Appetite for Destruction
Only two shows left and then it's back home for a partial musical break. There's some recording to be done (work on the single coming out in the spring and hopefully an EP for next year as well) and the video shoot for "It's Killing Me That It's Killing You" but that's interspersed with some vacations, some downtime and possibly some major, reconstructive surgery. You know. Par for the rock and roll course.
We rolled in to St. John this afternoon. We were prepared for the worst. I think the famous "once bitten, twice shy" rule applies here. Only we were bit by a gaint, angry horde of wolves on the first occasion, so I think that quantifies about 358 acts of shyness before we'll approach the proverbial dog again. If anyone doesn't know what I'm talking about, please see the journals from early June and you'll quickly discover what I'm talking about.
The last time we departed St. J was with gigantic size headaches (and for anyone not familiar with the size of J.D's head, imagine a migraine the size of Montreal, as his head is a comparable size) and what olympic atheletes would call 'severe dehydration.' This was entirely our own fault. We behaved like sixteen year olds at their first party with alcohol. The company we kept ran in different circles than us. They were more the 'Animal House,' 'Old School' crowd, but in real life. And they were east coasters and they're superhuman when it comes to 'partying'. I'm prepared to enter into debate with any scientist who denies they have a different gene structure than us.
The debate will go like this:
"Science guy, please be seated."
"East coast guy, please be seated."
They sill sit and I will force them to re-enact the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Marion drinks the butch woman under the table. I'll pour shots and they'll put them back. The first person to fall down drunk or dead, loses. In this case, Marion will be the east coaster and the butch woman will be the scientist. I will place a large bet on Marion and I will win a fortune. In fact, I may seek government funding for the endeavour. It also seems like something MuchMoreMusic would air. Apparently, they're desperate for programming. This was made clear to me when I flipped through and saw "Party of Five" repeats on the channel. I guess Jennifer Love Hewitt did have one cd, didn't she?
Regardless of my tangents, we just weren't prepared for what happened the last time we were here. You'd have thought that a five year prohibition just ended the way we carried on. So, it was with steel wills, full stomachs and a large bottle of advil that we rolled into St. John.
But our evening turned out to be quite the opposite of what we'd expected. We had a civil dinner (the Blue Olive is an incredible restaurant as well as an incredible music venue), a luxurious amount of time to set the stage, the lights and sound and then we rocked our pants off for just shy of three hours. Like Bruce Springsteen, but without the arena full of people, the thirty years of songwriting (we're only about twenty behind him now) or any blistering saxophone solos. (Although, it should be noted, there has been serious and increasing discussion about J.D. picking up the sax and adding it to the live show. It's on the 'to do' list over the xmas holidays, so we'll let you know what happens there.) We left our equipment set up (because that's what real rockstars get to do when they're playing any show that's followed by the word 'stand.' In this case, it was only a two-night 'stand' - not exactly the Rheostatics at the Horseshoe, but it's a start.) And then we went home to our friend, JM's, house - who was kind enough to house us for a few nights - and we had a nightcap and a civil discussion until the wee, wee hours of the morning.
There's always tomorrow to hurt ourselves.
We rolled in to St. John this afternoon. We were prepared for the worst. I think the famous "once bitten, twice shy" rule applies here. Only we were bit by a gaint, angry horde of wolves on the first occasion, so I think that quantifies about 358 acts of shyness before we'll approach the proverbial dog again. If anyone doesn't know what I'm talking about, please see the journals from early June and you'll quickly discover what I'm talking about.
The last time we departed St. J was with gigantic size headaches (and for anyone not familiar with the size of J.D's head, imagine a migraine the size of Montreal, as his head is a comparable size) and what olympic atheletes would call 'severe dehydration.' This was entirely our own fault. We behaved like sixteen year olds at their first party with alcohol. The company we kept ran in different circles than us. They were more the 'Animal House,' 'Old School' crowd, but in real life. And they were east coasters and they're superhuman when it comes to 'partying'. I'm prepared to enter into debate with any scientist who denies they have a different gene structure than us.
The debate will go like this:
"Science guy, please be seated."
"East coast guy, please be seated."
They sill sit and I will force them to re-enact the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Marion drinks the butch woman under the table. I'll pour shots and they'll put them back. The first person to fall down drunk or dead, loses. In this case, Marion will be the east coaster and the butch woman will be the scientist. I will place a large bet on Marion and I will win a fortune. In fact, I may seek government funding for the endeavour. It also seems like something MuchMoreMusic would air. Apparently, they're desperate for programming. This was made clear to me when I flipped through and saw "Party of Five" repeats on the channel. I guess Jennifer Love Hewitt did have one cd, didn't she?
Regardless of my tangents, we just weren't prepared for what happened the last time we were here. You'd have thought that a five year prohibition just ended the way we carried on. So, it was with steel wills, full stomachs and a large bottle of advil that we rolled into St. John.
But our evening turned out to be quite the opposite of what we'd expected. We had a civil dinner (the Blue Olive is an incredible restaurant as well as an incredible music venue), a luxurious amount of time to set the stage, the lights and sound and then we rocked our pants off for just shy of three hours. Like Bruce Springsteen, but without the arena full of people, the thirty years of songwriting (we're only about twenty behind him now) or any blistering saxophone solos. (Although, it should be noted, there has been serious and increasing discussion about J.D. picking up the sax and adding it to the live show. It's on the 'to do' list over the xmas holidays, so we'll let you know what happens there.) We left our equipment set up (because that's what real rockstars get to do when they're playing any show that's followed by the word 'stand.' In this case, it was only a two-night 'stand' - not exactly the Rheostatics at the Horseshoe, but it's a start.) And then we went home to our friend, JM's, house - who was kind enough to house us for a few nights - and we had a nightcap and a civil discussion until the wee, wee hours of the morning.
There's always tomorrow to hurt ourselves.
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