shake your halo down

cb350 phase 2

2010-02-22T07:32:00.000-08:00

one of my main hobbies/obsessions is motorcycles...specifically, old motorcycles. more specifically, old japanese motorcycles, since they have comprised the majority of my motorcycle ownership.

i grew up into cars, as my dad was an engineer for corvette, and he drag raced back in the mid/late 60's in southern california. he ran a '65 barracuda with a 273 small block and 4-speed manual in the stock class.

i always wanted a cool old hot-rod or musclecar, but spending the majority of my time on the road in a band, and having limited funds, access to garage space, and tools, i gravitated towards bikes.

a lot of my friends back in detroit ride, and most all of them do their own work. whether it's maintaining a relatively stock set-up, or customizing and rebuilding, i have/had a lot of inspiration to draw from. i quickly figured out i could get a decent starter bike for cheap, and go from there.

a few of the guys i was close with were actual bike mechanics, so i had someone to kind of look over my shoulder and help me learn how to wrench and maintain mine.

i started riding motorcycles growing up in bowling green, kentucky. work had brought my dad and our family there from southern california. it was a definite change from the beach and disneyland and malibu grand prix. tons of woods and subdivisions and dirt bikes and vacant lot dirt tracks. my dad wouldn't let me get a bike of my own, so i cadged rides on friends' bikes whenever i could. i'd pay to fill up the gas can in the garage, just to be able to borrow it for an hour. old yamaha 125's, honda xr80's and 100's, eventually even an old yammy 175 enduro.

later on, in high school, i had the use of a pal's 250 ninja; he'd grown bored of it and i could go over and take it for rides whenever i wanted, as long as i maintained it. that was a lot of fun for a fearless teenager, and definitely gave me the bug to get my own when i moved out of mom and dad's. in college out in tucson, i rode a dorm-mate's cb750 many miles. it was so cool to ride out to the hills surrounding town.

fast forward to the early/mid-90's, i'm in the market for my first official street bike. my first mistake was falling in love with british bikes, specifically the triumph bonneville.

i bought a '68 hardtail project my friend had started, taking home a frame and a bunch of parts in a cardboard box from a swap meet. he ended up getting a sweet offer on an old sportster, so he sold me the bonnie to fund it.

i spent a lot of time and even more money on getting that thing right, and was rewarded with an unreliable, temperamental money-pit that consumed my every waking thought and cent. i sold it for a tremendous loss when nothing i fixed or replaced seemed to make the engine able to run on both cylinders for further than 10 miles. the next two owners had the same problems. many years later, i'd learn the problem was a hairline crack in the cylinder head that only showed when the engine was hot, hence us not being able to find the problem when the head was cold under examination. you learn.

i went a few years without a motorcycle, after my expensive lesson in owning a 'cool' hardtail bobber. everything on it rattled or cracked off at one point, given the severe shape of michigan's roads. i definitely learned about the maintaining aspect of vintage bike ownership, if not the riding. 'cool' equaled lots of wrenching, very little road time.

eventually, my close pal james offered me an old kawasaki his then-girlfriend had tried learning on. she didn't take to riding, so he sold it to me for what he had into it. i think it was around 400 bucks. it already had new tires, chain, battery, etc. the basic stuff to get it running reliably. it just looked kinda ugly, in that late 70's UJM kinda way. big buckhorn handlebars, too much chrome, etc.

under the tutelage of talented wrench and ratbike pioneer todd pratt, i transformed the lowly kz650 into a mad max-inspired flat black monster. it had great suspension and brakes, and ran like a raped ape. i put an easy 15,000 miles on it in the three years i had it on the road.

(click on the pics to view full size)

a few of my harley and brit-bike pals got turned on to old jap bikes the same way i did. i'd show up at the bar on it, and they'd bemoan their project sitting in the garage half-apart. i'd toss them the key and my helmet and tell 'em to take it for a blast. they'd come back marveling at a bike that actually handled and stopped, much less started every time you went to ride. AND you could make them look really cool...a lot cheaper, too.

why i sold it was beyond me. i guess i got bored and wanted something new, so i actually parted it out for more than i could have made selling it complete.

lots of riding, very little wrenching sold me on these japanese bikes. plus, they're engineered for the average joe to be able to maintain or repair relatively easily.

after the hallowed kz came the red-headed stepchild of my 70's jap bikes, the cool little yamaha rd350 i bought off my pal ryan in cleveland. it was one of many projects he had hogging space in his garage, and i was glad to take it off his hands. it was the production version of the factory racers, and came stock with a snarly little 2-stroke engine and 6-speed, great brakes, and the ability to wheelie through the first three gears without much effort at all.

sadly, that bike developed a leaky main seal that necessitated an entire engine rebuild, and parts for those little smokers are pricey. i sold it to another great bike wrench pal, oily dave. he had three more of them in his barn, and a built engine waiting for a suitable project, so it went to a good home.

which brings me to the subject of this post, my latest ride. a '72 honda cb350.

riding the little rd made me realize i prefer the smaller, lighter bikes; they're easier for me to throw around and more fun to ride. the old triumph gave me a love for stripped down british styling. the little honda combines both. and it's dead reliable. plenty of parts available for reasonably cheap. a big vintage racing scene... perfect!

