Last night I didn't get home til 4:45 am. I spent the entire night driving drunk people around, dabbling in Jack Daniels with Chris, trying to find Tremblay (he disapeared in a drunken stupor), and then cruely depriving Chris and Zach of sleep. Also Denny's, mentos, diet coke, and building a campfire all fit into that somehow too.
In all, my rewards for this:
A full tank of gas, a greasy dinner at Denny's, and the next morning, I found a full, unopened bottle of Jose Cuervo Especial rolling around in my car.
In short, this post is useless. But I have nothing else to do today.
HERE'S AN IDEA. Lets conduct an experiment. I'm slightly curious how many people actually read this (having thought only Tess, Brandon and Mitch did until several random people mentioned having heard my anecdotes before via reading my blog) so anyone who reads this posts, post a comment. You can do it anonymously, doesn't matter. Or not. But co-operation is pivitol in the success of my experiment. So...it's likely to fail. AWESOME!!
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
Oh well.
So in all fairness, today should have been an awesome day. I woke up at 8 with a half empty bottle of wine, (which is great because it means it's also half full) then got breakfast and proceeded to Josh's house, where we commenced with recording. We made so much progress too, got guitar tracks for one song laid down, though I want to retake some of my leads because I suck at recording apparently. Anyway, we accomplished much and I was incredibly pleased. So I left Josh's house on a high note (hahaha I'm so witty!!) to go teach guitar, and being in a pretty good mood I figured I'd have a chill evening, even though I'm was a bit too tired to function at my best. But at that point I remembered I had to pick up music for tonights symphony rehersal, so I stopped at the music school to grab it.
So I ran inside, pestered Jordan (my cello teacher) and returned to my car only to be blessed with the news that the friggen thing won't start. I poked the battery, tried to adjust the terminals a bit (all things that usually result in the car starting again) and nothing. The indicator lights were still all on, everything was supposed to be all "VROOM VROOM LETS GO DRIVE NAOMI!! YAY!!" But no, just a click. No turn over, none of those beautiful engine sounds a finely tuned VW is supposed to make. So I call for a ride from my brother, and sit in the car and wait. I was going to just sit and listen to music calmly waiting for him to show. I turn on my tape deck and listened to maybe the first 45 seconds of "Tetragrammaton" when my battery decided to just NOT FUNCTION AT ALL.
So I have no music, no car, no way of getting to my guitar lesson remotely on time, and nothing to keep me from wanting to go play in traffic. Cept for that bottle of piss poor red wine I had left over that was in the trunk of my car. I actualy considered downing some of it a viable idea until I realised there were people in the music school watching my feeble attempts to try and maintain my composure, and if I started drinking a mystery liquid from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, it may look suspicious. Luckily Jeremy showed up moments later and took me to my mom's office where I could skulk in peace.
So the car runs now, but my dad thinks the clutch needs adjusting, so I had to let them drive it home, and now I'm stuck here with the tankburban, waiting to go to symphony rehersal and fight falling asleep while counting measures of rest. Oh well.
So I ran inside, pestered Jordan (my cello teacher) and returned to my car only to be blessed with the news that the friggen thing won't start. I poked the battery, tried to adjust the terminals a bit (all things that usually result in the car starting again) and nothing. The indicator lights were still all on, everything was supposed to be all "VROOM VROOM LETS GO DRIVE NAOMI!! YAY!!" But no, just a click. No turn over, none of those beautiful engine sounds a finely tuned VW is supposed to make. So I call for a ride from my brother, and sit in the car and wait. I was going to just sit and listen to music calmly waiting for him to show. I turn on my tape deck and listened to maybe the first 45 seconds of "Tetragrammaton" when my battery decided to just NOT FUNCTION AT ALL.
So I have no music, no car, no way of getting to my guitar lesson remotely on time, and nothing to keep me from wanting to go play in traffic. Cept for that bottle of piss poor red wine I had left over that was in the trunk of my car. I actualy considered downing some of it a viable idea until I realised there were people in the music school watching my feeble attempts to try and maintain my composure, and if I started drinking a mystery liquid from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, it may look suspicious. Luckily Jeremy showed up moments later and took me to my mom's office where I could skulk in peace.
So the car runs now, but my dad thinks the clutch needs adjusting, so I had to let them drive it home, and now I'm stuck here with the tankburban, waiting to go to symphony rehersal and fight falling asleep while counting measures of rest. Oh well.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Part II
We entered the venue, made use of the washrooms (which I'm pretty sure were mostly occupied by people who were doing blow) and looked at the merch stands. I'd brought about about $60 in cash so I could pick up a poster, a t shirt, maybe some stickers and pins for the kids back home. But I soon realised that I brought enough money to purchase one and a half shirts, or 2/3's of a hoodie.
The cost of merch there was RIDICULOUS. I was so disgusted. Last year, when Tess and I attended the Mars Volta/System of a Down concert, shirts cost $20 and the cuts and designs were so cool. They had these wicked huge posters as well, and awesome sticker/button packs. Nothing cost more than $20. Here, the cheapest shirt was $40. There were hoodies for $80-$90. I was shocked and very dissapointed, but what did I really expect? I mean, the chili peppers are such a big name band, so I don't blame the band or anything. It still was sickly expensive though. The worst thing about the merch was there were people ACTUALLY BUYING THESE SHIRTS. Mind boggling.
So after checking out the merch, and being dissapointed, I remembered that we were actually supposed to somehow meet up with Marcy and Diondra at the show. I started to actually worry because we hadn't seen them and I kept forgetting to call them due to me being a tired fuck up, but all my fears were quickly put to rest the moment we stepped into the stadium and I heard two excited voices yelping "NAOMI!!!" There they were, in all their glory, the lovely Marcy and Diondra. With one less thing to worry about, releif washed over me like warm rain, so we proceeded to find our seats.
So the thing about this concert, is it was in a stadium, and we bought floor tickets, but they had seats on the floor. We were expected to reamian at our seats for the whole show. But at the time we arrived, hardly anyone was on the floor, and the Mars Volta were up in less then 30 minutes. So we went to the front to see their gear and whatnot, and then decided, well why not just stand here. I attempted to take pictures of their pedals and amps, but the only one that turned out was a photo of a random roadie, and also, this.
We settled in on a nice spot. We were just right of center, somewhere between Cedric's mic stand and Ikey's rhodes. Prime location. Pretty close to where I was standing when I saw them play last year, only this year would be better because there'd be no angry System of a Down fans yelling at random.
So we stood for a while. Standing, killing time during that awkward period between when the roadies are done tuning guitars, and the band comes out to play. That time when you start to get too excited to make small talk with those around you. When you get sick of bullshitting with the security guards, and trying to see what pedals the bass player has for his rig. Waiting for that moment when the lights go down and you start hearing the theme song from A Fistfull of Dollars playing over the PA. The epic moment when Ikey walks on, trailed by Juan, and Pablo. When in the back you can see the new drummer , Blake Flemming, takes his seat behind his little drum set. You can't quite see what Adrian and Marcel are doing because you're too fixated on Omar strapping into his guitar, and Cedric, gallantly walking to the mic stand. It's the stuff dreams are made of.
When they stepped onstage, the croud was yelling alot, I probably was too, I'm not quite sure. I just know that the excitement of the situation finally came to head, I recalled that I'd actually made that trip for a reason, a reason I'd somehow forgotten amidst all the driving and conversation and lack of sleep. I remembered.
They started their first song right off the bat. No talking, no bullshitting the croud. Strait to business (cause they were wearing business suits I assume). A split second into their first song I knew exactly what they were playing. I got excited and began slamming my foot into the ground (and I think Josh's foot) several of times. I was too busy thinking ROULETTE DARES ROULETTE DARES ROULETTE DARES to really worry about it. It was spectacular. For those who have Deloused, it's track 4. Listen to it RIGHT NOW.
I was glad they opened with a De-loused song. It made me happy. I sang along gleefully for the entire song. Especially during the second verse, when Cedric accidentally unplugged his mic and broke it. For most of the second verse there was nothing but me yelling the words at him as loud as humanly possible. I'm prett sure no one but me could hear it though. I could also see Juan so clearly. He was going mindblowingly berzerk on the bass. I can't even concieve playing anything that fast. It made me want to quit music, or get bass lessons with Juan Alderate de la Peña. Unfortunely for everyone, niether of those is likely to happen.
