Friday January 22, 2009

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Sunday November 9, 2008

In 2000, the clever Republican machine snatched the election from the jaws of defeat. We must all hand it to them. To be able to pull off such a coup at that level of government with little to no violence, and to maintain the power for as long as they did, is flat out astounding. Republican machine, for your sheer audacity, we salute you.

The Republican machine's roll in the 2004 election was far more sinister and subversive, though equally effective. Lulling to sleep hundreds of thousands of concerned individuals, they made us believe that there was no way in Hell that their figurehead, Bush Jr., would be elected again. And so, we concerned individuals didn't take the time to visit our polling stations in 2004 because we figured the rest of the country would take care of it for us. The depression following that day lasted for a very long time and we were beside ourselves, the machine had done it again.

This time, however, it was the Democrats who employed the most ingenious trick of all. Nobody knows when, but at some point a highly skilled spy was selected from the newly formed Super Secret Democrat Intelligence Committee, we'll call him, or her, "Deep Nozzle". Deep Nozzle's task was to infiltrate the Republican machine to the point where his, or her, advice was to be taken seriously. In effect, Deep Nozzle donned that red cloak of lunacy and became a conduit through which the master plan would find its target. And so, Deep Nozzle, in his, or her, greatest triumph, at the exact perfect time in history, whispered into the Republican machine's ear that Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska would be the perfect running mate for John McCain. Slightly befuddled but trusting in Deep Nozzle's advice (well done soldier), the machine went ahead and offered to the voters that Sarah Palin is exactly what the United States needs. The rest, my friends, is history. Deep Nozzle, we salute you.

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Friday November 7, 2008

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Tuesday October 7, 2008

I get it, nobody ever really wants to do the dishes right? I mean, you just spent 20 minutes of your life slicing up various delectable edibles, spicing and mixing your heart out. Then you've gotta throw various levels of heat at those suckers, those succulent bits of tongue ticklers, which takes about another 20 minutes. Then you must masticate. We must all masticate, don't deny it. Said mastication doesn't just happen in an instant, and before you know it, an hour's gone by from start to finish of this whole damn charade. Who the hell made us creatures that must eat anyway!!??

And then, when your belly's all full and your eyelids drop halfway over your eyes, and you feel like you've just conquered the world with your clever little dinner, you go to get a bit more juice from the fridge and god dammit there's all these dirty dishes in the sink! It's not enough that we must labor for mere survival, you have to mock us after we've survived!!!! So we put the juice down, put a Hank Williams Sr. record on the record player, engage the hot and cold knobs until the stream is just hot enough it's not scalding, and off we go.

It takes a minute, but soon we're hypnotized by the warm running water, the fruits of our efforts as we see the grime slide away, and, of course, Hank letting us know that we're not the only ones suffering. And then we're in it. We could wash dishes for hours, and we dream of washing dishes for hours. The plates are first because they're big and easy, save the utensils for last. As the sink becomes more and more empty, we become sad. Why didn't I eat more?? Why didn't I cook more?? It's ok friend, you will eat again.

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Sunday September 28, 2008

Press play or click here for the movie.

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Wednesday September 24, 2008

Dude, the people from Global Comm were like, "Yo, hombres, why don't you guys play another show at Rehab, that shit was crazy!!" Naturally, we were like, "Yo, dude, for sure!" And so here we are, ready to show those Global Comm jokers what a party is like. You know what a party is like? Oh yeah, it's got drugs and whiskey methinks.

So, that being said, we're playing at Rehab Thursday October 2nd, 8pm. We'd love nothing more than to see your tasty bodies there.

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Monday September 15, 2008

We ripped this pic right outta gawker. Lee's been saying for months that he didn't have a side modeling gig, but none of us believed him. Lee, you dog.

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Wednesday September 10, 2008

Here stands The Hammerstein Ballroom, aka Bollywood, aka Hep Hep, aka Monkeyboy, aka Jonny Beancake. He's pumping out lows. Hammer's now a proper rockstar, so his involvement with Sally Head is on a 'by reservation' basis. This is Hambone recording bass parts for our new recordings. Now, you can't tell just by looking at him, but he's stoned out of his mind and drunk on whiskey. Actually, here's a shot, maybe you can tell by looking at him.

