I Feel Sick To My Stomach

Europe Solo Shows

2012-01-29T19:19:00.001-08:00

So fucking cool....

2011-12-18T18:47:00.001-08:00

Evil

2011-12-17T10:04:00.001-08:00

2011-11-30T08:55:00.001-08:00

September Studio Build

2011-11-05T09:31:00.000-07:00

I spent the month of September building a studio inside of an old Post Office. The building hadn't been occupied for the past two years and there was pretty extensive mold damage, but other than that, the roof, electricity, plumbing and a/c were all in good working order.
I was working under a deadline, needing the place to be ready by October 11th, which was when tracking for the Cheap Girls record was supposed to start. Thanks to the help of friends and family the place was ready. Andrew helped tear up the carpet. James helped replace the ceiling tiles and vacuum up all the dead bugs and snake skins we found up there. My Dad and Brother helped build the walls (really I just helped them build the walls as I had no idea what I was doing and would have been helpless without them).
Here's some photo's from the construction. Still settling on a name for the place.

Roll The Tanks

2011-10-07T11:10:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 11

2011-09-27T18:10:00.001-07:00

Last and final.

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 10

2011-09-27T18:09:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 9

2011-09-21T17:29:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 8

2011-09-13T19:24:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 8 from Total Treble Music on Vimeo.

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 7

2011-08-30T20:18:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 7 from Total Treble Music on Vimeo.

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 6

2011-08-21T22:25:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 6 from Total Treble Music on Vimeo.

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 5

2011-08-16T11:46:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 5 from Total Treble Music on Vimeo.

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 4

2011-08-08T23:36:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 4 from Total Treble Music on Vimeo.

Where's Kleeman?

2011-08-03T11:04:00.001-07:00

Photo by Ryan Russell

Making Of White Crosses Pt.3

2011-07-30T08:07:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt.3 from Total Treble Music on Vimeo.

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 2

2011-07-25T09:27:00.001-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 2 from Total Treble Music on Vimeo.

... WHEN REALLY I DON'T BELIEVE ANYTHING!

2011-07-21T08:49:00.000-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt.1

2011-07-18T09:01:00.000-07:00

Making Of White Crosses Pt. 1 from Total Treble Music on Vimeo.

Meiert Avis shot a bunch of little short videos when we were making White Crosses that Sire never used. Thought I would share them here over the next couple weeks. So here's the first one.

Warped Tour

2011-07-12T13:52:00.001-07:00

Photo by Ryan Russell

Where's Kleeman?

2011-07-08T07:10:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday Jordan Kleeman!
Photo by Ryan Russell

Because Of The Shame - Acoustic One-Take Video

2011-07-05T13:03:00.001-07:00

'64 Comet

2011-06-27T12:59:00.000-07:00

Photo Jason Thrasher took the night we did the video shoot for 'Because Of The Shame' a couple weeks ago.

Total Treble Music

2011-06-24T11:32:00.001-07:00

New Total Treble Music logo as created by Steak Mtn.

SK8 OR DIE!!!!!

2011-06-23T13:05:00.000-07:00

New AM! skate decks. Art by Steak Mtn. photo by Ryan Russell.

Cheap Girls

2011-06-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

We toured with Cheap Girls this past January. They asked me to produce their next album and I jumped at the chance. We hope to start recording this fall. You've got to love a band from Michigan that sings about cities in Florida. Very exciting.

Stop!

2011-06-18T13:23:00.001-07:00

Russian Spies

2011-06-14T08:57:00.001-07:00

Against Me! - Russian Spies by Total Treble Music

The new Against Me! Ep "Russian Spies/Occult Enemies" came out today.

NYC Photos

2011-06-13T21:13:00.000-07:00

Our friend Joe Leonard took some photos of us when we were in NYC and Brooklyn last week.

Eddy Current Suppression Ring

2011-06-11T13:50:00.001-07:00

My friend Justin turned me onto this band. I want to steal that dudes style and start wearing gloves like that when I play.

"Supernatural? Perhaps."

2011-06-01T11:25:00.000-07:00

My wife, Heather and my friend Chris have an art show coming up in LA. If you're in the area you should go!

Krazy Fest

2011-05-24T10:41:00.000-07:00

Australia / New Zealand Tour Photos

2011-05-15T01:15:00.000-07:00

Perth, WA

2011-05-11T01:33:00.000-07:00

Golden Brown

2011-05-07T18:37:00.000-07:00

Off With Their Heads

2011-05-06T01:55:00.000-07:00

Ryan, Robbie and Justin getting pumped for the show backstage at the Hi-Fi in Brisbane.

Brisbane, QLD

2011-05-04T12:42:00.000-07:00

Had the day off in Brisbane after we arrived. Walked around the city like a Zombie. This is the view from my hotel room. I love Australia, so glad we made it back.

Russian Spies/ Occult Enemies

2011-04-25T10:46:00.000-07:00

We're releasing a new 7" on Sabot Productions, it's called "Russian Spies/Occult Enemies" and the release date is June 14th. Above is the cover art, photo by Ryan Russell and graphic design by Steak Mtn. Here's the lyrics. Excited for you all to hear them.

Russian Spies

9 years and 50 days held hostage by pirates.
Sold down the coast don't try and fight the current.
For those who can afford it there'll always be white sand on private beaches.
While narco-submarines float silent through black water.
I am fearful of the distance between you and me.
Russian spies, they don't scare me anymore.
War-games in the 3rd world on the street outside of your house.
What are you willing to pay for security and privilege?
There's no shelter for stray dogs.
We used to be pets now we're just beggars.
While narco-submarines float silent through black water.
I am fearful of the distance between you and me.
Russian spies, they don't scare me anymore.
And if you want to join the fighting, just make sure and remember why you went to war.
Russian spies, they don't scare me anymore.

Occult Enemies

My soul feels invaded, like I was robbed, like I was cheated.
I'm not taking moral high ground.
You think time isn't your enemy as well?
Watch out for occult enemies.
You better believe they're coming for you.
I'd be a fool to believe you and I'll be goddamned before I concede the point.
Yeah, you've got some fucking ego.
You think time isn't your enemy as well?
Watch out for occult enemies.
You better believe they're coming for you.
I can't be the only one sharpening knives and loading guns.
To the advantage of no one, I hope you get all that you deserve.
Watch out for occult enemies.
You better believe they're coming for you.

Pope

2011-04-16T07:34:00.000-07:00

I've been crying all morning Pope. There's no words for the feelings. Rest in Peace buddy.

Summer Tour 2011!

2011-04-08T06:34:00.001-07:00

2 months and one week out on the road. 2 months and one week of what seemed like endless winter. I got used to it after a while. I started enjoying the bleak landscapes always outside the window. Home in Florida right now though and the sun is shining.
Pope broke his foot and ankle in Texas. He fell 20 feet off a latter while adjusting a par can. When Mike took the shoe and sock off his foot to have a look it was nothing short of grotesque already and the swelling had only just begun. Pope's still there in Texas where we left him at some kind of rehabilitation center or hospice. That was at the beginning of the two months, which by the end seemed like a lifetime ago or only yesterday. Had Pope only just left us or had we always been without Pope?
We were there in Madison as everything started happening, blocks from the capital, staying at the fabulous Edgewater Hotel and recording at Smart Studios. Smart's officially closed to the public, up for sale, was thankful that we got in there and have a chance to record something before it was really gone for good. We recorded two new original songs, one called "Russian Spies" the other called "Occult Enemies" while we were there. We also recorded a cover of the theme song for the TV show "One Tree Hill". It airs May 3rd. The two originals are going to be a 7" on Sabot Productions that will hopefully be out in time for summer. I'll keep you posted.
As always I'll be giving away two tickets per show via twitter each day on all of the upcoming tours. So if you want a chance to win follow me, @tommygabel.

Total Clarity

2011-02-12T23:50:00.001-08:00

On May 24th Fat Wreck Chords is releasing "Total Clarity", a collection of demos and unreleased songs (and some demos that got leaked, wink, wink) we recorded when preparing to make the album "Searching For A Former Clarity". Check the cover art by Steak Mtn. Here's the track listing...

1. Miami
2. The Shaker
3. Justin
4. Exhaustion & Disgust
5. Unprotected Sex With Multiple Partners
6. The Energizer
7. Violence
8. The Mover
9. How Low
10. Joy
11. Holy Shit
12. Lost And Searching In America
13. Problems
14. Money Changes Everything
15. Total Clarity

Sneak Peek

2010-12-29T10:07:00.001-08:00

Grabbed a copy of the vinyl for Ben Nichols' "The Last Pale Light In The West" while I was in the Sabot office yesterday. Orange vinyl. Looks amazing. Reminds me of playing on the Revival Tour and what a fun time that was. This is a great record, Ben really captured something. I'm not sure when Jordan is announcing a pre-sale but definitely worth grabbing a copy when it's out.

Steve Ignorant Interview For Big Cheese Magazine UK

2010-12-14T17:54:00.000-08:00

Home For The Night

2010-12-12T01:03:00.001-08:00

Why are the pictures hung on the wall so high?

An Evening With The Gabels

2010-12-07T10:03:00.001-08:00

So me and my wife are doing this thing. Everyone's invited...

All Apologies

2010-11-28T18:46:00.001-08:00

An apology is long over due, to everyone who bought tickets to come out and see us at any of the tour dates we had to cancel this past October and November, we're sorry. Canceling tour dates is the last thing that we ever want to do, especially when the dates have us going to some of our favorite places in the world, but this past October a culmination of circumstances were engulfing us and we had to take some time off from touring to go home and sort things out.

On a related note, after almost a five year relationship we are leaving Sire/Warner. We have nothing but gratitude towards all the people we worked with at the label and feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to make the records we made while with the label.

We'll be getting back out on the road starting with a handful of radio station festival shows early this December. Our friend Jay Weinberg will be sitting behind the drum kit for us, which we're very excited about. In January we're going to be heading out with Fences and Cheap Girls for a couple weeks before joining the Dropkick Murphy's in their month long celebration of St. Patrick’s Day. Specifics about all the shows should be up on the website shortly if they aren't already. At some point this new year we also hope to reschedule the Australia, Europe and the U.K. canceled tour dates.

Again, our sincerest apologies to all our fans for the cancellations.

Last Night's Dream

2010-09-18T17:49:00.000-07:00

Despite the band's notorious air-tight security I found myself having somehow gained access to a prime spot for the show, taking a knee on stage right, with a full view of both stage and crowd. Because it was a dream I guess and in my dreams I have all access. Was this Reading or Leeds? I couldn't tell, but it was one or the other, or maybe an amalgamation of both? The opening riff to 'Welcome To The Jungle' began, that unmistakable lick echo'd through the air, and then Axl's voice, that unmistakable nails on a chalk board scream, howled into the English summer night.

"Do you know where you are? You're in the Jungle baby!! You're gonna diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!".

The band launched into the song, guns blazing (pun intended) and unlike the reality I saw a couple weeks ago when we actually played the Reading and Leeds festivals which Guns N' Roses were the headliner of, the crowd was going crazy, loving ever second of it. The crowd I saw in my dream was a sharp contrast to the bored, dazed, confused, disillusioned, angry faces I actually saw in the audience. The band in my dreams was a sharp contrast to the boring, super cheese, excessive, bullshit I actually saw on stage. In reality there was almost silence in between songs when I saw them play, but in this dream when 'Welcome To The Jungle' ended there was a roar of applause and then they quickly launched into 'Live and Let Die', the pyrotechnics all firing in time with the music, unlike the off-time reality I heard and saw, and unlike that reality they were thunderous cannons exploding, not M80's and bottle rockets.

They took time before starting the next song , the kind of time a band takes when they don't give a fuck because they know they have that kind of power over the audience. The kind of power Guns 'N Roses probably used to have but now just think they do. While an ocean of captivated faces, waited for the next song to begin, it was a virtual social event on stage, the band talking amongst themselves and with the crew and groupies, sipping drinks, laughing, it was oddly casual like a smoke break at work. Except Axl, who did not partake in the socializing. Axl kneeled on a riser in the center of the stage staring deeply into a painting of the devil propped up on a small easel. It was a meditation. I had seen this painting somewhere before but couldn't remember where.

Before standing up Axl said a few words to himself, what looked like a prayer and then he blessed himself by drawing a pentagram in the air with his right hand over his face and chest as a Christian would a cross. I don't remember what the next song was, something new, something with a long drawn out piano intro. I was distracted first by trying to understand the meaning of the painting, the prayer, the pentagram, but then I was distracted by Dr. Ruth Westheimer walking up onto the side of stage out of nowhere. Her hair was short and she was wearing a red power suit. She stood right next to me and slowly surveyed the audience and then the band and then greeted a tech and proceeded to walk back stage, as if she was part of the crew, as if she was there working with the band.

When the next song ended the same ceremony happened, except this time Axl kneeled before a different painting, a smaller painting offset in front of the painting of the dark lord. Again, he sat lost in thought, staring deep into this new painting. Again, the rest of the band engaged in casually socializing amongst themselves, crew and groupies. Again, the crowd waited patiently. Again, before Axl got off his knees and the next song began he said his prayer and blessed himself with a pentagram. I couldn't see the face of this new painting though.

Before the song fully kicked in one of the unmemorable, new guitar players started signaling for my attention, it seemed like he thought I was a tech and he held out his guitar for me to come and grab. I went along with it, scurried out to him, hunched down like a tech would and grabbed his guitar from him, a red telecaster model, but not a Fender. From the other side of the stage a real tech scurried up and brought him a replacement. As I turned around and the band kicked in, I passed in front of Axl's riser and swiped the new painting, concealing it behind the guitar. Looking up I saw another of the band's real techs staring me down from the side of the stage. I thought for sure I was busted. When I got to him he reached for the guitar and took it from me. His demeanor giving me the impression that he thought I was supposed to be there. I ran away with my prize, Axl's painting in hand.

Once I was a good distance away I looked down to see what the painting was that I had just stolen and saw in my hands a crude pastel of blackness and clouds with a large image of Yoda's head floating in the right corner of the canvas. I didn't understand the significance. What was the correlation between Star Wars and Satan and Axl Rose? There was no time to think, it wouldn't be long before Axl noticed the painting was missing. I hurried back toward my dressing room behind the side stage we had played hours earlier. I knew as long as I could hear the band playing it meant that Axl hadn't noticed the picture was missing.

When I got back to our stage I found Alkaline Trio packing up their gear in front of it, their show was over and the crowd was gone. I pulled Matt, Derek and Danny aside and quickly showed them the painting and explained where it came from. They all laughed and gave a 'what the fuck' response. I explained to them the whole scene, Dr. Ruth, the painting of the devil, the prayer, the pentagram, how I had been mistaken for a guitar tech and my escape. I thought maybe they would be able to help with understanding the significance as I knew some of them where into that dark arts kind of shit. They offered no insight and went back to packing up their gear.

