Tales of Noisepop

I learned a valuable lesson this morning: when it's rained for thirty days straight, don't wear shoes with giant holes in them. It's one of those lessons you think common sense would cover, but sometimes, common sense and I don't get along. Then I end up at my desk with soggy socks. Tomorrow: galloshes.

I went to a fistfull of Noisepop gigs last year, seeing the cult known as Polyphonic Spree and the genius-elf-woman known as Joanna Newsome, but Birdmonster had never had the pleasure to play at our hometown festival. I was a little shaky after the previous evening's birthday/National/Division Day debauchery but, by the time we were in Slim's, the hangover subsided. How so? Well, first off, I'd like to point to Jose, the Slim's Chef, who I would definately think had a good shot at beating that mustachoed, smug bastard on Iron Chef, so long as the ingredient was chicken or zucchini or curried potatoes. Jose: my hat's off to you. The other bands, our show, personally, and some hair of the dog took care of the rest.

We played with Send For Help for the second weekend in a row. I don't remember how they were in San Jose, since I had that memory surgically removed from my brain, Eternal Sunshine style, but I'd assume it was on par with Friday. Their singer, George, shaved his once lumberjack-esque beard into muttonchops that Martin Van Buren would've been jealous of and we shared a cushy backstage room with him and the other fine folks in SFH, and their set was really rather great. The last song in particular and that skippy one. The one that goes: dun-nun-nun-nun-nun-NA, duh-nun-nun-nun-NA. I love those.

By the time we started, Slim's was fairly packed (which happens, it turns out, when they sell all the tickets). It was our first normal, non-acoustic, non-invite-only-dealy in the City since we left for Texas and parts inbetween, so we got to see a lot of friendly faces we hadn't seen in almost a month. I got a little steamy. Oh! And we got a button*, specially made, that said "I heart Birdmonster," which I wore, despite the fact that I might have looked like a self-absorbed prick with it on. My thoughts: you can wear your own band's button but your own band's t-shirt. There's some sort of unspoken rule there. I'm unsure if I can wear the Birdmonster underwears we're getting made, however. The jury's still out on that.

Ok: confession time. We're receiving the CD the morning of the 11th. I had to get that off my chest, since we'd planned to send out the CDs early, if possible. I think they got caught up in the Prague nightlife, eating 10,000 calorie dumplings and drinking 20 cent beer. They're just a little late though, and I'm sure they had a nice time, so screw it. So, on the 11th we'll be driving to the airport in some sort of birdcaravan, loading them up, and getting home in time to ship the CDs to here, there, and everywhere, so if you pre-ordered, we thank you immensely, and we'll be sending our you disc on Tuesday or Wednesday next week, the moment we get our grubby little hands on it, as promised. That's only....8 days from now. Whoa. How very, very excellent.

*Thanks Zara...and yes I'm wearing it right now.