seriously, he’s a sweet heart and wears a pink collar. He doesn’t give a shit!
     Peter, from his time spent living inside the beast, had the knowledge of how to best navigate the insane traffic so we left a little later to let it die down. A short drive and we parked in a red zone in front of Trip. We unloaded merch and Chief and I went to Taco Bell for dinner. Not too many options for poor bastards on the road. Peter was setting up merch so I brought his broke ass a burrito. I think Chief bought Dean a bean burrito, no onions. Wise decision. They put way too many onions in their bean burritos. A friend of mine turned me onto the Mexican pizza with no beef. Sweet glory! Sara met us while we were having a Jager subcommittee in the van. She always has amusing stories about her crazy life as a Director’s assistant. She actually has a lot of stories in general. She should be writing a blog. But I digress. The venue was too small to bring our shit into so we had to unload it on the sidewalk and pre-setup outside. We were sound checking and the sound guy told us we had to turn down. If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I would have…a lot of dollars. We told him our usual spiel about a certain loudness our amps have to be to sound correct. And we usually just pretend to turn down or say fuck it, we do what we want. It is a filling and intense sound, but it’s quality. We’re just loud. After our set the sound guy, who was actually really nice, came up to me and said, “Holy shit, wall of sound!” and smiled. Yeah dude. Yeah.
     We rocked, loaded outside and then got ready to get Biblicalled. It was our first of two shows with Biblical Proof of UFO’s. Not only is that one of the best band names ever, they are fucking awesome dudes that play fucking awesome music. And one fucking awesome drummer. Yeah, that good. It was a real treat to be able to enjoy their music after we played, something I wish would happen more on this trip. MR. D.C. was kind enough to come down for both our sets. He brought Julie with him and Chief had a bro there, plus with Sara, who actually might be two or three people in presence, we had a sweet group of radness hanging out. We made our way to another bar at the advice of one with “inside knowledge.” Once there, a man asked me what I wanted to drink so I answered honestly… “Well, whisky sounds really good. But so does Jager. I don’t know.” Soon in front of me I found one of each. That sounds good, I’ll have that. Back at the house we ate the twenty or so food truck tacos Dustin picked up on our way out of the bar. Valentina really does make everything better. I opted for sleep earlier than most. I felt great. And full. And a little drunk. I passed out into complete and solid black unconsciousness. It was grand.
    ‘Till next time!

PS. The most packed rock club in LA didn’t even have live music.

- ryan | 2 Comments
  • DaddyMac

    Who is Chief?

  • Boss Man

    Keyboardist extraordinaire.