Now, you definitely can't tell by looking at me, but I've been hanging out with Hammar.

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Tuesday September 9, 2008

About two and a half weeks ago I bought a bike. About a week and a half after that, someone stole my bike. About an hour and a half after that, I accepted it. About a week after that, some crack drainer sold me a bike he probably stole from someone else. I shouldn't assume he's a crack drainer. It's a nice bike, and I've modified its appearance so as to not be so easily not distinguished if you don't get what I'm not sayin.

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Tuesday July 29, 2008

We are currently, at the moment, for the time being, in this present state, devising our recorded attack on your eardrums. Come back now and again and we'll update you with how things are going. We're being a bit quiet around town at the moment, but only because we love you. You know what they say - if you love something, let it go, and if it falls deep into the depths of volcanic molten lava, well then it's not likely to live, but at least you loved it. Then go love something else, and you'll know from then on never to drop something you love into a volcano. So you know, learn from your mistakes. That's the saying anyway. Peace be with you.

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Tuesday July 8, 2008

Hello gentleberries and monkeysnatchers, we are officially back and finished roaming around the lovely South. Because I poured a little chowda into my head before taking off, I didn't have the cord to connect my computer to my photo taking device, so the updates on the blog were not so many. Now being back in the newest of yorks, such problems have been remedied and we shall be vigilant in updating here with shenanigans. First, however, let us recap the last portion of the tour.

After Mississippi, we headed down to Nashville to play at The Basement. Our good buddy Nathan "Hat Season" Roland bestowed upon us bountiful hospitality- allowing us to crash at his crib, drink his beers, and he even played bass with us at the gig at The Basement. You go Nathan! The basement looked like this ...

Then after a long but glorious evening of after-drinking, we woke up and boarded a very small plane that flapped its wings really hard and took us to Athens. Check out this view, have you ever actually seen yourself landing in a plane? It's freaky...

Interestingly enough, we didn't die in the tiny plane. I was slightly disappointed at this as I thought it might bestow upon me Big Bopper-like legendary status. I guess I'll have to achieve legendary status just like the rest of the Gold Rushers, and find enough nuggets to build a large toilet made of pure gold.

We played at Tasty World in Athens with Mitchell Thunderbolt, who stuck it to the man with his awesome tune-slinging, and Velveteen Pink, whose funktronic antics included unbelievable key-tar solos, neck-popping breaks and a 7-armed drummer. Very nice hanging out with everyone.

Thanks 10 million times to Hank "The Burgler of Bass Bonanza" Sullivant for playing with us, having the interest to learn the songs, and being a solid rider amongst these waves of the universe! Also thanks to Mary Katherine for being the Wizard of Oz, in a very good you rock sort of way.

Lo siento, pero no tenemos fotos de Athens.

Then it was off to Charleston, SC. Hot damn Charleston is awesome. Arriving in Charleston thursday evening found us again on the beer pong table. I believe you will find, reader, should you venture through the South, that beer pong is played there at great length, with great passion, with great gamesmanship and interest. It is because of this that Lee and I immediately damaged the feelings of all those who rose against us. It wasn't until many games and beers later that we were dethroned from our high towers of cup-sinking ultra awesomedom. For those so very interested souls, it looked much like this ...

PS, that's not me, that's my brother Michael, who looks exactly like me, only in a taller version. He is a man for the ladies, so ladies beware.

We spent the 4th of July in Charleston eating delicious BBQ, chatting up friends new and old, and burning my f#$*cking hand on a f$%@#cking road flare/firework!!!! F#$#@$#!! That hurt. Apparently road flares spew some sort of molten metal, which is what gives them that shiny "come and find me" characteristic. So, if you want burn bubbles on your hand, please, do yourself a favor, light up a road flare, and be an idiot. But stay outta my village, I got this one covered.

Saturday we played the last show of our little tour. O'Malleys was packed and there must have been 20,000 in attendance. Half were bare-chested hooligans and the other half were unbelievably flexible under-fairies who flew around dusting us all with their sparkly limberosities. Heartbreakers you fairies!