i picked it up off a pal last spring, before we moved to texas. it was his girl's ride, and she wanted something a little bigger to take on the freeways and long distances. it was bone-stock, dusty and a little rusty, and slightly anemic in terms of performance, but the price was right.

the shape it was in when i got it:

once we were settled in in austin, i got to work on getting the bike back on the road.

my pal craig helped me give it a shakedown before i'd moved. i knew the compression was low in both cylinders, but especially the right. i'd need to do a top-end rebuild.

since my new garage was little more than a storage space for moving boxes, i enlisted the help of the limey to oversee the tear-down.

we ended up almost completely rebuilding the cb. new tires and tubes. tapered steering bearings. blasted the top triple-tree to remove the old paint. new 'euro' handlebars. new hagon shocks spec'ed to the bike. new chain. new battery.

total top-end overhaul. honed the cylinders and installed new rings. valve job. brand-new OEM cam chain tensioner. new hi-quality gasket set from japan.

brand-new points assembly, new condensor, hondaman electronic ignition box, brand-new high output stator and rectifier/regulator from rick's motosport electrics.

brand-new OEM carb intakes, new mikuni vm30 carbs and k&n hi-flo filters.

new shorty reverse-megaphone mufflers.

i also installed a cafe 'bump' seat foam and cover on the stock pan. after trying it out for a few months, i ended up going back to something similar to the stock seat, but with the foam shaved down for a lower profile.

how it looked when last summer's work was finished:

(with clubman handlebars and bump seat)

(with euro bars and shaved-down stock seat foam back on)

i rode the bike daily from last june onward. took it to luckenbach for the harvest classic, where it got a lot of attention in the vintage show. it's fast and fun, and it keeps me inspired.

however, i don't baby it, and it's showing signs of internal engine issues. the stock cam chain tensioner sucks, and my new-last-summer pricey OEM piece is quickly falling apart, sending disintegrating bits of the rubber wheels into the oil passages, and allowing the cam chain to stretch and flail around internally, adding metal particles to the mix.

so, a full engine teardown and rebuild is on the agenda.

while i have the bike apart, i've decided to do some modification to the frame and build a new seat, rewire the whole harness, and change the handlebar controls and switches to clean up the look and get rid of the stock stuff. basically reworking the whole bike for 'phase 2'.

i've drawn a lot of inspiration from the great custom scene in japan...bratstyle, m&m, gravel crew...all really cool custom builders. the bikes are super clean and well-built with a lot of attention to the little stuff, and they seem to share elements of bobbers, flattrackers, and cafe racers. they've taken my favorite bits from each style of bike and combined them into one 'perfect' amalgamation.

of all the custom 'brat' style builders, my faves far and away are actually a collective from denmark, not japan! wrenchmonkees are putting out the bikes that speak to me most.

they incorporate 'patina' in their builds; whether it's using an old tank with the stock paint and dings, or scuffing shiny aluminum with scotch brite to resemble a brushed finish, the bikes look both old and new at the same time.

they remove all the un-necessary bits, rebuild everything else for modern reliable performance, and tie it all together in a way that just makes you want to jump on the bike and tear off into the sunset.

i've decided to rework my bike in the style of a few of the 'monkees builds. specifically, monkee #13, monkee #6, monkee #5, and especially the recent cb750 they reworked.

these are my inspiration:

the way the seat and rear frame rails are done in the top pic is pretty much exactly how i want to do mine. cutting off the rear loop of the stock frame and fabbing a semi-circular hoop to end the rear of the seat and mount the rear fender.

to get the bike ready to mod, i started disassembling it this past week. i removed the seat, battery tray and electronics, tank, fenders, exhausts, and other parts. i'm removing the whole electric starter and going kick only, so i can get rid of the starter motor, sprocket, clutch and chain, as well as the solonoid and related wiring. i won't need a starter button anymore, but i will have to wire in a new kill switch, since i'm ditching the factory controls.

i'll also have to add a new horn button, three-way for the lights (off/low/hi), and relocate the ignition key.

some progress pics:

i have some rough markings of where i want to cut the rear of the frame, and i want to match the back angle of the seat loop to the frame rails coming up from the swingarm pivot area. i'll use round stock the same diameter as the existing frame tubes.

here, you can see the markings i've made:

i also cut out a rough cardboard template of my idea for the seat pan. i'll fabricate it out of sheetmetal, along with an underseat tray for the electronics.

here it is placed on the frame for an idea of how it'll look:

i've got my work cut out for me. i have to grind down all the spot-welded tabs along the frame, and solid weld the seams. i'm removing all the unused/unnecessary bracketry. welding the swingarm support plates to the frame (they bolt on stock), and cutting down the part where the passenger peg mounts are. drilling a few holes to route the wiring through the frame to tidy things up.

i also need to modify the old stocker or fab up a new battery box. i plan on using a smaller gel battery, since i won't need the big stocker's juice without the electric leg. i can also mount a gel battery sideways if needed to fit it out of the way.

