One more song...

In addition to Myspace and Music for Robots (which I noted below), Gorilla Vs. Bear posted a song too. The love spreads. Thanks to both and all.

Read me and be rewarded with new music and tales of our forgetfulness

It's Monday and, before I fry up last night's left over potatoes au gratin, before I continue my quest for three week's of employment, in other words, before I take care of my physical & financial security, I'm going to update this here blog. They call that "prioritizing," regardless of how bassackwards my current brand of it may be.

This weekend found us in San Jose for the first time ever, followed by a midday Sunday show with Clap Your Hands at a venue I didn't even know existed. San Jose was...let's just say "snafu-ridden." See, it was Dave's birthday and the gift he gave himself was leaving his guitar in the parking lot of our studio. Of course, we didn't realize this until about two minutes before our set, which then led to flashlighting through the Blank Club for a black guitar case which never turned up, and he ended up playing with a guitar which hasn't been restrung since Reagan died. In solidarity, Peter decided to break strings on three seperate guitars, one of which was Send for Help's (who I really enjoyed, by the by, and we play with again this Friday) while I insisted on unplugging myself at least once every other song. Like I said, snafu-ridden. But, there's a silver lining. When we got back to the studio, a fine, fine gentleman named Antonio told us he'd found the instrument, noticed it alone and unattended in a grimey parking lot, and secured it for us. Ok. Let me be honest---I don't know the whole story. It involves some really thoughful people I'd rather not discredit by mucking up the tale, most of which occured while I was asleep. I'll give them their proper god-bless-you's (not the sneezy kind either) when I badger Dave for the whole story. The moral: I love everything and Dave didn't have to buy a new Gibson.

So, with the once missing guitar and a slight chip on our shoulder, we ended up at the Metreon's Action Theatre Sunday afternoon for an invite-only, radio-station-sponsored shindig with CYHSY. Upon arrival, we noticed they had acoustic guitars and basses, which made sense, since the venue was basically a small stage (with great sound) in front of seating for about 200. I don't think we've ever played a show to a seated audience before. I felt very mature, like maybe we should have been doing Windham Hill songs, but, since we were unaware of the arrangement, we blazed ahead with four rock songs, spazzed out in front of our hometown, and called it a day. And honestly, I thought it went really well. Our youngest fan (at least that I know of) was there, in her tiny birdmonster shirt, and we signed a poster for her, and that was maybe the highlight of the day. I felt like some kind of rock n' roll uncle. I'm smiling just thinking about it.

Clap Your Hands played a dreamy, acoustic set that was perfect for a Sunday afternoon. That song that ends with tons of "child stars"s is still in my head. Zach posted a rather blurry picture below, which proves a) that we were there, and b) that it was very red. I always enjoy seeing a band stripped down on acoustics and this was no exception. Their new songs sound pretty kick-ass as well, I must say. Bravos all 'round.

Which brings us to today and this week. But there's some good stuff happening, so, before I leave, let me tell you what the skinny is: In addition to the myspace page, which has three songs from the new album available for your discerning ears, Music For Robots posted a really nice little blurb about the forthcoming CD and tossed up a song which we haven't shared with the internet at large quite yet. It's called "Balcony" and it remains one of my favorites on the CD. So, hey, check it out. Free music, right? Who could ask for anything more?

We've also got two shows this week for our local folks. One is an acoustic thing at Thee Parkside where we'll play three songs, probably laden with banjo and whatever else we can toss together, along with locals Hijack the Disco and the Heavenly States. All the bands will play between six and seven while Ted from BAGeL radio will spin some songs on the hours that bookend that slot. The whole thing will go from five to eight, so you can be home in time for LOST, where FIVE EVENTS WILL HAPPEN, at least according to the previews. I hope one involves Jack getting bitch-slapped. I'm sick of that guy.

Friday, we play a full set with instruments that must be plugged in at Slim's. It's a Noisepop show, so get your tickets early. Film School, Cloud Room, and Send for Help will also rock out for your esteemed enjoyment.

