University City Review
Noise Annoys... Loud Music for the Masses
by Mark Ginsburg
There's a lot happening on the debut LP from local experimental rock trio Psy-Ops.
Tough and gentle, sweet and strange. "Dont fall Asleep with the Television on"(self-released) mixes styles with ease and skill. Genres and sub-genres are crossed, crushed and revived, creating a sound which is incredibly unique. No musical form is safe from the assault. Heavy duty, ripping guitar gives way to quirky weird vocals, while the bass locks in tight with pounding, slamming drums.
It should be noted that the percussion work is performed by none other than Dallas, drummer for Philly punk band Thorazine. This project finds Dallas stretching his range, moving beyond his usual straight up, lightning speed approach. Rolling in and out of each tune, he takes time to punctuate and emphasize certain passages. Playing skillfully off the sometimes shrieking, sometimes warbling voice of Psy-Ops mastermind Sean Adamz, Dallas is is also the perfect match for the thick, powerful work of bassist E. Hammer. Adamz serves as singer, songwriter and guitarist for Psy-Ops, making the band his very personal and bizarre vision. Each song is a stream of consciousness rant, sometimes simple, sometimes complex. Ordinary things are made to seem alien, while alien things become commonplace. Comparisons to Talking Heads as well as Adrian Belew solo material, come immediately to mind. Yet this is too limiting a description. Psy-Ops manages to rock hard and slip into tuneful experimentation, often within the same track. The ebb and flow of one piece to another is fascinating. Jagged bits of music come flying off the disc as it spins. Only seasoned players with an extreme amount of ability could carry this off, and the boys from Psy-Ops do so beautifully. To experience the experimental power of this band live, check them out at the March 15th Sick City Showcase at the Rotunda. 4012 Walnut Street in University City. The bill will include Psy-Ops, Cheerleaders of the Apocalypse from D.C., ex-Dehumanized/Dread Fabrik band The Coo Coos, Famous in Vegas, Jersey Horror punks The Ghouls and one more TBA. Doors open at 6pm, admission is free and all ages are welcome. For more information visit http://famousinvegas.com and click on the Sick City Showcase logo. You can get a copy of the Psy-Ops LP directly from the band at the show or by going to their website, http://www.psy-ops.org.
Psy-Ops in the news
Sean Adamz the guitarist/singer/song-writer & co-creator of Psy-Ops was
coming out of the Last Drop coffee house at 13th & Pine in C.C.
Philadelphia. Little did he know, but he was being followed/observed
for several blocks prior to obtaining his coffee fix. Two Homeland
security agents followed, and then detained him for questioning. Turns
out, the band name Psy-Ops is an abbreviation for a military term.
Psychological Operations. Stickers promoting the bands 1st release,
"Don't fall asleep with the television on", are also found in nearly
every locale that a 3x5" sticker will fit.
5317, found on the bands sticker, when turned upside down, spells
L-I-E-S. What other covert imagery could their be lurking behind the
seemingly harmless band-stickers now found all over
Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Providence Rhode Island? It seems the NE
corridor is being inundated with the stickers of this band/political
group, or whatever Psy-Ops happens to be. Homeland security wanted to
find out for themselves. The safety of this great nation is at stake!
Our stalwart hero is innocently coming out of the coffeehouse, and
continuing on his back to the Northern Liberties section of
Philadelphia. The two agents converge on Adamz in an inquisitive, yet
forceful manner, and ask to see the contents of his backpack. Without
I.D. the two were told, they in fact could NOT see the contents of his
backpack, and Adamz continued on. A few moments later, his way was
blocked by the same agents again. This time, they did in fact show I.D.
and once again, ask to see the contents of his backpack. Adamz response
wasn't quick or submissive enough, so the agents employed the assistance
of a passing Philadelphia patrol car. The officer, without handcuffing
Adamz did put him into the patrol car and drove him to 10th & Filbert
Sts. The Philadelphia Bus terminal and a Philadelphia Police substation
share offices in the building(s).
On his way to a makeshift detention room, Adamz over hears several
police personnel ask "what are you two doing here?", and "why are you
bringing him (Adamz) here for?".
After several minutes of interrogation and a thorough search of Adamz's
backpack, it is determined that there is in fact nothing in the backpack
but 3 books on art and a small stack of the dubious Psy-ops stickers.
Outside the detention room, Adamz distinctly heard the Philadelphia
Policeman that drove him it ask the two Homeland Security personnel why
Adamz was picked up. The officer then entered the room and asked Adamz
if he'd been frisked or read his rights. Adamz answer to both questions
were in the negative, and he was soon released from 10th & Filbert with
a stern warning not to deface anymore public property with the political
propaganda under cover of band stickers.
If you happen to see a "Don't Fall Asleep with the Television On" or
Psy-ops sticker in your neighborhood, please notify the proper
authorities, and run for cover. The security of this great nation is at
stake. Psy-Ops appearances/ political rallies will be appearing
throughout the NE corridor. Be on the lookout for these criminals.
--
Band site
http://psy-ops.org
Journal
http://psy-ops.journal.iwarp.com
Psy-Ops Road Trip
It was Sunday, February 16th 2003. Friday was our Anti-Valentines day
show at the Rotunda with Instant Death (Ween members band), This Radiant Boy, The Hutch and the adorable DJ Erin. I was sick as a dog at that show, but by Sunday, I was feeling quite a bit better. It was snowing cats-n-dogs, but we were hellbound for Providence Rhode Island. Club AS220 is an artists conglomerate, but more on that later. First off, Eric mentioned at the Rotunda show, that the plan was to meet at Sean's house at 10am on Sunday to get an early start. The problem is, it would've taken me 90mins with all the snow and the holiday schedule the public transit system was running on. I misinterpreted the 10am leave-time as him picking me up at 9:40am and then getting to Sean's
house by 10am for departure. At 11:40am the van shows up at my house and we're off! The tank is full (30gals) and packed with equipment. With all this weight, the van is as
solid as a James Brown bassline in all the snow. There's a deafening squeal that we've all gotten semi-used to because of a loose belt down in the bowels of the engine. We'd have our troubles with this later, but ONWARD! The snow is coming down really good from Philadelphia through Central New Jersey. From there to Providence was completely
without snow! We were barreling down the highway with that infernal squeal and happy as clams. Mealtime! I think we were in Connecticut and it was time to tie on the feed bag. We found the Starlight Diner, which had a sign on the highway. We sit down to a meal and the menu is huge. Looking over the shoulders of my compatriots, I spot the dessert
display. There's what looks like large wedges of pound cake covered in chocolate. I've gotta have a slice of that with my black coffee (damned cold, I usually take cream) but it turned out to be cheescake. I had no room for the breakfast I ordered, and had it packed to go. I still seemed to make out better than Sean, who was the hungriest of us, but ended up with the most inedible dish. 2 eggs over-easy and a stack of pancakes. The pancakes were partially cooked and had way too much baking soda! Dude ended up paying for 2 eggs! Eric played it safe with a reuben. As I went to pay the check with my ATM/credit card, it was rejected!! Luckily I had cash and figured it was just the
restaurant's machinery. Onward.
We make it to AS220 in Providence at approximately 6:15. It's colder'n a witches tit on a Wednesday, but it's not snowing. We parked the van up the street and roll into the club to let 'em know we're here! It's a great space for a show. artwork on the walls done by various local artists. There was this one exhibit where you stare into a hole in the floor. The hole contained an eye staring back at you. It even blinked and rolled around. Spooky/cool. A computer in a corner free for all to use running Mandrake Linux of all things. Very techno-cool. A bar that sold everything from coffee to COORS. The sound system wasn't made to handle electric bands, but is probably more than adequate for
singer/songwriter stuff. The soundperson of the evening was an atrociously sexy brunette whose name I forget. But whose face and ass are forever imprinted upon my brain. Knew her shit too. She wasn't playing the cute-card, she knew her equipment and how to get the most out of it. Kudos to her phine, coffee drinkin' ass. After talking with the manager, we decide to load in. While Eric goes for the van, I decided to hit the ATM to make sure my card was a-ok. It ate it!! I'm ass-out in Providence Rhode Island with no debit card and damn near no cash!! We double-park and start unloading. Then when it's time to pull the van into a parking slot, IT WON'T START!! Now, I'm out my credit
card, and the van won't start! Lemme tell ya bout this old Dodge van. There are various belts off the engine that power the alternator and other things. The one from the engine to the alternator needs replacing and makes this annoying squeal. This isn't all that bad, except with such a long drive, the poor little belt wasn't tight enough to keep the
alternator charging. This keeps the lights and other extraneous things running and recharges the battery with the excess. The engine doesn't need an alternator, but the dashboard, headlights, heat, turn signals, etc. ALL do!! And we all know that batteries don't last forever without a recharge. Eric has AAA so they arrive within 30mins and
jumpstart the van. After letting it run for a while, he verifies that it will turn back on after a full shut-off. All is well there. I'm on the phone with my bank and they tell me why my card was rejected. Seems a vendor was compromised and anyone who'd bought from them within the past 10-15days was at risk. Anybody who knows me, knows I order the
lions share of my purchases online.