It was shortly after this that security became an issue. We were suddenly flanked by guards asking us for our tickets to see if we actually had front row seats. This seemed ridiculous considering NO ONE who actually had front row seats were remotely interested in the Mars Volta. So we were told to go to our seats. We started to shuffle towards the center of the stage and stayed there for a moment, putting a buffer of people between us and the approaching guard. For a breif moment I was right in the center, in line with the drum set, Cedric dancing manically, Omar convulsing all over his guitar. But the gaurds were approaching again, so we had to keep moving. Shuffling through people, trying to keep one eye on the band the entire time. We were quickly approaching the end of the aisle, and I began to worry that I'd lose my chance to be so close to them for the whole show.
The lights then went down. The first song had ended. When it came back up, they started strait into The Widow (track 2: Frances the Mute) I stopped in my tracks, transfixed on their performances again. The gaurds approaching from both sides, myself stuck in wanting to stay where I was standing forever, but knowing they'd soon remove me. But then a genius beamed down from heaven or where ever it is geniuses beam from, and grabbed my arm and told me to jump back a row of seats.
Actually, this genius beamed from Romania, and it was Josh. He pretty much saved my life and I am forever grateful. Because of his quick thinking we watched the entire show undisturbed from our new location right next to where the saxaphone and percussionist were located. It was fantastic because the front row almost entirely emptied out, so we had a great view and no one was pestering us.
The lights went down and they went into their third song, Tetragrammaton (track 2: Ampuchture) Now at the time of the concert, I hadn't had enough time to really get into the new album. I'd maybe listened to it three times all the way through, and always without paying much attention. The more I've gotten aquianted with it, the more I realise just how amazing their performance was. Between Adrian trading off between playing flute, tenor sax, soprano sax, bass clarinet, and percussion, to Cedric hitting notes so high I would faint in any attempt at singing them, to Pablo playing harmonised leads with omar, to the orginised randomness of their jams, it was all just spectacular.
After a lengthy jam the broke into Viscera Eyes (track 6: Amptuechture, or listen to it here!) This song was awesome, and since it was the first released single I knew it the best out of all the newer ones they played. Cedric just blew my mind with his vocals. Also, Pablo is a very good guitar player. He replaced Jeremy Michael Ward, the Mars Volta's late sound manipulator, but is also taking on rhythm guitar as well, and it sounded fantastic.
At long last, they came to their closing number, which also happened to be the longest song of the evening: Day of the Baphomets (track 7: Amputechture) I hadn't heard this song more than twice, but they pulled it off stunningly. After listening to it again at home, I just marvelled at how incredibly well they managed to stay together in parts with strange time signatures and the like. It was impressive, though sometimes the randomness was a bit much to take. I still found the entire set amazing. Also, Marcel had a bongo solo in this song that was amazing. He nailed it live, it was awesome to see.
So after they wrapped up and vacated the stage, we meandered to our seats. Way the hell back in row 30. I chatted it up with some hippy kid who was in awe after seeing the Mars Volta for the first time. Seemed like a nice guy. Then I sat quietly talking to Josh and fighting waves of tiredness. I was so sore by then. My back and my calf muscles were just tired and over taxed. A lot of stuff happened between the sets, but I can't remember much save for talking to that guy, and Marcy and Diondra running up to us and asking Josh to boot for them. I laughed, they got discouraged and left, and I forget what happened next.
One thing I distinctly recall is some radio announcer guy bullshitting on stage for a while. This topic will be brought up later. The other outstanding memory was the random cheering. One random asshole in the back of the stadium would whistle, and a few other douchebags would think the band was coming on stage, so they'd cheer, and before you know it the entire stadium of like 10 000 people are yelling at nothing!!! It sucked because I lost my ear plugs during the mars volta's set and had to fashion make shift ones out of gum rappers. It functioned well enough, because I maintained most of my hearing.
I don't remember too many details about the chili peppers set. I remember it was loud, they played really exceptionally well, they opened with Can't Stop, and closed with By the Way, and that John Frusciante stole the show. I would have recalled more, but nearly all of their performance Josh and I kept trying to squeeze our way through hundreds of sweaty frat boys and their creepy girlfriends, all sweating and humping and wreaking of cheap cologne that, to this day, and entire WEEK later, still hasn't washed off my hoodie.
Josh seemed confident we could meander our way to the front, and I really wanted to beleive him. I wanted to get a close look at John Frusciante. Oh, John Frusciante. How I adore that man. I don't even know why, other than he's an amazing musician and bears an uncanny resemblance to someone I can't quite put my finger on. Oh well. He absolutely stole the show. His harmonies were amazing, and he sang a song by himself, just him and his guitar, that was just lovely. Plus he solos like a mad man. He also recorded all the guitar tracks in the new Mars Volta album, so gotta give him props. He's amazing.
Anyway, so we had the difficult task ahead of us of trying to avade security, while slipping between creepy gross smelly people, and creepy frat boys who kept touching me and sticking knees in places where no knees should ever go. The way the floor was set up, is there were two sections of seats, seperated by a large aisle in the middle of the arena. That is where we wound up, along with about 400 other people who had the same goal in mind as we did. Now, as if we didn't have enough things working against us, there were a bunch of irritable angry middle aged security gaurds trying to push the croud back and make sure everyone stayed EXACTLY in their seats.
We tried a few approaches. We had before us the challenge of meandering the maze of sticky moshers, or confronting the small militia of security. Both presented their own challenges. At first, we tried going around the side, but right away we ran into some strong arms who demanded I show them my ticket. It happened to be conveniently located in my jacket pocket, which happened to be conveniently folded in a tight ball inside of my bag. Not wanting to pull it out I told him I couldn't grab it, so he grabbed my arm and shoved me back from whence we came. Upon re-arriving at our seats I was hassled by another guard to show him my ticket, so I had to unpack my bag and present it to him, so he'd piss off. This was to be a continuing trend. At that, we started planning again.
Now when I say planning I mean Josh tried to yell suggestions to me and I couldn't understand anything he was saying, so I'd sort of guess based on hand gestures and where ever he motioned his head while talking. This method of communication may have contributed to our inability to make too much gorund. We made it pretty close to the stage, before being smothered by moshers and pushed back by security.
The great thing about being smothered in that mosh pit was seeing all the strange awkward people excited to see The Red Hot Chili Peppers play. The majourity were awkward middled aged meen who seemed to stare a bit too intently at Anthony Kiedes swivelling hip movement. There were also lots of frat boy types, and scary bikers. The best though, were the groups of scantily clad horribly overweight young women who wore low cut shirts, and drew red peppers on their cleavage. It was the last thing I EVER EVER wanted to see. It was actually worse than the weird spandax costume Flea donned during their set, because as they walked, the peppers jiggled.
ANYWAY. We finally resolved that it was hopeless, and just decided to stand in the aisle, maybe three rows infront of our seats. Security had a fit. They checked my ticket like 20 times, and kept telling me to return to my seat, which was now occupied by a short asian girl who was standing on top of it to see the show. Security told them to move, which was shitty, I didn't care if they were at my seat, and I'm pretty sure Josh apologised to them for having to move. I can't remember what happened too well after that. I was getting pretty tired. We stood at our seats for the last bit of the concert, and eventually wound up sitting. The pain from driving and then walking all day without a break for sleep inbetween was taxing.
The only thing that really bothered me at the show, other than security, was the retarded light show they had. There was a giant screen behind the stage, and lights that went overtop of the audience. It was sort of like watching a music video, and not that much like being at a concert. During songs like "Californication" they played some cheesy cartoon sequence and it was pretty lame. The only thing I liked about it was when they would show close up shots of John Frusciante gently making sweet love to his stratocaster. And also, being able to get a good view of Flea's bass solo. He played a bass solo that was awesome. It sounded almost like a classical guitar kind of, it was strange and great.
