Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Atlanta, Georgia 3/12/09
If you asked most people what life on the road for a touring rock band is like they would most likely think it was a drug fueled orgy where the only time you are not doing drugs out of a stripper's belly-button is when you're playing to twenty-thousand screaming fans. What they don't picture is five dudes crammed into a van that smells like a combination of Marlon Brando's hemorrhoid cushion and the corpse of John Belushi—in the sun.
There 's no roadies (except me and I don't do shit), no tour bus, no groupies, no drugs off strippers, just a bunch of dudes, most of us married or close to it, sitting in our own filth, driving for hours on end, hauling in the gear, playing, hauling it back out, and hopefully finding somewhere to stay when it's all over. Don't get me wrong, we live for this shit, the only reason I bring it up is after five weeks on the road I am having trouble recalling which show is which.
I know we played at the Drunken Unicorn. I remember waking up at our friend Jeremy's folk's house. Oh wait, now I remember!
Both Aaron and Bryan's amps went tits-up in the middle of the set, leaving Bryan to break into a comedy routine that would have made Neil Hamburger cringe. How could I forget that? I guess it was like watching your grandmother walk into a porn shop, something you just want to block out of your mind forever.
Tour To Live!