Therefore the bank shut-down all those cards compromised by computer theft. I was on the at-risk list. After giving them the Ass-Out-schpeel, that I was in Providence Rhode
Island with no place to stay and no credit card or money, and they Western Unioned me some of my money at no charge. I bummed a ride from a very cool lady bartender at the club and was cardless, but cash rich. This same bartender tried to jumpstart our van with her SUV. It didn't work, but she did move her vehicle so we could get our non-running heap off the street before we got a ticket. We were double-parked when the
engine died. We discover that Pennsylvania is in a state of alert and some of the roads are closed. Delaware and New Jersey were in a state of Emergency! We'd have to figure a way home later. Right now, we were in the business of making music.
The gig goes very well. We go 2nd in a 3 band bill. We were sandwiched between bands from Boston. Some friends of Eric and Sean show up and we have a decent crowd in there on a frigid Sunday night in Providence. Though offered various places to stay, we vamoose outta there in hopes of beating the snow which was scheduled to arrive at 3am. After making our way outta Providence the van is running and all is well for many
hours. At the Vince Lombardi rest area in New Jersey, we stop for breakfast. Nothing open at this hour of the morning, but a Burger King. Man is this what America thrives on!?!?! It was so greasy, it left my system within 15mins of eating it. I could feel an artery or two just give up and pop! I knew I'd be laying some rip-snortin' farts
on the way home after a gourmet meal like this. Then, before we could make our departure, THE VAN WON'T START AGAIN!! Luckily, the gas station in the rest area had full jumper cables and these HUGE service trucks and didn't charge us a dime for the jump. While Eric was making this happen, a representative from 101.5fm came up to me and asked what I was doing out in the snow at this hour and where was I heading. I gave him as much schpeel as he could stand before looking for someone else to interview. After a much-appreciated jump, we're on our way yet again. This time, we know NOT to stop the engine for anything. During a frequent stop (which we never turn the engine
off for) under an overpass, to clean the ice off the windshield, an unmarked, but official looking van approaches. We all know that without a valid reason for being on the road, we could be in for a huge ticket ( allegedly). We shoo Eric back inside and blast outta there just as the van occupants were rolling their windows down to ask who we were and what we were doing on the road. Hopefully, all they could see was a
blast of snow as we hauled ass down the snow-covered NJ turnpike. After that narrow escape, we made Pennsylvania, then Philly and then HOME. 95 wasn't supposed to be open, but us and a few brave souls, made sure it was passable.
Adventures in Rhode Island Part II
We left a little early on Saturday. The guys were supposed to show up at my place at noon and were actually early! I leaped in and we were on our way to the AS220 in Providence Rhode Island once again. Quick stop off at the Dunkin Donuts on our way to the Girard Ave entrance to I-95. Uneventful, but I did take note that the coffee wasn't unnecessarily sweet today. Onward!
The usual travel problems around NYC. Not too bad this trip. Then there was the flaming car incident. By the time we got there, it was nothing but charred remains, but it still managed to tie up traffic for a bit. Folks, SIGNAL your lane changes, and try not to make them so erratic. Nobody can anticipate what the hell you're doing, and fucking up traffic to that level should be a shootin' offense! Onward!
We arrive in Providence at 6pm. Load-in isn't until 8-8:30, so we decide to hit a music store, drop off our CD's at some record stores and get some grub. Let it be mentioned that Providence is a college town like none other! The whole town revolves around the students. There are 4-5 colleges and the town(s) just exists to support their needs. I also really noticed something up here. The cold climate makes for hearty gals! These college girls weren't your NYC anorexic-chic or the L.A. I'll-just-have-a-raisin-and-a-smile variety. These gals have to deal with extreme temperature dips and some meat on the bones is a prerequisite to survival up in here! The area is very hilly. Much like San Francisco. So from all the walking (college kids don't drive, they walk or bicycle) and a lovely layer of "protection" from the cold. I saw more thick, lovely, jigglin' ass in 30 seconds than a public toilet sees in a week! We were supposed to be looking for a music store (Sean needed strings and I needed a new set of snares) but wandered around singing Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds or some shit as we stumbled aimlessly about the hip, commercially rich section of town trying to get whiplash. Bruthas, lemme break it down. Deez white, college girls be hittin the biscuits, grits-n-gravy and ain't shamed to show it! Belly shirts, bare legs, handkerchiefs worn as shirts and not ONE of 'em was under a size 10-12. The sistahs were lookin' thin and spindly in comparison. Mmmmmmmmm, I digress. Onward!
Two cute, little, ample-butted lesbians pointed us vaguely in the direction of a music store. She couldn't remember the name of it, but knew it existed. We smiled and invited them to the show later and asked if they'd please bring friends. Then, after a wild goose chase for the music store, we found Axlerod music. It was CLOSED! We decided to get some grub and head over for load-in. Sean used to live here, so he directed us to a street which was almost all restaurants. He led us to the Japanese or Thai, but because of fundage, we opted for all-you-can-eat-for .95 Indian buffet. We didn't fully read the sign and the buffet ended at 2PM! At 6:30ish, we were ordering from the menu. Sean was pissed that we'd been duped and left for a slice of pizza and more coffee while Eric and I chowed down on some lentils and what not. Does every city have a Tandoor India? Lemme tell ya that the Tandoor India in Providence Rhode Island has one flaw. It took forever for the food to show up! We were already starving like Marvin and fading fast. The lil water dude kept showing up to refill our cups, but water had a metallic after-taste so we tried not to indulge till the food arrived. After what felt like an eon, the food arrives. Mine came on a stainless steel, sectioned tray like they have in prison (uh, prison movies that is. Bruvah watch a lil TV and stuff sometimes) I was so hungry, I was huddled over my metal plate and shoveling in grub like a punk rock Mandingo up in there. It was an incredible meal for and came with a little rice pudding for dessert. I stuffed the left over nan and boobki bread in my pocket for after the show.
Bellies full, load-in time approaching. Onward!
We arrive at the club to find it already partially full. The headline act was doing a sound check onstage. The artwork had changed. Maybe those old pieces were sold. Andy is a friend of Sean's from when he used to live in the area. He's a DJ at a top-40 station in town. Our music isn't top-40, but he's still in a position to mention us briefly and pass our name to someone a little more in our vein. He offered to put us up for the night. The bathrooms were marked Pro-War and Anti-war instead of men/women this time out. That luscious Indian food was now begging to be released, so I swung the handle of the Pro-War bathroom and set it free. I guess you can say I cast my opinion/vote for War with curried lentils and basmati rice. Lots of paraphernalia in there. These folks were honestly trying to present their case. I didn't go into the Anti-War room. The line to get in was never-ending, but I wonder what was in there. We played 2nd out of a 4band bill to a packed house. We have to get Sean to buy an in-line guitar tuner. If he had one inline, it would mean very little time between songs. As it is now, he has to ask Eric to unhook his, jack in, tune and then give it back to Eric. This can mean literally minutes between songs. This doesn't sound like much, but to those of us not actually tuning or doing something to occupy those precious moments, it feels like an hour! Otherwise the performance went really well. We were well appreciated and invited back for another weekend night. Talking after the performance, with some fans who were there for our 1st appearance in Rhode Island (Feb), the subject of the local ladies came up again. We were outside on the sidewalk (brutha needed to cool down and the night air was just the ticket) I thought these two young, white college guys were bruthas in disguise. They were ALL about the booty! They wanted nothing to do with lil waif-ish women. They weren't havin' a girl who ain't draggin a wagon. His quote was "If she ain't thick, I ain't hittin it with his(pointing to friend) d_ck." I gave him my famous quote as a response. "Don't be shy if you're thick in the thigh." Amens were granted all-around. Passersby were giving me Amens.
Onward!
As I mentioned earlier, Andy offered to put us up. The guys decided to have hot dogs from this famous hotdog place. No veggie dogs, so I was ass out (luckily, that Indian food was still doing its job of keeping me full) but you could get the strangest dogs. Every flavor imaginable. We circled the block twice while Sean ran in to get some of these world-famous hotdogs. We also decided to test out his home studio by having an impromptu interview before crashing for the night. He has the coolest little dog named Loner that he's had since he was 15yrs old. This dog was as frisky as a puppy and was 14-15yrs old! Andy titled it an interview in Loners loft. We talked about the war and government conspiracy theories more than music, but it was entertaining. Mainly because Loner and I were the only sober ones on tape, so this 96minute interview is going to be a hoot to edit and then present to his listeners. The dog lying close to the mic was making all kindsa lil doggie noises during the interview. We crashed soon after making lil noises of our own. Indian food-n-chili dogs yum.
