Walking out on stage and looking around, I was struck by a couple of things. First, it was a rowdy crowd. They were yelling at me and talking shit and I’m just putting up a tripod. I thought, “Oh yeah, Philly’s always been a rockin’ town for us.” The second thing was, there were WAY more guys in the audience than usual.
Everyone in New York is a cutting edge artist rock star intellectual genius financial overlord of the world. The greatness of New York can only be summed up by a 30 hour PBS documentary that no one has the patience to watch – so there. The only other city in the U.S. as poetic is New Orleans. One is the Big Easy. The other the Big Apple.
We wake up somewhere in Vermont. That’s how bus tours work: go to sleep in one city and wake up in another. In general I like this. Only thing is that it makes the morning coffee search a little more complicated. But if I can hold out until the noon radio gigs everyday I’m generally okay.
When your band is popular there will always be offers, so the temptation and pressure is always there to do more and more. When is it ever enough? Never. Because very few people in the music business feel totally secure with what they’ve got.
The Mission Was Clear: Fly down to Joshua Tree National Park. Impress natives. Rock that festival like its back ain’t got no bone. Fly home and open two nights for Soulive1.
read on and find out what’s worse than zombies
Note to self: If you’ve been making a night of tequila shots and someone hands you a Jagerbomb, don’t drink it.
I like how the south does the beach party thing – buckets of beers, less focus on glamorous extreme sports and more fun for all.
Good music from the ground up.
Step into the light.
Ellefson gives us what for!
Knock, knock, it’s music at the door.
Just what the doctor ordered.
Killin’ it from Zappa to Hips.
A tip o’ the hat to rawk.
Pour a tall glass of new sound.
Get your body back home!
Go on, give ‘em three steps.
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