Status Report


  • February 17, 2017
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It finally happened. After sound check at Mississippi Studios/Bar Bar for our surprise (to me at least) performance for 94.7 KNRK here in Portland (Mississippi Studios being named for the street it's on, not the state it's in), I went back behind the stage to warm up. It was a narrow space, especially with all of our empty cases stacked floor-to-ceiling along both walls. On the left, there was a door to a small bathroom. On the far wall, there was a full-length mirror-

Je Pense Que Nouse Sommes Ici


  • February 16, 2017
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Je suis désolee. Mon français n'est pas bon. Je l'ai étudier dans l'écôle, mais je l'ai oublié pour le plupart. J'écris ce "blog” sans utilisant le "Google”- d'accord, mes mots sont merde aujourd'hui.

Time To Split


  • February 15, 2017
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When I started writing this, I wrote "Day Fifteen” at the top and had to double-check. I have officially lost track of the passage of time. We've just pulled into Sacramento. The bus is idling outside of Harlow's. Someone is plucking at an acoustic guitar at one end of the bus- I can't tell which.

BubbleMan 2: Electric Bubbleoo


  • February 14, 2017
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I'm a bit surprised, considering my reservation was for a "Mitsubishi Mirage or similar," but apparently a Mercedez-Benz CLA250 is what passes for an economy vehicle in Wine Country. The price is the same, so I opt not to make a fuss. I've got an appointment with a saxophone wizard in Sebastopol, and if I have to spend a sunny afternoon cruising through the backroads of Sonoma County in a luxury automobile to get there, well, sometimes artists have to make sacrifices.

That's What You Get For Naming Him ''Cujo''


  • February 13, 2017
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I glazed over this yesterday, but we're staying in a pretty funky place. It feels kind of like an old boarding house, with creaky hardwood floors and a charming hodgepodge of old-fashioned and modern interior design. There's a French-language lifestyles magazine in my room, and if I want to try to read it after dark then all I have to do is switch on the lamp in the corner of the room, which is less a lamp in the strictest sense and more a light-up plastic lawn ornament in the shape of a goose.

It's Better Than ''Wash Me''


  • February 12, 2017
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Today is a strange, upside-down sort of day. We got up before breakfast (so like, at 11 A.M.) to play a short acoustic set at KFOG in San Francisco, and now our day is over and we're checked into a quaint hotel/B&B in Petaluma. We have a show here tomorrow (Petaluma, not the quaint hotel/B&B), but we'll be taking it fairly easy for the next three days before we make our final push to the northwestmost corner of the country.

Raise Your Hand If You Aren't Here


  • February 11, 2017
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Welp. I definitely shouldn't have downplayed the weather. Our original bus call was for 3:30 this morning, but we ended up lingering in Tahoe until 8:00 due to hazardous road conditions. Now that the sun is up, we're trudging our way back down the mountain. Not sure to what extent we will be behind schedule when all is said and done, but I'm not worried. I can't possibly be worried. Tonight is going to be a good night.

The Hotel Is Definitely Moving


  • February 10, 2017
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For the second time this tour, I am awakened by the rumble of snow chains grinding their way up a mountain pass. In retrospect, it may not have been entirely accurate of me to describe yesterday's rain as "the first even remotely inclement weather” of the tour, considering that we were delayed by snow last week. I pride myself on having very exacting journalistic standards, and so I apologize for any confusion this may have caused.

Into the Woods


  • February 9, 2017
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It's raining in Santa Cruz. I think this is the first even remotely inclement weather we've encountered so far. It's kind of a perfect day for it, too. Yesterday's show at the Fonda Theatre in Los Angeles was, as anticipated, a big-time booty bash. A real rump-shaker. A zinger of a hum-dinger, if you will.

Maybe That's How They Make Rocket Fuel


  • February 8, 2017
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I once read somewhere that ritual is a hallmark of addiction. For many addicts, it's as much about the process as it is about the substance: rolling a cigarette, flicking a needle, meticulously chopping up a neat line of powder. It's not surprising. The more modern view of substance abuse focuses on its role as a retreat or an escape rather than the simple desire to stave off the physical symptoms of withdrawal.