So as the concert was about to wind down, Flea went into a little speech about how much they love The Mars Volta, and how inspiring they are to them, which I thought was pretty cool, and then they thanked the audience for being there and busted into their closing number, "By the Way". We figured it was their last song because that speech seemed like a closing type deal, so in the last chorus of the song, Josh and I headed outside so we could avoid the oncoming rush of people trying to board the sky trains after the concert. So we ran up the steps, felt pretty clever, got outside and then could hear music coming from inside again. So we went to the door, and a guard told us we weren't allowed back in. We offored our tickets, but he wasn't having any of it. We also realised that we were supposed to meet Di and Marcy after the show, so we wound up sitting and waiting through the entire encore. I didn't feel too dissapointed, I mean, I like the chili peppers enough, but I wasn't heart broken to miss another song of their's, I figured I'd seen the Mars Volta, I'd accomplished my given task.
It wasn't until the next that I found out that the encore was actually a big jam session with Omar, Flea, John Frusciante, and Chad something, the drummer from the chilis. I was sad to have missed it, but I was so tired at that point, and didn't have a good view of it anyway. BUT you can watch exerpts of it on here.
So we waited to find Di and Marcy, and were unable to locate them, so we walked around the venue, past a strange erray of buskers, and about 10 limos, and around where the loading bays were. A huge amount of semis were present, taking all the sound great from the stadium. It was funny, there were people ducking under hedges trying get back there. I hope they were successful.
So we gave up on looking, and took the skytrain home. It was sort of strange, the two people I was supposed to find the entire time were found only once that night, but the one person I'd previously never actually met in person--Derek--ran into us at least 6 times. It was just strange haha.
On the trainride back to Mike's I overheard some girl talking about the Mars Volta. Now if you read my previous blog on seeing them last year, you'll already know that I've had run ins with people on public transit after shows. This time it was a girl insisting that when the radio announcer said "give it up for the Mars Volta" everyone in the croud went "Boooo". I ignored her and tried to stay awake.
So we transferred trains at Commercial Drive and were pretty much on the home stretch. The seats on the trains were set up funny, there were two seats right beside eachother, where Josh and I sat, and on seat facing into the train, directly infront of our seats. That lone seat should have existed for one purpose and one purpose only: for us to rest our feet on because our legs were in horrible pain. But, apparently that wasn't so. These two girls got on the train at the same time as us, and one of them planted themself directly in that seat. Empty seats were rampant on that train, but she planted her ass RIGHT there. The two of them sat across from eachother, and found it neccecary to lean forward and whisper in eachother's ears constantly. They refused to talk. They just gossiped, craftily whispering whatever strange weird secrets shify girls on trains that take footrests seats and act like douchebags divulge while whispering on trains.
Being generally irritated by watching them make asses of themselves, and having nowhere comfortable to put my feet, I decided to make that girl as uncomfortable as possible. I kept standing up and rifling through pamphlets behind her head, and grabbing the pole that was attatched to her seat, but grabbing it right at face level. I don't know if she noticed though. But she did make a mistake. She stood up for a split second to listen to her friend whisper something more, and immediately me and Josh threw our feet on the chair, where they rightly belonged. She realised her error, and proceeded to sit down beside her friend and take trashy pictures of themselves with their phone.
So, at long last we arrived at our stop. Lougheed Center. FINALLY. I was about ready to die. There was a short walk to Mike's I seriously considered just not doing. Laying down in the middle of a busy street sounded a lot more appealing, but I made the trek......only to remember that Mike wasn't home, but at a friend's house. So we were locked out. Again. So we had to find a phone again, call him, and then wait for him to return home and bestow the gift of sleep upon us.
We wound up taking Josh's car this time, obviously. Walking is for tools. Especially when you haven't slept in 36 hours, and your legs refuse to bend properly. Of course, driving lead to another adventure. We went to get food, first opting for Tim Hortins, then deciding wait there's a Denny's! only to remember there's an Ihop nearby and I promised Zach Bowers I would eat a Ihop at least once in my life, but then Ihop was closed, so we went back to Denny's only to see it was Grand Central Station and we had no hope of being served withen the next three hours (we also ran into that girl from the train again there) and at long last decided on what was our first option, Tim Hortins. They messed up our order, we got to Mike's at around 1 am and feel asleep.
The next day we got up at 10 45, ate at Ihops, which was terrible, picked up Diondra and drove home.
Teh end.
The cost of merch there was RIDICULOUS. I was so disgusted. Last year, when Tess and I attended the Mars Volta/System of a Down concert, shirts cost $20 and the cuts and designs were so cool. They had these wicked huge posters as well, and awesome sticker/button packs. Nothing cost more than $20. Here, the cheapest shirt was $40. There were hoodies for $80-$90. I was shocked and very dissapointed, but what did I really expect? I mean, the chili peppers are such a big name band, so I don't blame the band or anything. It still was sickly expensive though. The worst thing about the merch was there were people ACTUALLY BUYING THESE SHIRTS. Mind boggling.
So after checking out the merch, and being dissapointed, I remembered that we were actually supposed to somehow meet up with Marcy and Diondra at the show. I started to actually worry because we hadn't seen them and I kept forgetting to call them due to me being a tired fuck up, but all my fears were quickly put to rest the moment we stepped into the stadium and I heard two excited voices yelping "NAOMI!!!" There they were, in all their glory, the lovely Marcy and Diondra. With one less thing to worry about, releif washed over me like warm rain, so we proceeded to find our seats.
So the thing about this concert, is it was in a stadium, and we bought floor tickets, but they had seats on the floor. We were expected to reamian at our seats for the whole show. But at the time we arrived, hardly anyone was on the floor, and the Mars Volta were up in less then 30 minutes. So we went to the front to see their gear and whatnot, and then decided, well why not just stand here. I attempted to take pictures of their pedals and amps, but the only one that turned out was a photo of a random roadie, and also, this.
We settled in on a nice spot. We were just right of center, somewhere between Cedric's mic stand and Ikey's rhodes. Prime location. Pretty close to where I was standing when I saw them play last year, only this year would be better because there'd be no angry System of a Down fans yelling at random.
So we stood for a while. Standing, killing time during that awkward period between when the roadies are done tuning guitars, and the band comes out to play. That time when you start to get too excited to make small talk with those around you. When you get sick of bullshitting with the security guards, and trying to see what pedals the bass player has for his rig. Waiting for that moment when the lights go down and you start hearing the theme song from A Fistfull of Dollars playing over the PA. The epic moment when Ikey walks on, trailed by Juan, and Pablo. When in the back you can see the new drummer , Blake Flemming, takes his seat behind his little drum set. You can't quite see what Adrian and Marcel are doing because you're too fixated on Omar strapping into his guitar, and Cedric, gallantly walking to the mic stand. It's the stuff dreams are made of.
When they stepped onstage, the croud was yelling alot, I probably was too, I'm not quite sure. I just know that the excitement of the situation finally came to head, I recalled that I'd actually made that trip for a reason, a reason I'd somehow forgotten amidst all the driving and conversation and lack of sleep. I remembered.
They started their first song right off the bat. No talking, no bullshitting the croud. Strait to business (cause they were wearing business suits I assume). A split second into their first song I knew exactly what they were playing. I got excited and began slamming my foot into the ground (and I think Josh's foot) several of times. I was too busy thinking ROULETTE DARES ROULETTE DARES ROULETTE DARES to really worry about it. It was spectacular. For those who have Deloused, it's track 4. Listen to it RIGHT NOW.
I was glad they opened with a De-loused song. It made me happy. I sang along gleefully for the entire song. Especially during the second verse, when Cedric accidentally unplugged his mic and broke it. For most of the second verse there was nothing but me yelling the words at him as loud as humanly possible. I'm prett sure no one but me could hear it though. I could also see Juan so clearly. He was going mindblowingly berzerk on the bass. I can't even concieve playing anything that fast. It made me want to quit music, or get bass lessons with Juan Alderate de la Peña. Unfortunely for everyone, niether of those is likely to happen.
