I know that “it’s been” the proverbial “long time”, wherein “we shouldn’t have left you”, especially as the case was, “without” the quite obligatory “strong rhyme”; thus leaving you with virtually nothing to “step to”, since those sweaty nights and formative mornings of Moon Dogg at the Cha Cha. We realize the oversight, do accept our humblest apoligies.
Now, if we can move past these grievances, i’d like to bring most folks up to speed on the ups and downs of the past few weeks. Everyone’s been asking us, “why’s moon dogg over?” and their have been allegations that it was because Roy came through and guested with us and played only dubstep all night, sending nathan into a fit, which in turn, set in motion a coup against yours truly, bringing “the house that dogg built” crashing down all around us. Amid these rumors, i’d just like to clear things up. It wasn’t that roy played dubstep that got us fired. It was cause he didn’t play the BANGERS. Having been out-subtled by the youth, and out-punked by the bar staff we know so dearly and love, we were left to lick our wounds, scratch our heads, and make outlandish excuses such as these for the deep and sordid depression we immediately sank into…
But. A phoenix is just a bird until it returns, so we figured it was due time to regroup, catch on fire, and be born again from the resulting ashes. So, we are back. We’re doing a new night in Eagle Rock at the Verdugo with Matt Goldman, Tim Biskup, and Joel Knoernschild. Our new cohorts are going to guarantee that you’ll get even more of that same stimulating conversation while we mild the fuck out with the jams. Join Us.
Love to all,
James (on behalf of)
Bobby,
Tim,
Joel,
Matt
Aright, so Oct 1st army troops are being deployed on US soil for the first time ever. I got you a couple of sources so you can see what that’s all about. Meanwhile, WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF SHIT IS THAT?!?!?!?!?!!!!!11!!
get the story from:
The Register
Uruknet
and um, the brutes themselves
some of the footage from boadrum 88. Dayuummmmmm!
click for movie.
Last-minute Brother Reade show at Black Sheep skate shop in Charlotte was a success. The jam session was awesome. The cops came! They even put someone in the car!
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Hope Gallery has yet to disappoint. See you on saturday? Born Against tattoos get in free! (so does everyone else).
Autopassion is working on a new record. I wonder what it is going to sound like?
One night ever, in the history of southern pines North Carolina, this happened: a local bartender does fleetwood mac covers, accompanies self on keyboard. A hip-hop dance troupe perseveres through cd-skipping tough times to the end of their dance routine, a separate solo rendition of ‘thriller’ was also performed (not to snitch, but MJ stole that whole shit from Bob Fosse, for real). And then this rap group played the drums.
The event wasn’t without fallout: doors were ripped off hinges, the skin was ripped off of fried chicken, and rocks were virulently thrown at the broadside of barns. Below: Darkness gazes wistfully upon spaceship summoning equipment.
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Brother Reade “Always a Lady” mini-tour rips through Asheville, Winston-Salem, and Raleigh. A hurricane wasn’t enough to ruin Chuck Berry’s performance the night before at Raleigh Wide Open, and a nine-year old in an affliction T-shirt giving us “two thumbs down” wasn’t enough to ruin ours.
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Ah, fuck yea fest. Annual bringer of chaos, beauty, confusion, and a mile-radius of human pheremones to our very own echo park. We, as per usual, adore you. A ton of awesome big bands played, but the real action was on the margins. Triumph of Lethargy takes the clinic by storm! Mike Runion warms the crowd for Jeff Garlin! High Places braved the “after negative approach slot” without the “wall of skinheads” that had visited them in premonitory nightmares. Children lurked on our dinner at the Bright Spot! Need we say more?
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I don’t exactly know how to explain the pictures found here, but let me just say this: Once upon a time, in southern california, where it is pretty much summer most of the time, Bobby and I were invited to a welcome back party for a friend of ours at her parents’ house. Let’s say the parents’ house in question was, um, made completely out of marble and had a ton of gorgeous indoor/outdoor space and strange and beautiful exotic flowers growing everywhere. There may have also been delicious homemade kabab on the barbecue and more than a few kinds of cardamom-oriented desserts and like, i dunno, rosewater gelato or some shit. So anyway, this party also sort of overlooked the ocean, and occurred on a not-too hot kind of misty day with juuuuuuust enough sunshine to make the pool worth a dip. But i’d be lying if i told you that the hot tub wasn’t where the real action was at. So, yeah, fun times, boys and girls hanging out in bathing suits by the pool, and then all of a sudden, our friend’s dad’s like “who wants to see some guns?” and then things got pretty awesome. Dear mama: please don’t click on the jump unless you like bikinis, assault rifles, alcohol, and copious amounts of saturated fats. Oh, and ziplocked and freeze-dried cross sections of human brains. Don’t wanna leave that out. Keep reading →
Show at the smell on fuck yeah eve. Mae Shi, Japanther, Brother Reade. Hosted by the tireless Jim Smith. It woulda been a smorgasbord if the law ain’t shut down the vegan hot dog stand (wtf?!). More after the jump.
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We were invited out to Las Vegas to play records at the POOL Tradeshow. Three days, three nights of beauteous, oxygen-rich meandering accompanied by the mellifluous sounds of ubiquitous slot machines. Notwithstanding a seemingly endless bonus round at the palm springs airport. Details (albeit scattered ones) follow.
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A few pictures from last Tuesday at the fundraiser for Fuck Yeah Fest. We debuted all new jams and shared the stage w/ /Crystal Antlers, Tweak Bird, and Todd from Sea Level (rumembadat?).
More pictures at LA WEEKLY