Backstage I found the rest of my band and showed them the painting, everyone marveled and gave the same 'what the fuck' response as Alkaline Trio had. Again, I explained the whole story, Dr. Ruth, the painting of the devil, the prayer, the pentagram, how I had been mistaken for a guitar tech and my escape. We were all at a loss for understanding, myself especially. I didn't even know why I had felt compelled to take the painting. I had no idea what I was going to do with it now that I had it. Why had I chosen to steal that specific painting over the painting of the devil when I could have grabbed either one? Did the painting hold any powers? Was this part of Axl's mojo? Was the painting worth any money? Would Tommy Stinson think it was funny that Axl's painting had been stolen? Yeah, Tommy Stinson would definitely think it was funny.

Then in the distance I heard the music come to a crashing halt. There was silence first and then Axl started speaking. We all listened as he launched into a tirade I knew was directed at me. For some reason though I guess he was under the impression that my name was Frankie, as he kept addressing me as such. Or maybe in the dream my name was Frankie?

"Where's that little mother fucking thief, coward, Frankie?!?!… Frankie, you son of a bitch, think you can come up here into my house and steal from me mother fucker?!?!?!… Frankie, you little dirt bag, cock sucker, I'm coming for you!!!!!"

And then the loud thud of a microphone hitting the floor was heard and I knew Axl was coming for me.

And then I woke up.

Kitchener, ON

2010-09-10T15:27:00.000-07:00

Jason Linkins at Huffington Post breaks it down way better than I could have ever hoped to... http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/09/10/this-is-how-the-media-wor_n_712229.html

Quebec City, QC

2010-09-09T11:17:00.000-07:00

I just got an email from our UK publicist asking if I want to interview Steve Ignorant from Crass for the magazine Big Cheese. How fucking cool is that!!!!! What questions should I ask him?

Today's show is a festival in Quebec, which means we're just sitting here in the bus under an overpass. It's kind of grey and chilly outside, looks like it's gonna rain at some point and it doesn't really look like there's anything around here worth walking to. I may explore later though.

I've been watching a bunch of the footage on CNN from all the controversy over Terry Jones' upcoming book burning in Gainesville. Have you seen all the fuss? I gotta say, I think that the right to burn the books should be defended, I think it's distasteful for sure and that the church people planning it are most certainly ugly people, book burnings are crass (get it?), archaic, but I'm out here on the road every night singing songs about smashing crosses. There's no real difference between wanting to smash a cross and wanting to burn a book, one is just more passive, the other more interactive.

I think that the kind of religious fanatic that would kill another person or multiple people over the burning of a book or in the name of a god is way more disgusting than the kind of religious fanatic that would burn a book. Ultimately I condemn both sides of the argument, I hold no respect for either parties involved, just the innocent bystanders who don't give a fuck about holy wars and don't want it effecting their community. But you can fear the intent and devotion behind someone waging a jihad. Burning a book is just cowardly, in fact it's the act of someone who's attention starved and most certainly vain. This bible thumper in Florida is nothing more than a used car salesman, a fucking ego, but he did pay for those books, they're his, he made his contribution to the religion financially he should be free to do what he wants with them. I think it's far more important to focus on defending freedom of expression and freedom of speech than to live in fear of people who would kill for a god. No book is more valuable than a human life.

Really the most sad figures in the picture are the flocks on each side of the divide, the followers. The fucking sheep. How terrifying would it have been to be a fly on the wall in that tin roof church when the Pastor Terry Jones announced his idea to his congregation. How frightening the faces must have been to witness as they grasped the idea, warmed to it and then embraced it. I wonder if any of them have been to a book burning before or if this will be all of their first. What is proper attire for a book burning? Casual? It's gonna be hot and humid out, are shorts okay? Does the Pastor Terry Jones actually light the fire himself? Do you clap once it's really burning? How does it end? Will songs be sung? How did they factor how many copies of the book where needed for proper dramatic effect? Are the copies of the book being burned American made or imported? Are there any bible burnings planned to coincide? Someone should coordinate one of those album smashing parties too, you know where they bring in a steam roller and run over a bunch of Beatles and Elvis records, just for the fuck of it. Are there going to be refreshments? Is any book burning merchandise going to be available for sale? Is seating general admission or is there anyway to have guaranteed front row spots? Has Terry Jones ever actually read the book he's gonna burn?

Bring It On!

2010-08-17T04:14:00.001-07:00

Oslo, Norway - Thon Hotel

2010-08-11T16:34:00.001-07:00

It was raining when we arrived here at the hotel. After eating some Indian food at the train station next door I came back here to my room and fell asleep. I slept for 9 hours. Not a good way to get over the jet-lag and adjust to the time change but I needed it. And now I'm up, wide awake. 5pm set time at the Oya Fest tomorrow.

Spokane, WA

2010-07-31T00:18:00.001-07:00

I'm hiding in my bunk. I don't want to go to the bar, I don't feel social. If you want privacy on a bus this is it, you've got your bunk and the protection of a cheap pleather curtain to pull shut. That or I guess you could lock yourself in the bathroom too, but people would start knocking eventually. The ceiling is low in here.
We played at the Knitting Factory in Spokane, Washington tonight. I didn't know what to expect from the crowd before going onstage. And despite the super cramped, small stage it ended up being one of the best shows of the tour. The crowd was full of energy and super receptive. Thanks to everyone who came out. Thanks for singing along.
I took a walk around downtown before the show. After a couple blocks I remembered the area I was in. I remembered coming here to Spokane back on the second tour we ever did. We didn't play a show, we just passed through town. I remembered walking around the shopping mall asking for spare change. Actually my theory back then was to ask for a quarter so I could "make a phone call", cause I thought it seemed less like charity and people would be less inclined to turn me down as they wouldn't want to feel bad about themselves for not helping me out. I mean hey, I'm only asking cause I need to make a phone call. We didn't do too bad that day, we managed to fill the gas tank and fill our stomachs.
Only five more shows on this tour and then Europe. Andrew came back out yesterday. It's good to have him back. He's down at the bar right now with James and George. In about an hour I predict I'll hear the front door open and then slam shut, followed by the sound of stumbling footsteps, yelling and laughing in the front lounge. As for me I'm gonna keep the curtain shut and sit tonight out. I hope to fall asleep before I hear the start of the bus engine.

UK Tour Journal

2010-06-14T08:42:00.000-07:00

I kept a tour journal while in the UK a couple weeks ago and it was recently posted on Buzzgrinder.com; I thought I would repost here as well...

Day one – Hatfield

I didn’t understand why the gentlemen who had just a couple hours previous sold us the weed was now standing a couple feet from me yelling in my direction for smoking said weed.

“Who the hell’s smoking weed here! Who the fuck… is it you!?!?!”

Look man, stop pointing your fucking finger at me. I just got done playing on this very stage and now I want to stand here, smoke a J, which you sold me, and watch my friends band play. Get off my back. His friend was upset, too. I guess ’cause I was standing on the wheel well of the orange Jägermeister truck, the bed of which serving as the stage. OK, I get it, now that you point it out to me, yes, I may scratch the paint standing here, but really man, who fucking cares? You both just look ridiculous standing there yelling at me.

Girls are really into wearing leggings as pants over here.

Day two – Leeds

It was “vegetable stew” over rice for lunch, and then they added in some potatoes and it was “vegan curry” over rice for dinner. Today for lunch they took away the potatoes but added in some beans and called it “vegan chili,” which was served over rice. I don’t really care what’s for dinner tonight at this point.

I washed some laundry in the backstage bathroom sink, hung it out to dry in our dressing room. I haven’t had a shower in three days. I have also somehow managed to lose every pair of socks that I brought with me except for the pair that I am currently wearing. When I take them off at night, they maintain the exact shape and form of my feet. In a couple more days I’m expecting them to start walking on their own.

The show schedule kept getting pushed back throughout the day, which in turn threw off my pacing. Started drinking a little too long before actually taking the stage. Stumbling drunk, I lost myself in the whitewash of guitar distortion and crash cymbals. Sometimes walking back to the dressing room, you feel more like you just lost a fist fight than played music to a crowd of people.

The after party was stupid, I regretted being there immediately. The music was too loud to have any kind of conversation, and beyond that it was horrible music. Every time a round of shots was brought to the table and glasses were raised, our group of people cheered as if the roller coaster had just reached the top of the climb and was about to free fall. Hands up in the air everyone, here we go!

Day three – Glasgow

I can’t stop listening to Crazy Arm. Their album, Born to Ruin, is the best I’ve heard in a while.

Day four – London

Full day of press before the show, not much time to explore or see anything. I’ve been having trouble forming complete sentences when engaged in social conversation lately. My tongue ties. I’m also having trouble exiting conversations when I no longer want to be engaged in them. I’m not smiling ’cause I’m happy, I’m uncomfortable and nervous. I don’t really have anything else to say, and you don’t really have anything to say to me. I’m looking for the exit.

I wish I was the type of person who could get away with wearing sunglasses at all hours, day or night. Sure, people would probably think I’m a cunt, but who really gives a fuck what they think anyways? Just that little bit of distance would be nice. I’ve been finding myself locked in a bathroom stall often lately, standing there, checking my messages obsessively on my phone.

Day five – Manchester

In my dream last night, I had run my mouth a little too much and found myself in a back alley brawl. I realized quickly that I had previously underestimated my opponent when talking shit. My friends whom I had counted on being there to back me up were nowhere to be found. I was quickly pinned to the floor, punch after punch rained down onto my face. I couldn’t figure out which was more painful, the beating or the embarrassment of getting what I deserved.

Ended the night in a karaoke bar. My version of George Michael’s Faith was surely an insult even to Limp Bizkit’s version.

Day six – Birmingham

Started today off with a short acoustic set at Kerrang! Radio. Before I played, I ended up doing a quick interview with Johnny DOOM, of the band DOOM. Holy shit! I love DOOM! If you had told the 16-year-old me that one day Johnny DOOM, singer of DOOM, as in Police Bastard DOOM (Holy shit!), would first interview me on air and then introduce me to a crowd of 20 people at 1 in the afternoon to play a terribly awkwar acoustic set in a radio station lobby in Birmingham, England while touring in support of my band’s second major label release — I think my head would have exploded.

Last show of the U.K. run tonight, wish we could have stayed longer. Looking forward to coming back in the fall.

I Was A Teenage Anarchist

2010-05-14T11:50:00.000-07:00

I wrote this short piece for the website www.antimusic.com and their series "Singled Out". Thought I would reprint it here...

I got into radical politics when I was 15 years old, shortly after discovering punk music. At first I thought punk was just nihilism, misanthropy, self destruction, Sid Vicious. Then when I was 15 I got beat up by the cops; the experience changed my life. It was the 4th of July, Naples, Florida. Every year there's a fireworks celebration down on the beach by the pier, at least there used to be. Small boardwalks connect the street to the sand. I had gone down early to meet up with a couple friends and I as I stood there on the boardwalk looking out into the sea of people trying to spot my friends, two police officers approached me. I was asked to get off the boardwalk, they said I was blocking the flow of traffic. So I did, I turned around and walked off the boardwalk back down onto the street.
Then the two officers approached me again telling me to get off the boardwalk. I told them I was off the boardwalk. Next thing I knew one of the cops had grabbed me by the neck, twisted my arm behind my back and started dragging me over towards their parked cruiser. They slammed my face down onto the sun-baked trunk of the car., kicked my legs apart and started going through my pockets. Every time I tried to get my head up off the burning trunk it was slammed back down harder. After a long and immature verbal exchange, most of the immaturity being on my part (I think the words "fucking" and "pig" were used quite a lot if I remember correctly) they cuffed me and threw me into the back of the cruiser. The one cop stood there taunting me through the window until more officers showed up on the scene, at which point they pulled me out of the cruiser. My body went limp and I fell to my knees. Two officers pulled me up, one on each elbow, putting all my weight onto my cuffed wrists, my legs kicked out involuntarily, two other cops grabbed one each. They brought me around to the other side of the cruiser and dropped me face first into the middle of the street. One officer put a boot to my head, another put a knee in my back and then they proceeded to hog-tie me. I was then lifted up like a suitcase, held by an elbow and a leg and thrown into the back of a different cruiser.
When I got down to the station I remember the main officer who instigated the whole thing opening the car door and telling me he was going to cut my legs free, that if I kicked him he would put a bullet in my head. I was charged with Battery On An Officer and Resisting Arrest With Violence, two felony charges that I was convicted of despite my mother hiring an attorney that she couldn't really afford. I know now it was a small injustice compared to other instances of police violence I've heard of over the years, I was just a dirty punk kid who walked past the wrong cops, but at the time I was more than outraged.
The experience politicized me. I dropped out of high school. I started doing a zine. I started a distro of political pamphlets and Anarcho-punk records. I started a Food Not Bombs chapter with a group of friends. We met other like minded people across Florida and started a radical activist network. We organized protests, we organized gatherings, workshops, participated in direct action. I was a Teenage Anarchist. When I was younger my opinions where very black and white, I was either for or against something, and that's how I defined myself. A lot of those opinions where formed by social influence from the scene I was a part of, being younger I felt the need to belong to something, a group of people, I wanted acceptance. Over time I realized how some people use their positions of stature to pursue their own personal agenda's, selling their own personal brand of self- serving revolution. This all being the complete opposite of what drew me towards Anarchism in the first place. I found that the people who professed the loudest that they were the most open minded individuals were in fact usually the most close minded. I feel like the revolution sold to me when I was a teenager by the punk scene, by the Anarchist scene was a lie. The real revolution was the political awakening. That initial spark that made me want to change the world. And that's what I'm interested in, maintaining that fire. That's what the song is about. I am an autonomous individual. I think for myself. I have no need to supplement my identity through belonging to a scene or exclusively endorsing any brand of political thought. And if anyone is offended by that I feel like it only reaffirms my conviction. For if it's heresy for an Anarchist to say "FUCK Anarchy" then Anarchism is truly just another flag, and I say burn it along with the rest of them.

Where did we leave off?

2010-04-24T11:38:00.000-07:00

Updates from the road? I made a $100 bet with Andrew, I can't cut my hair for six months. I'm still trying to convince Andrew to take me up on my counter bet, $1000 says that he can't eat/ingest his entire Blackberry cell phone over a 6 month period of time. I don't care how he eats it, he can even wrap the battery in a condom. Just as long as every single piece of the phone passes through his intestines. Anyone want to match me? Great times last night in Toledo. Buffalo today. Mandatory happiness.

The Mirror Breaks

2010-04-08T23:14:00.000-07:00

Did an interview with Mike Davies today for BBC Radio 1 Punk Show and ended up talking about this song. I love The Mob...

