The City Veins

Thanks to all of you who came out last night to see us play at the Velvet Lounge…we love that joint, we love Rob (the sound guy, only slightly sexually), and any time our support shows up like last night, we’re happy. Lights Resolve and The Black and White Jackson’s were also great. Please support them both by checking out their myspace pages, that’s really all it takes to make a band happy.
After the show last night we all did the typical “thanks for coming” talk to all of you in the crowd, then we got down to the real deal: taking home a souvenir. A band seemed like an easy mark, so we took home Lights Resolve. As it turns out, they had a prosepctive place to stay when they got down here, but no where solid, so we invited them over. They followed us down 9th to the 395 tunnel, then they over-heated on the bridge, and we left them in the lurch, like only good hosts would. They waited for their van and trailer to settle, and Bayes and I drove home. They’re quite adept at following directions, so they showed up about 25 minutes later. Spencer and I promptly put on our DVR-ed episodes of Flight of the Conchords to set the mood, but I’m not sure they recognized the show: clearly touring musicians don’t have the time on their hands that those of us in the half-assed working world do (although Spencer and Charles actually work).
Then we talked for a couple hours and did what bands ACTUALLY do: there were no groupies or late night boozing. The drummer ate some old egg rolls that were sitting on our coffee table. We talked about their moment of fame in their last band “Last Week” (now with an ironic and meaningful twinge), how they toured asia, how they played on a bill with Gwen Stefani, and how now their new band is trying to make it back from almost scratch with a completely different musical personality. I fained the ability to relate, talked about my experiences playing clubs larger than 150, which are few and far between. Then we talked about Jeff Buckley and the band Ours. I told them I sat up at night in college smoking pot and crying while watching live at the Cabaret Metro, and they called me a wuss. I cried some more. Then, realiziing we were making too much noise for suburbia we all turned in for the night, me in my bed and them on our futon/extremely long L-couch. In your face, mother-fuckers. I got a bed, you don’t.
Those guys are still here. They might stay the week. If they do, you all should come over and hang with the rock-star house. Or at least show up on thursday at TT Reynolds when we play with them again so you can be part of my next blog.
Again, thanks to those who came out last night.

–Aaron