Plague of Angels

Home.
















Sweet.
















Home.

















Today I'm in Atlanta at the airport Sheraton. It has been a rather glamorous afternoon. I ate at a bar and grill and fell off of a skateboard. What more could a guy ask for? Back in LA Ally, Lilly and I went to an amazing sushi place. The hostess was a bit on the aggressive side though.
















Afterwards we went to The Roost, an amazing little dive bar. It was, according to Ally, where Elliot Smith wrote lyrics much of the time. It is slightly on the dark and depressing side, but after a few rum and gingers and about 17 bags of complimentary popcorn it didn't seem so bad at all.















We hung out with Ally's pals The Radar Brothers who are a really great band that is vastly under-appreciated (go buy their records). I ended up passing out on their couch, and waking up just in time for our flight to Dallas. Let it not be said that we don't travel in style. Farmer Dave:














I got a little bored so I decided to market my own brand of soap. It smells like leather and tomato juice.
















The show was pretty good, but it's all just a blur.















Tomorrow we have an early morning, a lame radio show and a drive to Chicago (not kidding) for a small club show. My own pessimism is wearing me down. Trying to think happy thoughts.

And Then My Life Began at 6AM Every Day

It's been about a week since this brief jaunt into the wilds of these coastal United States began. It seems that most of the excitement has taken place in the early pre-dawn hours. This is nothing unusual, except that the excitement is often work-related and involves me carrying heavy things that are associated with lights and lighting. We began at Sasquatch in Seattle, a festival that became as ugly as its namesake in spite of there beging quite a few decent bands playing on the main stage. Lexi came up for a few days and got the instant trial by fire as we left the hotel for load in at 5 AM. There was no other way to cope with a day that begins at that ungodly an hour but to sleep through most of it.














Or, of course, you could drink a can of red bull (which is actually illegal in the Netherlands because it's really bad for you, very unlike prostitution and drugs) every 15 minutes until your pupils looked like saucers and you could only enunciate every third word that came to mind. This is TS our temporary drum tech who filled in for Bobby while he arranged his father's funeral. When he's not touring he runs a medical marijuana dispensary in Hollywood. It made for an interesting week.















The Gorge, at any time of the day or night is the most incredible place to see a show. I was there a year ago with Death Cab and the weathger was just as incredible.















There was however a slight issue with some winds that approached 70mph at times. The Polyphonic Spree were nearly blown off stage, and the whole shindig was put on hold for a few hours while the entire lighting rig was brought down to the stage. It was exciting, if nothing else, to watch guitar techs scramble across the stage trying to hold up keyboards and keep amps from careening into the gorge.
















By sunset the wind had died down. The show was great. The 3 hour ride back to Seattle in the middle of the night was not.

















Then it was off to LA for a few days. I was there last week, and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if I were there next week.















The hotel we stayed in had furniture in the lobby made out of money. The chair formed from half-dollars was one of the most uncomfortable things that I have ever sat on. At least I knew that it must have cost at least 27 dollars to create.

















The band was doing an AOL music session in Beverly Hills, which could have been a nightmare, but everyone was really great and the day went pretty smoothly. The film crew asked to interview a couple of us after the shoot to get an 'inside' perspective. I lied through my teeth for 25 minutes and would be enormously surprised if any of the footage is ever used for anything other than to prop up the wobbly end of a coffee table. I told them that the band and I met in boy's choir, and that, in spite of their extensive plastic surgery, fame hasn't changed them a bit.





















This is what pops up when you search for 'Interpol' on you tube. I think google knows something that you don't.