More Lyrics...

2010-04-08T22:49:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are interested, here are the lyrics to "One By One" and "Bitter Divisions". Not sure if anyone out there will catch the reference, but if you're wondering, yes that is a Civil Disobedience (the Havoc Records band, not Thoreau) quote in "Bitter Divisions"...

One By One

I feel the ground moving under my feet, all I know is where I don’t belong.
I’m not interested in sticking around just for the sake of a good time.
Houses rotting from the the inside out and everybody’s pissed out of their fucking minds.
Are you seriously talking to me about community?

One by one, shoot off my fingers one by one.
Where do we go from here? Where do we go from here?
When the rebels lose the spirit of rebellion.

You’ve got nowhere left to go.
But I know I’m not alone.

We are defined by what we stand against and the weight of unfulfilled expectations. This culture that threatens to engulf you, is this anyway to go about fighting it?
I don’t want to be born again, I don’t need anybody to speak for me.
I’m not interested in humoring illusions or apologizing for the sake of sentiment.

One by one, shoot off my fingers one by one.
Where do we go from here? Where do we go from here?
When the rebels lose the spirit of rebellion.

You’ve got nowhere left to go.
But I know I’m not alone.

Bitter Divisions

Transcendent fear in the 21st century. Lost in psychic dire straights. With our enemies decided and our battlefields celebrated, "we walk with faith not sight".

How can we heal these bitter divisions?
How can we overcome our mutual distrust?
How can we heal these bitter divisions?
How can we reconcile our differences?

Mass hysteria in an age of delusion. Intellectualism surrenders to ineptitude. No love lost, no love gained, no common understanding. Head strong and determined, self obsessed with calloused indifference.

How can we heal these bitter divisions?
How can we overcome our mutual distrust?
How can we heal these bitter divisions?
How can we reconcile our differences?

Rotting Guts

2010-04-06T01:21:00.000-07:00

It's the caffeine, I can't sleep because of the caffeine. So I give up trying to fall asleep for the time being and pour myself a glass of cheap wine. Last night I dreamt that I couldn't stop eating bits of chopped up guitar strings. I could feel all the metal weighing heavier and heavier deep in my guts, I knew it wasn't good, but I couldn't stop myself.

Medicine Hat, AB

2010-03-17T11:55:00.001-07:00

Our video for "Rapid Decompression" premiered today on Aol Video. Here's a link for anyone who wants to check out...
http://video.aol.com/video-detail/rapid-decompression/2834887318

Lethbridge, AB

2010-03-13T19:55:00.000-08:00

Our new album "White Crosses" leaked. No drama. For those of you who have heard it and would like to read the lyrics, here you go!

1. White Crosses

I wake up in the morning and I drink from the fountain.
I wake up in the morning with the same unanswered questions.
I don’t know what’s going to cure my unsettled stomach.
Street kids collect spare change in a conch shell on the side walk; their teeth are yellow, their hair is tangled.
Their minds are vapid and they laugh wild in their depravity.

I’ll make my way back home to you, head north on San Marco Avenue.
White crosses on the church lawn, I want to smash them all.
I want to smash them all.

Pony tails swinging back and forth behind beach blonde college girls out for a jog.
Saint Augustine, shine your light down on me!
Pop hits from the 90’s echo out of tourist filled bars.
I am met with arms crossed under dirty looks, I am treated like a common thief.

I’ll make my way back home to you, head north on San Marco Avenue.
White crosses on the church lawn, I want to smash them all.
I want to smash them all.

Eaves-dropping in on conversation, I wander aimless leering at strangers.
Strung out on the amphetamines that you gave to me.
Eye-balled with suspicion by a pencil skirt in high heels, you realize that you’re talking to yourself.
Cannon fire explodes out over the bay.

I’ll make my way back home to you, head north on San Marco Avenue.
White crosses on the church lawn, I want to smash them all.
Looking for context and perspective, looking for some kind of distraction.
White crosses on the church lawn, I want to smash them all.
I want to smash them all.

2. I Was A Teenage Anarchist

I was a teenage anarchist, looking for a revolution. I had the style, I had the ambition. I read all the authors, I knew the right slogans. There was no war but the class war. I was ready to set the world on fire. I was a teenage anarchist, looking for a revolution.

Do you remember when you were young and you wanted to set the world on fire?

I was a teenage anarchist, but the politics were too convenient. In the depths of their humanity all I saw was bloodless ideology. And with freedom as the doctrine, guess who was the new authority? I was a teenage anarchist, but the politics were too convenient.

Do you remember when you were young and you wanted to set the world on fire?

I was a teenage anarchist, but then the scene got too rigid. It was a mob mentality, they set their rifle sights on me. Narrow visions of autonomy, you want me to surrender my identity. I was a teenage anarchist, the revolution was a lie.

Do you remember when you were young and you wanted to set the world on fire?

I was a teenage anarchist.

3. Because Of The Shame

We used to get high together, instead of getting high alone. I can’t remember the last time I saw you. I can’t remember the last time we talked. You left home for a fresh start, working as a waitress down in Bradenton. With my name tattoo’d into your skin.

Because of the shame I associate with vulnerability I am numbing myself completely.
Can you hear me right now?
I watched your mother bury you today, with tears in her eyes.
It wasn’t her words that shook me, it was the resemblance you shared.

Don’t it feel so detached and unreal? Don’t it seem so far away? Like the past never happened, or like nothings ever changed. With your casket open in front of me, your eyes closed and your lips silent. With my name tattoo’d into your skin.

Because of the shame I associate with vulnerability I am numbing myself completely.
Can you hear me right now?
I watched your mother bury you today, with tears in her eyes.
It wasn’t her words that shook me, it was the resemblance you shared.

I didn’t listen to the preacher. I couldn’t look your husband in the eyes. I’m not sure what I meant to you then, so I’m not sure what I owe you now. But if something I said hurt you I swear it was not my intention. With your name tattoo’d into my skin.

Because of the shame I associate with vulnerability I am numbing myself completely.
Can you hear me right now?
I watched your mother bury you today, with tears in her eyes.
It wasn’t her words that shook me, it was the resemblance you shared.

4. Suffocation

We were young heartbreakers estranged from our wealthy parents, doing key bumps in a handicap bathroom.
Stoned complacent, ambivalent, mass communicating with shared subconscious.

Suffocation.
Modern life in the western world.

Homosexual sons of unfulfilled fathers.
Divorced from reality, free and young.
We were bashing our brains out on a kitchen cabinet.
It was a televised crucifixion.
 Suffocation.
Modern life in the western world.

We were star-crossed, we were destitute.
Our words spoke mass destruction.
We watched the sun rise in the morning.
Daughters in arm, we all are orphans.

Suffocation.
Modern life in the western world.

In the western world.

5. We’re Breaking Up

This is the only voice I know.
These are the only words I have.
This is the only way I know how to say, we’re not in love anymore.

It’s the same way that it’s always been, the dynamic to the relationship never changes.
It’s the same way that it’s always been, the dynamic to the relationship never changes.

We used to like all the same bands.
We used to have all the same friends.
What do we have left in common?
Just shared memories of good times long since past.

It’s the same way that it’s always been, the dynamic to the relationship never changes.
It’s the same way that it’s always been, the dynamic to the relationship never changes.
You can’t get what you want from me, and I can’t get what I need from you.

This is the only voice I know.
These are the only words I have.
This is the only way I know how to say, we're breaking up.

It’s the same way that it’s always been.
It’s the same way that it’s always been.
I’m not giving up on us.
I’m not giving up on us.

6. High Pressure Low

There was a high pressure low developing off the coast of Africa, uplift in the atmosphere pushed waves across the ocean towards Antilles and Bon Air. I paced in Agitation. I drew the curtains closed. I turned the air conditioner on. I pressed a warm wash cloth to my face. Somewhere out there a hurricane was coming.

There’s just no future left for us to dream of,
living in an era of instability.
So caught up in the culture of their rivals,
fear breeds in honest men.
It’s a high pressure low.

7 missiles flying over the sea of japan. Tales of feral children sleeping in wolf dens. And the pious preacher commands. I hold my breath in anticipation. Into the shelter of the jungle noble savages run. Vestal virgins triumph over life long inhibitions. And I wonder, what is real? What is fiction?

There’s just no future left for us to dream of,
living in an era of instability.
So caught up in the culture of their rivals,
fear breeds in honest men.
It’s a high pressure low.

Would anyone forgive Robert McNamara? In retrospect he had to admit; there was mistake in going to war without first asking all the questions.
Yes, Robert Strange McNamara, there are those who just cannot forget. And I wonder, have I lost my own compassion?

There’s just no future left for us to dream of,
living in an era of instability.
So caught up in the culture of their rivals,
fear breeds in honest men.
It’s a high pressure low.

7. Ache With Me

I’ve walked down high streets looking through windows.
I’ve been lost in crowds of strangers.
Searched record shops and cosmetic aisles, phone books, want ads, bus stops and libraries.
Newspaper headlines, mannequin faces, television stations, billboard advertisements.
Your voice echos in the back of my mind.
I see your face when I close my eyes.

Do you share the same sense of defeat?
Have you realized all the things you’ll never be?
Ideals turn to resentment, open minds close up with cynicism.
I’ve got no judgement for you.
Come on and ache with me.

Through bar rooms, cafés, jail cells and court rooms. Theaters, restaurants, graveyards and churches. I’ve spent every dollar that I’ve ever earned. I’ll bleed my heart out, I’ll give every word. I’ve asked preachers, doctors and lawyers, socialites, pariahs, mothers and fathers. You may not find all that you’re after, in the end I hope it doesn’t matter.

Do you share the same sense of defeat?
Have you realized all the things you’ll never be?
Ideals turn to resentment, open minds close up with cynicism.
I’ve got no judgement for you.
Come on and ache with me.

Do you share the same sense of defeat?
Have you realized all the things you’ll never be?
I’ve got no judgement for you.
Come on and ache with me.

8. Spanish Moss

You just need to find some place to get away.
You can forget your name.
And there’s no need to apologize.

It could be a good life.
It could be such a very good life.
We could find a place for just me and you.
Need some place to stay safe, need some place to stay safe and warm.
Why don’t we deserve the same?

You just need to find some place to get away.
You can forget your name.
And there’s no need to apologize.

Look into the Spanish moss.
Let your mind conjure up old ghosts.
Ride you bike through lost Florida streets.
Everything we’ve said and done, can be so easily forgotten.
You can always change who you are.

You just need to find some place to get away.
You can forget your name.
And there’s no need to apologize.
 I caught a glimpse of this life, it could be such a very good life.
We could find a place for just me and you.
But it’s not yours to keep.
Yeah, the truth will tear your heart out.
In a world run by gangsters you’re stuck standing in a bread line.

You just need to find some place to get away.
You can forget your name.
And there’s no need to apologize.

9. Rapid Decompression

How much is too much?
I’m tired of predicting to lose.
But before you point your finger, before you cast your stones, take a look at yourself.
How can you expect from someone what you won’t do yourself?

There’s no bottom to your reality.
Your desperation is utter and complete.
What you can’t love about yourself you have to steal from someone else; and what you can’t steal you have to deny.

Rapid Decompression.
Sometimes it feels like your whole world is coming to an end.

10. Bamboo Bones

Don’t let them break you.
Don’t let them tell you who you are.
Doesn’t matter where you come from,
you'll always have a floor to sleep on.
And you have your bamboo bones,
nervous energy,
blind ambition,
skin of your teeth.
Push back, push back, push back,
with every word and every breath.

What god doesn’t give to you,
you’ve got to go and get for yourself.

I’m embarrassed to admit it,
I’ve got no grip.
I’m leading with my jaw.
Can you see it from a distance?
Does it look ridiculous?
I guess that’s just what I have to live with.
Still I have a mind to think,
knees to break,
you standing beside me.
I’m going to push back, push back, push back,
with every word and every breath.

What god doesn’t give to you,
you’ve got to go and get for yourself.

Backstage In Seattle

2010-03-02T19:22:00.000-08:00

Feb. 17th - Jacksonville Beach, FL

2010-02-17T10:57:00.000-08:00

Just arrived here in Jacksonville Beach a couple minutes ago. As I type the stage is being set up for soundcheck. I can't tell you all how good it feels to be back out on the road. The wheels are finally in motion! To everyone who plans on coming out to see us live over the next couple months I want to say that we're super excited to share our new songs with you. It looks like White Crosses is hopefully going to be coming out in early June, we'll have an exact date and more details soon. But in the meantime I want to share the official cover art, by Steak Mtn. with everyone. If anyone's interested in checking out more of Steak Mtn.'s art you can do so here.

Spanish Moss

2010-01-23T11:47:00.001-08:00

I wish I was in this band

2010-01-12T23:22:00.000-08:00

Little Boomey

2010-01-10T20:10:00.000-08:00

My favourite new cheap red wine. Available for only $6.49 at 7-11.

White Crosses

2009-12-24T12:23:00.000-08:00

I wanted my blog to be the place where I first shared the new Against Me! album cover. It was created by the Florida artist simply known as "The Kyle". Check it out.

My Top Ten Favourite Albums Of 2009

2009-12-18T12:20:00.000-08:00

In no particular order...

1. Matt and Kim -Grand
2. Handsome Furs - Face Control
3. Fever Ray - Self Titled
4. Dead To Me - African Elephants
5. Future Of The Left - Travels with Myself and Another
6. The Horrors - Primary Colours
7. Metric - Fantasies
8. Moneybrother - Real Control
9. The Raveonettes - In And Out Of Control
10. The Mountain Goats - The Life Of The World To Come

October 18th

2009-10-18T23:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was our last day in the studio, and today Andrew, James, and George left for Florida. We had a drunken listening party before packing up the gear last night, twelve songs in a little over forty minutes. We’re calling the album “White Crosses”.

Day 45

2009-10-02T17:42:00.001-07:00

September 26th

2009-09-26T20:53:00.000-07:00

My temperature reached a high of 101.7 last night. When I got home from the studio I washed a TheraFlu nightcap down with a cherry Nyquil chaser and went to bed. I didn’t go into the studio today, Butch told me to stay home. I’ve spent the day laying on the couch, watching TV, drifting in and out of consciousness.

A.I.M.

2009-09-17T19:18:00.000-07:00

Day 27

2009-09-14T15:48:00.000-07:00

Day 21

2009-09-08T17:55:00.000-07:00

Day 16

2009-09-03T18:04:00.001-07:00

Day 14

2009-09-01T21:25:00.000-07:00

We've finished drums and moved onto guitars. Went to Phoenix this past weekend to play a show on Sunday. Flew back super early Monday morning so we could still make it into the studio at our usual 11AM start time, had to wake up at 4:15AM. Spent the first half of the day riding high on caffeine, crashed hard mid afternoon and spent the rest of the day in a delirium not un-similar to coming down from a night spent tripping on acid.

