kerble wrote:Face it, Mo. You just got McGarbled.
FYP
Band: Don Caballero
133Ian Wms. is one of my favorite guitar players. Not crap!
I do love American Don.
I do love American Don.
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
Band: Don Caballero
134Not crap. I listen to American Don, World Class..., and What Burns a lot.
Marsupialized wrote:I want a piano made out of jello.
It's the only way I'll be able to achieve the sound I hear in my head.
Band: Don Caballero
138Worst album title since St. Anger.
That song had some good parts, but didn't sound particularly well-recorded, unless they're going for a more metal sound.
That song had some good parts, but didn't sound particularly well-recorded, unless they're going for a more metal sound.
Band: Don Caballero
139So I have a Don Cab story. Back in the mid-90's when I lived in Richmond, Va. Don Cab plays a gig (with Rodan, I think) at a small club near VCU. They need a place to stay the night. A friend of mine volunteers his place.
Don Cab packs it up after the show and comes over. Everyone is calm and chill, just hanging out. The drummer perks up at about 1:55 AM realizing that the bars were getting ready to close and he absolutely needs to get some keehaul (or so everyone assumes). He storms out of the house and into the darkness. People start hitting the sack. Some folks are asleep on the couch, or in other rooms throughout the house.
A little while later there's a raucous. This is about an hour and half after the bars have closed, mind you. Drummer has returned. He's loud as shit. Aluminum cans are being tossed about. Drinks are being cracked open, guzzled and flattened with his feet and tossed into the garbage from across the room. Everyone is too wiped out to care, but he's just loud enough to keep everyone wondering what the fuck is going on. Finally, as the sun is coming up, silence.
My friend is the first to wake up. Walks into his living room to a passed out Don Cab drummer, face first on the floor, stripped down to his speedoes, laying in his own brown-tinted clear liquid vomit.
But, wait a minute, those aren't crushed beer cans. It's Diet Dr. Pepper. Like 24 cans worth! Dude drank a 24-pack case of fucking Diet Dr. Pepper, and puked it up at some point all over the hardwood floor in the living room. Not a trace of alcohol smell on him at all. No empty liquor bottles in the trash can. Fucking Diet Dr. Pepper.
A year later, I see the Drummer's new band, Thee Speaking Canaries, open for Blonde Redhead. Drummer has switched to guitar- and he's got chops. They sound like Van Halen. Suddenly he decides to have a conniption fit for no apparent reason and jumps belly first from the four foot stage, with Pacifica guitar around his neck into the sparsely attended audience. As the audience parts like the Red Sea, dude falls hard.. CRASH right on the cold linoleum floor. Song stops.
Weird guy. WTF???
Don Cab packs it up after the show and comes over. Everyone is calm and chill, just hanging out. The drummer perks up at about 1:55 AM realizing that the bars were getting ready to close and he absolutely needs to get some keehaul (or so everyone assumes). He storms out of the house and into the darkness. People start hitting the sack. Some folks are asleep on the couch, or in other rooms throughout the house.
A little while later there's a raucous. This is about an hour and half after the bars have closed, mind you. Drummer has returned. He's loud as shit. Aluminum cans are being tossed about. Drinks are being cracked open, guzzled and flattened with his feet and tossed into the garbage from across the room. Everyone is too wiped out to care, but he's just loud enough to keep everyone wondering what the fuck is going on. Finally, as the sun is coming up, silence.
My friend is the first to wake up. Walks into his living room to a passed out Don Cab drummer, face first on the floor, stripped down to his speedoes, laying in his own brown-tinted clear liquid vomit.
But, wait a minute, those aren't crushed beer cans. It's Diet Dr. Pepper. Like 24 cans worth! Dude drank a 24-pack case of fucking Diet Dr. Pepper, and puked it up at some point all over the hardwood floor in the living room. Not a trace of alcohol smell on him at all. No empty liquor bottles in the trash can. Fucking Diet Dr. Pepper.
A year later, I see the Drummer's new band, Thee Speaking Canaries, open for Blonde Redhead. Drummer has switched to guitar- and he's got chops. They sound like Van Halen. Suddenly he decides to have a conniption fit for no apparent reason and jumps belly first from the four foot stage, with Pacifica guitar around his neck into the sparsely attended audience. As the audience parts like the Red Sea, dude falls hard.. CRASH right on the cold linoleum floor. Song stops.
Weird guy. WTF???
Band: Don Caballero
140mr.arrison wrote:Don Cab plays a gig (with Rodan, I think)
showoff.
who wouldn't try to catch Damon Che? I would have.
Rick Reuben wrote:You are dumber than week-old donuts.