Marsupialized wrote:

yaledelay wrote:

Marsupialized wrote:We used to have a DJ in our band, I shit you not.
Nobody will admit it was their idea, nobody even remembers asking dude to be in the band yet we played both the empty bottle and subterranean for the first times with a DJ going wick wick wack in the background.
The Empty Bottle show we also had a dude playing bongos. A DJ and Bongos. Yes. For real.
Too much weed for too long, you start to think stupid shit like having a DJ and bongo player in the band is cool.

Eventually we changed the name and kicked everyone out, but kept all the songs. We still play some of those songs, just sped them the fuck up and chopped about 12 minutes off each.

this thread needs more pcitures

There are none. None at all.

I don't believe you. Not for a second.

Hey, this song would sound really great with a ska breakdown...or a fake-out pit part.

The following in this order:

Manager

Lawyer

Record Labels


I can't say I grudgingly went along with all of them, but it was a mistake, I can tell you that.

none.

Playing an antagonistic last show with the band before I moved away, where we decided to write a new set featuring vocoders, noise and pre-recorded parts (that failed spectacularly when put through the less than capable PA system manned by a beer soaked hooligan) in a depressing bar, knowing full well that none of our friends would turn out as they also feel the bar is depressing, only apparently more so than us.

This instead of hanging out and informally playing with Thurston Moore in a friend's basement on the one night this would ever be possible (at least while I lived in the state) and from what I understand was a fantastic time.

The show was a dreadful calamity, made only more embarrassing by the fact that it was billed as our "last" show and most people were unaware we had existed in the first place. We baffled the people to an even further extant than our regular set would have baffled them. The crowd were toughies who could dig on Rap or Metal, often choosing to do both simultaneously, and we gave them a robot love song, too earnest to be mistaken for anything ironic (if they could discern such things at all) and drastically under represented in the oomph department by the aforementioned PA.

the other bands turntabalist (natch) did let me know that he knew a "Sick, Bro" drummer where I was moving to. I failed to get any digits.
By nights end, we drank our comped (domestic only) beer and wondered about the way it was.