Day 8

2009-08-26T15:36:00.001-07:00

Day 6

2009-08-22T23:28:00.000-07:00

Six days in and we’ve got the drums finished for six songs. We’re not recording tomorrow, I plan on taking it way easy, might try and go see a movie but nothing more physically taxing than that. I Haven’t been feeling too well the past couple days, I’m worried I’m getting sick. I kind of have the dull full body ache happening that usually precedes the flu. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends since I left Florida and it’s starting to catch up with me. The constant roller coaster ride I’ve been on of caffeine fueled days and wine soaked nights probably isn’t helping. What is a man without his vices?

Day 3

2009-08-19T17:48:00.000-07:00

I don’t think most fans of music realize how much of being in a band is about sitting around waiting for something to happen, it’s called “Hurry up and wait”. You rush to the airport to then sit around waiting to board the plane. You drive through the night to get to the venue for load in/ soundcheck, to then sit around for hours backstage, waiting for the show to start. Making a record is no different. The ratio of time spent actually playing to the time spent setting up, getting the right tones, etc, is heavily weighted towards the latter. It’s a constant stop and go routine. Some times it’s enough to drive you insane. Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue. All work and no play make Tom…

Day 1

2009-08-17T21:18:00.000-07:00

First day in the studio. Nothing actually recorded yet; 9:20PM and we're still setting up, getting tones.

Tucumcari, NM

2009-08-15T12:36:00.000-07:00

She asks if I am ready to order. At first, I mistake the partial paralysis of her mouth as annoyance or disdain. I have no explanation why, but I assume it was a stroke that paralyzed the right side of her face.
As the thunderstorm outside grows in its fierceness, the shelter seaking motorists seated around me grow equally impatient for their food. The young waitress apologizes profusely, rushing about refilling their beverages, promising that it won’t be much longer. I can see a steady stream of people lining up at the front desk to check into the hotel, and I can see a steady stream of people lining up to be seated for dining. Caffeine is making my legs shake uncontrollably, I order a glass of the house red hoping it will help calm me down. I make short talk with the busboy as he hurridley clears and set places at the surrounding tables. I want to disassociate myself from the rest of the clientele, as I am in no hurry and do not want spit in my food.
Once served I eat my meal while listening to other people’s table conversations. My wine glass stained with lipstick that isn’t my color. The penmanship on the check I am eventually handed is impeccable. I don’t remember when but I have been to this hotel before.

2009-07-08T22:00:00.000-07:00

A Short Review Of The Movie "Bottle Shock" -

Duffy, “Queen Of Rockferry” and the King Of Leon are trying to race back to the vineyard to let Bill Pullman know that the white wine he has spent his entire life perfecting will only be brown for a couple of days, don’t throw it all away. Their sex is on fire sitting in the bar as Duffy tells the King that her chest was ripped open when she was a child, she has the scar to prove it.

2009-06-08T20:38:00.000-07:00

April 23rd – 2:50PM. Driving to Little Rock, AR
Someone hammered a screw driver into the drivers side door lock and broke into the van last night. Suprisingly all they stole was an I-Pod transmitter and our receipt pouch. We found the receipt pouch, still full of receipts laying on the ground across the parking lot as we were driving away.

April 25th – 4:31AM. Huntsville, AL. @Andrew’s partents house.
Tonights show was the biggest of the tour; it was an energetic crowd. We’re staying at Andrew’s parents house. Andrew’s dad got us all loaded on Schnapps. I’ll be lucky if I don’t vomit.

April 27th – 5:30AM. Somewhere.
Is today my brothers birthday or is it tomorrow?

April 28th – 4:06AM. Hyatt Hotel outside of Atlanta, GA.
I ate dinner alone, the same chain restaurant, the same meal I had last Monday; washed down by a margarita. I popped a vicodin (for the toothache) on the walk back.

April 29th – 3:00AM. Charlotte, SC.
Three more shows, Athens, Wilmington, Columbia, and then I go to Australia.

May 1st – 4:13AM. Wilmington, NC.
An hour into my turn behind the wheel I remember pissing in the stairwell of the hotel last night. John and I had been drunkenly arguing in the hallway, I don’t remember what about specifically, and then the next thing I knew I was all alone. I had lost my room key, not that I could remember what room I was in, I couldn’t remember what room anyone else was in either. The indoor stairwell seemed like a better urinal than the hallway carpet. In my drunken state of mind I thought for some reason that pissing on the handrail would be more discrete, more courteous than pissing directly onto the actual stairs. I don’t know how I got back into my room. I woke up half an hour after van call. Once in the van I immediately passed out on the back bench seat.

We told Warren this afternoon that we are going to look for a new drummer. Andrew, James and I made the decision a couple days ago over lunch. I told them that I didn’t want to play music with Warren anymore. They both agreed that this was a necessary step, it’s been a long time coming. Warren’s heart hasn’t been in this for a while now.

May 1st - 2:42PM. Driving to Columbia, SC
If I hadn’t turned around and come back in through the door that night in Providence, November, 2007, then the band would have ended right then and there, nothing that’s happened since would have transpired. Andrew quit, Warren readily agreed with him that it was time to end. I admit I was being an asshole, I provoked Andrew. At the same time I didn’t know about what all was happening in Andrew’s personal life. I was heading for the bus, I was going to grab my bags, find a cab to take me to a hotel, figure out how I was going to get back to Florida in the morning. But, a couple feet outside the rear exit of the club I stopped, turned around, walked back inside, tail between legs, and begged Andrew not to quit. Minutes later we went back onstage for an encore. I’m still hoping that it wasn’t a mistake to not let things end then and there.

After load in today Warren asked if he could talk with us all again. He said that after thinking about it over night he completely agreed that this was the best decision to make, that he realized his actions as of late have been, if not subconcious, indicitive of him not being fully invested. With his Mexican Restaurant opening soon, he seems ready to start a new chapter in his life. I wish him luck.

Tonight’s show at the New Brooklyn Tavern will be our last with Warren.

2009-04-22T15:31:00.000-07:00

"This paper is your skin,
this ink is my blood,
I'm pressing on my pen."
-Jules Et Jim

April 13th - 2:50AM. Saint Augustine, FL.
Started the day off with a big breakfast. Tofu scramble with fresh cut kale from our garden, soy sausage, toast, coffee. We ate while watching a collection of Danzig music videos. "She Rides" has to be one of the greatest music videos ever made. And then there's all the behind the scenes footage in between the videos. Glenn Danzig slamming a box of milk duds before going back out onstage for an encore, amazing. He tries so hard to look tough and evil, but it's just so obvious that he's just a big comic book collecting nerd from Jersey.
Later we washed the car, inside and out, worked on the garden, cleaned up around the house. Then we went to the beach, sat in the sand, split a tomato sandwich, stared up and down the coast. I have a couple of days at home between the tour I leave on tomorrow and the Australia tour; it should be hot enough then to really appreciate a swim in the ocean, I'm looking forward to it.
We had talked about going out for dinner but ended up eating at home. WHile Heather made pasta I packed. We ate dinner while watching the recent remake of "The Day The Earth Stood Still", followed by the original "Amityville Horror". We have another doctors appointment tomorrow, we should be able to hear our babies heartbeat.

April 13th - 7:00PM. Driving To Savannah, GA.
One hundred and twenty three miles to Savannah. Sitting on the front bench seat behind Warren riding shotgun, Andrew driving. I'm looking forward to the 24 hour gym at the hotel tonight.

April 14th - 1:14AM. Savannah, GA.
I left my journal open on the table in the hotel room when I went down to Jordan's room to get my forgotten van keys; did Andrew read it? I hate feeling like I have to censor myself in my journal out of fear that someone might read it. If Andrew didn't read my journal it's a testament to his character, it's a credit to his parents.

April 14th - 3:11AM. Savannah, GA.
Bedtime. Worry about everything tomorrow.

April 15th - 2:58AM. Greenville, SC.
I've become repulsed by the idea of my own body hair.
I'm not sure what to make of tonights show, it started off strong but then it fizzled. I'm not sure why.

April 15th - 12:52PM. Driving.
Andrew and Jordan are singing made up songs about the stimulation of their anus', in the front of the van.

April 16th - 2:37AM. Raleigh, NC.
Tripped up on a couple of lyrics tonight. I don't remember what I was thinking about but it wasn't the song. I have deep wrinkles developing under my eyes.

April 17th - 1:28AM. Driving.
That's what Anarchy means to the Anarchists, that's the extent of their revolution, a shit filled diaper left on the windshield of our van. Something about being a "sellout" written on it.

April 17th - 9:55AM. Driving.
I feel nauseous from drinks last night. Every bump in the road makes it worse. I got tattoo'd by Jay Chastain yesterday in Asheville, the word "HOWL" across the knuckles on my right hand. I'm hoping there's no problem with it healing up, being on the road and all.
Ian, our manager came to the show last night. I don't like the way any of us act when he's around, myself included. It seems so forced, so fake.

April 18th - 11:54AM. Driving to Virginia Beach, VA.
Ian gave me a copy of the new Dylan record, I'm listening now as I write; it's good. I love how weathered his voice has grown.

April 19th - 12:30AM. Driving To Hotel.
The show had already started, I had been hanging out in the van by myself writing, playing guitar. I decided to go in and check out the scene, watch some of the local opener. Standing just past the two people taking tickets at the door was a group of security guards. I walked up to them, being that they were unavoidable to walk into if going into the show, and met face to face for a moment with a young female security guard. As I started to look down at my ringing cell phone the girl fell over backwards. With a slap her head slammed into the ground, she began convulsing. She was having a seizure. It took me a second to realize what was happening, I thought it was a joke at first. Not knowing what to do I stood there watching as the other security guards scrambled. It was yelled out for someone to call 911, and phones were picked up as if the number was called, although no ambulance ever came. With a short haired, stout, female security guard kneeling down beside her the girl came to. The slowly moved her into a chair, gave her a coca-cola. I asked her if she was okay. She seemed dazed. That was the first time I've ever seen someone have a seizure. I felt helpless.

April 20th - 5:31PM. Nashville, TN. Day off.
Applebee's was my best option for food, so here I sit, waiting for a waitress to place my order with. I have time to kill. My laundry spinning away in the washing machine of the neighboring hotel to ours. We are staying at a Hyatt Place hotel, despite not having guest laundry it is my favourite type of chain hotel to stay in. I spent the morning wandering around the outlet mall right next door to the Grand Old Opry, down the street from our hotel. I did some shopping, clothes, a new suitcase. I prefer to be by myself most of the time, unless with Heather.

April 21st - 5:07AM. Nashville, TN.
If no one ever came to get me, would I ever leave this hotel room?

"She wore a black dress with a transparent lace yoke - the crescent of her chemise could be seen through it - from the lower edge of which the silk hung down in a finely cut frill."
-Pg. 3-
"The Complete Stories"
"Description Of A Struggle"
Franz Kafka

April 22nd - 2:38AM. Nashville, TN.
Our child can make a fist, it can suck it's thumb. His or her skull and bones are solidifying, soon it will have ribs. Intestines are in the right place, vocal chords ready to wail. 13 weeks old.

March 24th - 1:13Pm. Gainesville, FL

2009-03-29T20:16:00.000-07:00

In the corner of "The Clock" restaurant which I have been seated, there is a faint smell of fecal matter. The mutant to my left has his gut hanging out all over the lap of his blue sweat pants. I prefer the atmosphere here late at night, but I enjoy the company (and the food, mmmm grits and home fries) offered in the morning. At this time of day there is an almost zero percent chance that I'll run into anyone I know; which is what I prefer to happen when I'm in Gainesville. The coffee works equally well at all hours. I didn't fall asleep last night until just before 6AM. It's easy to lose track of time at the practice space, with no windows, once you turn that dead-bolt lock it's almost as if the outside world doesn't exist. Almost. The lack of windows also makes it extremely hard to wake up in the morning. There's no fresh sunlight to let you know it's time to start a new day. Last night I moved from sleeping on my cot to sleeping directly on the floor; it is much more comfortable. The past couple of weeks have been a black hole.

Feb. 15th, 2009.

2009-02-15T13:21:00.000-08:00

This is the view from the front steps of my house. People wave and say "hello" as they walk by, in couples, with dogs. Sometimes they'll stop and chat for a second, ask your name, introduce themselves, point out which house is theirs, mention they knew and were fond of the previous residents of the house.
Our neighbors to the right always have random objects laying about in their yard. They seem to be constantly starting landscape projects, which are never finished and wouldn't look good if they were. The lady of the house parks her black Cadillac in the front yard. The man of the house parks his white GMC work truck and his camouflaged Chevy Suburban on the street. There's a covered car, an old Corvette judging by the shape, parked in the grass on the side of the house. None of their vehicles are ever parked on the driveway. They keep two very large dogs locked in a makeshift corral built in the backyard. It smells of dog shit. I've never seen them taken out.
Our neighbor to the left just moved in, she is young, blonde, in her early 20's, has a small dog, and drives a red Audi. She smokes cigarettes while standing in her screened in front porch. I have never seen her face but Heather says she is cute.
On weekends young boys and girls sporadically run through the backyard. They play made up games with rules beyond adult comprehension, battling imaginary cyborgs and the like. Their friendships with each other begin and end countless times every hour, accusations of "cheating" and cries of "I hate you" being shortly followed with the game resuming, the quarrel forgotten.
Our street, our house, is only a couple of blocks north of the Fountain of Youth, or at least what Ponce De Leon believed was the Fountain of Youth, and is now a national archaeological park. Open daily from 9AM to 5PM (closed Christmas Day), the Fountain is actually a natural spring coming up from the Anastasia aquifer, which also supplies us with out tap water. This is my favourite feature of the house. Every morning I wake up, shower, brush my teeth, make coffee with water coming from an aquifer, which supplies a spring, that 500 years ago a Spaniard believed gave those who drank from it eternal youth.
I've gotten in the habit of taking short walks around the block, mostly when my stomach feels upset. At night you can hear an owl somewhere up in the trees. I wouldn't be surprised if the majority of front doors in the neighborhood were left unlocked. We've signed a year lease, but if the owner would sell the house to us, if we had the money she was asking for, we would buy it.

Jan. 18th - 9:04PM. Saint Augustine, FL.