The next day, we said our goodbyes to Andy-n-Loner at 11am and hit the road. We hit the same coffee shop as the day before and then Eric and I went to breakfast. It was a really popular place and had a line waiting outside. We put our name in and waited the 15-20mins. I got pissed when people who came after us, got seated first! We left and decided after dropping some CDs at a local record store to find our breakfast elsewhere. Where we did find food, the waitress decided we weren't worth rushing for or something. Promised Eric more coffee and never came back. Expensive for just eggs and pancakes and definitely NOT filling. Can't figure out what's going on with the food service in this part of the country.
Seeya next time!
8/10/2003 (Adventures in Rhode Island Part III)
Sean and Eric were right on time today. 10am prompt. In the van and we were pointed North for Providence Rhode Island once again. After an uneventful ride up, we arrived on the South Street of Providence, Thayer Street. Sean went his way and Eric and I went ours. After a bit of idly bumbling about, we sat down for a cup of coffee and a view of passersby for a while. Local burger joint had it's own nutcase outside. Big, middle-aged white guy saying that nobody should mess with him and his black bruthas. Dancing up a storm to James Brown and other oldies coming out of the burger joint via external speakers. The manager turned it up so he'd dance wildly. Workers from other storefronts came to see the spectacle. His big ass even stopped traffic for a spell. Eric and I walked by. He slapped me five and told me to “keep it real“. Eric threw 6 cents at him and he exclaimed that he was over the top! Not much to eat on this trendy street that isn't horribly over-priced, so we needed to ask where the local greasy spoon was located. We're wandering about and up comes bodacious blonde we all know I'm a brunette man, but this girl had ass for days. Eric was on it like grease on a cheese steak. Friendly little thing who was more than willing to help us find local, cheap eats. She turned around to point us in the right direction, and I felt compelled to mention to her that the bowling balls in her pants were pulling them down. I controlled myself, but Erics' statement was never more apt. “Up here, the weather is cold and the women are thick. But in the warm weather, they shed their bear coats“. This girl took off all of her bear coat except the back 40. After getting our directions, we wished her and her ass a good day and gave her a flyer for the show. Lugging that beauty-booty around must take some effort. Girlfriend looked plum tuckered out. Had to bed dat ass down. Following her directions, we arrived at the same street from our last visit, which contained our favorite coffeehouse and Indian restaurant. I figured I'd use the restroom before the food arrived. First thing I noticed, was somebody did NOT have good aim. The toilet was one of the tall ones. Maybe some little kid couldn't quite reach and there was some spillage. Anyway it was raw dawg up in there compared to the otherwise clean restaurant. So, here I am, pants about my ankles and up on my tippy toes to keep my pants out of the “spillage“. It's smelling like a subway station on a humid night up in here, but brutha had bidness to tend. So I'm sitting there and all of a sudden, the lights go out. I don't believe this shit! How am I supposed to keep my clothes out of the pee!?!! I holler out that I'm in here, in case someone mistakenly killed the light from outside. Trying to be discreet wasn't working so I began yelling and waving my arms about. This caused the light to turn back on. I then noticed the light sensor on the wall winking at me. A few minutes later, the room went dark again, but this time, I turned it back on without all that cursing and yelling. Brutha was lil shamed. I got my usual (Vegetarian Thali) and just like last time, brown-bagged my nan and samosa for a midnite snack. After an uneventful walk back to the van, Eric used his cell to call Sean, to see if he was ready to make his way towards the club. He said he would meet us there, so we found our way there from memory. Sean lived here for a while, so he knew his way around. We arrive and the manager was there to greet us. We were told that this was a BIG NIGHT and that we were the opening act. The best he could do, was start at 10pm instead of 9-9:30, and cut everybody's set to 1/2hr. The lineup would be us, Mini Watt, Chinese Stars, Mahi Mahi. Lots of friends were there. John and Dave were there (kids from last time we were here, telling us about this area liking thick women). DJ Andy was there (guy who's house we stayed at last time) Katherine and her husband were there and Eric's friend Kristi, who also brought her brother and some friends form Australia. Just as promised, the joint fills to capacity for this show. Going on at 10pm wasn't going to be a problem at all. We played a flawless set (dat shit never happens, but lemme have my damned fantasy) to a VERY appreciative audience. This was the first time playing to a packed house in this venue and it felt great. What wasn't feeling great was that damned Indian food. Eric wasn't feeling too spry either. We made a pact to remind each other, that we'll never eat at that Indian restaurant again. Our mailing list grew by 37+ names at the end of the set and CD's were flowing like water. Everybody seemed to want a memento of the band from Philly. The other bands were enjoying the large crowd as well and finally, Mahi Mahi took the stage. They were more techno than rock and at this point, everybody was lit up like Christmas (I'm talkin more than alcky-hol here y'all) and having a good time. I talked with this one and that one and stayed outside drying off from a sweltering performance. Somewhere during the night, Eric and Kristi went to partake of their favorite pastime. Nudie bars. Right around the corner, was a gag-nasty, raw dawg lookin' titty bar with a hotel above it. It had hourly, daily, and weekly rates. This was all fine and dandy except that we missed out on our place to sleep for the night, because Eric was getting his freak on. Andy's apartment was in no shape to accept visitors and Kathrine and hubby didn't have the room with their little bundle of joy ruling the roost. We had a guy step up and offer us a place, but he was ready to leave before we could find Eric's perverted ass, and he bid us farewell. He did wait for ½ hr before giving up. We just couldn't locate Eric. Now, with nowhere to stay, it meant a 5+hr drive back to Philly. We decided there was nothing to it, but to do it, so we were off like a prom dress. Not before Sean and Eric partook of some of those gourmet hot dogs from the famous 24hr shop in town, Spikes. Sean got directions and we were off. 2 blocks later, Eric (at Seans behest) made a left onto a one-way street and we were instantaneously surrounded by cop cars. This wasn't a problem, except that neither of them were in any shape to drive. The plan was to spend the night, so they both got their drink on. So, here we sit, surrounded by cop cars and the pilot and co-pilot of our stalwart vehicle are lit up like Christmas and trying really hard to look sober. Sean was stuffing blueberry pot into his sock in case we got searched and I was contemplating how to get home from the police station. The cops were having a raucous good time at our expense. Laughing, joking with each other (I thought I saw dem muthafuckas high-fivin' and shit) and generally yucking it up at our expense. They kept us there with those damned lights flashing. For a few uncomfortable minutes we just sat there like smacked asses, until they finally relented, issued our ticket and sent us on our way. We all said a quick Dominus Ominus (or some other latin-sounding shit) and made a b-line outta Providence without the damned Spikes hot dogs. We didn't even stop for gas till we were WELL outta that town. We did make a food stop at a McDonalds hours later. Eric was still fuming from the ticket and thought the counter person was trying to stiff him. for a mcgriddle sandwich, hashbrown, coffee and large orange juice did sound like highway robbery. He repaid the kindness by leaving the condiment station a mess. They were out of milk/cream and Eric gave them something to “keep them busy“. Upon sitting down, we added up his tab together and although still highway robbery, wasn't trumped up by the counterperson. We left and continued heading for Philly. Besides being a long ride, we reached Philly and called it a night. We have a bigger fanbase in Providence Rhode Island than we do in the city of brotherly love. Well worth the trip even with the ticket and the gnarly-ass Indian food.
Psy-Ops in Bristol/Levitown
Well, this one started off freaky enough. The gig was setup through a booking agent for other clubs, who was doing the booking agent of this club a favor. Lemme give you the names. Josh, is the booking agent of Freddies Tavern in Levitown/Bristol. I wrote the location as such, because the townships are separated by a street at this point! Anyway, Bill Martin is the booking Agent for 2 clubs. One in NE Philly, and the other in Levitown. This club, Freddies, is a recently opened club with a beer distributor as it's bread-n-butter. It's a sports bar and is attached via parking lot to a Days Inn. Behind the Days Inn, are the projects of Levitown. The Days Inn is actually the local NO-Tell MOTEL, and since there was trucker parking across the street, you could expect to see some sweet sisters of the evening tendin' bidness. Most of this information was unknown to me at the beginning of our story. What I did know, was that Freddy decided to book bands in this establishment as opposed to dance music. He didn't want to hunt down 8 perspective bands for his 2 per weekend agenda. He turned this over to Josh. Josh, not being “in” with the local music scene, called on the help of Billy Martin. Billy, had a habit of changing the bands and cancelling last minute without notifying Josh. This was bad, because Josh was in the habit of advertising the bands. A necessary step to help generate revenue for Freddy and himself. He advertised in Out-On-the-Town magazine as well as the club website and flyers hung up throughout the area. Without Billy keeping anyone informed of changes, this resulted in people showing up to see one specific band, and leaving because they weren't playing that night. This made the bar no $$ and pissed Josh off royally! If you read the headline: Billy gets beatdown in Bristol, you heard it here first.