It was shortly after this that security became an issue. We were suddenly flanked by guards asking us for our tickets to see if we actually had front row seats. This seemed ridiculous considering NO ONE who actually had front row seats were remotely interested in the Mars Volta. So we were told to go to our seats. We started to shuffle towards the center of the stage and stayed there for a moment, putting a buffer of people between us and the approaching guard. For a breif moment I was right in the center, in line with the drum set, Cedric dancing manically, Omar convulsing all over his guitar. But the gaurds were approaching again, so we had to keep moving. Shuffling through people, trying to keep one eye on the band the entire time. We were quickly approaching the end of the aisle, and I began to worry that I'd lose my chance to be so close to them for the whole show.
The lights then went down. The first song had ended. When it came back up, they started strait into The Widow (track 2: Frances the Mute) I stopped in my tracks, transfixed on their performances again. The gaurds approaching from both sides, myself stuck in wanting to stay where I was standing forever, but knowing they'd soon remove me. But then a genius beamed down from heaven or where ever it is geniuses beam from, and grabbed my arm and told me to jump back a row of seats.
Actually, this genius beamed from Romania, and it was Josh. He pretty much saved my life and I am forever grateful. Because of his quick thinking we watched the entire show undisturbed from our new location right next to where the saxaphone and percussionist were located. It was fantastic because the front row almost entirely emptied out, so we had a great view and no one was pestering us.
The lights went down and they went into their third song, Tetragrammaton (track 2: Ampuchture) Now at the time of the concert, I hadn't had enough time to really get into the new album. I'd maybe listened to it three times all the way through, and always without paying much attention. The more I've gotten aquianted with it, the more I realise just how amazing their performance was. Between Adrian trading off between playing flute, tenor sax, soprano sax, bass clarinet, and percussion, to Cedric hitting notes so high I would faint in any attempt at singing them, to Pablo playing harmonised leads with omar, to the orginised randomness of their jams, it was all just spectacular.
After a lengthy jam the broke into Viscera Eyes (track 6: Amptuechture, or listen to it here!) This song was awesome, and since it was the first released single I knew it the best out of all the newer ones they played. Cedric just blew my mind with his vocals. Also, Pablo is a very good guitar player. He replaced Jeremy Michael Ward, the Mars Volta's late sound manipulator, but is also taking on rhythm guitar as well, and it sounded fantastic.
At long last, they came to their closing number, which also happened to be the longest song of the evening: Day of the Baphomets (track 7: Amputechture) I hadn't heard this song more than twice, but they pulled it off stunningly. After listening to it again at home, I just marvelled at how incredibly well they managed to stay together in parts with strange time signatures and the like. It was impressive, though sometimes the randomness was a bit much to take. I still found the entire set amazing. Also, Marcel had a bongo solo in this song that was amazing. He nailed it live, it was awesome to see.
So after they wrapped up and vacated the stage, we meandered to our seats. Way the hell back in row 30. I chatted it up with some hippy kid who was in awe after seeing the Mars Volta for the first time. Seemed like a nice guy. Then I sat quietly talking to Josh and fighting waves of tiredness. I was so sore by then. My back and my calf muscles were just tired and over taxed. A lot of stuff happened between the sets, but I can't remember much save for talking to that guy, and Marcy and Diondra running up to us and asking Josh to boot for them. I laughed, they got discouraged and left, and I forget what happened next.
One thing I distinctly recall is some radio announcer guy bullshitting on stage for a while. This topic will be brought up later. The other outstanding memory was the random cheering. One random asshole in the back of the stadium would whistle, and a few other douchebags would think the band was coming on stage, so they'd cheer, and before you know it the entire stadium of like 10 000 people are yelling at nothing!!! It sucked because I lost my ear plugs during the mars volta's set and had to fashion make shift ones out of gum rappers. It functioned well enough, because I maintained most of my hearing.
I don't remember too many details about the chili peppers set. I remember it was loud, they played really exceptionally well, they opened with Can't Stop, and closed with By the Way, and that John Frusciante stole the show. I would have recalled more, but nearly all of their performance Josh and I kept trying to squeeze our way through hundreds of sweaty frat boys and their creepy girlfriends, all sweating and humping and wreaking of cheap cologne that, to this day, and entire WEEK later, still hasn't washed off my hoodie.
Josh seemed confident we could meander our way to the front, and I really wanted to beleive him. I wanted to get a close look at John Frusciante. Oh, John Frusciante. How I adore that man. I don't even know why, other than he's an amazing musician and bears an uncanny resemblance to someone I can't quite put my finger on. Oh well. He absolutely stole the show. His harmonies were amazing, and he sang a song by himself, just him and his guitar, that was just lovely. Plus he solos like a mad man. He also recorded all the guitar tracks in the new Mars Volta album, so gotta give him props. He's amazing.
Anyway, so we had the difficult task ahead of us of trying to avade security, while slipping between creepy gross smelly people, and creepy frat boys who kept touching me and sticking knees in places where no knees should ever go. The way the floor was set up, is there were two sections of seats, seperated by a large aisle in the middle of the arena. That is where we wound up, along with about 400 other people who had the same goal in mind as we did. Now, as if we didn't have enough things working against us, there were a bunch of irritable angry middle aged security gaurds trying to push the croud back and make sure everyone stayed EXACTLY in their seats.
We tried a few approaches. We had before us the challenge of meandering the maze of sticky moshers, or confronting the small militia of security. Both presented their own challenges. At first, we tried going around the side, but right away we ran into some strong arms who demanded I show them my ticket. It happened to be conveniently located in my jacket pocket, which happened to be conveniently folded in a tight ball inside of my bag. Not wanting to pull it out I told him I couldn't grab it, so he grabbed my arm and shoved me back from whence we came. Upon re-arriving at our seats I was hassled by another guard to show him my ticket, so I had to unpack my bag and present it to him, so he'd piss off. This was to be a continuing trend. At that, we started planning again.
Now when I say planning I mean Josh tried to yell suggestions to me and I couldn't understand anything he was saying, so I'd sort of guess based on hand gestures and where ever he motioned his head while talking. This method of communication may have contributed to our inability to make too much gorund. We made it pretty close to the stage, before being smothered by moshers and pushed back by security.
The great thing about being smothered in that mosh pit was seeing all the strange awkward people excited to see The Red Hot Chili Peppers play. The majourity were awkward middled aged meen who seemed to stare a bit too intently at Anthony Kiedes swivelling hip movement. There were also lots of frat boy types, and scary bikers. The best though, were the groups of scantily clad horribly overweight young women who wore low cut shirts, and drew red peppers on their cleavage. It was the last thing I EVER EVER wanted to see. It was actually worse than the weird spandax costume Flea donned during their set, because as they walked, the peppers jiggled.
ANYWAY. We finally resolved that it was hopeless, and just decided to stand in the aisle, maybe three rows infront of our seats. Security had a fit. They checked my ticket like 20 times, and kept telling me to return to my seat, which was now occupied by a short asian girl who was standing on top of it to see the show. Security told them to move, which was shitty, I didn't care if they were at my seat, and I'm pretty sure Josh apologised to them for having to move. I can't remember what happened too well after that. I was getting pretty tired. We stood at our seats for the last bit of the concert, and eventually wound up sitting. The pain from driving and then walking all day without a break for sleep inbetween was taxing.
The only thing that really bothered me at the show, other than security, was the retarded light show they had. There was a giant screen behind the stage, and lights that went overtop of the audience. It was sort of like watching a music video, and not that much like being at a concert. During songs like "Californication" they played some cheesy cartoon sequence and it was pretty lame. The only thing I liked about it was when they would show close up shots of John Frusciante gently making sweet love to his stratocaster. And also, being able to get a good view of Flea's bass solo. He played a bass solo that was awesome. It sounded almost like a classical guitar kind of, it was strange and great.
So as the concert was about to wind down, Flea went into a little speech about how much they love The Mars Volta, and how inspiring they are to them, which I thought was pretty cool, and then they thanked the audience for being there and busted into their closing number, "By the Way". We figured it was their last song because that speech seemed like a closing type deal, so in the last chorus of the song, Josh and I headed outside so we could avoid the oncoming rush of people trying to board the sky trains after the concert. So we ran up the steps, felt pretty clever, got outside and then could hear music coming from inside again. So we went to the door, and a guard told us we weren't allowed back in. We offored our tickets, but he wasn't having any of it. We also realised that we were supposed to meet Di and Marcy after the show, so we wound up sitting and waiting through the entire encore. I didn't feel too dissapointed, I mean, I like the chili peppers enough, but I wasn't heart broken to miss another song of their's, I figured I'd seen the Mars Volta, I'd accomplished my given task.
