Morgan’s Abbreviated Tour Story
June 15th: Boston, MA: I just finished cleaning my bathroom. I meant to do it before I went on the road, because it's very welcoming to come home to a clean domain before you dump your suitcase all over the place, but I just didn't have time. I didn't even pick-up my bedroom, which is why I found a carry-out container of Southwest Chicken and Shrimp from Rock Bottom chilling under a gym bag and my denim jacket at the foot of my bed. This is what prompted the clean-sweep of my apartment—I had to bombard the air within my sacred confined with the super-chemical smells of bleach, lemon, pine, and vanilla to get right. Now I have a Hoegaarden and some time to think.
Tour By the Numbers:
Semi-trucks seen destroyed from the road: 2
Times I split my knuckles open on Pete's cymbals, needing stitching: 3
Seconds I was unconscious (while standing) due to electrical currents: ~5
Seconds Doz and I laughed on stage after realizing we were both still alive: ~10
Nights I didn't have a night cap: 4
Mornings not started with a beer: 3
Cups of black coffee consumed: 67
Number of prostitutes who asked me for a lighter: 5
College-towns played with college out-of-session: 4
XL tour shirts received half-way through the tour: 100
Waffle Houses visited: 1!
Times I set Nick Given on fire: 3
Speeding tickets collected for 10+ MPH over: 3
Hotels kicked-out of before we even checked-in: 1
Weight lost since tour began: ~8 lbs.
Percentage of accents and colloquialisms accidentally mocked in front of area natives: 100%
Height of pile of mail waiting for me on my kitchen table in inches: 5
Tour By the Songs:
"Poison" by Alice Cooper
"Presuppose" by Fiction Plane
"You Could Be Mine" by Guns N' Roses
"Allentown" by Billy Joel
"Waiting Room" by Fugazi
"Stranger Lover" by Ghostland Observatory
"Two Tickets to Paradise" by Eddie Money
"Crazy For You" by Madonna
"All Night Long" by Lionel Richie
"The Lies and the Money" by the Model Sons
"Prime Motivator" by the Giraffes
"King of Wishful Thinking" by Go West
...and a song I wrote with someone who will remain nameless for the time-being that currently doesn't have an appropriate title.
League of Chaos 2008: Four weeks on a route that takes us down through the South, along the Gulf, up from Texas, and zig-zagging nonsensically through the Great Plains before shuffling to Ann Arbor, NYC, and landing in Providence. I can say that in a nutshell it was a fairly easy tour other than a few really long drives in the Great Plains. We managed to dodge all of the severe weather that's been plaguing the country lately until Lawrence, Kansas—until then, it was pretty much clear, bright skies and although hot, not unbearably so. I prefer touring in the spring and summer.
I definitely felt better about this tour, performance-wise. We all learned a lot from the previous one, but I'm going to speak from my own personal experience. I always have an open ear and want to work toward being the best I can be, which isn't something that can happen quickly. Last tour I allowed myself to be distracted by a lot of what we call "loads of bullshit," so I didn't really give myself a listen and grow accordingly. (You could say the experience inspired lyrics to a song written on the road.) I wouldn't say I was the Burt Reynolds of vocals up there this time, but I felt like I made some large leaps in the right direction. Since then I've also learned some little tricks from a very talented and hard-working vocalist, Naoko, and our sound engineer, Joel, who is also a musician. By the way, record your singing performances and listen to them, no matter how gnarly you think you are. You're bound to learn something.
Visually, I went to a refined version of my old quiet-storm/magic-boy approach (think Josh Homme/Aaron Lazar) and put the volcano-tornado method (chaos, headbanging constantly, feral faces) to rest. I feel pretty good about it—vocal performance aside (hello, breathing!), it just suits me better—I move deliberately and/or coolly by nature and it gives me a dexterity modifier to having drinks on stage. Strangely, I feel that I sweat just as much and I now get the occasional headache.