We arrive on the scene for our 7:30-8pm load-in time to find that we were playing within spitting distance of the Days Inn, and the bartender had no idea who we were or exactly what was going on. Sean's already surly disposition was made worse by the fact that he'd be performing this close to motel. We weren't exactly sporting leisure suits and playing to blue haired retirees or anything like that, but I could see that Sean was ready to bolt outta there at the first opportunity. I figured, since I was the point of contact on this deal, I should be the one to find out what was going on. First off, I walk in, and the thick-legged barmaid in a miniskirt nearly shit herself. Apparently, there's a sign as you enter the building, which I totally missed, that NO doo-rags, colors or anything of that nature would be allowed in. I usually wear a bandana, because I sweat like a hog. Drumming doesn't exactly help this personality trait very much. Not knowing that I'd be the only chocolate chip on the cookie AND wearing what looks to the unitiated, like a heinous doo-rag, I was breaking all-kindsa rules! Seems the non-white stayed behind the Days Inn, in the projects and didn't venture forth (at least not to Freddies) and the non-ethnics, stayed closer to the main roads and establishments dotted out that way. Here I come a-waltzin' my big black ass through the joint, wearing contraband, and asking questions. Luckily, the manager on at that time figured I wasn't here to shoot up the place, but had a legitimate reason to be there. I just was too bold and smiley about it. Nothing shifty, and I wasn't wearing anything that could conceivably conceal a firearm. If they'd checked my right ankle holster, this could've needlessly ended a completely different way than it did, but lets move on. I introduced myself and we figured out that we were the opening act of the evening. The headline act was a band that was well known in the area and they expected the place to be PACKED tonight. But, as my luck would have it, this band cancelled and another band was coming in their place. Neither of the bands tonight had much of a draw in this area. This was a deadly combination for making $$. Talking to the drummer in the other band, a blues band no less, we discovered that they were hired on by the ex headliner as the new headline act. We accepted our slot in life (opener) and decided that 10:30 was a good starting point. We'd do 1hr of music and they'd fill the rest in. I have friends in the area, and they arrived in a 2-car convoy to have some dinner first, and then enjoy the show. There were two children with them. 11 and 12yrs old. My friend Vinessa spoke directly to Freddy about them coming into the bar. It was agreed upon, that because the parents of both children were present, as long as they sat near the stage, didn't go anywhere near the bar, and didn't run amok, all was well. This settled, we drove off leaving Sean and Eric at the bar to get some dinner. We had over 2hrs to accomplish this task.
There's an arguably famous restaurant in Bristol called Georgines. It's a little fancy, and across from it, is their take-out/pizza joint called the Marketplace. The Marketplace occasionally gets it right when I ask for a veggie grinder. This wasn't one of those times. I asked for a veggie grinder. This consists of all the non-meat pizza toppings on a long roll with provolone cheese. Heated up of course. Just enough to melt the cheese and meld the veggies into a kinda stew on a roll. As we were pulling out of the take-out joint, and headed back to Vinessa's place to eat, the phone rings. Turns out, the headline act wanted us to go on at 10pm instead of 10:30. And since there was no PA system in the place, we were borrowing theirs. Upon opening the sandwich box, I found a mound of veggies (black&green olives, mushrooms, brocolli and spicy spinach) on a long roll with provolone cheese and no mayo or oil.
As requested. But it wasn't warmed up in the oven at all and the brocolli was still frozen! On the upside, the counter-person let us have 1 free 2-liter soda for being patient. She'd taken the order of a group that came in after us by mistake. I was also given a free bag of chips for my trouble. I offered to pay, but since I was only buying a single-serving bag, she waved my money away. I wolfed down my dinner and headed back to setup my kit by 10pm. I arrived with nearly 30mins. Plenty of time. There was a grand total of 20 people in a bar that could easily handle 100+.
We bash through our set and were asked to turn down only once. We also had our set cut short by like 10-15mins. We weren't the flavor of the month so to speak. So, we took our lumps and got off stage. All was well, or so we thought. Outside, after the performance, I was talking with my friends and saying good-byes. Eric walks up. I asked him if he had the van keys, so I could stop carrying around the sandwich remnants and chips from dinner. He thought Sean had the keys. Sean borrowed them earlier to get his smoke on in the van, pre-show. Must've been that good blueberry shit again, cause his ganga smokin' ass locked the keys in the van!! Now we're locked out of our own van and it's getting' on time to head home. After much to do with a borrowed wire hanger from one of the doormen of the club, Eric manages to open the door. Sure enough, inside we find the keys. We're feeling better about making it home again. Miss Miniskirt shows up to remind Sean about his bar tab and that she still has his license. He took this time to also see if Josh showed up, and to ask him about pay. This resulted in a FULL description of the evening from Josh's point of view and that he was sorry about how the whole situation went down and to never trust that damned Billy Martin with any bookings again! He left a scathing message to Billy on his answering machine right in front of us. Sean was persistent about getting at least gas money back into Philly. Josh relented and took it out of the door money that the headliner was getting and we said our goodbyes. Moral here? Don't get booked in Bristol by Billy, or just stay outta there. Unless you're a middle-aged blues or cover band, you're not going to have anything good come of it anyway.
01.23.04 The GREEN ROOM, Providence Rhode Island [part IV]
I bolt out of work at 3pm and leap into the waiting van, and find out that we've still got to load the equipment in. The plan was that the equipment would be already loaded and all we would need do it pedal to the metal to Rhode Island. It's a 5+ hr trip, and we were going on first. We were playing the Green Room instead the AS220, our normal hangout in Providence,RI. It's bitter cold, and we know it's only going to be worse in the frozen North. We make an attempt of a pitstop at a friend of Sean's house, but he couldn't find the house as we were coming from a different direction. After a brief madcap caper in Kensington, in the cold, we loaded up our van and rolled like donuts.
Only one stop on the way up and that was mainly because poor Eric was damn-near falling asleep at the wheel. Unbeknownst to me, whenever he drives at the same time the sun is going down, it causes his eyelids to follow. I get the feeling, we'll make rock-n-roll history one of these trips by doing a Whitesnake blaze of glory routine! Also found out on this trip, that the heater fan in the van makes a weird noise if it's on while making a right-hand turn! But at least everything else was functioning normally and the tank was 3/4 full!
We arrive at the club with little to report. Betty Finn is the headline act for the night and they were returning the favor of getting on a bill with us in Philly. This is one of the most professionally run and convenient places for a travelling band to play.
Although the club is on the 2nd floor, there's a convenient freight elevator. No passengers are allowed, but you pull into the FREE parking lot, load your equipment on the elevator and meet it on the 2nd floor. Roll it through the club and as near the stage as possible. Ample room for 3-4 band bills. All bands get wristbands, and non alcoholic beverages are FREE all-night. Drafts are and bottles are 1/2 price. There was even some food to be had, but because of our late arrival, we opted to just soak up the heat and try to relax for 45mins before hitting the stage.
Our stickers are everywhere, and everybody seems to already know us. Soundman had our sticker in his wallet. Doorman had our sticker on his cash-box. It was a well-needed ego boost. We were opening the show, as Betty Finn had done for us a few weeks earlier in Philly, but we weren't dampened by that. The room wasn't too populated until between the end the 1st and beginning of our 2nd song. Even though Sean broke 2 strings and had none on his backup guitar, we were well received. He had to restring and tune onstage, taking up part of our allotted time. Good sized, and very appreciative crowd filled in the room. Those in the pool area must've been waiting for some music to start. The Green room has a giant room filled with 20 pool tables, a bar and half dressed, all-female bartenders and waitresses. To hear the bands, there's a cover and a smaller room There's no door per se, but the sound is kept inside the room very well. KILLER sound system and stage arrangement here. One of the first times playing on a professionally built drum riser too. Mics everywhere and a soundman that isn't too pushy, but got his point across when were running low on time. We already had a place to stay. Two in fact! There was a lesbian couple that recently bought a large house and offered to put us up, as they had several bedrooms and only used one. A Russian princess that Sean knew, also offered to put us up in a spare bedroom. At the close of the show, we found out there was an afterparty at Betty Finn's house. This was a most unusual band. All women except for the drummer. The lead singer and keyboardist were singers and MOM was the bassist. A non-family member on guitar and you have a band. They've made a name for themselves around the Providence area and the Green Room was their home base. The two ladies with the big house, left after the last band, but gave us directions in case we still needed a place to stay. We were headed to the afterparty and then to Masha's house for a place to crash. At the after-party, there's a good-sized crowd mashed into a 2nd floor apartment. Turn's out it was the dwelling of Shannon of Betty Finn. Nice place with classic rock playing softly in the living room and two small cats. As the party people arrived, so did the bored cops of this town. They'd run out of drunken college kids to bust, as the bars had already let out. Because the town isn't that big, it was easy to figure out where everybody was headed and stake the joint out, looking for DUI busts. As a few of the party-goers decided to call it a night, they were busted outside. This caught Shannon's attention, and she tried to keep people from leaving until the cops gave up and went away. Masha, Betsy and Kathy arrived before this and were already trying to steer us to their neck of the woods, so they could call it a night. After a few harrowing minutes and some gnarly U-turns later, we arrived at Masha's. Her roommate was away, so we were sleeping in there. Betsy was sleeping over, but Kathy lived up the street and headed for home. I asked for a needle and some thread to sew on a lost button. I'd ripped it off earlier, while loading the van. Long winter coats, contorting your body into peculiar balancing acts, while trying to fit heavy equipment into cramped spaces, was all the poor thing could take. Luckily, like all fine outerwear, it came with spares sewn on. Even at the expense of lots of cool points or looking eccentric, I wasn't about to go around with air-conditioning in the bitter cold of Providence Rhode Island in January!!