It wasn't until the next that I found out that the encore was actually a big jam session with Omar, Flea, John Frusciante, and Chad something, the drummer from the chilis. I was sad to have missed it, but I was so tired at that point, and didn't have a good view of it anyway. BUT you can watch exerpts of it on here.
So we waited to find Di and Marcy, and were unable to locate them, so we walked around the venue, past a strange erray of buskers, and about 10 limos, and around where the loading bays were. A huge amount of semis were present, taking all the sound great from the stadium. It was funny, there were people ducking under hedges trying get back there. I hope they were successful.
So we gave up on looking, and took the skytrain home. It was sort of strange, the two people I was supposed to find the entire time were found only once that night, but the one person I'd previously never actually met in person--Derek--ran into us at least 6 times. It was just strange haha.
On the trainride back to Mike's I overheard some girl talking about the Mars Volta. Now if you read my previous blog on seeing them last year, you'll already know that I've had run ins with people on public transit after shows. This time it was a girl insisting that when the radio announcer said "give it up for the Mars Volta" everyone in the croud went "Boooo". I ignored her and tried to stay awake.
So we transferred trains at Commercial Drive and were pretty much on the home stretch. The seats on the trains were set up funny, there were two seats right beside eachother, where Josh and I sat, and on seat facing into the train, directly infront of our seats. That lone seat should have existed for one purpose and one purpose only: for us to rest our feet on because our legs were in horrible pain. But, apparently that wasn't so. These two girls got on the train at the same time as us, and one of them planted themself directly in that seat. Empty seats were rampant on that train, but she planted her ass RIGHT there. The two of them sat across from eachother, and found it neccecary to lean forward and whisper in eachother's ears constantly. They refused to talk. They just gossiped, craftily whispering whatever strange weird secrets shify girls on trains that take footrests seats and act like douchebags divulge while whispering on trains.
Being generally irritated by watching them make asses of themselves, and having nowhere comfortable to put my feet, I decided to make that girl as uncomfortable as possible. I kept standing up and rifling through pamphlets behind her head, and grabbing the pole that was attatched to her seat, but grabbing it right at face level. I don't know if she noticed though. But she did make a mistake. She stood up for a split second to listen to her friend whisper something more, and immediately me and Josh threw our feet on the chair, where they rightly belonged. She realised her error, and proceeded to sit down beside her friend and take trashy pictures of themselves with their phone.
So, at long last we arrived at our stop. Lougheed Center. FINALLY. I was about ready to die. There was a short walk to Mike's I seriously considered just not doing. Laying down in the middle of a busy street sounded a lot more appealing, but I made the trek......only to remember that Mike wasn't home, but at a friend's house. So we were locked out. Again. So we had to find a phone again, call him, and then wait for him to return home and bestow the gift of sleep upon us.
We wound up taking Josh's car this time, obviously. Walking is for tools. Especially when you haven't slept in 36 hours, and your legs refuse to bend properly. Of course, driving lead to another adventure. We went to get food, first opting for Tim Hortins, then deciding wait there's a Denny's! only to remember there's an Ihop nearby and I promised Zach Bowers I would eat a Ihop at least once in my life, but then Ihop was closed, so we went back to Denny's only to see it was Grand Central Station and we had no hope of being served withen the next three hours (we also ran into that girl from the train again there) and at long last decided on what was our first option, Tim Hortins. They messed up our order, we got to Mike's at around 1 am and feel asleep.
The next day we got up at 10 45, ate at Ihops, which was terrible, picked up Diondra and drove home.
Teh end.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Mitch I'm sorry
I got home tonight at like 1:30 after hanging out with Josh and Mitch, eating food, wandering around, and drinking that horrible Icelandic paint thinner. I promised that upon coming home I would complete my epic blog about my trip to see the Mars Volta, but I just couldn't finish it. I'll either have to divide it up into smaller sections, or just post it a lot later, but either way it will take time to complete. I know Mitch will read this be all "NAOMI YOU LYING BITCH, I'LL FUCKING CUT YOU" and you know what, he has every right to feel that way. I would.
****************EDIT********************
Okay mitch, part 1 is up. READ AWAY!
****************EDIT********************
Okay mitch, part 1 is up. READ AWAY!
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Part I
Whoever said that driving to Vancouver at 11 30 at night during a rainstorm in a car you've never driven before was a bad idea has obviously never done it. There are a few things that can be learned from taking on such a task:
* coffee is excellent
* bringing a lot of CD's is the best idea one will EVER have in their entire life
* buying an apple from a sketchy gas station in a city known for its accessability of methamphetamines is a bad idea
* 5 speed standards are fun to drive
* Sleep depravation is incredibly entertaining
The reason I learned these things is because Josh and I took a little trip this week. The trip commenced for one reason and one reason alone: To see the Mars Volta.
The plan: leave early thursday morning to get to Vancouver. Catch a sky train to see the concert, and then be amazed. But, as a wise man once said, "a plan is just a list of things that don't happen."
I showed up at Josh's house at around 10:30 Wednesday night. After sitting around for a bit and listening to a shoddy recording of our first performance, we, on a whim, decided to start off our trip about 7 hours early. Josh woke up his mom at 11:00 to tell her we were setting off. She seemed less than pleased, but being super cool rebels we went anyway. We packed up enough CD's to last us about 8 trips to Vancouver and back, bought ourselves some coffee, and began our epic journey.
It was great travelling with a friend. I was so worried I'd wind up winging it to Vancouver solo, in my sketchy VW rabbit, and get lost somewhere and be killed. Or fall asleep and careen off the road. Or go the wrong direction. Or all three. Many things could have gone wrong I suppose, but Josh and I took turns with the driving duties and kept eachother awake with our whacky antics.
We stopped for food in Cache Creek at some weird psuedo diner that was adjacent to a gas station convenience store. Josh ordered some man's man breakfast with eggs and whatever it is tough guys eat, and I got pancakes. I was hungry, but not super hungry, so I just ate one. Somehow this infuriated Josh and he spent the rest of the trip treating me like I was some anorexic fiend on the brink of dying if I didn't eat more food. Crazy eastern Europeans. Gotta love 'em.
I handled driving from Cache Creek to Hope, and Josh attempted in vain to sleep through it. He kept insisting that if I was tired to pull over and rest. I wasn't, and he was confused. My ability to function on a high level with minimal sleep and food made no sense to him, but he seemed to tired to really worry about it.
We arrived in Hope and Josh decided we had to get food. I wasn't hungry, he was, so this meant I had to eat. We bought two apples and a muffin from this gas station food store place. Bad idea. I took one bite into the apple and fought really hard to not cringe. I can take a shot of tequila better than I took that bite of apple. We then stood outside and Josh started ranting nuerotically while smoking a ciggerette, and it was quite possibly the most entertaining thing I'd ever seen. I'd never seen anyone look so adorably sketchy in my entire life.
We continued on and I slowly nursed as much of that apple as I could, and then got frustrated and tossed it out the window. I don't think Josh understood how hard it was for me to eat that apple til he finally tasted his. It pretty quickly found it's way out the window too.
So on top of being sleep deprived and full of rancid apple, we also were clever enough to hit morning rush hour traffic in Vancouver, so it took us sooo long to get to Mike's appartment. When we did make it, Josh couldn't remember his apartment number, which didn't matter anyway considering Mike wasn't at home, but at a job interview. We found this out by calling him, and then wound up having to kill several hours by aimlessly wandering around the Lougheed Mall, sitting on park benches behind a Wal Mart, and just generally fighting waves of tiredness. We also spent a long time just wandering around Mike's neighbourhood getting passed by sketchy looking thugs. It seemed likely they were going to try and jump us, but then they saw how tough me and Josh look, and figured we'd fuck them up if they tried to start anything, so we managed to avoid any confrontations.