either tonight or tomorrow i'll be removing the engine from the frame and taking the front end off. then i'm headed over to the shop where i work part-time, to do the frame mods and welding. that's where i'll also be fabbing the seat pan, underseat tray, and battery box. my boss jason is hooking me up. he rules.

i need to get everything made and/or disassembled and ready by next weekend, as i'm hoping to head to la grange to my pal skinny dave's custom cycle shop for machining and powdercoat. at the very least, i want to have everything ready to drop off for powder. i might not have time to totally tear apart the engine for machining. i can always drop off the cylinders and head when i pick up the powdercoated parts.

more pics as i work on the frame. i'm stoked to get going and get the bike back on the road...

detroit...the old days (pt. 2)

2009-12-01T09:14:00.000-08:00

i was a relative youngster in the scene. when i started hanging around (late '86), the old guys still ruled the city. we were a bunch of snot-nosed suburban kids. we thought we knew what was cool. we had no idea.

again, my pals and i were at blondie's. we were there to see the second band, SBLC (screaming bloody leper children). they had started to gain popularity, and they were getting tighter with every show. they played with more of an aggressive english punk style. keith, the singer, wore a leather decorated with leopard skin and studs, with "partisans" painted prominently on the back.

they had just finished their set, cleared the gear off the stage, when the headline band started to set up.

as they brought their equipment on, we couldn't help but notice. they looked so out of place. first thing i saw was a dude with really long red hair pulled back in a ponytail, carrying drums onto the riser. he had a red baseball cap on backwards, this crazy hippy red hair, skintight black jeans, red chuck taylor hi-tops, and to top it all off, a red drumkit with 'heresy' painted on the bass drum. a longhair at a punk show, much less color coordinated? what the fuck is the world coming to? to us, metal guys at punk shows were there to fuck with you, so fuck them first.

then the guitarist wheels out his amp. he looked like a mexican punk-rock sumo wrestler. the singer walks out with an SVT bass cab (about as big as a refrigerator) slung over his shoulder, and just drops it down with a huge thud onstage. this is a cabinet that easily weighs 150 pounds, and this old, ugly as fuck dude (who reminded me of a skegli from the dark crystal crossed with the singer from discharge) was carrying it more-or-less one handed. he and the bassist were wearing leather pants (WHAT THE FUCK?! only the misfits could get away with that) and engineer boots, and everyone in the band looked about a hundred years old to our adolescent eyes.

we were all talking shit amongst ourselves..."look at those old dinosaurs!" "nice leathers, get a load of adam and the ants!" "who the fuck is heresy?"

at this point, we were just standing around, waiting to be entertained. we were all fired up from the SBLC set.

the band go through a quick line check, the PA is ready, and they look set to start.

i noticed that the hairs on the back of my neck had started to tingle, and i was feeling nervous for some strange reason.

it had been pretty packed during SBLC's set, but now it was like a sardine can; there were a ton of people who'd been hanging out in the parking lot, and now they were all inside.

there was this guy standing right in front of me, about my height with broad shoulders, spiky bleach-blonde sid vicious hair, and a white wifebeater t.

right then, the singer barks into the mic, "we're heresy...fuck shit up!!!", and i felt like the place was going to explode. i still get a huge adrenalin rush thinking about it. the dude in the wifebeater immediately turns around and cold-cocks the kid standing next to me right in the face. he crumpled to the floor. i'm trying to make sense of what i'm seeing. the 'dude' was a girl, with the same logo as on the bass drum, tattooed in HUGE lime green letters, all the way across her chest!

i would later find out, this was rhonda, ratbones' then-girlfriend. she was definitely not someone to fuck with. if she didn't waste you, her old man surely would.

the bassist ripped into the first song, playing with lots of distortion at lightning speed. the rest of the band kicked in, and the crowd went berserk. the entire place was like a warzone.

my friends and i tried to push backwards, to get away from the stage. this was a bad idea, since everyone was pushing forward from the back. there was no safe spot anywhere in the club.

they were one of the most aggressive bands i'd ever seen, just pure hatred spewing out of the speakers. they never let up. one song would abruptly end on a dime, the singer would growl an intro, and the next one was being clicked in, '1-2-3-4...BOOM!' no stopping to catch their breath, no smiles onstage, just gritted teeth and sweat, bodies flying and fists flailing.

i got cracked right in the mouth, split my lip and chipped a tooth. the adrenalin was so high, i didn't notice until afterwards when i went to drink some water.

the next day, i went to one of the local indie record stores, looking for anything they might have put out. all i could find was a 4-song demo tape. i wore that thing out. they were so tight, and the musicianship was top-notch.

chuck burns, the drummer, had come from playing in legendary local metal band seduce. nowadays, they're mostly known for their appearance in the documentary 'decline of western civilization part 2', but in the city, they were pretty much the only band of that genre at the time who could play in front of detroit's punk crowds without getting bottled off the stage. chuck was into a lot of punk, and he was one of the best drummers around.

pistol pete was the bassist. he was a virtuoso who also played with ALD and skraps. he honed his chops playing in the rock and r&b clubs throughout the 70's, and he was one of the OG's around town.

ruben was on guitar. he was from a rough area of pontiac, a great aggressive player with tremendous stage presence, and nobody to fuck with.

