So we have a Myspace page, yeah. Facebook, Twitter, sure.
All that crap.
I’m sure in a few months we’ll have some goddamn Iphone app that lets you match CH3 drink for drink on any given night on tour. You know, so you can stay in sync with your favorite band member!
Gotta keep up with times, ya know! In theory, all these delicious tools are there to help us promote the band, spread the word. It’s a new day when all you have to do is digitally cut and paste up a flyer, photobucket it, and send it out enmasse to everyone within a 75 mile radius of the show zip code.
Personally, I miss the day of scissor and glue, the trip to Kinko’s in the middle of the night.
The stacks of flyers hand delivered to Zed’s, only to be quickly tossed in the trash by the China White guys when they followed us in with their flyers…..
But most of the time, these various web sites seem to be there solely to allow young bands to contact us, pleading to get on a show. It’s tough, hell yeah! We rarely have any say in the lineup, but was it really that long ago when we had to kiss ass to get that opening slot on a thursday night?
Eh, guess it was.
After the Black Flag gig, things started to fall into place for the band. In an early interview with No Mag, Henry put us in his list of top 5 acts (when we played good). I think he changed his opinion a few months later when he had to step over my drunken body onstage at the Minutemen compound in San Pedro. Heh….nice shoes, Hank!
We were getting some good words written about the ep, the cool kids started coming around to the shows, and Robbie called one fateful day and told us it was time to come back to the studio and record the full length follow up!
But best of all, we were getting called all the time to be on these shows. Amazing gigs–the first closing of Al’s Bar with Circle Jerks. Huge daytime fests at the Olympic Auditorium…..A gig with Fear!
And an actual concert, I guess you would call it-with security guards and a huge stage-opening for the Professionals!
I know now we were experiencing that zone of popularity, when the thing is no longer in your hands. We were as baffled as the other local bands were jealous of our fortune. It seemed like every time Kimm came to practice he had another gig set up, playing with one of our heroes, or I would answer the phone and what? It’s Craig Lee on the line, and he wants a quote for Thursday’s LA Weekly!
It was a nice ride, and we don’t hold our breath that this train will come back any time soon to pick us up again…..
One day Kimm came into the garage, jotting something down in the little planner he always held, the days’ answer to the Blackberry. Larry and I were already in there with Burton, trying to play Temples of Syrinx. Kimm looks up, puts hands to ears, arches eyebrows in question. “What the fuck was that?” says he when we cut it out in mid We are the Priests!
“That, my friend, was a lil something by a band called Rush.”
“Rush. Oh my God. That was not Rush.”
Burton immediately goes into some Neil Peart solo, about the only thing he really practiced. Fuckin drummers. Not like we had any songs of our own we needed to work on, wot? Kimm and I had to continue our conversation over the P.A., shouting over the ridiculous drum fills.
“TOLD YOU. RUSH. WHAT’S UP DID JAY CALL?”
“NAH. HEY ARE WE ALL FREE ON THE 12TH? BURTON SHUT UP! FUCK! Okay, we good on the 12th? It’s a Friday.”
I look around the garage, Larry nods, Burton shrugs. Burton had brought a huge Iron Maiden poster to staple up behind his set.
I looked at Eddie, he seemed fine.
“Yeah, we’re good, what it be?”
Kimm grinned, made us wait a moment, and I knew it was something good.
“Get this–San Diego, the California Theatre….With. The. Cramps!”
Me: Fuck Yeah!
Burton: Which ones are the Cramps?
This is what I was talking about. These shows seemingly appeared out of thin air. And before you know it, we’re sharing a dressing room with a band that we were covering-badly-just a few months earlier in the garage.
“Fuckin Awesome Kimm..when is it again?”
“12th. Friday. I’ll confirm tomorrow.”
“Whew. Cramps. Really? We should practice huh?”
Kimm strapped on the Red Ibanez Destroyer and tuned up.
“Alright then gentlemen. Shall we?”
“And the Meek shall inherit the earth….1-2-3-4!”
Click to hear the Temple of Syrinx suite from 2112!
4 thoughts on “San Diego III”
Y’see the end of that story reads differently to a Canadian. To most Americans Rush are just a symbol of pointy-headed prog rock but every Canadian (of a certain age) has Rush in their bloodstream. We Canadians can mock the utter ridiculousness of Rush’s Objectivist noodling but every one of us will sing along to “Tom Sawyer” at a moment’s notice.
Sorry, all done, carry on.
Photobucket is so 2008.