See, there's something about sleep depravation you should all know. It's a lot like running for a long distance. You go through weird waves of extreme fatigue and hyper alertness ranging from wanting to just lay down wherever you happen to be at any given time and sleep, to being REALLY awake and full of pep. This generally happened in 1-2 hours cycles, and the tiredness and awakeness would hit at random, sometimes suddenly, sometimes gradually. But, both being troopers Josh and I both just worked through it.
We finally found Mike, played Fifa (a soccor game for xbox...yeah we're cool. So very cool.) listened to some At the Drive-In, and got food at a resteraunt with a server who resembled Dane Cook a bit too much. Josh also documented a lot of this with his camera. He wound up taking a picture of this huge neon sign in the resteraunt, that was right over the kitchen. It said "I eat, therefore I am" or something ridiculous like that, and I guess in his tired enduced drunkedness, he figured he had to take a picture of it so everyone else could be aware of this stupid slogan's existance.
So he snapped a picture, and then we hear a yell from the kitchen. One of the cooks spotted him, and called him over. All I could think was "oh shit, Josh is going to get in trouble." It's hard enough to understand Josh talking normally, but when he hasn't slept in like 30 hours, he gets ever so slightly more incoherent. Turns out the cook just wanted to talk to him, and offored to let him take pictures of the kitchen. He continued to explain the great benifets of the food industry, which in reality are none, but in this guys mind were seemingly boundless.
I'm guessing most of the people who read this blog probably know Josh, but it should still be stated that when Josh hasn't slept in over a day he becomes a genius.
After dinner Josh was insistant that we purchase some sort of alcoholic beverages and get drunk as fast as we can before going to the show. I was a bit hesitant but then realised I'd never seen Josh drunk so this may be a rare and endlessly entertaining occurance, so I decided to encourage it. Somehow it was decided that rum and coke would be the drink of choice, and we purchased the goods and retreated to Mike's house.
Mike mixed the drinks, we all toasted and commenced with drinking. But poor Josh, poor poor Josh. He took one sip and made the most disguted unhappy angry face I've ever seen on him. He had a weird pattern to his drinking. He would take a few deep breaths, down a small amount, cringe, regain his composure, and then glare at his glass for about three minutes, and then repeat that process. The problem with it was we were on a time restraint. We wanted to get to the venue by 6:00, so we had to leave at 5:30. The clock was ticking, my drink was downed, Mike was comfortably getting into his second serving, and Josh was still not even halfway done. When it came down to the last 20 seconds before 5:30 he bit the bullet and downed the last third of his glass in one fell swoop. It was epic, and Josh looked not too good afterward.
In all fairness, I'd eaten a WAY bigger meal than Josh had (though I'd only eaten all of it so he wouldn't spend the rest of the night getting worried) and it should also be noted that a great deal of my experience as a drinker is spent in the company of Tess ('nuff said) but it still doesn't detract from the comical value of the given situation.
So to ease his trouble stomach, we bought a box of ritz crackers that would later be abandoned at the doors of the show, because of the douchebaggery of the security there (more on that later). We somehow managed to drunkedly navigate the skytrain system and arrive at the show slightly early.
Now, I'd really wanted to meet the band before the show, but I didn't want to seem like a weird fanboy so I didn't really explain that to Josh before hand. So we got to the venue and I ran into my friend Derek whom I'd never actually met in person, but knew from myspace, and has also met the Mars Volta before (refer to link). We greeted eachother gleefully and I asked him if he'd met the band yet. He said he had, and showed me his autographed copy of "Amputechture" signed by all members of the band, except for their new drummer Blake Flemming. I was slightly dissapointed to have missed my chance to meet them in person, but then decided it was probably for the better because I would undoubtably have made an epic ass of myself. Josh then felt bad because he somehow seemed to think he'd robbed me of some once in a lifetime oppourtunity. I was sad, but it didn't matter that much. Until Derek mentioned he knew which bus was their's and we decided to craftily sneak over and see if anyone was there.
By craftily sneak, I mean we walked with leisure across a street and stood beside the bus. I had last minute inklings that it was a bad idea and refused to move. I chose to just stand awkwardly clutching my purse and a postcard I wanted to give to the band. So Derek took the initiative and knocked on the door. There was a long pause. Painfully long. I was about ready to just give up and walk away. But then I saw the bus shimmy slightly, and the handle creaked.
The door slowly began to swing open, and from behind it peered a face. It was a face I knew all too well. It was ISIAH "IKEY" FUCKING OWENS. I'd never been so happy to see a sketchy cracked out black man in my entire life!! He seemed a little bit confused, and seeing an awkward pale sleep deprived kid clutching a post card with a Salvador Dali painting probably didn't help much.
I began talking to him, and was, in retrospect, probably made an ass of myself. I addressed him constantly as "sir" and "excused" myself for bothering him. It was all very sad haha. I gave him a handshake though, and introduced myself. I also complimented his work on the new album, as the keyboard is a lot more apparenty in many sections. He thanked me and said it was a nice change. I then asked him if he'd mind giving something to the rest of the band, and agreed. I quickly jotted a nerdy message to the band on my post card telling them I was grateful for all of their music, and if they ever needed a cellist I was up for the task, and put my number and e mail address at the bottom. I'm expecting a call any day now.
So having met one of the band, we stood in line for a while, took some nerdy pictures, and conversed with our fellow liners. We got frisked, and unfortunetly Josh's box of ritz crackers were confiscated. At that we were finally unleashed into GM place, about to meet our destiny....
* coffee is excellent
* bringing a lot of CD's is the best idea one will EVER have in their entire life
* buying an apple from a sketchy gas station in a city known for its accessability of methamphetamines is a bad idea
* 5 speed standards are fun to drive
* Sleep depravation is incredibly entertaining
The reason I learned these things is because Josh and I took a little trip this week. The trip commenced for one reason and one reason alone: To see the Mars Volta.
The plan: leave early thursday morning to get to Vancouver. Catch a sky train to see the concert, and then be amazed. But, as a wise man once said, "a plan is just a list of things that don't happen."
I showed up at Josh's house at around 10:30 Wednesday night. After sitting around for a bit and listening to a shoddy recording of our first performance, we, on a whim, decided to start off our trip about 7 hours early. Josh woke up his mom at 11:00 to tell her we were setting off. She seemed less than pleased, but being super cool rebels we went anyway. We packed up enough CD's to last us about 8 trips to Vancouver and back, bought ourselves some coffee, and began our epic journey.
It was great travelling with a friend. I was so worried I'd wind up winging it to Vancouver solo, in my sketchy VW rabbit, and get lost somewhere and be killed. Or fall asleep and careen off the road. Or go the wrong direction. Or all three. Many things could have gone wrong I suppose, but Josh and I took turns with the driving duties and kept eachother awake with our whacky antics.
We stopped for food in Cache Creek at some weird psuedo diner that was adjacent to a gas station convenience store. Josh ordered some man's man breakfast with eggs and whatever it is tough guys eat, and I got pancakes. I was hungry, but not super hungry, so I just ate one. Somehow this infuriated Josh and he spent the rest of the trip treating me like I was some anorexic fiend on the brink of dying if I didn't eat more food. Crazy eastern Europeans. Gotta love 'em.
I handled driving from Cache Creek to Hope, and Josh attempted in vain to sleep through it. He kept insisting that if I was tired to pull over and rest. I wasn't, and he was confused. My ability to function on a high level with minimal sleep and food made no sense to him, but he seemed to tired to really worry about it.
We arrived in Hope and Josh decided we had to get food. I wasn't hungry, he was, so this meant I had to eat. We bought two apples and a muffin from this gas station food store place. Bad idea. I took one bite into the apple and fought really hard to not cringe. I can take a shot of tequila better than I took that bite of apple. We then stood outside and Josh started ranting nuerotically while smoking a ciggerette, and it was quite possibly the most entertaining thing I'd ever seen. I'd never seen anyone look so adorably sketchy in my entire life.
We continued on and I slowly nursed as much of that apple as I could, and then got frustrated and tossed it out the window. I don't think Josh understood how hard it was for me to eat that apple til he finally tasted his. It pretty quickly found it's way out the window too.
