First,
The Eyesores will be on the Sick of Talk compilation- click here to find out more
The all important reason for this trip can be found here: Mission of Burma's web page. When I found out they'd reformed, I just about shit a brick, since they were one of these bands that always said, "we'll never get back together". However, the reason for the breakup originally was that the guitarist had suffered tinnitus, much like Pete Townshend, and when the onstage sound problem was solved (you'll see how on their web page), they decided that they could reform to play a few shows. Not only that but Mike Watt and his Secondmen were opening - power trio with organ. I got stuck in traffic several times driving up to San Jose, and finally picked up the dummy at his house. We cruised up the 101, and as soon as we hit San Francisco, the 101 turned into a street. Many of you know the joys of driving in San Francisco. To top it off, some locals who undoubtedly were trying to be helpful, gave us differing directions to the Fillmore. Of course Metalhed, while he did ask directions, didn't help much whining and crying- he has fixed this idea in his head about my supposed "poor sense of direction" even though he clearly has trouble telling his left hand from his right. He has had this idea since we went to Arizona, in fact our guitarist Stab had that idea too- right before he took the wrong exit off the 10, which cost us an hour, and possibly our time slot at the club (at Hollywood Alley in Mesa, AZ, we got there so late our slot was moved to right after the headliner, and since AZ law prohibits the sale of alcohol at 1pm, we got a nice little 15 minute set. Of course, I also had gotten butt-ass lame directions from Mapquest, and hadn't called the club to confirm directions, so it was my fault too. Problem is, Metal fixates on this shit- like his now 8 or 9 year running joke about me not liking Ketchup and Cheese. It's not that I'm especially sensitive; we all joke around and goof on one another, but dipstick moaning and whining while I'm doing my best to find the goddamn club tends to burn my ass a bit. Oh yeah, he also had the address of the club on a SF magazine and didn't even remember the address. Anyway, we got to the Fillmore, and Mike Watt was at the second to last song in his set. Goddammit!!! Watt was half the reason I was fucking there!!! I'd been wanting to see his organ band, and here they are in the middle of this crazy jam which I tried to get into but had trouble since I walked in mid-set. Damn.. sorry Watt, next time I won't miss the set. The sound mix itself sucked ass though, as I couldn't hear what the organ was doing. Then Silkworm came on, who I hadn't heard of being in So Cal and not very informed on the local scenes in various places. I guess I was already pissed about missing Watt, so I wasn't as responsive to them at the moment they played. I did grow to dig some of the sounds, particuarly the songs with the six string bass/guitar that the bassist played. Check them out here. Metalhed didn't like them too much and heckled them- the tempos were fairly slow, they were more of a grindy pop rock type band than the others. My first reaction after the drummer ending the set saying he was depressed was irritation- I would have killed ducks with my bare hands to play that slot. After reading their tour diary at their site, I found that it was actually due to his snare being fucked up and having to drop a cool song from their set. Probably misjudged them, and given the situation plus more personal honesty would have said the same. Anyway, after their set, they announced that Burma was going to play 2 sets. Holy shit- that'll be a lot of damn music from a band I dug in high school- they had been broken up for a few years, and those TAANG!! albums of theirs had just gotten released a few years late. I noticed the drummer had a plexiglas barrier on guitarist Roger Miller's side, and his amp cabinet was right at the edge of the stage, pointing directly at yours truly. When they came on, it was precisely as it should be- they rocked the place. Metalhed, never having actually heard them, or maybe the studio recordings hadn't made much impression, left the show as a new fan. They played lots of great shit, including four or five new ones.. guys, give us an album. The new songs are as good as the old ones. They tore the place up. After one of the stage hands had tossed out setlists at the end of the second set, I grabbed a small piece of paper off the stage near Roger's guitar gear with the letters : "PP1-UFO" in black marker. When they came back for the encore, Roger Miller put his earmuffs on, and appeared to look at the ground puzzledly- oops. Anyway, we got out of there, got a free poster from the show, and left for San Jo to crash. Metal went to work the next day, and we all gathered at his mom's house to record acoustic with Al Brown, who played drums for the band from 1996 to 1998, and again at the 4th of July show. He played bongos, Metal played acoustic bass, and I played my old Epiphone Sheraton hollowbody closemiked, due to my lack of acoustic strings for my 12 string acoustic. Unfortunately, since the mike on the sheraton had to be really high to pick it up, bongos bled over into the guitar track. Oops. Anyway, the session was a little cheesy, but different than what we normally do. Here's a sample of the day's work on mp3. After that, I drove home to Orange County- why the hell is everyone on the 5 in such a big butt hurry? I'm going a little on the slow side, 70-75 miles per hour, and these assholes are zig zagging in and out of traffic at fucking 100 miles per hour, coming dangerously close to clipping other cars- is it any wonder I come upon a rolled over car with lots of police hanging around, and no discernable movement inside the car? Hey, don't get me wrong- highway cops can be assholes, and nobody wants to get stopped, but you don't need to be in such a damn hurry that you get killed. And these tailgating assholes- fuck them. Fucking obnoxious butt hurry motherfuckers shining their goddamn brights in my mirror, ordering me to "get out of the way"- usually I just say screw it and let them past, taking my sweet ass time moving out of the lane. Others I obstruct and they eventually get the message and go around me- I hardly ever do that anymore because one time about 10 years ago, some redneck piece of shit in a beat up pickup with a bunch of tools in the back, got his revenge by passing me, then getting right in front of me- slowing to 35 miles per hour, and blocking my path every time I tried to pass. Shithead, I hope you got the shit pounded out of you by the next driver you hassled. So usually I just get out of the way- I'm unwilling to get into a fight with some dick who may or may not be unarmed at the side of the road, so I let it pass. That's really all there is for me to say at this point, it was a cool show. I think I should start getting Metalhed to chimp stories for our gig reports, he did one for the May 4 and 5 2000 shows, and it wouldn't be so one sided with me bitching about his bitching. (chimping is Mike Watt's term for writing out these show reports- you really should Watt's tour diaries- much more substantial then these short scribbles). anyway, I'm out. Dog 7:49 pm July 29, 2002
NEWS: I went to the San Diego zoo this weekend, and saw a monkey taking a shit. He proceeded to reach his hand down to his butthole, grasp the turd tightly, bring it up to his mouth and take a big bite. This happened August 25, 2002, and is noteworthy enough for me to consider news even if it's not band related. Dog. 12:05 am August 26, 2002