|2004-01-09 || you sick bastard with sideburned weenie sandwich
soundtrack � Masada � Nine
We just played what may have been the worst show in the history of performances I�ve been involved in.
Today was Elvis Presley�s birthday, ironically, we were booked at a club on the south shore (we�re from the north shore�) sandwiched in between two rockabilly/country bands, complete with dorky guys with those cowboy shirts on, jeans with the pants rolled up, the grease in the hair, the sideburns, etc. My band, although called Presley does not sound like Elvis Presley, the closest resemblance to Elvis Presley we probably have is my weight at this point could be compared to The King�s weight in 1975. That, and we both have songs that mention Tennessee. Needless to say the people did not like us, the 20 of them that were there, and quickly left the area when we started, not clapping or acknowledging us the whole time. We did our shit, didn�t get to crazy or loud, and left the stage, took our shit out, and I was home in 28 minutes thanks to the new tunnel that is ten minutes from the venue, that goes right to the airport, which is closer to me.
What is the deal with those types of people anyway? It�s the year 2004 and they are wearing these uniforms that look so fucking stupid, it makes me want to dress even more sloppy just to spite them. And the music? Let�s just say, you don�t cover George Jones. I fucking love George Jones, he�s more badass than Keith Richards or Johnny Cash were at any given time. Read up about him, that guy lived hard. Anyway, the guy singing in the first band had this one voice that had this western twang to it that was so fucking pretentious it made me want to vomit all over the grave and soul of Elvis Presley, Chet Atkins, Hank Williams, and The Big Bopper. When I listen to that old country music, or country swing, when they sing like that it�s because that�s what their voices sound like, they didn�t try and develop the accent. So, if you�re from New England, and you�re singing like that, there�s a problem. Can you imagine what would have happened in Nashville in the 50�s if some twit started singing with a Boston accent? What the fuck?
They also had the obligatory chubby girl with the leopard print jacket, Betty Page haircut, and kitschy pocketbook. And the skinny blonde with the tight plaid Fred Perry sweater with the sleeves rolled up. The whole experience was like this surreal juxtaposition of Happy Days and Quadrophenia. The Jam meet The Stray Cats! Step right up!
To top it off, I smoked pot before hand for the first time in like a week. And then realized I accidentally threw one of the 8 nickel bags out in the trash in the club.
Now I am home, listening to some klezmer/jazz what have you, hours after making questionably sarcastic comments about Jews. Too much irony for one day, I�m watching some cartoons and getting high.
I tried to make a top ten list of music from 2003 recently, and couldn�t do it. Instead, I realized I spent more time with movies in the last year than paying attention to music. I like being able to draw influences in writing and performing from film instead of just music. Here are some great films I saw in 2003:
28 Days Later, Mystic River, Capturing The Friedmans, Kill Bill Vol 1, The Quiet American, American Splendor, Lost in Translation, Pirate of The Caribbean�
Then there are the older ones I discovered, or rediscovered: The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, Adaptation, Haxan: Witchcraft Through The Ages, Solaris (The Russian one), and Down By Law.
Wow, I�m hip, eh?