So on top of being sleep deprived and full of rancid apple, we also were clever enough to hit morning rush hour traffic in Vancouver, so it took us sooo long to get to Mike's appartment. When we did make it, Josh couldn't remember his apartment number, which didn't matter anyway considering Mike wasn't at home, but at a job interview. We found this out by calling him, and then wound up having to kill several hours by aimlessly wandering around the Lougheed Mall, sitting on park benches behind a Wal Mart, and just generally fighting waves of tiredness. We also spent a long time just wandering around Mike's neighbourhood getting passed by sketchy looking thugs. It seemed likely they were going to try and jump us, but then they saw how tough me and Josh look, and figured we'd fuck them up if they tried to start anything, so we managed to avoid any confrontations.
See, there's something about sleep depravation you should all know. It's a lot like running for a long distance. You go through weird waves of extreme fatigue and hyper alertness ranging from wanting to just lay down wherever you happen to be at any given time and sleep, to being REALLY awake and full of pep. This generally happened in 1-2 hours cycles, and the tiredness and awakeness would hit at random, sometimes suddenly, sometimes gradually. But, both being troopers Josh and I both just worked through it.
We finally found Mike, played Fifa (a soccor game for xbox...yeah we're cool. So very cool.) listened to some At the Drive-In, and got food at a resteraunt with a server who resembled Dane Cook a bit too much. Josh also documented a lot of this with his camera. He wound up taking a picture of this huge neon sign in the resteraunt, that was right over the kitchen. It said "I eat, therefore I am" or something ridiculous like that, and I guess in his tired enduced drunkedness, he figured he had to take a picture of it so everyone else could be aware of this stupid slogan's existance.
So he snapped a picture, and then we hear a yell from the kitchen. One of the cooks spotted him, and called him over. All I could think was "oh shit, Josh is going to get in trouble." It's hard enough to understand Josh talking normally, but when he hasn't slept in like 30 hours, he gets ever so slightly more incoherent. Turns out the cook just wanted to talk to him, and offored to let him take pictures of the kitchen. He continued to explain the great benifets of the food industry, which in reality are none, but in this guys mind were seemingly boundless.
I'm guessing most of the people who read this blog probably know Josh, but it should still be stated that when Josh hasn't slept in over a day he becomes a genius.
After dinner Josh was insistant that we purchase some sort of alcoholic beverages and get drunk as fast as we can before going to the show. I was a bit hesitant but then realised I'd never seen Josh drunk so this may be a rare and endlessly entertaining occurance, so I decided to encourage it. Somehow it was decided that rum and coke would be the drink of choice, and we purchased the goods and retreated to Mike's house.
Mike mixed the drinks, we all toasted and commenced with drinking. But poor Josh, poor poor Josh. He took one sip and made the most disguted unhappy angry face I've ever seen on him. He had a weird pattern to his drinking. He would take a few deep breaths, down a small amount, cringe, regain his composure, and then glare at his glass for about three minutes, and then repeat that process. The problem with it was we were on a time restraint. We wanted to get to the venue by 6:00, so we had to leave at 5:30. The clock was ticking, my drink was downed, Mike was comfortably getting into his second serving, and Josh was still not even halfway done. When it came down to the last 20 seconds before 5:30 he bit the bullet and downed the last third of his glass in one fell swoop. It was epic, and Josh looked not too good afterward.
In all fairness, I'd eaten a WAY bigger meal than Josh had (though I'd only eaten all of it so he wouldn't spend the rest of the night getting worried) and it should also be noted that a great deal of my experience as a drinker is spent in the company of Tess ('nuff said) but it still doesn't detract from the comical value of the given situation.
So to ease his trouble stomach, we bought a box of ritz crackers that would later be abandoned at the doors of the show, because of the douchebaggery of the security there (more on that later). We somehow managed to drunkedly navigate the skytrain system and arrive at the show slightly early.
Now, I'd really wanted to meet the band before the show, but I didn't want to seem like a weird fanboy so I didn't really explain that to Josh before hand. So we got to the venue and I ran into my friend Derek whom I'd never actually met in person, but knew from myspace, and has also met the Mars Volta before (refer to link). We greeted eachother gleefully and I asked him if he'd met the band yet. He said he had, and showed me his autographed copy of "Amputechture" signed by all members of the band, except for their new drummer Blake Flemming. I was slightly dissapointed to have missed my chance to meet them in person, but then decided it was probably for the better because I would undoubtably have made an epic ass of myself. Josh then felt bad because he somehow seemed to think he'd robbed me of some once in a lifetime oppourtunity. I was sad, but it didn't matter that much. Until Derek mentioned he knew which bus was their's and we decided to craftily sneak over and see if anyone was there.
By craftily sneak, I mean we walked with leisure across a street and stood beside the bus. I had last minute inklings that it was a bad idea and refused to move. I chose to just stand awkwardly clutching my purse and a postcard I wanted to give to the band. So Derek took the initiative and knocked on the door. There was a long pause. Painfully long. I was about ready to just give up and walk away. But then I saw the bus shimmy slightly, and the handle creaked.
The door slowly began to swing open, and from behind it peered a face. It was a face I knew all too well. It was ISIAH "IKEY" FUCKING OWENS. I'd never been so happy to see a sketchy cracked out black man in my entire life!! He seemed a little bit confused, and seeing an awkward pale sleep deprived kid clutching a post card with a Salvador Dali painting probably didn't help much.
I began talking to him, and was, in retrospect, probably made an ass of myself. I addressed him constantly as "sir" and "excused" myself for bothering him. It was all very sad haha. I gave him a handshake though, and introduced myself. I also complimented his work on the new album, as the keyboard is a lot more apparenty in many sections. He thanked me and said it was a nice change. I then asked him if he'd mind giving something to the rest of the band, and agreed. I quickly jotted a nerdy message to the band on my post card telling them I was grateful for all of their music, and if they ever needed a cellist I was up for the task, and put my number and e mail address at the bottom. I'm expecting a call any day now.
So having met one of the band, we stood in line for a while, took some nerdy pictures, and conversed with our fellow liners. We got frisked, and unfortunetly Josh's box of ritz crackers were confiscated. At that we were finally unleashed into GM place, about to meet our destiny....
Thursday, September 07, 2006
TESS!!1!
You drunken fiend, you'd better read this. Tonight, when I was driving home, I caught you a TOAD.
I was driving home at like 11:00 PM, and they were all over the road again. After probably killing at least 3 or 4 of them by accidentally running them over, I stopped my car, and caught one by the glow of my car's headlights. It was about 4 inches long, when sitting normally, and cold and slimy as fuck. It kept squirming to get away, and began excreting some strange green ooze into my hand, that I can only assume was fesces. I decided it would be a bad idea to let it loose inside my car, so I set him down in the dark wilderness beside the road. That in itself was treacherous and in the process I nearly fell into a ditch that most likely lead to certain death, but I managed to survive.
But there were SO many of toads. If I'd had with me a bucket, I would have filled it with them and left it on your doorstep. I can only assume this would please everyone else in your home. But this night has opened my eyes. I mean, I need to stop carrying guitars with me all the time, and start packing empty buckets. They're endlessly useful. Unlike stupid guitars that are just useful in context.
I was driving home at like 11:00 PM, and they were all over the road again. After probably killing at least 3 or 4 of them by accidentally running them over, I stopped my car, and caught one by the glow of my car's headlights. It was about 4 inches long, when sitting normally, and cold and slimy as fuck. It kept squirming to get away, and began excreting some strange green ooze into my hand, that I can only assume was fesces. I decided it would be a bad idea to let it loose inside my car, so I set him down in the dark wilderness beside the road. That in itself was treacherous and in the process I nearly fell into a ditch that most likely lead to certain death, but I managed to survive.
But there were SO many of toads. If I'd had with me a bucket, I would have filled it with them and left it on your doorstep. I can only assume this would please everyone else in your home. But this night has opened my eyes. I mean, I need to stop carrying guitars with me all the time, and start packing empty buckets. They're endlessly useful. Unlike stupid guitars that are just useful in context.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
FUN!