The next morning, we awoke and made our way in Betsy's car to the Modern Diner. This was an oxymoron, as the place looked like something outta the 40's and was! An actual 1940's diner, still intact and serving food just like Grandma used to make. Generations were enjoying the fare of this place. You could get down home or downright fancy, but No credit cards please. After a great breakfast and some intense coffee, free refills even though the sign reads "only one refill with every meal." We made our way to the center of town. Sean went to Wickenden street, which is the more bohemian end. Eric and I went to the more trendy end on Thayer St. We checked the record store, where we have some CD's on consignment and hung some flyers on conveniently located kiosks for our show the very next Sunday at AS220.
Seeya then!
03.06.24 Psy-Ops in Pittsburgh
I got off at 3pm, ran outside to find the van ready and waiting. Sean was sitting in back with our Manager Gina (G-Money)Fantozzi, and Eric was at the helm. The equipment was packed, fuel tank was topped off, and all was well. We were told, and later guestimated, that Pittsburgh was about 6hrs from Philly. This in mind, and the fact that we'd have to pass through at least one city during rush-hour, Eric was blazing a trail so we wouldn't be late. Our stalwart, faithful steed, is a Dodge van of 1987 vintage. Loaded down with us, equipment, and a tankful of gas, we should've eased up a taste, even if that mutha is RAM tough! West of Philly, PA is very mountainous. Blasting uphill at crazy speeds, with a fully loaded van, spells disaster. About 2 1/2hrs into the trip, we start smelling something burning. Then we saw smoke. Blue smoke inside the van. Temperature gauge said all was well. Plenty of oil, and a practically new transmission told us it wasn't that. We pull over to find a hose had come undone. We blaze on, but the van is definitely ailing. We decided we'd fix it after the show. ONWARD!
We decided to push on till the next rest stop, and let the van cool off. We were getting hungry anyway, so we'd just let things chill, while we hunted down some eats. If you've ever done any road trips on a toll road, you know there's nothing but nasty ass fast food. Being vegetarian doesn't make this easy. Dinner for me, turned out to be 2orders of fries, coleslaw, biscuits and a small vanilla shake. This information might sound trivial now, but it'll become decidedly important later. Gina got out of line to ask Sean what he wanted, and got back inline. I was still piecing together what I could order, and let her back in ahead of me. Apparently another lady had wandered up, and Gina walks right up to the counter and gets waited on. The lady was livid and let the staff and fellow diners know it. Gina mumbled something at her and went back to our table undaunted. We chuckled as the patrons looked at our table, whispering amongst themselves as if we were marauding Huns. We went out, and got into the cooler, but none the less ailing van, and limped into Pittsburgh.
We arrived in spite of some bass-ackward mapquest directions, to find that there are 3 bands on the bill. A band from Delaware going first. Us going 2nd and the Smut Project topping off the bill. The place was the only Polish Restaurant in Pittsburgh, and it was in little Italy. Had we known, we wouldn't have opted for Roy Rogers, even with his fries served in a paper holster you could hang from your belt like a six-gun! It's a great space and the sound was really contained towards the front. Things were actually managably loud towards the rear of the room. The only strange thing, was that the stage had doors that were about 5 feet off the ground (no stairs) overlooking the parking lot. Bands were expected to use this entry as opposed to dragging equipment through the restaurant, disturbing customers. This presented a small problem with Eric's rather large bass cabinet, but a little teamwork, and all was well.
Now it's time to hit the stage, and in the middle of setting up, that weird ass combo from Roy's was doing a rodeo in my belly! I rushed offstage, and down the stairs to the men's room. The door didn't lock, but I had NO choice in the matter. Twice during my therapeutic colon cleansing, I had the door open up. I simply lowered my head and held up a hand trying to maintain as much dignity as I could manage with my pants around my ankles and my eyes tearing up. Somebody need to bitch-slap Roy for servin' up that greasy ass food! Can't a brutha get a halfway healthy meal outside of the big city!?!?
Anyway, to add insult to injury, my oh-so therapeutic relief won't flush! Yes bruthas-n-sistahs, I'm the only chip on the cookie here in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania's little Italy, and Philly was properly represented. I'm due onstage, and although there's a plunger right there, I had to leave it to someone else. Good thing they have soap and paper towels in here. Would've felt right disgusted with myself if I couldn't wash my hands and splash a lil water on my face after all this. Hands washed, colon cleansed, toilet clogged, it's time for rock-n-roll y'all!!
We hit the stage like a hurricane. People were liking it, and our set came off really well. For a moment, I'd almost forgotten that the van was dying, and we might be faced with taking trains home, while AAA towed the van, loaded with our equipment back to Philly. There was a band called the Fitt there in the audience. They are going to play with the Smut Project and us on April 30th, at this very venue. They'd heard so much about us from the Smuts, they just had to come see for themselves what all the hub bub was about. Thankfully, we lived up to the hype. Afterward, I found out I wasn't the only chip on the cookie. There was a tall sister there with a very studious looking gentleman, who'd come to support the hometown heroes, the Smut Project. It was about here, that I noticed one of the doormen was giving me the hairy eyeball. At first I thought it was bout to git racial up in this piece, but that wasn't it. I didn't get the "if you ain't white, you ain't right" vibe from him. I hadn't done anything wrong here........ Wait!!! Dude worked there, and was probably called into duty to take care of my little present downstairs. The guys playing pool down there, probably ratted my ass out. "Yeah, big bruh went in there, and went raw dawg, buck wile, up in there!" Philly in da HOOOOOOooooooussssssssse!!
After the performance, I was outside catching some fresh air. Stagelights wear a brutha out. We gotta get clubowners to go fluorescent or something. After a quick band meeting, we decide that we're going to take the Smut Project up on their offer to stay the night. Eric was beat from all the driving and worrying about making it in our ailing vehicle, and we needed a mechanic to take a look at our van anyways. It might've made it back to Philly the way it was, but we would probably do further damage. Turns out, the Smuts, us, the Fitt and the band from Delaware were ALL going to be sleeping over. Can you say Animal house!?!?! We get there, and it's a giant 3-story Victorian. Much like those in West Philly if you're familiar. I found a semi quiet spot and passed out in a recliner. One of the Smuts offers me a blanket and I was out like a light.
Awoke the next morning and it was time to figure out something to do with this ailing van. Eric and I decided to take charge of the situation. Boy were we headed for the day from hell. We goto the 1st mechanic. A toothless brutha with a nappy 'fro tells Eric that we have to leave this section of town and go 1 town up to Monroeville. We get there and find the Pep Boys, then the Meineke and a few other national fix yo shit chains. They were too booked up. State emissions were due, and people were on a deadline to pass, or have to pay additional fees. Nobody could fit us in. He sent us to another place. Guy can't take a look for 1hr. We wandered off and found coffee and bagels. After waiting the hour, just to have him look and say, he can't fix it!! He sends us onward to another place. This continues throughout Saturday. Finally, we arrive at a place that will electronically diagnose our problem, and probably has the needed parts in house. We have to wait an hour before he can even look at it. We went wandering, and found a music store with $1 albums. Looking for a new strap, Eric broke his only bass strap during the show, and thumbing through the piles of records should kill some time. Midway through the pile of records, Eric's cell went off. Guy figured out what's wrong and can have us Philly-bound in 2hrs, but it's gonna cost $400!! Even the 3-legged cat in the music stored jumped when Eric and I hit the roof about what we'd have to spend in order to get home. We told him to do it. What choice did we have? Here's the clincher. There was still another $100 worth of work, and parts that'll get added to this later. Turns out, all the hoses were in need of replacement, and he didn't have 'em. He re-routed 'em to get us home, and replaced the distributor, wires, plugs and did some fancy re-routing of the electrical as well as vent and pressure hoses, but we'd be dealing with a 3% power loss till we got those hoses replaced and properly routed. Wouldn't hurt the engine any, and it would get us safely back to Philly. The busted exhaust hose was pointed down at the ground to keep us from death by asphyxiation. Eric and I found an antique car show and sat down. Seems every weekend, these guys with their gussied up antiques tailgate at this diner and show off what they have. There was a van there, with big speakers playing 50's music just for authenticity. This was a much welcomed distraction.
