I'm sorry, but I can't be inside Cleveland & not
sing that Band song. It's like driving through Lodi or
going to Carolina in your mind or walking the
Champes Elyse, regardless of the fact that you
can't spell it. So, look out Cleeeveland /storm is
coooooming throough/ and it's running right up on
yooo-ooou. Man, that felt good.
Now that I got that out of my system, let's talk
about woxy. I first got turned on to this particular
radio station by my on-again, off-again
misanthropic boss, whose taste in music is rather
impeccable, irregardless of his pseudo-disdain for
all songs not sung by Neko Case. Zach & I started
listening now and again, and he happened to solicit
a DJ there (Shivvy, as he's known in ones and
zeroes land). Turned out Shivvy had recently
received a seond-hand review of some South By
show we sweated through and had been meaning to
contact us as well. Dominoes fell, and, soon, we'd
booked an in-studio doohickey. Sometimes, things
just come together oh so nicely.
And you know what? We really enjoyed ourselves.
Sometimes, radio spots and interviews can be
sterile and weird, but not yesterday. I'd
summarize, but you can listen for free right here:
Hopefully that works. I can't work html magic
from this sidekick, especially after a breakfast
soaked in MSG, which has all my joints tingly and
my brain twitching. Ten more bites and I'd be
hallucinating. Dave kind of looks like a lizard
already. Anyway, listening on woxy should be free.
I haven't been at a proper computer to confirm
that suspicion though. I think there might be a
webcam involved as well, and if there is, look for
Mike, the DJ who interviewed us, cutting a rug. If
you're playing to a physical audience of one, and
he's jigging, everything's a-okay. That's my motto.
At least, it is now. Definately a trip highlight thus
far. I'd recommend listening on an obsessive basis.
Afterwards, on copious recommendations of
wandering locals, we went to Skyline for famous
Cincinnatti chili. "Get the 5-way," they demanded.
So we went and we did and I learned something
that day: don't eat spaghetti with chili, cheddar
cheese, and oyster crackers on top. Just don't. Its
what they serve in Hell's cafeteria, right next to
the cole slaw. And there ain't a Rolaid in sight.
Ok. I know I've been talking about food a lot, but
you have to understand something: we drive, we
get gas, we eat, we drink, and we play music.
Rarely is there time for sight seeing or miniature
golf or any of the other trappings of your typical
vacation. And the Midwest certainly has a
different idea of food than I do. You know that
food pyramid? You know how grains are supposed
to be on the bottom? I'm not so sure here. Grease
forms the base. Vegitables are viewed with
suspicious contempt. Fruit is illegal. I'm probably
being harsh here. I'm sure there are damn fine
things to eat around here and I know this isn't the
healthiest way of life, certainly, but usually
we've been able to fight off scurvy while on tour.
I mean, my gums are receding; I'm thinking about
buying a parrot.
Last night, after watchin America get jobbed in
the World Cup, after free pizza (see?), we played
in a back room of Peabody's in Cleveland with,
count 'em, five other bands. There were five in the
front room as well. The hallway between the two
was cacophanous. I recorded it, in case I'm ever in
the FBI and have to flush some lunatic out of his
militia bunker in rural Texas. In addition to the
Talk, we played with two other bands I really
enjoyed. The Sammies, for starters, were
fantastic, and have unbelievably endearing North
Carolina accents, and put on a quasi-sloppy, very
enjoyable set. We're hoping to hook back up with
them in the coming months, next time we trundle
through this part of the country. Elevator Action
finished out the Carolina trifecta: very garage-y,
male & female vocalists, catchy, short songs, and
tremendously nice folks. We were at the club for
(no joke) 8 and a half hours, but they all made
worth our while. Bravos are in order, so: bravo all
Tonight, we've got Chicago, where I get to see my
grandfolks and parents, thus saving me postage on
father's day cards. And tomorrow, we have a day
off. Maybe we'll go to Wrigley field or Lake
Michigan. Or maybe just sleep till three. The
possibilities are endless.