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maybe, but check out the rehearsal space I get to use:

kerble wrote:maybe, but check out the rehearsal space I get to use:

Tatlin's Tower? No shit. Ur doin it right.

it's actually a piece by kelly kaczynski called "Olympus Manger Scene II"

the side view is like this:


it's connected by a series of pulleys, and slowly, as people play tug of war on each side, the two mountains pull together and destroy themselves.

I have use of a studio @ Hyde Park Art Center where the mountains are b/c of my job @ stockyard.
it's incredible. and so I asked if I could rehearse there, and they said yes.

it's going to be coming down in the next few weeks, as the two stages have almost come together, but I've been playing music there a lot.



goddamn right, I'm doing it right.





Faiz

Just don't try using it as a helter skelter.

every one of these cryptic items in my list has been true. I've just been phrasing them a little funny.

take this one:

kerble wrote:XI made a group of IV strangers $CXX with Faiz Zeppelin on the way home.

for the past few weeks, I've been rehearsing every saturday (sometimes friday) night with the live karaoke bands @ Piece and the Pontiac (the band, the Karaoke Dokies is going to be my backing band for the rocktober shows).

a few weeks back, I went to Piece by myself to see if I could work a room with my magic. I got there, and the doorman immediately recognized me from the Zep bomb I dropped on the crowd a few weeks prior and didn't card me. He asked if I was going to rock tonight (of course) and if I came with anyone. I did not. I needed to test if I could win a crowd over without a built in cheering section. He told me that he knew I'd kill it. I knew this too. it was a sure bet.

I signed up for "Emmigrant Song (I know)," got myself a beverage and hung out for a while, eyballing the room. Met some nice folks, including this German guy who was also flying solo. We were hanging out outside when all of a sudden, a giant bus pulled up in front of the club.

the bus doors opened and out poured a bunch of guys in tuxes and suits and women in nice dresses. A wedding party. perfect. I immediately developed a plan. Remember that all of this can be tied back to the chairs. part of it's the idea that artists should give up on making money of their art and just hold benefits for causes they think are worthwhile. So I had a plan based on what I knew already and I wanted to see it through.

Now, Faiz Zeppelin isn't a cover band. I keep saying it and people don't understand. It's a Zeppelgänger. It is what I say it is. It's my goddamn band. and tonight (like any other) is a little test.

One thing that I know about guys at weddings is that they have, at some point in the day, gone to the ATM and gotten out a ream of twenty dollar bills and put it in their wallet. no self respecting man would go to a wedding without at least $100 in cash.

I want to get this money, but since I run on the benefit model, I just want to give this money to someone that deserves it. In this case, the excellent house band @ Piece. So the guys start coming out of the bus and linger at the doorway with the German guy and I to have a smoke.

and I start talking shit.


but I don't do it like an asshole. you can talk shit in a friendly way and not piss people off. Every guy who comes out of the bus to stand with us gets a similar variation of the same shit talk:

"Congratulations!"
"why?"
"Because someone liked you enough to invite you to their wedding, so cheers to you."
"thanks man!"

now here's the shit talk:

"to celebrate this wedding, I'm going to rock you tonight. It's my gift to you."


the first four or five guys all said "thanks man! cheers" or some other similar thing. and then the drunkest guy in the party comes up to us, I give him my spiel and he responds with "No Way, man. I'll give you a run for your money."

thems the magic words. I'm the Plant, and I'm looking for my mark. (see what I did there?). I extended my hand for a shake.

"Hi!. I'm Faiz. Nice to meet you."
"Hi," he replied happily, "My Name is Mark."

fucking perfect.

so I tell the Mark that I'm willing to bet $20 that my Zeppelin will beat any song that he chooses. But, the money won't go to him if he wins. it'll go to the house band as a tip. If I win the band gets $20 of Mark's money, If he wins they get $20 of mine. it's a benefit show.

Mark readily agrees, shakes on the bet and goes to sign up for some song or the other. And I go work the room.