2009-01-19T20:48:00.000-08:00

We went to the bar because there's a neon flamingo playing a saxophone on the side of the building. We went to the bar because it's just down the street from our house and I felt like having a drink. We knew it wasn't our scene but I'm not sure where our scene is here. I'm not sure it's here to be found. There is no shortage of bars in this town where one could go if they really wanted to hear Sublime while having a drink. At the very least, neon sax flamingo didn't look like the type of place that would be packed with dickhead jocks, which this town has it's fair share of.
The guitar player was rocking a paisley tie-dyed Fender Stratocaster through a Line 6 combo amp. On top of the P.A., which was sitting on a chair just to his right, he had placed a small black light. This brought out the full effect of his custom painted axe. He was dressed head to toe in denim. I wouldn't be surprised if his socks and underwear, briefs not boxers, were denim as well. The solos were drunk, sloppy, indulgent, and awesome. The drummer wore a "Trilby"-esque hat; the bass player a black and white swirls shirt that matched his black and white Fender Jazz bass. It was the true spirit of the mall store "Spencer's embodied in a shirt. You could tell he saw it and just had to have it for gigging. The back up singer, who stood on the floor because there was no room for her on stage, not that the stage was not just a foot tall riser, was dressed like a legal secretary. When she wasn't singing or dancing with the audience she was a playing a P.A. speaker like it was a bongo. She was my favourite. Before they started playing I thought they were patrons, standing around the bar drinking and laughing, loudly conversing.
They opened with a cover of "Second That Emotion" originally by The Miracles. During the outro the lyrics were changed to "I'll rub your ass with lotion". They followed with Stevie Wonder's "Superstitious". Everyone was having a good time, it was the weekend, tear it up. There was the Billy Ray Cyrus wanna-be, new school Billy Ray, not old school Billy Ray, who moments before owning the dance floor had been sitting at the bar with a blond plastic surgery disaster, kissing the top of her exposed breasts. There was the elderly gentleman who i heard telling a group of people how when his wife died he became the "hot item on the block". There was skinny lawyer looking guy with salt and pepper hair. There was bulky zoot suit guy with white shoes in the back of the room. There was girl too cute for guy couple. There was open eyed kissing in the corner totally wasted couple who at one point got ready to go, then decided to stay and dance some more. There were others. It wasn't even 11 but you could tell most of them weren't going to make it much longer. Soon there would be a lot of sloppy sex happening. Billy Ray and P.S.Disaster weren't waiting until they got home, all but fucking right on the dance floor. Heather and I were perplexed at first when we saw them both start dancing with other people for the bands next song, Prince's "Purple Rain". We were perplexed because we didn't understand why anyone else would want to dance with either of them after the gratuitous leg humping session that had just ended. We guessed they were swingers looking to bring a 3rd or 4th party home with them for the evening. When the band started playing Pink Floyd, shaved head with a goatee guy was overwhelmed by everything that was happening, he took out his Nikon and started taking photos of the band. He had to be a part of the moment, he had to document the glory.
I was drinking whiskey and beer, a shot for every bottle. Heather was drinking wine. I felt warm; I felt fondness towards the band. I wanted to talk with them, I wanted to rap about gear, I wanted to let them know that I was also a musician. All of a sudden we were the only people left in the room besides the bar staff and the band. It was time to go. I left with a cd and a business card. What was the band called? I'm not sure. I was told two different names, and the cd they gave me had a third on it. They were "El Toro Loco", "BrokedDickDog" or "Speed Dial: Love", but anyway you look at it they were brilliant. Fuck, I'm not even sure they were real.

Guns N' Roses - Chinese Democracy

2009-01-10T19:16:00.000-08:00

The question of whether or not you personally like "Chinese Democracy" is irrelevant, as this is a question of taste, and taste is often influenced by fickle pop culture trends that change with the times. While obviously a different medium, music should not be measured with any different standards (as it always is) than painting, literature or acting. The validity of any art should not be determined by whether or not people immediately understand the artist's vision, whether or not they find it immediately aesthetically palpable.
Unfortunately it is inevitable that "Chinese Democracy" will be measured by all the wrong standards, especially considering the line up changes in the band, the cost and length of time it took to finally see the light of day. Is it better than "Appetite For Destruction"? Where did it debut on the Billboard Charts? How many copies will it sell? Using these points of comparison to judge the merit of work contained in the 14 songs that comprise the album would yield results that are false, as none of these were goals of the artist when creating the art.
A comparison is necessary to understand what I'm talking about so let's compare the two very different paths taken by Guns N' Roses and their contemporary and rival band, Metallica. Compare "Chinese Democracy" to "Death Magnetic". "Chinese Democracy" has been one man's sole focus; one man's vision, his manic obsession, for 14 years. Axl is Captain Ahab, "Chinese Democracy" is Moby Dick. "Death Magnetic" is just another album, another tour in support of said album, just the next marketing campaign in a long procession of album cycles. Metallica needs a producer to give them direction, to tell them what kind of band they should be this time around, to coax performance, and in the case of "Death Magnetic", to help them return to their roots; to what originally made them popular, since their last few albums haven't sold so well.
Axl is his own producer, he doesn't care about returning to his roots, he is moving forward, he doesn't care who believes in his mission. Meanwhile, Metallica grasp at straws, employing a psychiatrist to help them get along together as a band, to help them communicate as people. Axl does not care about communicating. You got a problem? You're out of the band! It's his vision and no one else's. Axl needs a psychiatrist because he has deep rooted psychological issues, he's "fucking crazy". Remember?
Need proof? Just look at him, the way he dresses, the braids in his hair, the way he behaves, tell me this isn't undeniable evidence that he just completely does not give a shit what you or anyone else thinks. He is only concerned with his own self-perception. For fucks sake he hired a guitarist named "Buckethead" who plays with a white face-mask and an empty bucket from Kentucky Fried Chicken on his head. Why did he hire Buckethead? Because Buckethead shreds on the guitar. Metallica are sporting leather jackets this time around, hoping to convey a tough unified Rock n' Roll image, a back to the streets look. Axl is demonstrating the difference between Artist and Rock Star, a trapping that he has transcended. Axl is demonstrating the difference between self-delusion and self-obsession. Metallica are self-deluded. They need to be the biggest band in the world; they crave the money, the critical praise, and the fame. Metallica's think all these things matter and that they will make them happy.
Axl is self-obsessed. All he cares about is his masterpiece, his monument to himself. Think about it, who else is he writing about? Do you think Axl dates anymore? These songs seemingly sung about some mystery girl, do you really think there is one? Axl is singing to himself about himself. He is in love with himself and at the same time hates himself; he is at war with the demons inside his head. This album is a self-portrait. Metallica are paint by numbers. Axl is Van Gogh. Is his self-mutilation not completely evident? Has he not completely isolated himself into a prison of his own paranoia? Metallica surround themselves with 'yes' men who all tell them that they're still the greatest, still the hardest rocking band out there. No one dares tell Axl anything (except maybe Dizzy. Dizzy is probably a total 'yes' man. But let's give Axl the one). Since "The Black Album", their true high water mark, Metallica have kept on shitting out mediocre record after mediocre record, each time hoping they've recaptured the magic they used to have. They're doing it because it's all they know how to do. It is their profession. Axl is lost in his illusions, following the voices in his head. He's doing it because something uncontrollable inside compels him to do so.
So, the question of whether or not you personally like "Chinese Democracy" is irrelevant. The question is how does Axl feel about "Chinese Democracy". You would have to understand "Chinese Democracy" in order to decide whether or not you liked it, and how could you, or anyone else possibly understand this album better than Axl himself? Axl may have killed the whale, but he lost part of himself to the sea in the process.

November 15th - November 28th, 2008.

2008-12-03T17:55:00.000-08:00

November 15th - 2:12PM. Driving to Birmingham.

I didn't remember his name, but I knew the face.
"My name's #*&."
With a snide undertone he helped me to remember.
What can I say? The road is long, the road is hard, the road is often times drunk and blurry.
It was obvious that #*& thought I was a jerk and he didn't really care how I was doing, and there was no real point to him asking what I've been up to.
"You should come back to Memphis and play a house show."
It wasn't a statement, it was thinly veiled criticism.
When it becomes obvious that people are not your friends, never were your friends, and you have no interest in building a friendship with them, nor do they with you, why would you feign the interest to do so?
I don't have to remember your name to be a good person. I wish I had that kind of memory, but I just don't.
See #*& it's not that I have anything against playing house shows, it's just that I don't want to play at your house.

November 16th - 10:46AM. Driving to Columbia, SC.

Today is the last day of the Revival Tour. I'm sorry to see it end. I'm truly thankful for the experience. It will be weird carrying on for the next week of shows without everyone else. Chuck's been talking about possibly doing a Revival Tour in the UK sometime this spring. If it happens I want in. Chuck, Ben, Tim, Jon, Digger, Todd, Jill, Jimmy, Matt, thank you for everything.

I wrote a song last night after soundcheck and played it first in my set. I think I'm going to call it "Bob Dylan Dream #12 & 35".

November 19th - 2:08AM. New Jersey.

I like the thought that the lyrics and melody were a gift from my guitars.
I volunteered to go out to the van and get the directions notebook. Once out there I realized I wanted to bring a guitar inside the house to play. But carry both guitars in? That would be a hassle. I started to bring in my Gibson, out of loyalty. I've only owned the Takamine for 3 days. But then I worried the Takamine would be lonely, cold and lonely, so I brought them both in. Once inside I sat down on the floor and wrote a song. I like the thought that the lyrics and melody were a gift from my guitars for bringing them both inside the warm house.

November 21st - 3:18PM. Driving Connecticut.

Kevin Mahon is the only person who has ever broken my heart. We used to be best friends. We used to spend every minute of every day together. When we went on our first tour his parents made me his legal guardian. Since Kevin was under 18 they wanted me to be able to bail him out of jail in the event he should be arrested.
Kevin and I had a musical connection unlike any I've felt before or since. We didn't have to verbally communicate ideas or direction, we both just knew what the other was thinking. If I played a chord progression he knew the beat to go along with it. If he played a beat, the chord progression to match would come to me.
I loved Kevin.
When I was 8 years old I decided that playing music was what I wanted to do with my life. Kevin didn't feel the same way and there eventually came a point in our relationship when he wanted to pursue other interests. I had a really hard time coping with it and felt that if we didn't play music together, we couldn't be friends. I didn't know what to do with the hurt and disappointment I felt. In many ways I acted immaturely and I'm sorry for it.
I'm sorry Kevin.
We've seen each other sporadically over the years; tried hanging out once or twice, had a drunken argument in a bar, shared a couple phone conversations, traded emails, but the exchanges were always awkward and stilted. you could compare it to the way you'd feel talking to an ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend. I continued playing music and Kevin followed his interest to Brooklyn, were he now lives. Last time the band played in NYC he came out to the show. We went out drinking afterwards. It was a fun time.
Driving into the city yesterday I texted Kevin on a whim and asked if he wanted to come and play a song with me at the Knitting Factory.
"Sure, want to play a couple?"
It was the first time we'd played music together, been onstage together, in 7 years. Without any more practice than running through the songs at sound check, it felt like not a day had passed since our last show together in Gainesville.
A lot of the songs we played I've refused to play for years, and some fans of those songs have never quite been able to understand. They were songs that Kevin and I made together and their association to my broken heart turned me cynical and jaded towards them.
Talking to Kevin after the show I spilled my guts. I was lit, both on the moment and vodka. I told him that I missed him and that if he ever wanted to play music together again, on whatever terms, I'd love to. Compare it to begging your ex to take you back, that's how I felt waking up this morning, like I had slept with my ex-girlfriend and then begged her to take me back...
but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it isn't really like that and my metaphors are all off. Maybe we can play music together again someday, for fun, because it feels good. Maybe sometimes I just over think things.

November 23rd - 1:34PM. Driving to Pittsburgh, PA.

Originally we intended to drive for at least two hours after the Connecticut show, make it past the city and find a hotel. I made it about fifteen minutes before deciding I didn't want to drive anymore. We slept the night then drove to Allentown, our planned destination for our day off. I found a much needed Kinko's/Fed Ex, where I was able to send some overdue mail. We found a Target and did some much needed shopping (a new toothbrush and toothpaste). We ate dinner at Carraba's. We got a room at a Comfort Suites. We had drinks at the bar and played mega-touch. We went back to the room, watched "Burn After Reading" (my second time seeing it). We passed out. Today, I'm hungover. My stomach is doing backflips from all the cheap wine. Three more shows this year.

November 24th - Time?. Somewhere outside Pittsburgh, PA.

I'm faced with choice, possibility. I am without a plan. Everything is uncertain. It's time to decide though, the road is running out. Where you gonna go?
I talked with Kevin today about the possibility of playing together again. What would it mean? How would it work? Neither of us are sure. We plan on talking again tomorrow.

November 25th - 12:26PM. Driving to Grand Rapids, MI

"At school you dream, in life you have to make adjustments. You come up against a reality older than yourself, to which you have to adapt yourself. You don't become what you would like to become."

-Bread And Wine
By Ignazio Silone

Today is the last day of tour. Today is the last show of the year. We'll drive to Heather's parents house in Detroit tomorrow. We'll spend Thanksgiving there, and then, when it comes time to leave, we'll have nowhere to go, we'll have anywhere we want to go. I'm anxious to be some place. It won't take much to make me happy, a bed to sleep in, a desk to write at, and the freedom to sing and play guitar without offending neighbors. We have a storage unit full of our belongings back in Gainesville. With the exception of my records, books, photographs, old journals, my grandmother's couch and the $300-400 in rolled pennies, dimes, nickels, and quarters, I could really care less about going back for any of it.

November 26th - 2:42AM. Clarion Suites, Grand Rapids, MI.

Playing tonight I kept hoping that James, Andrew, and Warren would jump onstage out of nowhere and we'd finish the year together.

November 27th - 1:37AM. Grosse Point, MI.

This is my first time visiting the house that Heather grew up in, my first time visiting the neighborhood that Heather grew up in.
We're sleeping in Patrick, her brother's old bedroom, as it has a double bed in it and Heather's old bedroom now has two twins in it.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A year ago on Thanksgiving I was playing a show in Chicago. Two years ago I was in L.A. recording an album. Three years ago we were on a tour of all 50 states eating dinner in a hotel room somewhere in America.

November 28th - 1:12AM. Grosse Point, MI

After dinner I washed the dishes. I wanted to wash the dishes. I like to wash dishes. I was paid to wash dishes once and I hated it. The soap and water ruined the callous' on my fingers which were necessary for playing guitar. So I quit. I didn't quit in person, I just stopped showing up. They mailed me my paycheck.
It was a classic vision of Thanksgiving, add in the Tofurkey. Sitting at the table I took in the moment. The people surrounding me are now part of my family. This is my wife. This is the person I grew up to become. This is where I am in life. This is what I'm doing. This is where I hope to go. I'm thankful.