Nerd alert! I was more conscientious about my diet this tour, too. I ate food with syrup on only four occasions: the double-dose of the All Star combo at Waffle House and two orders of Momma's Pancake Breakfast at the Cracker Barrel about two weeks apart. (Cracker Barrel pancakes have ruined all other pancakes for me, as they are so tasty and have the best texture.) I think this adjustment gave me the stamina to finish the Slash autobiography, stomp Glen repeatedly in the vs. mode on New Super Mario Bros., re-read Skinema, and nearly beat Final Fantasy 4 (for the GBA). I started out being pretty disciplined about doing stretches, crunches, push-ups, and all of that fun stuff, but it eventually became a conflict of interest with my boozing disciplines.
Still here? Good. Let's get to it.
Charlotte, NC: The first show of the tour went better than I expected, but I didn't really get to see Charlotte. I did, however, get to catch-up with my good friends Crazy Bill and Abbey, as well as meet the first of many awesome people—a precedent I was more than happy to roll with on the road. I drank two 5-Hour Energy Drinks and started doing cartwheels into outer-space. Not really. I can't do cartwheels.
Atlanta, GA: I really like playing festivals in the summer. Once you get through the initial clusterfuck and early load-in times, there is a lot you can potentially do at your own speed all day long. You meet a lot of people, get a nice buzz going and maintain, and generally speaking there's at least one band you're interested in seeing.
The Soco Music Experience in Atlanta is a bit more scaled-down than, say, Riverfest in Little Rock, or Wakarusa in Lawrence (two other festivals we appeared at on this tour); however, it was definitely well put-together and very accommodating. I felt a little guilty for not hanging out in the back-stage artist area with the classic game machines and soft furniture—although I did handle the artist bar pretty well. Instead, I wandered out in the sun, took it all in, took pictures with people, and ate BBQ. Ghostland Observatory, by the way, is a band you should look into if you haven't already.
Mobile, AL: Mobile summed-up: lots of broken glass and blood at the venue, the guitarists and I nearly got electrocuted on stage (no joke), and a sweet, sweet pizza party. The glass and blood were supposedly fake and a result of a GWAR show from a couple nights before, and the circumstances involving the rampant electrical currents on stage remain a mystery.
Getting shocked from not being grounded on stage can happen, but not often with that intensity. I checked-out for about five seconds and "woke-up" to Doz looking at me with the biggest woah-face I've seen on him. We kept staring at each other saying things like "what the fuck?" over and over until someone—I forget whom—told us it was a huge electrical shock. Apparently it jumped from Doz, probably his bass' headstock, to my mic, and into my face, because my lips were bleeding and my eyes wouldn't stop tearing. After the few seconds it took to process all of this, we started laughing maniacally and the crowd went bat-shit. Later on I heard from different people how during this shock my eyes were actually really wide-open, my teeth were bared, and I wasn't moving.
I'm sorry that I forget the name of the bar/restaurant that took us in after the show, but we were treated to an open bar and some serious specialty pizzas by some new fans. We cooled-out, played 9-Ball as you do, and had some cocktails and beers. I'd be remiss if I didn't mention there was some dancing at one point. (Ryan: good luck with the Navy, my friend.)
Hold On: Nate Wells just brought me a grilled Italian chicken-sausage on a bun with a bottle of Gulden's spicy mustard.
Texas: I can combine the San Antonio and Houston stops into one entry—this isn't to say that the cities are the same, but I just spent a lot of time here. Highlights include: doing laundry, it was blazing hot, I played a lot of 9-Ball, and I had my first "prostitute encounter while walking back to the hotel from Denny's" for the tour. Alex and I found the place on the Alamo where Ozzy Osbourne once relieved himself, but I can't say one way or another if we followed his lead. Oh, and I did enjoy the River Walk in San Antonio, but I found it funny and somewhat frustrating that the bar we spent the most time in was an Irish Pub clone. At least Iron Maiden also had shared that joy the night before and people kept asking us whether we were with them or not, and I think our answers slowly turned into a simple "yes." Unfortunately, Maiden also shared all of our nights on the stage, so we started getting messages that went something like "sorry, we're going to see Maiden." I would, too.