tim king fronted the band. he and his sibling randy were known as the 'sleestack brothers'. they were OG's from the earliest days of the punk scene. they roadied for negative approach and the misfits, and NOBODY wanted to be on the receiving end of a beating from them. a friend once described it to me, "either of those guys, they'd reach back to oklahoma and just clock you into tomorrow!"

tim worked doing concrete, and he'd carry 100-pound bags, two-up, all day long. no wonder he could throw that bass cab around like it was nothing.

they'd been around since '81 with different members (which was before my time), but in my estimation, this was the classic lineup.

in 2008, jason from outcast records put out a limited edition 7" of old tracks featuring most of the original lineup. very cool to see them get some props, and hopefully to turn a few more people on to one of the greats of the detroit scene.

nowadays, tim is dabbling in acting (a locally produced short film), when he's not busy working, raising his family, or restoring some mindblowing old hot rod.

ruben spent some time in jail, but he's back and better than ever. i knew his little brother (we wrestled against each other in high school), although i had no idea he was related to him at the time. i heard he was murdered, may he rest in peace.

pete fronts his own rockabilly combo, the twistin' tarantulas. he's like a big brother to me. i learned so much about both music and life from the 'pistol'.

chuck is a sick guitarist as well as drummer, and he plays in speedball, shakey jakes, and skeemin' nogoods (with yours' truly). another bad ass player and a true friend.

i'm honored to be able to call these guys my pals. i've played in a band with pete, hung out and shot the shit too many times to remember with the boys over the years, and it still trips me out. i'll always see those dudes through 15 year-old eyes.

if you go to the link above (4-song demo tape), you can hear the lineup and songs i'm talking about. the first song that night was "lecher". TURN IT UP and ENJOY!

detroit...the old days (pt. 1)

2009-11-30T10:04:00.000-08:00

every now and then, i get on an old detroit music kick.

i moved down to austin, texas with my girl and dog in april. it's been a very cool thing, but i miss my pals from back home pretty badly.

a few weeks ago, there was a big music festival in town (funfunfun fest), and the promoters flew my friends from negative approach and easy action down to play a couple of the official after-parties.

the NA gig was such an intense experience; it totally reminded me of the old days growing up in the punk scene in detroit.

chris (the drummer) played the parts exactly like the original recordings. he didn't play them better, more technically, etc.

so many young drummers these days are head and shoulders above the musicianship of most guys i saw play when i was a kid. that's cool, but the feel is totally different. chris played like a 16 year old kid all hopped up on goofballs. i realized that's a big part of the sound of OG hardcore and punk. listen to the drums on those minor threat records. powerful, but not complicated.

the audience was just insane! i saw john brannon get a boot to the face in the pit, and never miss a beat. it was sloppy and angry and chaotic, in the best way possible.

i spent the last four or five songs parked in front of the bass drum, anchoring it from sliding towards the edge of the stage, dodging john and all the stage divers...something i haven't done since i was a little shaver (in fact, it was a disgust show in pontiac on new year's eve).

i hadn't seen a show like that in years. it reminded me of detroit circa '87.

i started thinking about all the crazy fucking gigs i'd seen as a kid. shit went down regularly that would get you put in jail today, or killed.

right off the bat, i remember the verbal assault show at blondie's. the mentors were on the bill, too. i don't think the two bands were on tour together, but they were both playing the show, with local openers. after the mentors' set, el duce was sitting at a table near the dancefloor, with a gigantic dildo he kept dipping into a pitcher of beer and proceeding to deep throat. we were all disgusted in the best way possible. this was punk, fuck you if it offends you, you know?

so verbal assault go on. it must have been right after the band started playing, the entry door to the club flies open and a bunch of apple sids pile in, on the warpath.

blondie's was located near 7 mile and evergreen, on the west side of detroit. this was west side boot boys territory.

the sids (as they were more commonly known) were a gang (later billed as a 'club', like an m/c minus the bikes) from the northern suburbs near pontiac. the west sides were mostly nazi skins...the sids were punks who were vehemently anti-racist. originally, the two factions had been part of what was called the 'violent brotherhood', watching each other's backs early on in a very violent scene. they had a falling out when politics became a priority, and were at odds ever since.

so, blondie's was known as a local hang out for the west sides, which made for a pretty heavy vibe, but a lot of cool shows were held there. you just had to watch your back, stay with your boys, safety in numbers, mind your own business and hope they didn't single you out for a beating.

the sids come barreling through the door in numbers. the place was packed, but the crowd parted like a sea, you could feel the bad vibe. it's been a long time, so my memory gets a little hazy, but i remember shit just going down pretty much right away. the melee was intense; both sides had BIG guys and little dudes, and the fighting was really fucking scary. chairs and tables overturning, total chaos. this wasn't jocks beating up punks in high school, this was guys trying to kill each other.

i see/hear the 'leader' of the west sides, a white trash jackoff named skinner, screaming like he's being tortured, as he's getting dragged out the door by the sids. he was frantically trying to grab at anything to prevent being taken out (ankles, bar stools, etc.), as they were kicking and beating him out the door. this wasn't a fucking fight, this was a kidnapping! from what i heard afterwards, they were gonna take him and throw him in a car trunk, drop him off naked in the ghetto. lay your white power shit on the residents of the jefferson projects, tough guy! see how they respond.