Meanwhile, back at the house, Sean has made an easy alliance with the singer of the Smut Project, and we're planning gig swaps with them and other bands/venues all the way to Chicago! West of that, we'll need another alliance or "in", but this was great news in the face of what we'd just endured. it was a good thing we split our resources, and didn't all pile into the van. Also, a good thing some CD's and buttons sold. Any pay we got, was instantly gone! Van guzzled it right up, but the trip was NOT a bust. We solidified a much needed foothold in Western PA and expanded our audience. We'd also made alliances with all the right people to start scheduling weekend outings that would result in shows that would produce more than "just enough money to get us to the next town". Gas, tolls, food and repairs and wreak havoc with a band's finances. The Smuts can get sponsorship deals for their shows, which go a long way with advertising and getting the word out about specific shows. Our next show here in Pittsburgh will probably be sponsored by a national beer company with an adertising budget. This off of one show in Philly, and then one successful show here in Pittsburgh. Not bad, not bad........
Psy-Ops in Pittsburgh III
Friday 07.09.04
Took the day off, to make the trip easier. Eric showed up on time, but a big accident prevented us from picking Sean up. Ended up bypassing the highway in favor of Route 30 to get us to the main line area, which took a bit of doing. We pick him up in Wayne, where he's doing a painting job, grab a cup of coffee, and we're outta there! Well, until remnants of that earlier accident had us once again sitting in traffic for roughly an hour! Turns out, two winnebago's had a fight and took each other out, along with 5 cars! No radio, no air conditioner, van over-heating, roasting like Thanksgiving duck, we survived, ONWARD!
We arrive about 30mins before the opening act goes on. 2 dueling drummers onstage. Then the Fitts, then us, and finally the Smut Project. Lots of familiar faces were there. Great bill. We're pleased with all but the opening song of our set. As usual, the real fun starts AFTER the show.
It's obvious, we're staying the night. It's obvious, we're staying at the party-house of the Smut Project. I ended up in their roommate Mo's bed. Cute Japanese girl, who went to her boyfriends, to allow someone use of her room. She offered, and I accepted. Her room has a door, and since I don't "party" anymore, I needed a relatively quiet place to crash. Her futon was directly on the floor Japanese style. I am also an afficianado of the futon, but have a frame. After a night on little Mo's bed, I came home and dismantled my frame. I'm a purist in most things, so I'll just add this to the list!
Anyway, if you remember our last outing to Pittsburgh, you'll remember my mention of a girl with a killer set of legs. Well, now I have a name for those legs. It's Meredith.
Cute as a button, with legs to die for, and a butt to match! I know this, because she just had to show us her oh-so-cute Hello Kitty underwear she just bought. Meredith hiked her skirt up to her neck, and boy weren't those panties the cutest! Let's just say, if she doesn't shave, she doesn't leave much turf on the ol' field. Eric is invited to hang out at a different party than the one at the Smut Project house, with Merry Meredith as his tour-guide back to the Smut Shack. Sean and I get a ride from members of the FITTs/Smut Project. Eric and Meredith crash a pool for a late-night dip! Making their get away, she manages to break a toe. The cost of being cool in the dark, in the pool............FOOL!!! I went right into the house and went straight to bed.
Downstairs the party was rocking. Beer, burning medicinal herbs, and venison for all!! Glad I slept through it. I awoke and not finding how to get little Mo's computer onto the internet, decided to see what her taste in literature was. Luckily, she had the original graphic novel, now movie, Road to Perdition. I read the whole thing before seeing who else was up, and highly recommend this book.
I hear laughter, and go downstairs. One of the guys from the Smut Project lets me use his computer. Next to his desk, is a really cool room divider. It's really old paned shutters held together with hinges. In some of the window panes, there are photos. The most notable, were the ones of a womans crotch as she's peeing into a toilet. Then the actual pee/water mix in the toilet. I can only assume it was his wife's crotch I was just eyeballing. She lives 4 doors down from the Smut Project house, and they even have kids! His explanation is "how else do you do it, if your wife is a writer, and you're a rock-n-roll party animal? The creative forces are too much for a "conventional" marriage." I'd have to agree. Just hide the pee shots when guests are around, or people will go off and write about the shit!
We're already booked for 2-3 more shows up here, and have reciprocated, by invited both the Fitts and the Smut Project to play with us in NYC next month. Now THAT ought to be a raucus journal entry!
Homeland Security II
Sean was “detained” yet again! This incident, took place on Monday 07.26.04 at approximately 07:30. He was standing on the Girard Avenue El station. There’s an over-pass there, that allows you to cross over from the Westbound side to the Eastbound, or vice versa. Sean decided this would make a nice, panoramic shot. Very artistic. He was recently given a new camera, and hadn’t tested it yet. Perfect opportunity! He walks up to the middle of the overpass, and catches a train making its way into the Girard station. Great shot. As he’s returning the camera to his backpack, his face violently makes contact with the metal grating. His arm is mysteriously, and awkwardly twisted, while a voice asks him what he’s doing. After being spun around, two detectives start questioning him as to why he’s taking pictures. The newly enforced “Patriot Act” gives them the right to “detain” anyone for as long as it takes to ascertain their reasons for being where they are, and/or doing what they’re doing. He’s then taken to a detective station, and put in a cell for 7+ hours! While in there, he speaks with his cell mates. He’s in there with the crème de’ la crème. Attempted and successful murderers, drug traffickers and the lot. After politely asking a passing detective if he can leave, he’s astonishingly released 5mins later. A detective coming off shift, escorts him outside and point him in the way back to civilization. The station was a little off the beaten path.
Psy-Ops. in Pittsburgh 4
Saturday, August 23rd. We were supposed to meet up at the rehearsal studio at 1pm. Through a mishap. Eric and I arrived at 2pm. Sean still hadn't replaced the tube in his amp since the last show at the Tokio Ballroom in Philly. Our recent show at Silk City, he played through the amp of one of the other bands. Anyway, we pull off to a brief, but horrific rain storm. Onward!
Gina accompanied us on this trip, as she has sometimes in the past. She has brought her usual schnacks. Made a couple stops along the way, and made Pittsburgh just shy of 8pm. We drove around for a little bit thinking we could find the Smut Shack unaided. This was not to be, so we returned to the club to wait for things to begin unfolding. While I was outside having a little take-out Chinese, the Smut Project arrived. There seemed to be something amiss. The guys seemed distant, unfocused. I'm not talking about from drink, and herbs. This was different. Anyway, we later found out that they'd in fact found a new drummer, and that there was a 4th band on the bill. The Dammit Janets. All girls with a male drummer.
The Dammit Janets open the show, and the night begins. Next are the Fitt, and they rock as usual. Then we go on, and it was a pretty uneventful performance except Sean breaking a string, and borrowing a guitar from the Dammit Janets left onstage. It's requested that we play a song we haven't played in nearly a year, and we managed to pull it off without a hitch. Things started turning up at this point. Next, the Smut Project hit the stage. The boys were definitely there in person, but not in spirit. Something was amiss. We know that Brandon's grandfather had recently passed. Maybe the effects hadn't fully passed yet. Onward!
After the show, there's the usual scramble for a seat in somebody's car to make it to the Smut Shack for the ever-popular after gig party. It was at this point, that Meredith and her look-a-like little sister Katherine show up. I notice a stir and wandered over to see what the matter was. Katherine, all of 21, was verbally blasting Brandon a member of the Smut Project. Turns out, he'd agreed to be the designated driver of her car full of rowdies. She proceeded to get shit-faced, and found out later, that he was too! She has a stick-shift, and nobody felt comfortable driving it except him. Now, he's trashed, she's trashed, and supposedly nobody else can drive her manual transmission home without needing help from Midas in the foresee-able future. Meredith is trying to calm her down, but Brandon made things worse with the ever-popular phrase "whatever, man". Sean took off with 3 women after the show. This wouldn't have been a problem, except he'd left his cell phone back in Philly. How would we know where he was the next day, when we were ready for the trek back home? Eric was peeved about Sean's departure, and the possibility of having to leave him in Pittsburgh the next day. Meredith was off comforting her raging little sister, and Gina made friends with a girl named Jenn. She'd apparently hand-picked her for Sean, but he was off making plans of his own. Gina and Jenn in Jenn's car, Meredith, Katherine and some collage of the Fitt & Smut Project in various vehicles, we make the drunken caravan back to the smut shack!