Little Rock, AR: Huey Lewis and the News and Arrested Development. Huey looks and sounds amazing, but no disrespect to him—I just wanted to hear the hits. Fortunately I showed-up and pushed my way to the front just in time for "Power of Love" which made it okay for me to call it a day. Meanwhile, Arrested Development killed it on the other stage, and Bryn, Alex, and I were there in front-center (amid looks like we didn't belong) moving to the sweet beats and singing along with Speech. I didn't realize that I knew pretty much all of the words to their songs until I double-fisted beers in front of Baba Oje and his giant leaves.
Fayetteville, AR: Of all the stops with sweet outdoor bars that kept feeding some dudes and I shots on the house, this was certainly one of them.
St. Louis, MO: We played Blueberry Hill, which meant I took some extra time to try and find cameras installed in the bathrooms. (Kidding! Chuck rules.)
Nashville, TN: I think the most complete account of what happened—well, as complete as it can be with everyone's best interests in mind—can be found in my other blog by clicking this here link.
Champaign, IL: Cameron Burns. That's pretty much it, but more than enough for me.
Fargo, ND: We spent a lot of time here cooped-up in a Super 8 writing music and recording demos. One day we recorded the ultimate demo over the course of 13 hours. It's good to be excited about writing music, but not so good to be excited about breaking hotel furniture. On the day of the show I attempted a bar crawl, but failed (except at the Empire where Liz made me some kind of crazy shot that allowed me to see shit), so I just got real beavised at the bar we played with a guy who could legitimately slam two bottle beers at the same time faster than I could slam one. This was a night that wouldn't end, however, and we wound-up at someone's house to party and take the blame for other people wrecking the joint.
Milwaukee, WI: Milwaukee is always really good to us. We first played here twice a year or so ago as part of Summerfest, the legendary day we found a friend in Mark Slaughter and sang "Up All Night" with him in front of thousands of people. Colleen and Sarah, two friends of the band who also go way back with us, were on hand to check out Beatallica—another band we played with at Summerfest last year who joined us again this go-round. (Also, thank you for all of your hard work with promoting this show. And the BBQ.) I tried to bro-down with a rabbit in Sarah's back yard, but he wasn't having it.
Davenport, IA: The Redstone Room is an off-shoot of the River Music Experience, which is more or less a museum for "river music" that also has studios and classes for musicians. All of the money made there goes toward the music programs they host for children and other local community music programs. They were really nice people, which was good considering we almost got our van and trailer wedged between their building and the next one over (which was 80% glass).
After the show, we took a trip over to Rock Island just in time for a street-and-beer festival to get let-out, so everyone else was wasted and we had some choice encounters with locals. Bryn and I wandered away from where the Camaro settled down and found a place with a huge dance floor. After the customary beer and shot, we blew the patrons' minds with really sweet moves and innate senses of rhythm, and then peaced-out to meet with the rest of the guys.
Lawrence, KS: The night we rolled-in, some of the dudes hung low at the apartment with some vodka while another group and I went to the Wakarusa Festival to register and check it out. At this point it was night-time, Ben Folds was on, and everyone there was wasted and scantily clad. I watched a girl dance around with a flaming hula-hoop and a LED-wrapped kite crash down into a large crowd before I had enough and we head back to the hotel. I stopped at a Walgreens to buy a pint of B&J's Half Baked to cheer myself up on the way to the hotel and met with some of the guys pool-side.