The incredible edible Parker Howle and his brother opened up for us in Charleston, igniting a ferocious flame underneath the seats of many a venue patron and warming the evening towards the dancetown it would become. Here's La Parka himself ...

It was very nice playing in Charleston and the crowd was a'rockin. However, many came a'knockin and it was glorious. Before playing I decided to take a standing nap next to my brother and Cam ...

Also, as you'll see below, I got the chance to chat up Sita (spelling?) while Matt (yellow shirt) died in painful agony, slung over the railing next to us.

O'Malleys included a lot of sweating and a monstrous performance from friends The Monster. It was very nice to come in and give Charles' Town a nice thump on the noggin.

Sunday after O'Malleys brought many a folk to the Isle of Palms. The waters off the coast of this Isle spring from an ancient ocean reserve miles beneath the earth's crust, and are full of mystical, high-resolution salt nuggets that explode millions at a time with life-affirming tenderness. They reside in the waves that rush to the sand and leave you eons younger as they pass through you. It is indeed possible to become a fetus in their wake, so beware not to enjoy too much, lest you fall to the earth in the sun's heat or turn into a pillar of salt, as it were. The beach looked something like this ...

And now we're back in New York. It is indeed lovely to be back. Stay tuned for city-inspired shenanigans and more shows coming up. We're playing at The Annex on Tuesday July 15th ... doors at 9pm ... BE THERE!!

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Sunday July 6, 2008

Yeeeea.

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Tuesday July 1, 2008

Tonight we're playing at The Basement, one of Nashville's finest spots. It's beneath Grimey's record store, which also happens to be one of Nashville's finest spots ... go figure.

You see this stuff below? We have it in new york. But down here, it just smells really sweet and thick. My boy Jesse Gage reminded me of this and it was good to get back into it first hand. You can really chew on the aroma that this stuff puts out down South here.

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Saturday June 28, 2008

Sorry for the radio silence, we've been uber, ultra, mega, way crazy super busy. And so we have much to report. Lee hooked it up so we could spend the last 3 days in a massive church in Tupelo, Mississippi, to record more songs. It was awesome! Granted, we maybe said a few choice words that are illegal to say in church, but such is life. Here's what it looked like ...

Then we played a really cool house party at McAlilly House on Thursday night with: The Pat and Sam Jam, The Late Night Project, Redemption Loves Company, The Undeniables, and Oh Shit There's A Dinosaur spun the hot jams all night. I swear to the man whose house we recorded in - that was the funkiest house party ever.

After all the shenanigans in Tupelo, we took off to lake Pickwick to stay at Lee's lakehouse for the weekend. Holy shite, I jumped off a huge waterfall that was about 50 or 60 feet up. And I lived, which was cool. I think I busted my eardrum when I hit the water, or maybe that was from the lambasting sound during recording, but the shit hurts.

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Tuesday June 24, 2008

Chowda. New Orleans was officially dubbed the chowda stop, and we even got a new song name out of the deal, so yeeea. Banks St. Bar is an awesome place to play and the locals were groovy. And I shit you not, afterwards we went to a bar that sold $2.50 pitchers. Let it be known that we all got really hammered. Also, Bourbon Street is the perfect place to take your young children for a stroll on a sunny weekend afternoon. That is, of course, if it's opposite weekend. Thanks to Chris for a) playing bass with us b) letting us crash on your couch c) letting us defeat you and your cohorts many times over in beer pong and, d) most importantly, helping us nail down the song Chowda Head. We're off to Lee's hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi for a couple of days and some recording.

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Monday June 23, 2008

The first day of the tour is today! Yeea.

(Sidenote: We will often use the term "yeeea". So that we may convey it's intended effect, we'd like to describe in detail what it's meant to sound like. It's actually fairly self explanatory - imagine, or say to yourself, "yea" as normally might be used in everyday conversation. Then, simply get very excited about something and extend the middle part of the "yea", that being the sound bridge between "e" and "a", for a few extra seconds. Generally, the length of the extension is proportional to how excited we might be about something. Round off the end of the "yeeea" with an emphatic "ea" for proper completion.)

Sweet, so we're playing in New Orleans tonight. We don't know where we're going to get a drum kit from, but dammit we will find one!