" 'All our life is lived provisionally,' he said. 'We think that for the time being things are bad, that for the time being we must adapt ourselves, even humiliate ourselves but that is all just temporary, and that one day life, real life, will begin. We get ready to die, still complaining that we have never really lived. Sometimes I am obsessed with the idea that we have only one life and spend the whole of it living provisionally, waiting for real life to being. And thus time passes. Nobody lives in the present. Nobody has any profit from his daily life. Nobody can say: On that day, on that occasion, my life began. Even those who enjoy all the advantages of belonging to the governmental party have to live by intrigue, and are thoroughly nauseated by the dominant stupidity. They too live provisionally and spend their lives waiting.' "

- Bread And Wine
By Ignazio Silone

October 31st - November 14th, 2008.

2008-11-17T21:13:00.000-08:00

October 30th - 11:09AM. Driving to San Francisco, CA.

With my eyes tightly shut, I held onto the neck of my guitar for dear life. I stumbled through chords. I mixed up verses. I played the songs I wanted to play, and then I played the songs people said they'd like to hear. It was a start.

October 31st - 11:50AM. Driving to Pomona, CA.

I felt excitement like I haven't felt in years. The thrill of playing material that's still new and fresh. The thrill of being completely unsure of yourself, of playing with new musicians, of being scared to death. Conceptually this is nothing different than what you've done thousands of times before, but you've been taken out of your comfort zone.

November 3rd - 2:47PM. Driving to Las Vegas, NV.

We didn't end up getting to Tom Whalley's house until after 1AM. The directions were confusing; we got lost on our way there. We had a couple glasses of wine, made a couple introductions, had some quick conversations and picked at the hors de oeuvres. Tom Whalley ended the party at 2AM. No formal announcement was made that the party was over, but all at once everyone knew it was time to go. He has that kind of ability.
I felt bad for going to the party at Whalley's instead of the after show party that Side One Dummy was throwing. I wanted to spend time with my new tour mates, be a part of the team but I've had limited experiences with Whalley and since opportunities to make new ones are rare, I wanted to take advantage of this one. Tom Whalley was a founder of Interscope records, he now runs Warner Brothers. He told me that when he started Interscope it was with the intention of creating a label were artists could be artistically free to do what they wanted.
Heather and I had brunch with Butch, Beth and Bo before heading down to sound check at the Knitting Factory. We went to a place called "Hugo's" in Studio City. I adore Butch, Beth, and of course Bo. While we were eating they asked if we had given any more thought to moving out there to Los Angeles. Being in the city and feeling like you already have the start of a social life reinvigorates the internal argument of where to move.
The LA show was sold out. It was by far the best of the dates thus far for me. I'm gradually feeling more and more confident about my place in the show. I have an immense respect for all of the musicians on this tour. I'm thankful that I was invited to be a part of it.
We left earlier than needed for San Diego. I was hung-over and could have used the extra hour of sleep. However, being that we were early for the in-store performance, we had time to eat before hand. In-stores are usually awkward experiences. Rarely do record stores have any kind of atmosphere suitable for anything other than shopping. M-Theory Records was no exception. I never know where to look when I'm eye level with an audience, so I close my eyes. The turnout was good and I had fun playing. We stocked up on music for the road while we were there, buying the new album from "High Places", "Vivian Girls", "Times New Viking" and "Lady Ga-Ga", all recommendations from Chris Norris.

November 4th - 1:18PM. Driving To The Grand Canyon.

I softly tapped Cheryl Hines on her shoulder and asked if she would mind taking a picture with me. She smiled and nodded yes. I put my arm around her shoulder and she put her arm around my back. It was a gentle embrace from both sides. Heather snapped the photo and then we all went our separate ways. We were standing on Fremont Street, in the old strip, watching a band play a cover of Loverboy's "Working For The Weekend" when Heather pointed Cheryl out.
"Look, it's the lady from Curb Your Enthusiasm!"
Cheryl was with another woman and two small kids. She was dancing with the kids as the band played. When I looked the way Heather directed, my eyes immediately met Cheryl's. She quickly looked away. She realized she had been recognized.

There was no backstage at the venue. I was in a bad mood, I wasn't sure why. While sitting down on a plastic beach chair behind the stage, watching Ben play, a guy came up to me, squatted down in front of me and put both his hands on my left knee as he started talking. I cut him off and pushed his hands off my knee. I told him I wasn't cool with being touched like that. Sometimes it's unsettling to be touched by a stranger. He asked if I would come take a picture with his friend who he said was too shy to ask.
"Sure, no problem."
I followed him over to two girls standing on the side of the stage. I introduced myself and shook both of their hands. His friend didn't want a photo; she looked annoyed with him for creating the situation. He started prodding and pushing, trying to convince her that she did in fact want the photo taken. Anxiety flushed through my body. It was a commotion, he was loud, and Ben was playing four feet away from us. The girl finally relented and we both posed for the photo. The guy started in to telling me about how much he liked my new album, he talked loud and close to my face, his breath was wretched. Then the other girl exclaimed that she wanted a photo. They started arguing about which camera to use and whether or not to take it together. I had to go. I walked away.
"I'm gonna leave now."

I don't feel right. I didn't feel right last night during the show. I didn't feel right standing at the bar afterwards. I didn't feel right driving to the hotel. I didn't feel right lying in bed waiting to fall asleep. I didn't feel right when I woke up this morning.

November 5th - 2:05AM. Flagstaff, AZ. Quality Inn.

I saw the Grand Canyon for the first time today. After walking along the north rim for a half an hour we raced to Flagstaff and checked into a room. We listened to the election results start to come in on the radio, NPR. Sitting on the hotel room bed we watched as CNN called the election in Obama's favor. We watched John McCain concede defeat from the Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix, just down the interstate from us. Then we watched Obama take the stage in Chicago's Grant Park and address the gathered crowd. It was a moment where I truly felt no cynicism.

November 6th - 12:12PM. Driving to Albuquerque, NM.

It's a seven-hour drive from Tempe to Albuquerque. We left immediately after the show last night to knock out a couple miles of the drive. Checked into a no-name motel, in a no-name town about halfway to Flagstaff. I fell asleep without effort. When I got up to play last night my amp started cutting in and out so I played the whole set on my acoustic. I think I may go ahead and do the same tonight. I think I want to try throwing some different songs in there as well. I still don't feel totally confident in my ability as a solo performer. I'm learning how to talk to the audience. I'm learning how to stand as I play.

November 7th - 12:19PM. Driving to Lubbock, TX.

I remember when I first heard Avail, Tim Barry's band. It was the album "4AM Friday". I was 17 years old and about to embark on my first real road trip, driving to Naples, Florida to Success, MO where my father lives. I had stopped in St. Petersburg, FL for a week to hang out with James. While there I had dubbed a couple albums onto cassette to listen to on the long drive, "4AM Friday" was one of them. It still astounds me that they were able to capture that much energy on a recording. I listened to that album repeatedly on my trip and for years to come. I still have the cassette.
With his hat pulled down low, the stage lights casting shadows on his face, Tim Barry is the spitting image of my father. The similarity is most noticeable from the side, around the eyes. I haven't told Tim about the resemblance as I think that might be an odd thing to say to someone who you don't really know.

The show last night was horrible. The stage sounded completely different than it had at sound check. My guitar sounded thin. I felt like I was playing ukulele. The input jack on my Gibson was also giving me a little bit of trouble, cutting in and out.

November 8th - 10:36AM. Driving to Dallas, TX.

We've been pulled over for speeding twice now in the past 24 hours. Once when I was driving, and once when Heather was driving. Both times the Texas Highway Patrol officer walked up to the side of the car, asked for our respective licenses, asked if we knew why we had been pulled over, asked if there was an emergency, and then proceeded to let us off with just a warning.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't speed in the state of Texas."
The behavior seems completely uncharacteristic of stereotypical Texas Highway Patrol.
We left before the show ended last night, having to be in Dallas today for a 2PM in-store performance, and it being a 6-hour drive from Lubbock to Dallas. Last nights show got off to a late start and we're lucky the show happened at all. Driving into Lubbock I was under the impression that the show was at "Tequila Jungle". About half an hour away from the city Jill texted Heather to say that the show had been moved to a place called "The Foundation". We redirected ourselves. After load in and sound check we went down the street with Chuck, Jill, Ben, and Jon to the least Irish "Irish Pub" I have ever been to where I drank the worst pint of Guinness I have ever tasted. While ordering my pint I overheard a local pontificate bigotry against the country's new president elect. I bit my tongue. Coming back to the venue we found that in our absence a fire marshal had come and shut the show down. The promoter scrambled to find a new venue. The show ended up moving back to Tequila Jungle, which I was happy about. Given the choice, just based on namesake alone, which would you rather play? "The Foundation" or "Tequila Jungle"?
We listened to Ben's new "mini-album", "Last Pale Light In The West" as we drove out of Lubbock. The perfect songs for empty Texas roads.

November 9th - 12:04PM. Driving to Austin, TX.

I wanted retribution. The in-store at Good Records in Dallas was a horrible experience. The performance was plagued with technical difficulties. There was dead silence in between each song. I tried drowning my frustration in sake at a sushi restaurant afterwards to no avail. All I accomplished was making myself tired and thus more irritable. We check into a La Quinta just outside of downtown and promptly fell asleep for an hour. I had something to prove when I got onstage later that evening at The Prophet Bar. Yesterday was my birthday and I was determined to have a good show. I did just that. Heather got me a book of Bob Dylan's paintings, a Crass 7", two bird prints, and a decoupage letter tray with birds on it. She also had a cake waiting for me back at the hotel after the show. I drunkenly blew out the candles. If I made a wish it has been forgotten.

November 10th - 12:07PM. Driving to Houston, TX.

I have another in-store today at 2PM. Tomorrow is a day off. We plan on driving to New Orleans to stay with Heather's father. I plan on sleeping in before we start heading that way. I'm tired, very tired. It was a long day yesterday. The first meal I had was after 7PM. Not having had the chance to eat breakfast or lunch I relied on beer and gin to get me through the show. After playing I had Oliver Peck tattoo Heather's name on my chest, just above my heart, in her handwriting. I've though about the tattoo for a while now and I'm glad to have finally gotten it done.

November 11th - 5:17PM. Driving to New Orleans, LA.

"Check out time!" and the line went dead.
I looked at my cell phone. It was 10AM. With the air conditioner set to "High Cool" I was wrapped in blankets, wrapped in sleep. So much for sleeping in...
Having been told that a lot of hotels were booked up in anticipation of a hurricane that night be heading this way we decided that we wouldn't drive far. Calling around from hotel to hotel we got the same response, no vacancy. The Scottish Inn had rooms. $50 rooms, just on the edge of Houston.
What makes a hotel quality is often misunderstood. A mini-fridge means nothing unless it has a mini-bar inside of it, mini-bottles of liquor, a couple cans of beer, wine, and snacks. HBO is a joke, and the question isn't "Does the room have 'Movies On Demand'?" the question is "How many movies are available on demand?" What's the shampoo like? What color is it? Orange is a bad sign. Is it name brand or generic two in one shampoo plus conditioner? What's the presentation like? HOw are the bottles arranged? Was effort made? How much effort? Are there logos on the towels? How white are the towels? What about the toilet paper? When you check into the room is the end of the roll neatly folded into a perfect triangle? And then there's the wi-fi. Ironically enough, the more you have to pay for wi-fi, the nicer the hotel is. How many pillows are on the bed? Are there different types of pillows? What about the bedding? Is it an actual comforter? And the sheets, how high is the thread count? Is there a restaurant in the lobby? Room Service? Laundry? Business center? Is there a workout room? If so is it more that just a treadmill and an elliptical machine? Is there a water cooler? Towels? A TV so you can watch CNN while you exercise? Continental breakfast? What does the continental breakfast consist of? What time is check out? Are they flexible on it? Do they leave a paper outside your door in the morning? Do they slip the bill under your door to expedite check out? What about a points program? Are you rewarded for staying?
The Scottish Inn was 30 grit toilet paper and stained towels. The ceiling was painted to look like a cloudy blue sky. The door latch could no longer be locked due to multiple kick ins in the past. One of the previous occupants had reheated fast food in the microwave so the whole room stank of McDonald's french fries. I felt greasy. My hopes of sleeping in on this day off had been shattered. We got dressed, loaded up the mini-van and got on the road.

November 14th - 3:25PM. Driving to Memphis, TN.

"Are you bored or isolated?"
"What?"
"Are you bored or isolated?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Well you're back here playing video games..."
"Do you usually go up to strangers and ask them questions like that?"
"Well it's just that you're doing that whole rock star thing lately and..."
I just wanted to play video games. It wasn't my fault that the bar had put the games in the back of the room. What kind of fucking question is that? And do you have to ask it while I'm in the middle of playing a fucking video game? If you absolutely cannot restrain yourself from asking such a dumb melodramatic question can you at least give me a quarter to make up for ruining my game? Fucking jerk.

Oct. 22nd - 8:47PM. Salt Lake City, UT

2008-10-22T22:17:00.000-07:00

Everyone was asleep when it happened. I didn't want to wake up. Moments before I was sleeping so deeply. I was annoyed. I woke to the sound of my friends screaming, various expletives, inarticulate gasps, the sensation of spinning, and the sound of crashing inside and outside the bus. My eyes opened to blackness. I immediately pressed my hands and feet into the roof of my bunk as hard as I could, bracing for what I did not know.
When it ended, when we stopped moving, our driver Jeremy immediately started calling out names, one by one, checking to make sure everyone was okay. It wasn't until I got out of my bunk that I realized how completely unleveled the bus was to the ground. We were almost on our side. The hallway was a mess of luggage and bags. The front lounge was an explosion of food items, appliances, and broken glass. I looked out the front window and saw that our trailer was laying on it's side in front of us, the contents now littering the highway. Jeremy was outside trying to push it all off to the side of the interstate. Everyone got out to help. Although we were in a van accident years ago, this is the first time anything like this has happened to us in a bus. I always sleep with my pants on just in case something like this happens so that the last thing I have to worry about in the event of an emergency is where my pants are.
Apparently, around 6AM we were driving west on I-80 when we hit a patch of ice. Jeremy lost control of the bus and we spun out of control. Our trailer broke free from it's hitch (it actually ripped the hitch clear off) and slammed into the front of the passenger side of the bus as we spun, not completely shattering a window, but cracking it and breaking it out of the frame inwards. The rear trailer door flew completely off and most of our equipment, and merchandise (t-shirts, cds, records, stickers, pins) were strewn out along the road. We landed, with the trailer on it's side in front of us, in a ditch in the median of the interstate.
A light snow was falling from the sky and the cold was biting despite the adrenaline. The eastbound lanes of I-80, the lanes most of our stuff was laying in (not the direction we had been driving though mind you) was closed to traffic. The westbound lane was not, and, as we all scrambled in the breaking morning light to gather our gear on the side of the road, a semi-truck hit the same patch ice we had. It spun out of control, narrowly missed crashing into the bus, and slid into the same ditch a couple feet behind us. At this point a couple of emergency vehicles had shown up on the scene and it was recommended that we stay out of the bus. Jeremy ran back in for his smokes. I ran back in for my cell phone so that I could call Heather. Shortly after another semi-truck was driving by alongside a car. It clipped the edge of the semi-trailer that was stuck behind us and swerved into the right lane, pushing the car driving alongside it off into the snowy embankment. Then, further down the road, another truck started jack-knifing. It slid to a slow halt in the middle of the interstate blocking all traffic behind it. Both sides of the interstate where then closed.
The semi behind us was pulled out of the ditch by a tow truck first. After emptying the remaining contents of the trailer out onto the side of the road, the tow truck then flipped it right side up and dragged it out of the ditch. Then the bus was finally pulled out. Jordan caught a ride into Rawlins, Wyoming, which was the closest town, and rented a U-Haul Truck. We waited there on the side of the road, with the interstate still closed, for him to come back so we could load the U-Haul with our battered and broken gear. Andrew and I drove the U-Haul to Salt Lake City with the bus following behind us. We had to cancel the show tonight. I feel drained akin to jet lag. I am glad to be alive. First and foremost I am glad that we are unharmed, safe, alive.