Okay, I've put it off long enough. I've gotta fry up some old potatoes and get paid. Be good.

The situation

It feels like we've been working on this LP for a decade until I get off my lazy ass and check my Harry Potter calendar. Nope. Just over two months now. And, for all intents and purposes, it's out of our hands.

See, right now, the LP is being assembled somewhere under the expert guidance of the folks at Pirate's Press. They do a lot of stuff in Prague, so it's nice to know that even if I don't, our CD gets a vacation. I hope it brings back a nice chandellier, or at least some ass-tight vinyl pants. But I don't think it will.

(Weird tangent: The aforementioned Pirate's Press, who've printed everything for us since the dawn of the monster, is actually headed by an old high school friend of Dave & mine. Our EP was actually the first thing they ever slapped together. The weirdness is that after Eric at Pirate's printed the EP, I went home to hang out with my folks and revel in my surrounded-by-the-elderly upbringing and found, of all things, a disposible camera, once owned by Eric at Pirate's...from our high school grad night. Pictures of me with a bowl cut? I'm sure they're in there. Yet, as I write this, I have yet to get the little bastard developed. That's my project for tomorrow. So Eric, if you're reading this, prepare for the madness)

The moral of the story is that now, we wait. We approved the mastered tracks, the sequencing, the spaces between songs, the artwork, the whole goddamn kit and kabootle, and now...well...let's just say I won't be sleeping.

Speaking of mastered tracks, we switched out the unmastered myspace songs to now mastered myspace songs. The difference is glaring and gigantic to me, but I've also heard each song roughly three trillion times, so you may not be able to tell. Either way, they're right here, for your ears, your friend's ears, and the ears of your neighbor if you play it loud enough. Also, I have it on good authority that Ted at BAGeL Radio will be playing a song or two tomorrow during his live show, which got me through many Fridays of office chair indentured servitude.

And, no. Right now, I have no job. I've managed to spend a grand total of $6 in the last three days, which is a triumph for a man like me, who happens to be both a pack-rat and an impulse buyer. I'm the reason they put Butterfingers on the check-out stand, mister. Blame me. Of course, food & booze are running low and the inside of my room is just not that exciting anymore. I think I'm going to go into our bomb shelter, crack open some Spam, and pass out in a salty-faux-meat-induced coma. Now that, my friends, is a plan.

Finally, finally, finally

See that link to our myspace page, over there on the right? It's underneath that picture of us looking excited and sort of confused, staring at a mixing board. Yup. Right there. Ok, you should click on that. Please. I know I'm getting a bit bossy, but it's for good reason, I promise.

That reason? New songs. Hence the title of this post. Listening to those will be far superior to reading whatever my flu-ridden, pseudo-aware brain can remember about last night.

...but, you must understand, I need something to do too. We're stuck in this car today for as long as we can handle it, which means somewhere in Texas. Big Spring is an option. I have no Texas knowhow, mind you, but it's a pretty big dot on this road atlas. There's also a Noodle, TX, but I'm pretty sure I'd be dissapointed if their mayor wasn't made of ravioli, which he probably isn't. I can't deal with that kind of
anguish. Point is, it's a long way from Tucson to Dallas, so we're just gonna drive until we start hallucinating.

So, Tucson: I can't say I saw too much of it, honestly, as we played at the Club Congess, which was like this self-sustaining bomb shelter you never have to leave. They had a restaurant, a bar, a venue, and a hotel all under the same roof---and, like good birdmonsters, we used all four. The rooms were free, too, and there were actually enough beds that no one had to sleep in the bathtub...this time. We got to play with the Heavenly States, which somehow we'd never done back home. They were
wonderful.

Speaking of Bay Area bands, we heard this morning that Film School's van got stolen in Pennsylvania. If you run across the culprits, please, kick them in the throat or groin. You can also give the band a few bucks to help them out, which I'm sure they'd appreciate.

And now, get out of here. Listen to those songs and let us know what you think.

...sent via sidekick, and therefore filled with infuriating line
breaks...