I talk to the doorman and the m.c. for the night and let them know that there's been a bet placed, and the nature of the bet. I go and run my yap and work the room, talking to different tables about Faiz Zeppelin.

at one point, I see one of the people surreptitiously taking a picture of me. He knows I have what it takes even without hearing me sing, and as far as I'm concerned, he's investing in a photo op of me because he knows somewhere deep inside that this fucker could be huge. that said, i get my picture taken by strangers every time I do Zep. It's just as much of a sure bet as anything else I know is a sure bet.

the most important room work however, is when I went to the bass player of the band (this wasn't karaoke dokies night, fwiw. I did not know anyone in this band). I told him about the bet and then I took the $20 I had already bet the Mark out of my pocket.

"okay. so I've made this bet with this guy. I'm going to go ahead and put twenty buck in your tip jar right now if you fellas help me bring it tonight. If I lose, I owe you another twenty bucks and am out forty, but if you help me bring it, you'll get twenty from him and twenty from me. You guys wanna help me bring it?"

the bass player looked at me a little funny, took a pull of his beer and said:
"oh, we'll bring it."


it's on.

so I went and got another beverage, hit the head and milled around the room. Then, over the P.A., I hear the magic words:


"APPARENTLY, THERE'S BEEN A CHALLENGE!"

ooooh!


Since I made the bet, I'm going first, and they've bumped the Mark up to just after me so the audience can decide who wins. Now what I didn't know is that Mark and his wedding party (which were about 50 deep) had given me 5 to 1 odds that I couldn't take him. they had bet $100 against my $20 (that I already gave to the band) that I couldn't beat him.


fuck yes. it is so on.

So I get up to the stage, take the microphone off the stand, remove my sandals and I turn to the drummer.

Who owns this place? I do.

"Immigrant song. do you want four or six in before I start singing."

the drummer said: "let's do four."

he counts in, and we destroyed that fucking song. I see women go wide eyed and open mouthed as I give the siren call at the intro. I see men raise their arms in the air. I climb the bar. I climb the railings. I crouch down low and stand on a woman's table and sing just to her and her lady friend.

the last ten measures, I drop to my knees and cut them the fuck up through my jeans. no problem. I'm willing to bleed for this one.

the song ends and the place erupts. It goes bananas.

Who owns this place? I do.

as i leave the stage, people high five me. women make eyes. I make a bee line for the restroom to wash up, since I'm a little dizzy and catch a few hand slaps and a couple pats on the ass. on stage, the Mark is totally ruining ACDC. not even fucking close.

a sure bet, it is.

at the end of the Mark's butchery of "You shook me", they call me back up on stage to let the audience vote. Mark has 50 people in his corner, and I just have me. I got the vote by applause, no question.

and the Mark, a man of his word, opens his wallet, fans out 5 twenty dollar bills and puts it in the band's tip jar.

the band got $120 for playing two songs. that's how you do a benefit show.

I make a lap of the room to soak it in and this pretty lady grabs me by the arm.

"my god, you're incredible. do you have a band?"
"yeah. I'm in 'Zeppelin".

and I walk away. on my way towards the door, the Mark stops me and throws an arm around me.

"dude, you were fantastic. let me buy you a shot."

I tell the Mark that I want to go outside and have a smoke first. I walk past the doorman, give him the solidarity punch, step outside, light my smoke and go home.


I'm a ghost.


If any of you "kerble is wrong" voters think I can't do all of this. you have grossly underestimated me. but I'm not going to bother to prove you wrong.



I'm going to prove myself right.






Faiz

I have seen the faiz-enomenon. Women rub leather belts on their asses. Men head-bang. Rooms erupt. I have been frightened for his safety.

Faiz, I know everyone here knows it, but it needs to be said you are awesome and an inspiration...

bumble wrote:I have seen the faiz-enomenon. Women rub leather belts on their asses. Men head-bang. Rooms erupt. I have been frightened for his safety.

that leather belt lady was a fucking nut job.

She wasn't the only one losing her friggin' mind. I was honestly alarmed about mob action potential. The power of FaiZep doth compel them. Now, run to your security detail (aka, Mr. Chimp).