Soon after arrival, Katherine is laying into Brandon again. Meredith (who used to date Brandon) chimes in. The estranged wife of Brandon from down the street, is in the room with him, and doesn't appreciate the shenanigans. The fight continues well into the wee hours! I fell asleep in a recliner with a blanket of dubious cleanliness for comfort from the chilly Pittsburgh evening. I awoke the next morning, at an unheard of (for me) 9am. The plan was to plug all the post show shenanigans into my trusty word processor this morning while the house slept off their drunken revelry. I woke up just prior to Eric trying to get into the bathroom. This also suddenly made me have to go! Now, we're all peed out, Gina included, and ready for some coffee and breakfast. Sean is still M.I.A. We drive around Pittsburgh until we happen upon an open diner. Let me tell you, there are NO diners open on a Sunday in Pittsburgh save this one. At 5th & Penn Ave, is a placed called D & G's. While were there having breakfast, the phone rings. Sean asked Gina to bring him a breakfast sandwich on a bagel and some coffee. We make our way back to the house, pick him up, and make tracks for Philly. The next time we play Pittsburgh, it'll be at a different club. We've graced hallowed halls of the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern 3 times now. We've earned a shot at a club just up the street, but of more prestige. Sean’s night was WAY better than ours. He went off with 3 Hot party girls to a party in a mansion. There were dozens of party goers at this mansion. We were invited to participate, but Meredith was our “in” and she was involved in her own situation, and forgot to tell us about the party. Next time we’ll know.
Psy-Ops. in NYC
09.22.04 Lizard Lounge/ Otto's Shrunken Head
We were booked for the Lizard lounge on Wednesday, Sept 22nd. In the van were John Rossi, our photo journalist. Gina Fantozzi, our promoter/manager, and the three of us. We didn't need to carry much equipment, because in NY, you use the backline or you don't play! The clubs are just too small to accommodate everyone's equipment. There was just nowhere to store it pre-performance, and nowhere to unload it after without blocking the following bands getting their equipment to the stage in a timely manner. It was just better to play what was already on stage and suck it up. Got there without incident or pee breaks, and found that we totally didn't mesh with the decor of the place. This gig was booked before Gina made a few contacts, so we took it because we really didn't have a choice. Like all or at least most NYC clubs, we were one of many bands sharing the stage that night. We got there to see a young pop act, fronted by a little wisp of a 20something girl. She was cute as a button and under 5feet tall. She apparently had her family and friends there. The lay of the land here in the big apple, is that you have to supply at least 20 people to "graduate from a weeknight to the weekend. To headline a weekend, you need to successfully supply a room with 20 or more patrons on three or more consecutive appearances. We had bupkus! A grand total of 5 people were going to pay the $5 cover to see our illustrious 30minute set. We knew it, the owner knew it, it just wasn't our scene. The Lizard Lounge, is actually the basement of a semi-posh restaurant. Linen tablecloths, napkins and wait-staff in tuxedo vests and bow ties. We were on the wrong side of town and we knew it! Sean was reluctant to leave after driving all the way to NY. I felt him on this point, but also understood the owner. He had a cover band onstage, just before us, that had backup singers, and a horn section. These folks had a 70something grandma out there kicking up her skirts. The place was having a ball. Onstage, there was one pretty, redheaded, 20something, having the time of her life. The musicians were top notch, but just watching this girl having fun was worth the price of admission. She was one of three female backup signers. 2 white and 1 black, who played the violin on a Steve Winwood song, but girlfriend couldn't hold a note if it had handles. She was having the time of her little life, and it was infections. Funny to watch, but not our crowd. Gina knew about a semi-private birthday party across town where a booking agent named Frank Wood, wanted to help us. He had scored us 9gigs over the next 2 months in NY, and was a big fan apparently. With Sean ranting about how we were pussies for not wanting to ruin the owners business for the night by scaring everybody out of the club, we split and ended up playing at said private party in a club across town called Otto's Shrunken Head, at the last minute. Frank Wood is a real character, and booking agent for many clubs throughout NYC. His favorite is Otto's. He booked a band to play the birthday party and Gina called, told him what happened to us at the Lizard Lounge, and he said to c'mon down. The birthday party was actually for 4 separate people. The owner, and 3 other guys. The DJ was the bassist of the New York Dolls, and he had to hop a plane to Japan the next day where their tour was starting off. We played to a MOST appreciative audience of radio personalities, club-owners and band members from semi-famous to some local heroes. Johnny Resistant (whose real name is John Lennon, was there. We were playing with the Resistants in Philly the coming Saturday night. They put us on one of their famouns Monday night parties at the Delancey Lounge about a month back. This was our payback for letting us hop on their coat tails for that show. This fiasco of a night, turned into our best NYC gig to boot. Frank was proud to announce that he's booked us all about town, and that he takes full responsibility for our "discovery" and emergence into the NY scene. Those in the
"scene" accepted us with open arms. We didn't get home till 4ish, and having to be up at 6am for work, I just stayed up. Well worth a sleepless night though.
Psy-ops in West Chester – 10.01.04 REX's
I leap into the van as they pull up to my house. Eric's driving, Sean is drunk as a skunk in the front seat. I'm to sit on the couch in back beside Mike, and Gina. Sean and Eric are arguing because somehow, the amp Sean is using tonight was damaged, and somehow, it's Erics fault. Sean has two hotties from Pittsburgh coming to the show, but doesn't know how to tell 'em to get to the club (REX's) This is also somehow Eric's fault, because he knows how to get there, but doesn't know the exact street names. Sean might miss a booty call, and this just can't happen. He's pissed off, cursing at Sean and driving like a lunatic. Gina is hung over from last night's party, and has a history of getting carsick. Mike and Sean are passing around a bottle of Southern Comfort and pot, and are engaged in a ridiculously drunken conversation in between Sean and Eric's verbal jousts. Gina is turning green on the backseat and Mike is too drunk to leaver her alone. She manages to get the point across to his drunken ass, that she's about to blow chunks all over him, me and the equipment nestled in back. Miraculously, this gets through the haze, and he backs off. We arrive to find out we're going on first. I received a new set of snare wires by Grover Pro percussion, and decided this was the best time to try 'em out. I'm an endorser for their sticks (Silver Fox) and therefore didn't think I was eligible for wholesale pricing on their other products, but I am!
So I'm wrestling with the snare drum and trying to be quick about it. The other bands (Jealous Type and Pepper's Ghost) are loading in at this point. I'm noticing that everybody here tonight (except us) has $1000's of dollars worth of equipment. Being a drummer, I noticed right off that the Jealous Type's drummer had a $6,000 DW kit (not including cymbals and hardware) and the drummer for Pepper's Ghost, had a hand-built AYOTTE drum kit in snow white. $$$. I play a middle of the line Yamaha kit with a cheap snare from Sam Ash! I have a nice Yamaha kit at home for more “classy” gigs, but Psy-Ops opted for this kit which is grittier, and fits our look better. Onward!
Eric is approached by the bassist of the Jealous Type (I think) who offers to let Eric borrow his ridiculously expensive bass amp and cabinet. Eric declines, but the kid is offended that Eric wouldn't want to use his amp instead. He was nice about it, but decided, we'd shlepped our equipment this far, and might as well use it. Lo and behold, Sean's amp was damaged during the “accident” and wouldn't work. He ended up borrowing the guitar amp of one of the guitarists in the Jealous Type, and it was time to play. The girlies showed up, we met them, Eric's girlfriend Betsy and some friends showed up, decent crowd in the place,it was on like popcorn. Uh, till the soundman asked me to give him a quick line check. Now was my turn to act up. Apparently my mounted tom decided to tighten up. Usually, they loosen up from all the bumps-n-vibrations in the back of the van. Soundman says over the PA for all to hear, “did you tune that today? Is that drum tuned?” He then gave me a minute to get it tuned while disgustedly waltzing over to the bar for a drink. That done, we continued my line check and all was well. Then Sean is giving him a line check before we start, and spits on the stage. Soundman gets on the mic again “thanks for spitting on our stage, and no, you can't have anymore vocals in the monitors”. Now because of all the escapades beforehand, there's no setlist tonight. Sean didn't want one, so we'd just hop into the next tune while the guitars were still quieting from the previous song(s). Mike gets up onstage to continue his drunken stage-diving routine from last month. There was nothing to jump off of, and the stage wasn't that far from the ground, so he just slammed around the stage, and got kicked and prodded by Eric and Sean till he did a little tumble offstage and decided to sit down somewhere. Then, Sean broke a string, and we had to quickly figure out what songs could be done without that string. Good thing we had a string of gigs coming up in NYC, or this would've really bummed us all out.