i forget how it turned out, but it wasn't the last time they'd face off against each other. ironically, last i heard, skinner was a yo-dawg rapper wannabe. i wonder if that tattoo in the middle of his forehead is still there...

fast forward to now...

having seen this incredibly intense NA show recently, i started craving some old-school punk and HC. i was listening to the cro-mags first record, and decided to do some research online, kind of a 'where are they now?'

one thing leads to another, and eventually i'm reading about cold as life. again, a lot of memories, good and bad, flood back.

cold as life were one of the most notorious hardcore bands in the scene. fuck it, THE most notorious band. no other group i can think of at the time comes near the reputation these guys had. most of this was due to the actions of their singer, rodney 'rawn beauty' barger. they were definitely one, if not, THE first heavily NYHC-type bands on the scene. pittbull was the other big HC band at the time, but they had more of their own style going on.

locally, there was a lot of 'midwest pride', stemming back from the OG's...negative approach, necros, etc.

those bands might have been influenced by black flag, minor threat, fear, misfits... but they had a sound that set them apart.

well, the NYHC kids were pretty hip to NA, moreso it seems than any other scene outside of the midwest at the time. the evolution of the NYHC scene took what NA did and gave it their own spin. me and my friends were all 14-15 year old kids when we discovered youth of today's first record.

i remember hearing it played on a the high school radio station near where i lived (WAHS). mike latulippe (later to play drums for the hentchmen) was an afternoon dj. he intro'ed the song ('break down the walls'), and i was pretty floored. they reminded me of the absolute violent anger i could hear in NA. before that, my idea of NYHC was agnostic front, a little more typical of the OG style. so i started checking out all the new york bands i could.

most all of them had one thing that seemed central to the style, what was called the 'breakdown'. typically, a part in the middle of the song where the beat would slow down, with prominent pounding on the floor tom and snare (think the slow part to NA's 'ready to fight'), palm mute chugga-chugga mega-distortion guitars, and people just KILLING each other in the pit. sick of it all was the biggest and baddest, in our estimation.

cold as life started out as the mattress rats. rawn was their singer. the mattress rats were more punk than HC. i had started a HC band in high school with this crazy tattooed guy named von bortz singing (original singer in 20 dead flower children) and adam till (later of stand down and diegrinder).

von invited me over to his place to work on songs when we first started messing around. he lived in the fucking ghetto, right next door to a crack house. his two room-mates were rat bones (from NYC, moved back a few years later and sang in some bands like new faith) and rawn beauty. when he told me he lived with rawn, i about shit myself.

maybe a year or so earlier, i had been in a fight with rawn. we were at blondie's watching SBLC play. there was this big dude with a crazy three-fan mohawk just beating the shit out of all the kids in the pit. i thought i was a tough guy (i wasn't, i was just angry and crazy), and since i was a little guy, i couldn't stand bullies. so i walked right up to him and punched him in the face as hard as i could. he just looked at me, screamed, and started chasing me around the pit. the band was going off, and i spent the rest of the song trying to get the fuck away from him. i ended up taking my lumps that night, but i got off pretty easy compared to some other cats on the receiving end of those fists/boots.

i told von the story, and he about fell over laughing. he told me rawn was probably wasted, wouldn't remember it, and he'd be horrified to hear about it. i didn't trust him, but i didn't want to look like a pussy, so i followed him in.

his place was pretty much a punk rock squat, but they were paying some rent. rawn wasn't home, so we got down to writing. i lost track of time, when all of a sudden i hear boots on the stairs. my balls went up into my throat. rawn walked in, grumpily nodded at us.

von starts telling him what i'd related. i was fucking flipping, just trying to steel myself for what would likely follow.

to my surprise, rawn was indeed horrified, and totally apologized and gave me a big bear hug. he told me he had my back. i was just glad we weren't gonna throw down. i liked my teeth where they are, thank you very much.

as the weeks went on, von would play practice tapes we recorded with a boombox to rawn, to get his opinions. he kept telling us, we needed more breakdowns. it was all oldschool HC, fast beats and faster guitars. "you need a part for the pit to go off!" so we'd write some breakdowns into the tunes. he played us his band's demo. "this is what i'm talking about!" that band turned into cold as life shortly afterwards.

so i started going to see them play. they were absolutely scary. all the dudes looked like they'd stab you and fuck your corpse. i was used to going to see a lot of basement shows, straight edge gigs...majority of one were a SE band from ohio that played a lot in the city. hooded sweatshirts and sneakers, PMA...

these guys were more like outlaw bikers playing hardcore, but around my age. i ended up becoming friends with them. jeff gunnells, jay way, jake, roy, and dougie, rawn's roomie and 'band manager'.

their crowd were the first i ever saw in detroit to "mosh", although we hated that word. we thought that was what the metal dudes called dancing (we first heard that term from anthrax), and this was before metal dudes were cool at HC shows. the whole crossover thing was a little ways away.