October 1st through 7th, 2008.

2008-10-09T22:01:00.000-07:00

October 1st 2008 - 2:03AM. Birmingham, AL.

After sound check I drove around town with Ryan Russell and took some photos, photos for the purpose of publicity. I appreciated getting away from the venue, seeing some parts of Birmingham that I've never seen before. The city has a certain feel to it that I can't quite put into words. It's the sum of many different parts, the type of business' that comprise the local economy, the architecture of the buildings, the local fashion trends and the landscape. As we drive around I silently cursed myself for not having a more photographic memory to take it all in better. After we finished with photos we ate dinner at The Bottletree Cafe. They have an excellent Buffalo Tofu Wrap.

October 2nd, 2008 - 4:08AM. Driving to South Carolina.

Marty was in the (Young) Pioneers, one of my all time favourite bands. He now plays bass with Ted Leo and The Pharmacists. I talked to him tonight for a second backstage. I tried not to punish him too hard. I tried to play it cool. We usually close our set with a song that references his band, which I brought up to him. He said he was aware of the fact. I felt self-conscious singing it tonight, I imagine I will for the rest of the tour.

October 3rd, 2008 - 2:04AM. Hilton Head, SC.

I watched the first half of the vice presidential debate before our set tonight, I watched the full rebroadcast after. I found myself wanting to physically fight the TV every time Sarah Palin said the word "maverick", every time she winked at the camera, every time she opened her dumb fucking mouth. I hate her face. It is her obvious lack of capacity, lack of intelligence that makes me feel like I have to stoop to throwing elementary school level insults at her.

October 5th, 2008 - 2:51AM. Gainesville, FL.

Tonight's show was somewhat lackluster, something felt off. Maybe it was the venue, the House Of Blues in "Downtown Disney". Maybe it was the fact that last night at Jannus Landing was an amazing rush. I couldn't help but measure the two in comparison while on stage.
I am an honest fan of both Future Of The Left and Ted Leo and The Pharmacists. Sometimes I worry that I don't come off to them as such. I feel like I have a hard time projecting sincerity in person. It's a little easier with Future Of The Left. Since we've toured with them before we already have a relationship. I don't know Ted, Chris, Marty, or James, but I love their band.
Everyone except Andy, Emily, and John went home to Gainesville after the show. Heather and I drove back with Jordan and Sarah. They dropped us off at the Holiday Inn. I haven't been in Gainesville since June.

October 6th, 2008 - 1:09AM. Gainesville, FL.

I met Philipe and Jannick at Leonardo's this morning. They came into town to shoot a piece on Gainesville and my EP for Current TV. We had talked about doing it back in September when I was in Montreal. Philipe's idea was that I would give a guided tour of Gainesville, pointing out areas of both personal significance and spots that are of significance to the local scene and he would mix in some of the music from "Heart Burns". We drove around town for about 2 hours. I showed them No Idea Records, Wayward Council, The Civic Media Center (all of which were closed) and the warehouse spaces on the edge of town where a good majority of Gainesville bands practice. I showed them where the Hardback used to be, where the Ark used to be. I showed them La Casita Blanca, the house where I lived under the staircase when I was 19. I showed them the curb out front that I used to sit on late into the night, watching prostitutes down the street come and go as I wrote lyrics. I showed them the plasma center on Main Street that I used to frequent a couple times a week, selling my plasma for rent and drinking money. And finally I showed them the one and only Laundry mat that I have ever played a show in. The experience was awkward for me and I'm worried that I came across negative at times in answering Philipe's questions about Gainesville.

October 7th, 2008 - 1:00AM. Driving to North Carolina.

My throat is shredded. Today was supposed to be a day off but we ended up booking a last minute show in St. Augustine at Cafe 11. The show was worth it but I could have used the day of rest for my voice. We also missed seeing Jonathan Richman play at Common Grounds in Gainesville. Our next day off is a week away. I've developed a nasty habit of slamming 2 or 3 Red Bulls before playing. It's been my one vice on this tour. It's horrible for my voice, it also wreaks havoc on my stomach, but I love the caffeine high.
I picked up my absentee ballot today.

Sept. 10th - 3:18AM. Driving to Winnipeg.

2008-09-15T14:57:00.000-07:00

It doesn't feel like today was a day off. When I woke up, a little before noon, the bus was stopped but the engine was still running. I assumed we were at our hotel, waiting for Jordan to check in and figure out parking. I went into the front lounge to investigate. We were stopped in traffic due to construction; we still had about 80 miles to go. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn't. I opened up my computer, no internet signal. I checked my cell phone, no reception.
It doesn't feel like today was a day off. I went to sleep with the bus in motion and I woke up still en route. Oh, the monotony of bus life, the ground hog day effect of going to sleep in the parking lot of one club and waking up in the parking lot of another. Each night you pull the grey vinyl curtain of your bunk shut and tuck yourself into bed, falling asleep trying not to imagine all of the horrible acts that have been committed in the name of rock and roll by a 1000 sleazy band dudes on the very mattress underneath your body. Just because the sheets and blankets have been washed doesn't mean the memory of semen, vomit, urine, and god knows what else is gone.
It doesn't feel like today was a day off. Once we actually arrived at the hotel it was almost 2PM. I had an hour's worth of phone interviews followed by at least two hours of computer work to catch up on. I drank a small pot of coffee while doing the interviews. The caffeine hit me hard, not having had any since Los Angeles. Things got manic quickly. I took a walk around 5PM across the highway to the shopping center. Spent an hour walking aimlessly through Future Shop (Canadian version of Best Buy), Chapters (Canadian version of Barnes and Noble) and Wal-Mart (Canadian version of Wal-Mart). All the while feeling paranoid that employees were eyeballing me like I was about to steal something. Suddenly my clothes are that much more dirty, I was in that much more need of a shave and a haircut, my dandruff was that much more uncontrollable. I was hoping to find a Warren Zevon album at the Future Shop (I refuse to buy music from Wal-Mart) but no dice. I came back to the hotel with Listerine, 4 metal forks, 4 metal spoons (I hate using plastic ones) and some anti-biotic ointment for the developing rash on my chest.
It doesn't feel like today was a day off. It's hard to relax when your body is so out of whack, when you have no cycle, no routine, no regular eating times other than "sometime before the show". There were no real food options around the hotel. McDonalds, Taco Time, and some kind of Canadian version of Chili's, Applebee's, Ruby Tuesday, T.G.I Friday, Bennigan's. I ate bus food for dinner, a fake ham and fake cheese sandwich, microwave chili. Drank red wine until my teeth were stained purple and I was calmed down from the caffeine. My curtain is pulled shut and we're on our way again. It doesn't feel like today was a day off.

Studio Journal. - Los Angeles, CA.

2008-09-04T15:52:00.000-07:00

August 20th - 12:47AM.

I'm going into the studio tomorrow at 10AM. I'm not sure what we'll do on our first day of recording, but I'm excited. Heather and I are thinking about moving here to Los Angeles. We plan on looking for prospective places while we are here in town.

August 21st - 2:14AM.

Recording, day one. We accomplished a lot today, tracking most everything for "100 Years Of War." I'd like to still add some gang vocals and maybe some other minor percussion, but we have the basics. It's good to see Billy. I enjoy working with him. I've been looking forward to this project all summer long.
Before we left for the night we recorded a rough version of a song I wrote a couple days ago "Cowards Sing At Night." It was the first time I've actually ever sung the song out loud in my full voice. I wanted to do the rough recording for Billy and Butch to hear, to see if they thought it was good enough to record for the EP. I like the song, the melody, but lyrically; I'm apprehensive. I just want to be certain that I stand behind what I wrote. I don't know John McCain. Chances are I''l never meet him. I just know what I've read about him, what I hear about him, the impression he makes, through the media and the politics he preaches. McCain was a POW during Vietnam. People respect his service record, and it's been brought up continually in his bid for the presidency. I disagree with the fundamentals of his platform, I disagree with what he represents. I believe in a woman's right to choose. I believe that people should be free to marry whomever they want to marry, regardless of gender. I think offshore drilling offers no solution to the country's energy crisis. I think healthcare is a right not a privilege. I think that John McCain will not only prolong our occupation of Iraq (indefinitely?) but also lead us, guns blazing, into more conflict. I think John McCain has never stopped fighting the Vietnam War.

Sometimes I look down at my arms or legs and imagine myself an amputee.

August 22nd - 12:03AM.

Recording, day two. Jerry Finn passed away today. Butch came in to the studio and seemed pretty broken up about it. They were friends. I didn't really know what to say so I said nothing.
I met Jerry once, towards the end of when we were recording "New Wave". Jerry was in the studio above us finishing up the last Tiger Army record. Butch and I went up there to see if we could borrow an amp. We brought up some wine in exchange, an offering. We didn't know that Nick 13 was straight edge, Jerry declined. They still let us borrow the amp. My condolences to Jerry's family and friends.

August 23rd - 12:44AM.

Recording, day three. I feel a little under the weather, like I might be getting sick. My body aches, I'm tired. I'm not sure when my next day off is, I can't remember when my last one was. Tropical Storm Fay has been dumping rain on Florida for the past three days now. I called my mom earlier to check in and make sure everything was okay. I text messaged with James and asked him how the weather was in Gainesville. I'm worried that our storage space might flood. I wish I'd put the LP boxes up off the ground. We recorded "Conceptual Paths" today. We moved a little slower than previous days, it was a little more laborious song. We spent a lot of time trying out different effects for the drums and vocals. Heather asked me tonight if I was enjoying recording alone. Yes, I am. I feel conflicted as to whether I should release these songs under the name Against Me! as planned, under a new name, or under my given name. I've never liked my name.

August 24th - 1:08AM.

Recording, day four. While I could have happily slept for another couple of hours I felt much better this morning. We worked on "Anna Is A Stool Pigeon" today, mapping out the tempos. Butch came in a little after noon with Bo. It's amazing to see how much she's grown, how much she's talking! We gave Butch the tempo map for the song, he's going to try and work out a drumbeat for it. After lunch we recorded "I Can't See You, But I Know You're There" and "Cowards Sing At Night". We took a real straightforward approach to the songs, just acoustic guitar on "I Can't See You..." and just an electric (a Jazzmaster played through an old Silvertone) on "Cowards...".
There are ants in my hotel room. They crawl all over my computer as I work through emails. They crawl all over the pages of my notebook as I write. They Crawl all over Heather and I while we sleep. They fill me with guilt as I crush them under my fingers.

August 25th - 12:02AM.

Recording, day five. We hit our first roadblock today. After making progress on the drum part for "Random Hearts", and stumbling by chance into a cool tone with a Fender Baritone played through a Matchless head, we were at a loss as to what we should do for the actual guitar part. It didn't help that we decided, today being Sunday and all, we would make two separate trips to the coffee shop up the street. We got completely jacked on caffeine. It wasn't pretty. I felt like I was saying everything way too loud. I've been working on the song since I got back here to the hotel. I've also been drinking wine in the hopes that I will eventually be able to fall asleep. We're starting late tomorrow, 1PM. This means I get to sleep in. Despite the frustration today I'm trying to keep all the progress we've made thus far in perspective.

3:15AM.

I'm still awake. Watched "Jumper" starring Hayden Christensen and Samuel L. Jackson. Not a great movie at all, but Hayden's performance was Oscar worthy compared to his stilted delivery in the two Star Wars movies he made.
So here I am, 5th floor of the Sheraton, room 507, Los Angeles, California. Andrew and James are back in Gainesville. Warren is in Chicago. Heather asked me tonight if I was serious about moving out here. I said it all depended on the specifics. The cost of living is a lot higher in Los Angeles, CA than in Gainesville, FL. It would also mean that I would no longer live in the same city as the rest of my band. What would happen? How would this affect us? We are going to be recording our next full length out here at some point next year, which would mean we'd be living in Los Angeles for a couple months anyways. We can either find a house to rent somewhere in Florida (other than Gainesville), commute to practice and then live a hotel for a couple months while we're out here in Los Angeles recording. Or, we can get a house here in Los Angeles and I can just travel back to Florida, live in a hotel while writing for the record, then be at home the whole time we are recording. I told Heather that I wasn't sure what we should do, that I'm hoping the answer will reveal itself to me soon.

August 26th - 1:38AM.

Recording, day six. We finished the essential for 3 songs today. "Random Hearts", "Anna", and "Harsh Realms." I was up until will past 4AM last night wrestling with the guitar part for "Random Hearts". I was glad that it worked out. We're not recording tomorrow. I'm going to shoot some videos around town with this guy Jason Thrasher. It's going to be live performances, out in public places. I want to do one for every song on the EP. I met Jason for the first time last night, he came over here to the Sheraton and we had drinks in the lobby. Jason is from Athens, Georgia. He seems like a cool guy.

August 28th - 1:01AM.

Recording, day seven. I'm tired, mentally tired. I've begun mapping out potential song sequences in my head. I'm pretty sure I want to leave off "I Can't See You, But I Know You're There" from the EP. I don't think it fits lyrically or musically. Making the videos went great yesterday, had a lot of fun. It was pretty awesome standing on a rooftop in downtown Los Angeles, singing at the top of my lungs to the endlessly expanding city below, as the sun slowly set. As we sat huddled in the dark watching the playback on the camera, laughing, talking, drinking beers, I felt like I was 19 again. Life was dangerous and exciting. All ideas were possible and should be followed with passion. The future was unpredictable. I want to always feel that way.

August 28th - 7:58PM.