Sean left with the 2 girls in true rock-n-roll fashion. Nothing like finishing off a drunken stage performance with a 3-way party in a cheap hotel room! Eric, Gina, Mike and I settled for stopping at a WaWa to fill up the tank and get coffee. Too cool for school..........
Psy-Ops in NYC I (10.07.04)
We leave the Abbey bar/restaurant in the Northern Liberties section of Philly at approximately 7:15pm. Sean has a gaggle of friends he's bringing with him, so we kinda bring an audience with us in case the audience is sparse. There was Mike the drunken, dreadlocked stage diver. Talkative Dave and a new guy named Nick. Light-skinned, tall, skinny, educated brutha with freckles, glasses and a fro. Quiet, but when he does speak, there's a vocabulary in there thinly veiled behind loads of alcohol. Alco-mah-hol as talkative Dave likes to call it. Gina had an argument with Sean, and also owed him some rent $$. She didn't ditch work, in order to make up the $$ and keep her job a bit longer. She sent her love. Without her though, we were at a slight disadvantage. Didn't find that out till later. ONWARD!
We departed the beloved Abbey, and made our way to Sean's house to pick up the equipment. Now in NYC, you generally use the backline. This is a guitar amp, bass amp, drums and PA system. Because the clubs are small, there's nowhere to safely stash the equipment of the bands waiting to go on. By providing a backline, bands are on and off in record time AND there's not the big dilemma of where to stash equipment without blocking exits, fire doors and the lot. So we're carrying minimal equipment. You don't want to bring your equipment and leave it in the van, because you typically park in some gnarly neighborhoods. Leaving $1,000's worth of equipment in a van with windows in a dimly lit street in NYC is just plain dumb! So, we follow the rule, and bring just the bare necessities. Van is packed, gassed up and pointed at NYC. ONWARD!
We're actually playing in Brooklyn tonight. This little place that I've already forgotten the name of. Because Gina isn't there, Eric MapQuest-ed the directions and was sure he could get us there, but we were now a little pushed for time. We were supposed to go on at 10:30pm. It was approaching 8pm as we were leaving the city of Brotherly Shoves. Needless to say, homeboy was doing his speed racer impression again! It didn't help that he'd been pulled over and nearly thrown in the can for some warrants out for his arrest. Some business with tickets and such. Nothing serious, but you'd think he'd avoid making a target of himself by speeding. If he got pulled over, and they took a look at the gaggle of drunks in the back (I was up front riding shotgun with Eric) combined with his warrant............ Let's just say, I hope nobody dropped the soap before we could get 'em all bailed out! Onward!
Because I love colder climes, I had my window rolled down. This proved to be a very bad thing tonight. As Eric picked up the turnpike ticket, I saw him stash it on the dashboard. Like he always does. The wind from my open window, blew it out of its hiding space a few miles later. Nobody noticed it, because talkative Dave was at it about how bad he hadda pee, and wanted alco-mah-hol, and Eric was too engrossed with getting us either killed or back on schedule to play the gig. We'd much rather pay the $4.80 toll vs. $30 for losing the ticket. We had some really close moments because Eric was driving like Racer X at this point (Fuck Speed Racer, he's a wuss compared to his older brother Rex) while searching the van for the coveted lost turnpike ticket. Again, with the overboard and obvious behavior. I'm expecting a fucking SWAT team to show up the way this kid is swerving and near-missing because his eyes aren't on the road. We're approaching NY and have to get off the turnpike. We randomly pull over for a last ditch look for this damned thing. Lo and behold, he finds it in the driver-side step well. Now we're cooking with gas for sure! ONWARD!
Now we're inside the city that never sleeps, but we're in Manhattan and still have to make our way to the Bronx. Word to the wise. Don't drive too fast in NYC. The turns come up really fast, and traffic will NOT let you in unless you're really aggressive. Enter Eric the eliminator. Cute little brunette and her branny new black SUV were nearly a memory. She looked over like she wished she hadda gun. Unfortunately, my black ass would've been shot first, because Eric passed her exposing my side of the van as the target. Gotta have a talk with that boy sometime soon. The back of the van, is a long couch which comfortably seats 3. Since there are no seatbelts back there, lets just say impact would be VERY interesting for those bouncing along on the couch.
We arrive at this place to find a narrow, long place with a twist. Because you can no longer smoke inside bars in NYC, this place has a rear patio. Complete with a grill and the little man-made pond with real goldfish in it! You can smoke out here without having to leave the bar. Great idea! We managed to find a parking spot right in front of the place and run in. You didn't think it would be that simple didja!?!?! We run in and I spot our NYC promoter/booking agent Frank Woods. He gives a brutha a pound and I tell him we didn't bring any equipment as we were expecting a backline. "Didn'tcha talk to Gina? I told her there was no backline at this place." We're screwed and tattooed. We don't know the opening act or the house band, and can't ask them to borrow. Frankie to the rescue. This is settled in short order, and the opening act goes on. Remember that grill out back? Well I kept seeing these little black clumps of burnt meat on paper plates. See the club provides a venue, cheap drinks and all the burnt chicken you can hold. You don't get paid here, though. This is a promotional gig, so Frankie knows what clubs you'd fit into for later venues. Since it was already booked, we didn't back out, but we really didn't need this shake-down gig. He'd already heard us, and knew where to book us and who with. Long story short, Frank Wood is WELL known in NYC, and well respected, but somebody keep that brutha away from the grill. I thought this lil paison was serving charcoal briquettes! I guess you just hadda be hungry, drunk or some combination thereof. Anyway, the first band is a female fronted band, and they were good musicians. Bass player was a Japanese cat that just ruled the bass. Cute lil lady on lead vocals. I like to see a woman onstage that isn't 19 and nekkid. She had all her clothes on, but still managed to look appealing and really had a voice on her too. Kudos. My CRS(can't remember shit) is kicking in or I'd tell you the name of the band. Oh, KAOS-something. Their guitarist has a bi-monthly cable-access show, so I gave him a business card so we could possibly do an on-air interview or something at a later date. Then the house band went up. My traveling compatriots were getting sloshed/filled on the super cheap drinks and blackened chicken clumps. See, I can be politically correct, and not say the little Frankie burnt up the chicken and had the nerve to smile while servin' dat shit. I gots me some class! ONWARD!
It's time to go on. Sean is lit up like Christmas (dis ain't new y'all) and can't get the borrowed amp to sound right (it was beat up worse than the girl he'd boink in the ladies room later, but we'll get to that later) The amp Eric was borrowing simply wouldn't go any louder. Sean kept complaining (to the point that he threatened to kick his ass for not turning it up and being a wise ass about it) I wasn't having any better luck with the drum kit I was borrowing. Luckily, it was my pedal, snare and cymbals. But his stands would go high enough, there weren't enough of 'em and the mounted tom was in severe need of a head change. It was literally peeling while I was playing. Beggars can't be choosy, so I lived with it. Two drunken girls come in and are dancing about with our cadre from Philly. Kelly, the big legged bartender has a roommate. Cute red headed girl with bruises on her arms from last night's bout of rough sex (or something)
They're all going from dancing about the floor and/or drinking the bar dry. Kelly hadn't seen drinkers this earnest on drying out bottles since the post 911 parties! She even threw some freebies in, just to see if the boys from Philly would have their fill and stop. They didn't!! There were literally emptied bottles to be disposed of later!
Anyway, the night is winding down. Nick is being pawed by this chunky British girl, but since she's not his type, he backs off. Talkative Dave would fuck a jelly donut, so he jumps right in there and starts suckin face. No skin off his nose. The other friend with Miss Brit isn't into the face sucking thing. She'll rub her ass all over you on the dance floor, but don't try to slap a lip-lock on her or nothing. I love being the fly on the wall for these things! Kelly the bartender, is walking those thick thighs around in her slash cut mini skirt. One side was down to just above her knee, while the other side was working HARD to cover her ass. It's getting on time to blow this popsickle stand, when we can't find Sean. I'd seen him go into the ladies room with Kelly's cute, beat-up roommate, but figured they were smoking pot in there. NOT! He was pounding poo-nah-nie in the powder room that little scamp! We were all tired, and wanted to go home, but you don't begrudge your buddy some booty, so we waited till he came out. Big shit-eating grin on his face. Hmmmmmmmm was that a Freudian slip? Anyway, we're back in NYC tomorrow night and playing a strip club to boot! Frankie Wood booked this one, and Sean can't wait. Gina's coming along as well, so this next installment promises to be a lu-lu! Catcha!
PSY-OPS
http://psy-ops.org
|