but the pit at a CAL show was brutal. the only time i was more freaked was when we all went on a roadtrip to CBGB's for an all-ages matinee. we thought we were bad; those guys were doing karate kicks and jumping off the PA onto the crowd, with the intention of hurting them. back home, we were just trying to go off, and if someone got hurt, it was an accident. NYC was beyond brutal.

so of course, once word started to spread and the band started playing on the east coast, they were greatly appreciated. they were the real fucking deal.

i was pretty friendly with the sids, and they didn't like rawn. they thought he was a pussy (rawn didn't win every fight, and they weren't always fair...he was a pretty big boy), but the west side boys thought the sids were pussies because they came from a nicer area. their families must have had money to live out there. truth was, most everyone was tough back then, you had to be to take care of yourself and maintain respect. but the CAL boys were definitely the real deal.

they were also the first band i can remember to have a NY-style 'crew', CTYC (colder than you crew). there were plenty of 'gangs' back then...the detroit skins (old OG's who'd been around forever), west side bootboys, the sids, the ABA skins, disgust boys, sterling skins, the cliffs (skatepunks)...this is all before the northern hammers reared their ugly heads.

CTYC started wearing colors, running stage security at the shows. there was darrell maniac (i think he was originally a detroit skin, he was older than us), donny and kenny, three hard as nails mofo's straight out of prison. they scared the fuck out of us. thank god i was cool with the band, i didn't even like it when they looked at me. dougie was a big mean mother. and of course rawn and the boys.

a few years later, after i'd dropped out of college after my freshman year and moved back to detroit, i heard about rawn's murder. sadly, the first thought in my head was "live by the sword, die by it." rawn lived hard, died harder, and left as many people happy to see him go as there were mourners.

still, he didn't deserve to go out that way, and i hope his family finds justice (the killer is still on the lamb) and peace.

rawn did indeed have my back, as he'd promised years earlier. once at blondie's, i walked in with john, the bassist in stand down. john used to run with the nazi skins, although he'd been out of that scene for a while. when he walked in, shannon, a skin who used to tattoo at eternal (who i ended up getting some work from years later) decided they were gonna take it to him. i wasn't gonna let a friend take a beating alone, but our chances looked about slim to none. right when i thought it was gonna kick off, rawn walked in, took one look at what was going on, and just went off on shannon. "these are my boys, motherfucker!!!! don't you lay a fucking finger on 'em, or you deal with me!!!!" everyone there got the message, and we were able to hang out the rest of the night without having to watch our backs. that's how much respect he commanded within that scene.

a little known fact is, jeff gunnells called me after, when they'd decided to carry on. he asked if i was interested in singing for the band. i was flattered, but i knew i wasn't the man for the job. i couldn't command the respect onstage rawn did. i couldn't fill those shoes. i told jeff as much, and offered to help any way i could. of course, jeff went on to front the band, and did a fucking great job of it.

anyways, i think it'd be cool to get these stories down before i forget all of them. i'll see what else i can't come up with. my hands are tired from typing, i'm gonna go crank up some tunes and have a beer in memory of all our fallen friends in detroit.

rawn beauty, flip, steve krass, jake, gary, shwaac, timmy, johnny, robby (eternal tattoos)...rest in peace.

demo daze

2009-01-16T07:56:00.000-08:00

after the new year, i started sweating work. cabin fever was setting in.

i sent emails and left messages.

i'd seen notice of a few potential jobs, but they conflicted with the upcoming dropkick murphys tour in feb/march, so i didn't bother submitting for them.

i heard back from tim, the guy i worked for in the murphys, last week.

we were still on, but they didn't have much in the works after that, so i figured i'd look to silversun pickups first.

they were supposed to go out for south by southwest in late march, then coachella to end april. one-offs, but with their record getting ready for release, they'd be on tour soon enough, and i'd be working steady.

so really, i was looking for something up until later february. no sound gigs available at small's. the only thing i really had to occupy my immediate time was the demo for uncle kracker.

i got an unexpected call a few nights ago from evan, the murphys' tour manager. basically, the guy i replaced in november wanted his job back, and he got it. he had a lot of time in that position, so i understand the loyalty, it's nothing personal, not a reflection on my performance...

still, i'd just heard otherwise from tim less than a week previous, and i was counting on the money i'd make to offset not working since november. this couldn't have come at a worse time.

work is really slow for kim, so money is tight, moreso than usual. her company levied salary cuts across the board.

we're stressing.

and i can't help but take the bad news as a personal failure, it's in my nature.

i wish tim had told me sooner, so i could have tried to cover the time. the jobs i'd seen earlier each had over 300 applications submitted, so i wasn't likely to get hired.

fuck me.

so i was pretty down going into yesterday afternoon, and the scheduled demo session with mike clark.

i wrote the song just a week-or-so ago. i woke up one morning and i had a riff. i spent the rest of the day filling in the blanks.

i don't write on an instrument, i do it in my head.

you ever find yourself sitting somewhere, say a crowded bar, and there's a song on the jukebox in the background you can't quite hear clearly? you think you recognize the melody, but you can't make it out completely, so you're wondering what that song is? it sounds so familiar...