After I finished my ice cream, I got it in my head that I wanted to pour lighter fluid (found at the grill on the hotel patio) in my empty pint and set it on fire. Nick Given and I had to play around with it for a bit, but we got it to ignite and basked in its charming, warm glow. This, of course, just wasn't enough, and the next logical step was to pour the lighter fluid all over Nick's swimming shorts (which were dry) and set him on fire. As his shorts went up and the fire crawled along his back, he jumped into the pool—the fire would last for a second under the water, which I found fascinating and required further studying.
We wrapped a hotel towel around his waist and I soaked it in more fluid. The fire went up quite a bit more than last time, and he dove into the pool. The third time (with a second towel) was the charm, because the fire wrapped around him like a utility belt and on his back/ass, it was almost in his hair. These experiments are sort-of documented by cell phone cameras and can be found somewhere on-line.
We were then quickly escorted out of the premises.
When we decided to show ourselves at the festival for load-in, the weather took a turn. The squall line fell on the festival grounds just as we arrived at the Sun-Up stage. The winds were pretty high, the lightning was close and vivid (Bryn and I saw a strike about a mile away that lasted for a solid four seconds), and the hail was about the size of a golf ball. I was watching the tree-line expecting to see at least a funnel cloud, but all it just rained very heavily and blew stuff over for a while. Bryn and I got pinned on a slab of plywood sitting on... something above the water—the electrical cables submerged in six inches of water without any kind of sealant on the connections left us a little curious and alarmed.
The rain eventually let-up and the flood current carried the water away, so Bryn and I took our shoes and socks off and ran through a gravel-y field to find the sharpest rocks possible and catch our van as it departed the sad festival grounds. A lot of mellows were harshed that day.
Ann Arbor, MI: Ann Arbor is about 30 minutes or so from where I grew-up. It's a great town, and even though school is out, it's a city unto itself with people everywhere—you couldn't throw a rock without hitting a patio loaded with people. The show went extremely well, which was good for us, and I got to see my sister, Leslie, brother-in-law, Matt, and two of my best friends, Jay and Aaron, who do not live near me. I also unexpectedly met a lot of people from my neighborhood who drove out to see us. After the show Rod and I went with Jay and Aaron to a bar called the Arena where people submerged Rod and I in shots. Within twenty minutes I was somehow laying on the sidewalk beside the van complaining about lunar gravity much to my surprise.
On the way here, we saw two full rainbows over the expressway. They were huge and seemed very tangible, which made my rest stop dinner of Gatorade and Baked Lays taste even better. Life is good.
NYC, NY: There comes a time in a tour when you know it's right to start winding-down and head home. For me, it hasn't mattered how many weeks you're out, so much as your brain registers "time's almost up" and you just kind of check out--you start mentally preparing yourself for what waits, which can be good (your own bed, food) and could be bad (a pile of mail). Our arrival in NYC was a relief in that not only is it a city we love to play and do well in, but it was sort of an encouraging bump to get us through that last little stretch.
All in all, the day was very uneventful. We arrived, checked into the Soho Grand Hotel, loaded into the Bowery Ballroom, and sort of scattered to the four winds as we do when we're in NYC. I spent a good long time wandering the streets of Soho, going from bodega to bodega in search of 5-Hour Energy, but no one knew what the hell I was talking about. I also stopped into some boutiques to shop, as I do, but didn't find anything sweet enough to get excited about.
When night came, however, the bands went on and the people came out from the woodwork. Demander (whom have played with us before and we are friends with) opened the show, the Giraffes kept it going, and then we finally went on. From front to back, this was a great show, and the drinks everyone kept floating me certainly didn't harm it. I hadn't heard the Giraffes before—check them out.
This night also marks when other choir members who could not tour with us were able to come out to reunite. Not only was it good to see everyone, but it gave the band itself a boost—people who had exhausted their voices could turn it down a little and rely on the choirman next to them. I sweat out a lot of tequila, but then I was also pegged with more than one plastic cup full of beer while on stage. That first one caught me by surprise, much like me splitting my knuckles open for the third time on Pete's cymbals. Apparently that never gets old, but this time it may have been the worst. That's the most I can say without saying things like "flaps" and "tendons."
