In which Birdmonster ponders its harrowing lack of McDonald's while one-fourth of Birdmonster serenades you next week

Looking through some old notepads the other afternoon, I happened upon one that contained scribblings of a heretofore unrealized post about an Anecdotal Fast Food Manifesto. The idea was simple: like the undomesticated American Trucker, the Touring Band is often faced with culinary questions that bedevil even the greatest philosophers of our time. Will you choose the liquid-beef shit-farm that is Arby's or the poisonous gut-riot that is Bojangles? What is the true and proper order at Taco Bell? Is there a difference between Hardee's and Carl's Junior? Respectively, the answers are neither, crunchy tacos, and at Hardee's you get melted plastic on your American "cheese." They are the fine points, surely, best left unanswered save by the most harried connoisseurs.

When I was writing this, fast food had had it's fair share of the crap-spotlight in recent memory. "Fast Food Nation" explained the mad-chemist-underworld of Yum! Foods and their various subsidiaries. "Super Size Me" allowed us to watch a real live human devolve into a joyless greaseman with erectile disfunction. "Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle" reminded us that stoners eating burgers are funny. But what was missing from the kinda-sorta-recent spate of fast food commentary---with its dour nutritionists, angry foodies, and Guinea Pig-Men--was a simple user's guide. We all know fast food is bad. What you might not know is which fast food is more badder.

Of course, we're touring less these days. The four o'clock drive-thru is a thing of the past, replaced instead with a robust and varied diet of ham, ham, and ham; my sweat smells of piglets. I no longer feel like I had the clout and vigor and expertise to properly handle a subject fraught with intricacies like "which kind of disturbing creamy juice should I allow be slathered on this pseudo-beef or that quasi-chicken?"

There are things I miss about living in a van, sleeping in gecko infested hotel rooms, and meeting various and sundry folks from hitherto unknown townships. Fast food? Not one of those. Playing music every night? Absolutely one of those.

We've all coped with this distressing lack of harmony in our own personal ways. David raps about his hard-knock upbringing as a middle class Street Fighter aficionado; Zach plays drums on the bellies of his kittens. Me? I watch Tombstone on an endless loop in a quest to create a Wagnerian opus that will make you change your pants after you crap your pants after you shit your pants. Peter, meanwhile, spent a few weeks and weekends in Maine, recording a solo album that, if you'll trust your humble narrator, is seven kinds of happiness.

This brings us to the whole point of this here missive. Peter, known on Tuesday, August 17th as Sonny Pete, will be playing a gig at Hotel Utah. He's promised me he'll dress well, which I assume means a taffeta evening gown with an understated aquamarine veil, and he's promised me it's going to be lovely. I don't know about you, but I'm going. He'll have a single there, so you can pick that up as well, and, well, it's Tuesday. I'm sure that the Real Housewives of Greater Bakersfield is on but that's why you sprung for TiVo. Come on out and enjoy some merriment. There's a poster and everything:



Details? We got your details:

Where: Hotel Utah
Yeah, but where's that: 500 4th Street, at Bryant (San Francisco)
When: August 17th
When, part two: 8 o'clock
How much: 8 bucks
Who else: Night Genes & Ricky Lee Robinson
Can I be young: NO. You best be 21

Do come out, enjoy, and say hello. We'd love to see you.

A Press Release From Birdmonster HQ

As you may have heard, the Golden State Warriors were sold today. Birdmonster's bid of $45 and a complimentary acoustic cover show comprised mainly of Kool and the Gang standards was rejected. We were saddened by the process but understand the outcome and wish the Warriors and their great fans the best of the luck.

Further, we've decided to turn lemons into rock and roll juice drank and play tomorrow night (that's Friday, July 16th) at the Uptown in Oakland. Misirlou will be joining us and we hope you will too. The set will be dedicated to Dan Gadzuric. Doors at 9, kickassness following shortly thereafter. Do come out.

In which Birdmonster plays Bottom of the Hill twice, saves planet once

It's 2010; it's officially the future. As a child, John Lithgow promised that this was "The Year We Make Contact", and, while that was a little ambitious, I was at least hoping for flying cars or a robot harem who would peel my grapes and fan me with palm fronds. Instead, we've got smart phones we can watch "The Jersey Shore" on. I'd rather not think about the ramifications.

Beyond wishing you a happy year of the tiger, we're chiming in with news, news about a pair of shows and a compilation CDs that's for a good cause so if you don't buy one it means you hate planet Earth and you should feel really guilty about it.