that's how song ideas are to me. a melody or guitar part or bass line or drum pattern (or something) is bouncing around in my head, and as i try to tune it in, other parts will start to flesh themselves out.

i hear the drums, the tone of how they sound. they could be like ac/dc, or steely dan, or the beatles. different tones to the kit and room they were recorded in and approaches to playing the part.

the bass line providing the middle ground between percussion and rhythm guitar, all the time emphasizing the hook, groove, and chord changes; whether it's a fat, dry tone like motown/stax stuff, or a big, greasy overdrive like entwistle in the who.

i listen for the guitar part, like hearing a second guitarist in the band playing something on the other side of the stage at soundcheck. "what was that?! it sounded cool!"

often i'll sing along a little melody for the vocal as it takes shape.

i don't grab an instrument until i've pretty much got the song completely worked out and committed to memory. that way, if i come to a place where i'm not sure about where to go, i don't fall back on tried-and-true chord changes or lame guitar riffs. if i end up with those parts, fine, but i intended to play that beatles turnaround, that van halen lick. duh! (in impertinent pre-teen girl voice)

so going into the studio, i've barely got an idea of what to record. i'm not to the point in the song where i have the parts completely written, and i've practiced them on the respective instruments.

i'm a little nervous, feeling slightly under-prepared.

i get to the studio and meet mike for the first time. my pal robby is there too, he hooked this whole thing up.

mike is very nice and the studio is cool. he has three little jack russell terriers, and they smell my dog, so i get the third-degree sniffing.

we make a little small talk, and then get down to it.

i grab my guitar and little battery-powered practice amp, and hack through the song, occasionally singing along with the envisioned vocal melody.

i'm underwhelmed as i hear myself, it sounds a LOT better in my head! hopefully i can capture some of that vibe, or no one is gonna want to record this.

i get through it, and mike's initial reaction is positive. he can hear there's a hook in there, however rough. he asks how i want to start.

"let's get a click track printed, and get a scratch rhythm down." we agree on a tempo, and he quickly puts together a drum loop to play along to.

i go in the live room and dial in a tone with the amp he has set up and mic'ed. sounds pretty decent, but when i go in the control room, it sounds mid-rangey and muffled, like i have a wah-wah pedal on in a stuck position.

we mess with another mic and some eq. it's not perfect, not really even close to the tone i imagined, but time is of the essence and we're just trying to get an idea across, not cut the record.

i play a scratch rhythm/solo track. we listen back and i show mike what the parts are.

this is the intro, this is the tag, first verse, chorus, tag, second verse, chorus, bridge, solo, chorus, breakdown, outro...

mike hears my tag as the chorus. i've had that happen before. jimmy and tim (from the fags) always heard my bridge as the song's chorus, until i had the vocals worked out and the arrangement nailed down.

now that we have the basic song structure laid out, i re-cut the rhythm guitar, playing it a little cleaner. it's enough to get the point across. two takes and we're done.

mike asks what i want to do next. "whatever you suggest." so we track the bass.

i haven't even worked out the bass track, but i can hear it in my head, so the first take is basically teaching myself the part. i surprise mike and myself by nailing most all of it. i give it one more pass, and in the outro, i wing a cool static note under the changing guitar chords. sounds like the end of 'high voltage' by ac/dc. i look at mike, and his reaction is smiles.

i offer to re-cut it, maybe play it a little simpler (following the root chords), but he thinks it sounds great. i definitely pulled that out of my ass.

we then record a second guitar track, doubling the rhythm in parts, playing the melody line and solo. one take and done.

i want to do a drum track next. i know the accents of the chord changes, so i can lock the drums in and the hook will be more obvious, especially in the chorus.

mike has a kit set up already, so we get it mic'ed and i tune a couple things.

he's surprised and i imagine he's thinking i'm gonna be the typical guitarist-on-drumkit hack, but i started as a kid, and they're still my favorite instrument to play. i'm just rusty without a kit of my own to practice on.

i assure him i'll be quick, and i'm not going for a neil peart performance.

my first time through, i nail the feel and lock into the click, but afterwards, i fell like i should try the chorus on the hi-hats, not the ride cymbal, so i ask to take another shot.

i gaff during the bridge, and try a punch-in, but screw it up again. i'm thinking about the part, not playing it.

i give it one more run-through, playing the pick-up into the choruses properly.

although i'm not locked into the click 100 percent, the parts are played well and we can dial 'em in good enough for what we're trying to accomplish.

robby has to bust out of there and go pick up his kids, so i catch a ride back with him. i'll be back next week to record a scratch vocal.

mike looks really stoked, and the song is starting to reveal itself on playback.

i feel like kracker will dig this, it has a lot of room for him to do his thing. mike agrees.

later, i grab some dinner with kim in berkley, and robby calls as we're sitting down.

mike rang him after he dropped me off, very impressed with what we got done in such a short time. figure maybe three hours from start to finish, me figuring out the parts as we went.

i'm really stoked to branch out. i would love to play drums, bass, whatever's needed for any session. whatever makes sense.

i've played bass with bands before, and sat in on drums from time to time, but i'm not known for much else besides guitar and vocals.