Afterward, I spent a lot of time between wandering the streets of Soho, hitting this bar and that bodega, and the Soho Grand. Eventually when I settled at the SG, it turned into something we'll call a "party." We got a lot of knowing looks and smiles the next morning from security and patrons alike. I do hope I get to stay there again in the near-future—every time I do, it's magical.
I slept a lot on the way to Rhode Island.
Providence, RI: A guest choir member from NYC, Rowan, joined us on the way back to RI. Other than that, I slept and it ruled. Oh, it took us six hours (!!) to make it to Providence from NYC due to crazy traffic. I think that's why sleeping ruled so hard—I was able to do a lot of it. I think those five hours (since we broke to take slashes and get food) equal something like an hour of real sleep. Even if sleep doesn't really help you catch-up on your sleep debt, I feel that if I can sleep about three hours in the van and pee a lot, it takes the serrated edge off of my hangover. I may still feel tired, but (I'd like to believe) the body is still working harder than it would if you're awake to cleanse itself. Needless to say, I slept a lot in the van on this tour, and not to pass the time and let my brain check-out like I did on the last one. This van napping was medicinal. Even if that's bullshit biologically-speaking, I felt pretty good about it.
So, Providence. Jerky's was a good time, and I got a small kick out of the fact that we played above a hardcore show at Club Hell for no other reason than the juxtaposition (however narrow as it may be, since it was rock music all-around). I was also pretty old and quiet compared to a lot of the people I saw waiting in line for that one, but that's something else. Cobra Mustang opened for us, which was yet another good surprise for an opening band on this tour. Oh, and they had a fog machine, which made me envious—we have one, as well, but we never get to use it--they're illegal in Massachusetts. Give the people their fog, Massachusetts! Give them liquor stores that are open passed 11pm and bars open passed 1am, too*. (*Not all of them are, but most of the ones I prefer have to stop serving at 1am. This is what I call "a drag.")
NYC restored us to full-power, but Providence was our true welcome back. Being that Providence is about an hour away from Boston, a lot of familiar faces made it out to welcome us back. The mixture of a lot of new faces with said familiar faces was a nice treat—we still filled the room with fans, but people who are obligated to come to every one of our shows and handle us when we drink entirely too much were there for the first time in 20-odd shows! During my F.Y.T.F.O. rant, I lost track of where I was, because the crowd started slow-clapping and getting a little emotional. That was definitely a new reaction to me telling everyone "thanks" and "buy more booze" and "get naked" or whatever the hell it is I do.
Did I mention this was the smallest stage we've played on? Well, hold on—the Wellfleet Beachcomber is smaller, but we could spill out over onto the floor from the stage; on this one, we were all confined to the stage. I danced real sexy-like that night in my little 2.5"-square foot space. I humped my mic stand like a professional, not (necessarily) because I was hard-up, but because I had to do it and make it work for me/the audience. No one really talked to me after that show; I can't imagine why.
The drive from Providence to Boston was the longest one-hour drive ever. I couldn't wait to claw my way through the glass window of the van, unload all of that gear at the Sound Museum, and get my ass in bed to dream free dreams, the best kind of dreams I know.
End: As is the case with most blogs/journals, unless you write all the time as events unfold, it's hard to be thorough. I'm sure there's a name I didn't mention or an appliance that someone pee'd in somewhere along the way, and for that I am sorry. I say this in pretty much all of my blogs, because there's a certain amount of guilt that comes with having a crappy short-term memory.
To all the fans who bought our album, let us ruin their new shirts with Sharpie markers, or bought a ticket to get in the door: thank you for everything. We can't do this without your support—otherwise we're a bunch of jerks who enable each other and make a lot of references to Kentucky Fried Movie or Star Trek: The Next Generation. I know I can't wait to do this again, and I'm pretty sure that it's going to just keep getting better and better.