01- As you're all abundantly aware of, we enjoy Bottom of the Hill. In fact, I don't even have a house anymore, just a cot in their kitchen. They leave me a little bowl of kibble at night and I bark when raggamuffin come around. It works out well for everyone. But next Friday, the 22nd, we're actually, you know, playing there. We're playing with West Indian Girl and it's $10 and we're supporting, so if you come, come early. Chat. Drink. Chat while you drink. It's been a while and we're feeling frisky. (18+, by the way).

But wait: there's more. We're playing at Bottom again the next month, February 19, with Boy in the Bubble, Here Come the Saviors, and Girl Band (may or may not contain actual girls). That one's 21 and up and they're both ten dollars and we'd love it if you came. Details for both shows here.

02- Mentioned above, we're on a complilation CD called 1% For The Planet. There are some fancy folks on there like Jackson Browne (a crossword favorite) and the always lovable Submarines. We put one of our favorite B-sides on there ("Yuma"---which, by the way, there are some videos of on our website) but, really, you get forty one (41) songs for nine dollars and ninety-nine cents ($9.99). It costs more to listen to a busker and not feel guilty.

And that's that. Happy New Years, people.

New Music, Old Books, Free Books or, These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

Greetings all,

They say good things come in threes. The stations of the cross, for example, or the remaining members of Boyz II Men. Tomatoes, mozarella, and basil. And of course, triangles. Who could forget side angle side, angle side angle, the Pythogorean theorum? I could, as it turns out, so, really, let's just move on.

We're emerging from our hibernaculum for a trifecta of awesome. Please enjoy the following:

01- B-sides

Yes, yes. A while back, we recorded a CD. It was called "From the Mountain to the Sea." Perhaps you bought it. Perhaps your friend bought it and burned it for you. Perhaps you stole it out of my man purse. No matter. When we were recording, we ended up with a handful of songs we still loved but that were deemed too awesome for the CD. Either that or we'd already selected the stuff we thought sounded best. Again, I can't quite remember. The point is, we're putting out the B-sides, we're letting them out for air, and we are letting you know with this longwinded, rambling paragraph. Plus, with the economy blah blah blah jobs blah blah unemployment, it's a bargain at $4.99. It comes out on the 22nd, but only on iTunes. It's because I'm Steve Jobs in one of those Scooby Doo masks.

Please check out a free sample. It's like walking by See's candy, except with music.

02- Listening party

Since we're putting out new material we thought we should get drunk. Or at least listen to it in a bar. So that's what we're doing. On the 16th, we'll be pow-wowing at Mini Bar on Divisidero around Fulton and McAllister. There's no cover and, since the EP's called "Blood Memory," we'll be making drinks with blood oranges. See what we did there! You can also get other booze, but you will be mocked mercilessly. We'll be DJing too, between Birdmonster jams. If the odds of me playing "Apologize" or "Lady in Red" were race horses, they'd be chalks.

03- Bottom of the Hill Benefit for the Potrero Library

We're heading back to one of our favorite Ess Eff haunts to raise some money for a library. Reading, as you well know, is fundamental. And free books are fantastic. Please join us on the 26th of this month, during the day, from 1:30 onwards. The money goes to a good cause (read: not Birdmonster, but Librarymonster) and we'll play an extra fantastic show, since we're playing for the good of Mark Twain and his closest million friends.

Alright lovelies. Have a fine day.

A brief something for your Monday

Greetings one and all. Just a brief note today to inform you that a) since I fell out of metal when Limp Bizkit hijacked it (all for the Nookie, so they say), installment three has taken copious amounts of research. By research, I of course mean watching videos in which half-naked women resort to cannabalism and goateed longhairs sing like a larengitis-ed Cookie Monster. It will be up shortly, as soon as I understand the difference between "Black Metal," "Doom Metal" "Sludge Metal" and "Sludgy Black Doom Metal."

I'm barely joking.

B) is simply a heartfelt thanks to everyone in Berkeley. We had a phenomenal time, and, though Pete's vocal cords sounded the next day as if he'd been gargling with pebbles, we'd play again rightrightright now. Circularly, I even got to talk metal with Irish women, one of whom called Opeth "brilliant," which I've discerned is the British/Irish way of saying "awesome," yet, somehow much cooler. Loved the Mother Hips too. They were awesome. Or brilliant. Or brilliantly awesome. You can slice that anywhichway you want. The best time I've had at a show in quite some time so, definitely, thanks one and all.

C) Sorry about Chico. See below for salty bitterness.