So in 9 days I get to do something fun! Now this isn't just some run of the mill, "oh this should be remotely intereseting" type adventure that involves drinking, and wandering around Heritage til 6 in the morning. I digress, in 9 days, I get to see the Mars Volta live....in concert....again.
Now, last years excursion to see them was pretty fun. Tess was there, and a lot of drunken singing, and a few sketchy hobo ridden bus rides ensued, but this time around may give it a run for it's money.
The only real complaint I had about seeing TMV last time, was the band they were touring with. Now, I don't have anything particularly against System of a Down, I mean, their music isn't really my thing, (I never listened to them a great deal before seeing the concert) and I enjoyed their performance I suppose, but that night, I left the arena with an important realisation: their fans scared me.
You see, I love when two ecclectic musical acts come together for a tour, but in doing so, they should take care to make sure their fan bases will get along. With the mixing of these two crops, you had a few general types that would be attracted:
On the one hand, you have your average Mars Volta fan. Skinny, nerdy, probably plays an instrument and listens to King Crimson. Many are vegetarian, and will generally avoid socialising. Often attempt to dress in a manner mimicking that of Omar A. Rodriguez Lopez
Ex: Myself, Connor Oberst
On the other side of the spectrum, there is your average System of a Down fan. I don't want to sound like I'm generalising, but this is what I observed. Most of them were males aged 17-45, tall, heavy set, bald, drunk, and very sweaty. Some of them were paired with very dazed looking girlfriends who sported various metal t-shirts. They also partook in a lot of yelling.
Ex: Pretty much picture this guy with a System of a Down shirt, and black paint all over his face. Or even perhaps this one. They were all mostly bald, with varying degrees of facial hair and drunkeness.
You can see where there's a bit of a culture shock. I remember riding a bus after the concert, with Tess and the rest of the troupe that went to concert, and this guy, maybe about 18, was talking to me about the show, because he saw I was holding some merch. I told him I was glad to see the Mars Volta, to which he replied:
"man that band sucked."
Okay. That's fine, I mean, everyone has their own taste in music, so I don't mind when people don't like things I like. I'm cool with that. He went on:
"I mean...you should listen to system of a down...their music means something...their lyrics are so deep, I can't even explain it, and they're way better musicians than the mars...guys..."
Okay. So here I start to question my friend's creditibility, so I ask him
"so what instrument do you play"
I assumed if he was judging quality of musicianship, he must play something.
"Oh, I'm not a musician, but I know a good one when I see it." So, knowing when I'm completely under qualified to continue this discussion about music, and making the wise choice to not sound like a pretentious asshole by explaining how many instruments I play, I ask him what band's he's into other than system.
"well, basically, I like metal. So like...metallica, and system of a down, and...yeah those bands basically. What do you listen to?"
"Music? No, I don't like music" Conversation died, they got off the bus, and I was happy. Then an old hobo-looking man got on with 13 bags of groceries got on the bus. One of Colin's friends was nice enough to offor the man his seat, and the man graciously offored him a candy bar for his compassion. Now apparently, hobo chocolate isn't a very coveted prize. So the young man that recieved it, passed it to his friend, who passed it to another friend, who dropped it on my lap.
"I don't want this" I told him. But he was insistant and wouldn't take it back. "seriously, what the fuck am I supposed to do with hobo chocolate!?!"
"you're a girl...put it in your purse or something" then, noticing I didn't carry a purse, he gave it to Tess, who without knowing or thinking about it, placed it in her purse. The next morning, as we were heading back to PG, I noticed Tess nibbling chocolate. At first, I wasn't sure what to do, but I ultimately decided that I didn't want to Tess to die alone from whatever poison or diseases there must be in the candy, so we split it. Niether of us are dead yet, so I think it was okay.
Anyway, so this trip should be just as fun, if not shorter. I had a spare ticket that no one seemed willing to take, until a couple of days ago I mentioned it to Josh, so we'll be driving down Thursday morning. Early, I'm guessing, and then heading home Friday morning. It'll be whirlwind, but definetly awesome. Plus I'm meeting two school chums, Marcy and Diondra, so this should be an all around exciting trip. I'll try and post a quaint breif update after seeing them. I'll keep it short, hopefully, to compensate for my recent trend of writing epic multi-paragraphed essays.
Now, last years excursion to see them was pretty fun. Tess was there, and a lot of drunken singing, and a few sketchy hobo ridden bus rides ensued, but this time around may give it a run for it's money.
The only real complaint I had about seeing TMV last time, was the band they were touring with. Now, I don't have anything particularly against System of a Down, I mean, their music isn't really my thing, (I never listened to them a great deal before seeing the concert) and I enjoyed their performance I suppose, but that night, I left the arena with an important realisation: their fans scared me.
You see, I love when two ecclectic musical acts come together for a tour, but in doing so, they should take care to make sure their fan bases will get along. With the mixing of these two crops, you had a few general types that would be attracted:
On the one hand, you have your average Mars Volta fan. Skinny, nerdy, probably plays an instrument and listens to King Crimson. Many are vegetarian, and will generally avoid socialising. Often attempt to dress in a manner mimicking that of Omar A. Rodriguez Lopez
Ex: Myself, Connor Oberst
On the other side of the spectrum, there is your average System of a Down fan. I don't want to sound like I'm generalising, but this is what I observed. Most of them were males aged 17-45, tall, heavy set, bald, drunk, and very sweaty. Some of them were paired with very dazed looking girlfriends who sported various metal t-shirts. They also partook in a lot of yelling.
Ex: Pretty much picture this guy with a System of a Down shirt, and black paint all over his face. Or even perhaps this one. They were all mostly bald, with varying degrees of facial hair and drunkeness.
You can see where there's a bit of a culture shock. I remember riding a bus after the concert, with Tess and the rest of the troupe that went to concert, and this guy, maybe about 18, was talking to me about the show, because he saw I was holding some merch. I told him I was glad to see the Mars Volta, to which he replied:
"man that band sucked."
Okay. That's fine, I mean, everyone has their own taste in music, so I don't mind when people don't like things I like. I'm cool with that. He went on:
"I mean...you should listen to system of a down...their music means something...their lyrics are so deep, I can't even explain it, and they're way better musicians than the mars...guys..."
Okay. So here I start to question my friend's creditibility, so I ask him
"so what instrument do you play"
I assumed if he was judging quality of musicianship, he must play something.
"Oh, I'm not a musician, but I know a good one when I see it." So, knowing when I'm completely under qualified to continue this discussion about music, and making the wise choice to not sound like a pretentious asshole by explaining how many instruments I play, I ask him what band's he's into other than system.
"well, basically, I like metal. So like...metallica, and system of a down, and...yeah those bands basically. What do you listen to?"
"Music? No, I don't like music" Conversation died, they got off the bus, and I was happy. Then an old hobo-looking man got on with 13 bags of groceries got on the bus. One of Colin's friends was nice enough to offor the man his seat, and the man graciously offored him a candy bar for his compassion. Now apparently, hobo chocolate isn't a very coveted prize. So the young man that recieved it, passed it to his friend, who passed it to another friend, who dropped it on my lap.
"I don't want this" I told him. But he was insistant and wouldn't take it back. "seriously, what the fuck am I supposed to do with hobo chocolate!?!"
"you're a girl...put it in your purse or something" then, noticing I didn't carry a purse, he gave it to Tess, who without knowing or thinking about it, placed it in her purse. The next morning, as we were heading back to PG, I noticed Tess nibbling chocolate. At first, I wasn't sure what to do, but I ultimately decided that I didn't want to Tess to die alone from whatever poison or diseases there must be in the candy, so we split it. Niether of us are dead yet, so I think it was okay.
Anyway, so this trip should be just as fun, if not shorter. I had a spare ticket that no one seemed willing to take, until a couple of days ago I mentioned it to Josh, so we'll be driving down Thursday morning. Early, I'm guessing, and then heading home Friday morning. It'll be whirlwind, but definetly awesome. Plus I'm meeting two school chums, Marcy and Diondra, so this should be an all around exciting trip. I'll try and post a quaint breif update after seeing them. I'll keep it short, hopefully, to compensate for my recent trend of writing epic multi-paragraphed essays.
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