Yeah, that happened.

Even I have to dress up sometimes. The Molter Outlaws keeping it dour in Tucson.

Halloween

Oh yes. This weekend its nothing but Black Metal and the Misfits up in here. That and of course Razed In Black's club anthem "Oh My Goth." Good shit. It is almost autumnal outside, but all my weather bitching is causing me some moderate guilt as both Lucero and the Revival Tour have missed a few days of shows because winter actually happens in the Rocky Mountains. Longmont reported about a foot of snow a couple days ago, closing schools, roads and all that. Not gonna lie, I am pretty jealous, but bike riding on a "fall" night in LA is also pretty outstanding.

Last night we got ourselves all did up and rolled with the band+3 crowd to a rager in Highland Park. Some standout costumes were Wooly Willy, a crew of Merlotte's waitresses, and the creepy American Apparel boss guy. But I think that our gang brought the pain, especially Jason's Wierd Al and Anna's Pierrot the Clown.


Who knows what tomfoolery the rest of the weekend may hold, but if you need advice on what to do, I recommend watching The Crow. Dated perhaps, but the 90's nostalgia is awesome. And when he puts on the makeup for the first time and walks to his round window with the crow on his shoulder and the white cat and The Cure is playing... Yeah, thats why most of my clothes are black. RIP Brandon Lee.

And if we survive the weekend, its a pretty sure bet that by November 1st there will be egg nog on the shelves of a supermarket near you. Come ye winter!

Generation of Vipers

So there is this amazing metal band from Tennessee, (thanks Metal Jake) who never tour and don't ever seem to really do anything except play shows in Tennessee, and, apparently, craft epic doom oeuvres in what I can only picture as a shed built out of corrugated tin, soundproofed with dirt and lit only by one forty watt bulb which is half caked with smoke. Really though, they probably play in a clean suburban basement. What do I know? Either way, they have a new song up on their Myspace page and it is amazing. If you like slow, atmospheric, heavy and beautiful, check it out. Their full length too, get that.

But enough with the fan boy. It does make me miss the heavy music though. Maybe you don't outgrow that shit after all. God, the only thing worse that a bunch of aging dudes who won't let metal go must be a bunch of tattooed singers from punk bands who picked up acoustic guitars and grew beards. Oh wait... Don't know what's good, bad or even what's what at that, just know what I like, and today that is Generation of Vipers.

And what I don't like today is the cop who flipped a U-turn to follow us for blocks just because we were three guys in the same car. Carpooling is so foreign here the LAPD must assume that if you are not driving alone you must on your way to some unlawful fun. But, Wheels had nothing outstanding when they ran his tags (which we could see the cop doing on his laptop, while driving) so he turned off. Oh Johnny Law...

-OSB

Good shit.

Last night we saw William Elliot Whitmore at the Hotel Cafe. It made for a pretty swell saturday night, good venue, good sound, good show etc. The opening guy was just finishing when we got there, but he closed with "I'm on Fire,"a Springsteen song (also covered by Hawks and Doves, referenced in a Gaslight Anthem song and the inspiration a PMFS song title, Six Inch Valley). And the headliners, Hoots and Hellmouth brought their own hardwood floor, the better to stomp on. At first I thought it was about the most pretentious thing ever, and was sure that they must be from art school in Brooklyn, but as they played, it turned out they are from Philly and I concluded that, in fact, having your own stomping floor is pretty awesome.

Willy played a nice cross section of his catalogue, mostly just taking requests between Iowa dirt stories and odes to "party liquor." The dude certainly brings the pain for one guy and a banjo, something comforting to aspire to if/when geography, life and age finally render the rock band dalliance impossible.

Karaoke with band dudes and brunettes afterward. No, I didn't sing. Fresh dew on the bike seat when I came out. Veggie burrito for a nightcap. Nothing old or sad. Not having to work in the morning is fucking amazing. Six day work weeks? Not fucking amazing. Bottom line though, Saturday night is some good shit.

-OSB

Bus Damnit.