Recording, day eight. The right side of my mouth is throbbing. The pain feels like it's coming from around my crown. Before my dentist died he told me that I needed to have it replaced, that it wasn't sealed properly and that food could get stuck in it, possibly causing infection. I wish I had dental insurance.
Craig Aaronson is coming by the studio with Holly Adams, our new production manager, tomorrow at 11:30. We have been left completely alone by the label up until this point, which I have not minded at all. I think their expectations are modes, if not low. We finished early tonight and Billy gave me a ride back to the hotel. I've really enjoyed hanging out with Billy. We've had a relaxed schedule while recording. Show up around 11, go get coffee, record for a couple hours, go get lunch, record for a couple hours, go get more coffee. Billy is a caffeine addict like me.
We recorded a cover of The Replacements song "Here Comes A Regular" today for the 50th anniversary comp that Warner is putting out. As a band we've covered the Replacements before, we recorded a cover of "Bastards Of Young" for a tribute comp a couple years ago. I was hesitant at first to cover them again. But, considering the fact that if I didn't cover the 'mats for this comp no one else would have, I thought it was fitting to do.
I've listened to that song a million times before. I never realized just how sad the lyrics were until I sang them today.

"You're like a picture on a fridge that's never stocked with food."

August 29th - 11:24PM.

Recording, day nine. Chuck Ragan came into the studio today, played harp and sang on "Anna Is A Stool Pigeon". He completed the song, I'm grateful to him for taking the time to come down and do it. We're doing backing vocals tomorrow, "gang vocals". I've invited Lex and Lauren who run againstmeforum.com, as well as a couple other people. This guy Danny wrote into the band email account saying he heard from his friend who works at the studio that I was recording here. He said he used to work here and he now regretted that he no longer did, that he would have liked to have gotten the chance to meet me. I asked if he wanted to come down and help out with gang vocals tomorrow. The gang vocals are all that's left to record. We're hoping to have the EP mixed and mastered, everything finished, artwork and all, by the end of next week. I'm going to call the record "Heart Burns".

August 30th - 7:18PM.

Recording, day ten. We finished all tracking today. Lex and Lauren brought their friend Stephanie with them. Danny brough his friend Ricky. Zach who works at the studio helped out as well. Heather came down with Matt and Monica. Butch brought down a bottle of Duckhorn for everyone. Beth and Bo listened from the control room. I wrote the lyrics down on big sheets of paper and taped them up on the control room window. As everyone sang I stood on the couch and did my best to direct the choir through the glass. Thanks everyone for helping out!
Tomorrow is our last day in the studio, it's also Billy's birthday. Heather and I gave him copies of the new Conor Oberst solo album, and Mark Lannegan's "Bubblegum" as a gift. We mixed a couple songs last night after the gang vocals were done.

August 31st - 12:03AM.

Recording, day eleven. Heather was supposed to leave this morning. She was flying to New Orleans to visit her Dad. They began evacuating New Orleans today because of Hurricane Gustav, which it looks like is headed right for the city. The mayor said it was the "Storm Of The Century", he urged everyone to leave, warning whoever stayed behind that it would be the "mistake of their lives", and that they should make sure then have an axe to chop their way through the roof as the waters rise. Heather is now leaving tomorrow for Florida. I leave for Montreal on Monday. I'm sad to leave. I feel like a different person out here, I feel more like myself, more at ease. I feel lighter. Recording for the past 11 days has been a positive and fulfilling experience. It's made all those nights this past year when I've chosen to go back to my hotel room, or back to the bus, and write instead of going out and partying, worth it. I feel energized, excited about making music and writing.

Japan

2008-08-14T16:06:00.000-07:00

August 7th - 7:52PM. NWA Flight #69, Detroit to Osaka

I didn't plan on drinking today. But, here I am, how many thousands of feet in the air, starting my 3rd mini-bottle of white wine, washing down a "Norco" (some kind of pain killer) that James, the window to my aisle, gave me. There aren't personal TVs in the back of the seats on this flight, what else is there to do? I finished reading John McCain's book "Faith Of My Fathers" and surrendered to a drink. I read Obama's book first, "The Audacity Of Hope." It's interesting to read the book of someone whom you've heard talk so much on television. Your internal reading voice is replaced by theirs. Obama and McCain read their books to me, I just turned the pages.

August 9th - 9:58AM. Osaka, Japan. Rihga Royal Hotel, Room 1160

I didn't stay out late last night, choosing instead to come back to the hotel after dinner and go to sleep. Hiromi, our translator and guide while we're in Japan, took us out to eat. The restaurant, about a 10 minute walk from the hotel, was tucked down an alley and on the 2nd floor of a non-descript building. There was no signage and we never would have found the place on our own. I'm guessing maximum capacity of the one room establishment was probably 30 people tops. The food was excellent.
We're leaving for the festival at noon, our set time is 3:25. We then have an 8:20 flight to catch heading for Tokyo, so we won't be able to stick around and watch any of the bands. We'll have more time to hang out in Tokyo.

August 11th - 9:46AM. Tokyo, Japan. Grand Prince Hotel, Akasaka. Room 2148

Coldplay were incredible last night. I'm a big fan of their new album. It was my first time seeing them play. They are talented musicians individually, and together they form an exceptionally tight band. The drummer doesn't drop sticks, he hits hard. The bass player is locked into the rhythm, he's not too flash. The guitarist didn't miss a note. Chris Martin exudes personality and energy. Ever since last night I've been trying to fight off a defeated feeling of jealousy. I've been at war with the voice inside my head that keeps saying "You'll never make it. You'll never know what it feels like to command a stadium full of people in Tokyo. Your band just isn't good enough." I want to believe. I want to believe that with hard work and determination I can go anywhere, do anything. Sometimes it's hard. Say what you will about Coldplay, I don't aspire to emulate their band. I aspire to reach as many people as they do, that has nothing to with money or fame, it has to do with art. That's my dream.
Tokyo was much better for us than Osaka. We played better as we were less jet lagged, and the crowd was more receptive. I got to see MGMT and Crystal Castles play again, for the second day in a row. MGMT are still horrible live, which is disappointing cause I love their album. Crystal Castles were once again incendiary, another highlight of the festival for me. Coming over here to play the Summer Sonic Festival has been a great experience. It is by far the most well organized festival we have ever played, as well as the most artist friendly. There was no hierarchy among the bands, ever one had the same quality catering, our wrist bands got us access to any stage (not just our own), and our hotel accommodations were more than adequate. I really hope to come back to Japan some day soon on our own tour. This is an amazing country.

August 11th - 10:58AM. Berkeley, California. Double Tree Hotel, Room 3137

I had my alarm set for 9AM but woke up around 8 this morning. I didn't leave my hotel room until our noon lobby call, spending my last hours in Tokyo organizing my luggage, checking emails, and writing.
I slept the good majority of the 10 1/2 hour flight from Narita to SFO. Our plane left half an hour early due to volcanic eruptions in the Allution Islands. I felt rushed once through security and instead of casually looking through the duty free shops and then eating some breakfast, I wolfed down a bowl of rice, a bottle of sake, and two bottles of white wine before boarding. James was once again the window to my aisle and after take off we started ordering more wine. X amount of bottles and 1 1/2 "Norcos" later I was fucked up. I passed out while attempting to watch the new Disney remake of the Hunchback Of Notre Dame. In my lucid pill and alcohol induced state I remember being furious over the liberties Disney took with changing the Hugo's classic novel to cater to their bottom line. It should be illegal to change to content of a classic story and sell it under the same name to people. Victor is dead, his book is not.
When I finally woke up the flight crew was starting the breakfast service, which meant we had about an hour before landing. I felt nauseous. James commiserated the feeling with me. I was worried I wasn't going to make it through the immigration process. I was worried that the customs officer would start asking questions and I would just vomit all over him. Thankfully I made it through without incident. Heather made it to Berkeley a couple hours before me and had already check in and settled into our room. By the time I got to the hotel I felt like the whole world was rocking back and forth like a ship at sea. I felt like my legs might collapse beneath me at any moment. I kept having to brace myself against the walls as I paced around the room telling Heather about my trip. We ordered room service and then promptly fell asleep. We napped until around 7PM. Our hotel is right on the bay. After waking up, Heather and I took a walk around the marina, along the shore line. Walking down the pier it was hard to imagine that somewhere out there, across the bay, past San Francisco, across the seemingly endless Pacific Ocean, life in Japan carried on.

July 30th - Driving to Cincinnatti, Oh

2008-08-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

Heather's Grandmother passed away. She got the new from her Father yesterday. She has been greatly affected by the loss, breaking down into tears at random all day long. I did my best to try and take her mind off it. After her work day was over we watched Forrest Gump in the front lounge. She had never seen it before. We didn't finish the movie, going to bed right as Forrest meets his son for the first time. I never met Heather's Grandmother, I wish I would have gotten the chance. I told Heather I would take care of sending her Father flowers, it was his mother that passed away. I'm not sure what to write in the card.

July 18th - 11:12PM. Driving To Toronto

2008-07-22T10:44:00.001-07:00

"I couldn't sleep all night long; a fog-horn was groaning incessantly on the sound, and I tossed half-sick between grotesque reality and savage, frightening dreams."
-"The Great Gatsby"
F. Scott Fitzgerald

I have trouble falling asleep at night; drinking helps. When I do finally fall asleep it's not for long. I usually wake up each morning around 5AM in a hot sweat. The air conditioner on the bus needs freon or something like that I'm told. I can't sleep when I'm hot. I stumble into the front lounge, use the bathroom, drink some water. Sometimes I read, sometimes I write, sometimes I stare out the window vacantly as endless miles of interstate unfold before the bus. Eventually I lay back down in the bunk where I toss and turn until 7AM, when the bus has arrived wherever we are, and Heather wakes up to start her day. The I fall asleep until around 11AM. The bunks in the bus are small, they're not made to sleep two people. Regardless, I prefer to have Heather in the bunk with me than not.
We played early today, second on our stage. I woke up hung-over from a late, blurry night before. I drank a beer, then a vodka/CapriSun cocktail before playing. Unexpectedly, the crowd was one of the better that we've had thus far on the tour. The sun had yet to drain the energy out of everyone. After our signing, Heather and I went out to dinner with her parents. They still make me feel nervous, awkward. I'm married to their daughter, I want them to like me. It doesn't help that I haven't showered in 10 days.

July 5th - 1:09PM. Selma, Texas @ The Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre

2008-07-07T11:59:00.000-07:00

"Please just don't let me be boring." I was nervous all day long before the show.

"Please just don't let me be boring." The thought kept running through my head. I was worried I was going to forget words. I was worried I was going to forget chords. But, above all, I was worried I was going to be boring.

We woke up in Austin and checked into our rooms at the Sheraton downtown. After taking showers, Heather and I went for lunch at Mekong River. It was a 5PM load in at Emo's, not that I had much to load in, two guitars and an amp. Jordan walked down to the venue with me. I felt like a real cliche walking around downtown Austin carrying an acoustic guitar.

We weren't at Emo's for more that 5 minutes before Andrew W.K. walked in. He immediately came up and introduced himself. We talked for a second. Andrew seems like a genuinely nice person, a genuinely positive person. I watched him sound check as I changed my guitar strings. After my own sound check I walked back to the hotel. I wasn't playing until 10:50.

It had been a long time since I'd played a show by myself. I was hoping for disinterest and a lack of attention. I was hoping for anonymity and an empty room. Emo's was packed, with most of the crowd being made up of bands and crew from the Warped Tour. Everyone had the day off and everyone went to Austin. I played 7 songs total, only one of which I'd ever played live before. I kept it short.

Playing a show alone is entirely different from playing a show with a band. The pressure rests solely upon you to perform. The only sounds being made will be coming from you, the only movements being made will be your own. Last night I was too nervous to do much other than close my eyes and hope for the best, hang on for dear life and wait for the ride to end. After the show was over I felt foolish for being so intimidated. I wished I had owned the moment.

June 29th - Denver, Colorado

2008-07-05T14:23:00.000-07:00

The singer said they were from Seattle, this was the last show on their tour.

He had a musical note tattoo'd on his right forearm, I took it as a sign of self affirmation.

Their sound was derivative of Pavement, Built To Spill, Weezer, and Death Cab For Cutie.

Awkward stage banter to an inattentive audience.

They were playing to the back of the room.

They were playing for gas money to make it home.

Fender Stratocaster with an abalogna pic guard.

Grey t-shirt with a red heart printed in the center of the chest.

It was a Sunday night in Denver.

Skinny white kids played indie rock, committed drinkers clapped unenthusiastically from the bar.

The lead guitarists hair hung down over his eyes while he played.

Sometimes you get more of an effect the less effort you put into it.

Who cares if they remember the name of your band.

It was a time and place, I wish you could have seen it.

Kerouac died in St. Petersburg, but there's still poetry alive in Denver.

July 1st - 11:48AM, Maryland Heights, MO @Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre

2008-07-01T09:48:00.000-07:00

Heather and Emily have named the above look "P.S. - Vagina".

We know about the breasts, but look below, don't forget...

P.S. -Vagina.

Is that mean?

June 20th - 7:47PM. Pomona, CA @ The Fairplex

2008-06-22T11:01:00.000-07:00

My eyes are burning. Sunscreen, dirt, and sweat do not mix. "Smells like Warped Tour in here." says James as he walks onto the bus. The sun has yet to fully set in the sky and we are all already filthy and exhausted. It's going to be a long summer but I'm excited about it.

We played at 3:50 today, the sun beating down directly on our faces. There's nothing that can really prepare you for playing outside in 106 degree weather, the first couple of shows are going to hurt, there's no way around it.

"Tweedle Dee" was waiting for us back behind our stage after our set. He had not told us that he would be there today. We fired our manager recently and have been taking meetings with new prospective managers. We've only taken three meetings thus far and I'm sick of them already. "Tweedle Dee" had contacted me by email a couple of days prior saying he'd be interested in talking to the band about possibly working with us. Yesterday we had lunch with "Tweedle Dee" and his assistant "Tweedle Dum" at a Thai Restaurant not far from the Fairplex. I knew he wasn't the right fit from the moment I saw him. He confirmed this when he started telling us about all the opportunities out there for us to tour places overseas playing for U.S. Army troops. You just don't really get it man, do you? He then went on to completely sign his own death certificate with us when I asked him to name all four of our full length albums. He could not. He said that kind of knowledge wasn't really important.

So, I was surprised to see him backstage considering just how horrible our meeting went. I mean, I thought it was obvious to everyone. I was also annoyed, he had absolutely no tact whatsoever. We were dying at the moment, gasping for breath, and he's all up in our business pushing agenda. Back off a little, in fact, fuck off.

At 5:30 we met with fans at our tent; signed posters, signed t-shirts, signed cds, signed records, signed seven inches, signed ticket stubs, refused to sign body parts, and took pictures. We were there for two hours, making memories, good times.

Quote of the day: "You're like the only band on Warped Tour that my dad likes."