So it turns out that the LA metro system is only friendly to weekend revelers. Wanna get home by bus after 11 on a weeknight? Joke's on you sucker, you are ass outta luck. You would think that after three and half years I would know these things, and maybe I did once, but having it shoved in my face again reminded me how nice it would be if you could get around LA on public transit. Oh well right? But, we made it home, after texting a taxi. Yeah, thats right. You can text a taxi. You never even have to speak to a person. Then the cab comes, and you only have to tell him the address, no further conversation required. Amazing, to be home safe, not a word wasted.

In other bastardry, I realized last night, as our friends kicked out what are apparently the "freshest jams," that I have lost any connection with pop music. I don't listen to the radio, and I don't "club." So while I have heard of Lady Gaga, I wouldn't know her songs if you stood outside my window and blasted them from an overhead boombox. Same goes for the other neon wearing scene mavens whose dance beats keep the kids skinny these days. Kinda sad to realize that I am finally out of touch, and even closer to being old and square. For now though, I am content with moderately grumpy, balding and really in touch with the music I like, even if it does all sound the same to you. I am off to convince myself that Borknagar, The Takers, MLIW and The E-Street Band are not just the same sour kooks in different suits.

-OSB

Ruido, Mucho Ruido

Because I carpooled to work today, and then interacted with people at work all day, and then carpooled home, I haven't listened to one second of music today, of my choosing or otherwise. This put so much pressure on my first selection once I was finally home that I just put it off and now am writing in silence. Or at least in the absence of music, since I can hear the neighbors loud and clear, as they discuss popcorn and soda in six-out-of-ten voices and call for their rat-dog "Sugarbear" in I-just-pushed-the-scale-to-fourteen kind of tones. Maybe that is why the stereo is always on, since between Sugarbear, the LAPD chopper, people honking for their kids outside the school across the street and upstairs neighbor doing tae-bo, I am about ready to ream my eardrums out with the immersion blender. Time for jams suckers!
Starting off with "Not Fucking Fodder" by Tragedy. Things better now...

-OSB

Fuck you summer, end already.

It was shit-ass hot in the valley again, with worse to come, they say. After the brief glimpse of autumn last week, this should be a treat. A treat like finding that your chocolate ice cream cone is actually filled with dogshit. Anyway, evenings are still livable, and nothing asks for rain like going for a bike ride, begging to get caught in a total fucking downpour. Then LA drivers drop their cell phones and their common sense and try to crash into each other as fast as they can, as if they could win a cookie, or some Pinkberry, or a new pair of Uggs. While they do this, I ride around skidding for fun on the nine plus months of oil that the rain brings up on the road. And I giggle like small child who has seen someone fall down for the first time. For the record, tonight shows zero chance of showers. Here's hoping though eh? Soundtrack for the ride: "Stop When the Rain Starts" by Signal to Noise. Soundtrack to my post-ride beverage: "Fall Motherfuckers Fall" by Josh Small.

-OSB

Feast

We made some awesome food last night, a sort of thanksgiving preview. Erik and Alexia brought the full brunt of their culinary might, and made a strong case for dropping everything and moving post-haste to PDX. Today's unseasonable heat helped that case. Before band practice, I leave these two take-aways from the weekend: 1) Even when things are good, life tends to dish you just a taste of what it could be... and 2) Most metal sentence ever-"If you need to remember, carve it on the antlers of the children." Say that out loud and tell me you don't just feel heavy!

-OSB

Ok, fine...

Since I am not at work (thanks Erik and Alexia,) I have to put my five year old paperweight of a laptop where my mouth is and start the blog I have been making snarky jokes about all weekend. Honestly though, I have better shit to do today. This thing is for when there is really nothing more productive to do with my six and a half minutes of internet time each day. Basically, shit don't suck right now, its pretty good. Good friends in town visiting, sun's coming up cool, monday off work, looking down the barrel of an only 46 hour workweek. And so, i am off to listen to some Daylight Dies and to clean my kitchen. It got the ugly end of the shotgun last night, and El Pastor kicked it while it was down. Thank god no one is stuck to the couch with peanut butter though, that shit would stain...