this is cool. i tend to approach parts as a producer, so i don't let my ego influence my playing. i'm not trying to be heard as a virtuoso, i just want the track to fit the song.

heard back from robby this morning, and mike reiterated how fired up he was. i can't wait to get the vocal done and get it to kracker. if he digs it, we'll re-record it and i'll really lock the parts and tones in.

so i feel somewhat better, having accomplished something.

it helps with some of the sting of losing the murphys tour.

this is another step towards writing and recording with others. i've produced and engineered the bands i played in (to an extent), produced the avatars (suggested a few things regarding arrangements, tried to keep everybody relaxed, and basically got wasted at the studio, sad to say), but this is different.

i don't write in one certain style, i like a ton of different music, and i have song ideas that reflect this.

however, i don't write to stockpile songs. i work specific to the project. so i don't have a bunch of tunes just sitting around, waiting to demo and submit to artists.

better get working...

butch walker, watch your back!

2008

2009-01-01T18:18:00.000-08:00

year-end recap

ugh.

not a bad year per se, but my grump ass definitely thinks of bad memories right off the bat.

i had to revisit some pictures of tours earlier this year to remind myself of how fortunate we (hifi handgrenades) were. i guess the shitty experiences we had on the last tour left a lasting impression.

ok, so let's try and establish a timeline...

january:

started the year off getting things back on track with kim, the girl i'd been seeing on-and-off since the summer of '07.

my drinking was winding down. i quit for good on january 22nd. wendy case was a big inspiration. she told kim, "if i can do it, speck can too!"

we played a gig at small's opening for naked raygun, a big influence on me musically coming up through my teens and into my twenties. i actually got turned onto stiff little fingers hearing NR's live version of 'suspect device'.

we spent most of december and january getting the record finished. tony worked his sack off, bill kozy helped us in mixing immensely. we also went into the tempermill to record songs for a japan-only ep. the tape machine was fucked, made it a REAL pain in the ass to get the tracks done. finally finished the required tracking/mixing/mastering/artwork, feeling panic at deadlines the whole way...

february:

ryan bought a van for us to use on the road, a cool grey dodge.

started off with a gig playing one of the two hot water music reunion shows at the metro in chicago.

we lucked into it. i had heard from mike at small's when the draft played, an old hoarse song came on the jukebox, and one of the guys in the draft mentioned he used to have the record, he liked the band. mike told him about hfhg, they asked him to have me get in touch. i sent an email relating what i'd heard. they got back with the opening slot offer.

we were honored to be included, but man, were we nervous. out of town gig, huge reunion show...

the crowd weren't very receptive.

we weren't very good.

hot water music were.

lucero were kinda dicky, especially seeing as we lent their bassist our rig.

didn't sell shit for merch.

ended the month going on tour with the loved ones, gaslight anthem, the arrivals. that was fun. all good guys, good bands, good shows. we played MUCH better on our return to chicago. too bad only maybe ten people saw it.

brian from gaslight anthem made a cool tweed bassman clone. i gave him a set of tubes when his were acting up. nice to meet a fellow guitar/amp geek.

a cleveland paper said we had a 'faux-brit obsession', from our accents and haircuts (!) to our choice of 'vintage gear'. that got a chuckle from the fellas. one marshall amp and tony's spiky 'do. "ROIGHT, GUV'NA!"

march:

we opened previously for bad religion fall '07 in dallas. they liked us enough to offer a few more shows. we confirmed opening slots for their hollywood, anaheim and san diego house of blues shows. the shows went pretty well, considering we were playing the band's backyard, and the audience is pretty spoiled when it comes to seeing punk. the hollywood show was probably the best.

it was nice to enjoy a week of warm weather in southern california. we stayed at tony's friend jenny's apartment on hollywood blvd.

my old pal josh barnes from tko records hooked up a last-minute gig at the airliner in LA.

saw my pal bob and his wife tanya, from tucson, at the anaheim show. i went to school with bob (university of arizona), played in his band when i lived there.

we also met rich and ryan's pal jeff (and his wife stacie and their family) in fort collins, colorado. we played with jeff's new band underminer, which featured karl alvarez (bassist of the descendents/ALL, good guy and HUGE influence on us musically). it was cool to hang with him. did a few more shows on our way back. lawrence kansas (where i'd lived when i was playing bass with paw), de kalb and lansing.

we started the foo fighters canada tour in montreal a day after we got home.

we played as many of our own gigs as we could. we'd usually play the opening set with the foos, then load the gear, watch against me, and head to the other venue across town. didn't sell shit for merch at any of the shows.

the record came out in canada to coincide with the tour on new romance for kids, an indie label.

traversing the highways was a nightmare...shitty snow, bald front tires on the van, made for adventure driving. sucking an assful of seat, navigating two-lane undivided roads across the tundra.

especially when the driver's-side front-wheel bearing welded itself to the spindle, nearly sending us into oblivion.

became friends with against me and crew.

saw geddy and alex from rush play with taylor from the foos in toronto. YYZ!

met bruce springsteen, max weinberg and gary tallent in vancouver. amazing.

saw springsteen (at his invitation) play the day after the last show.

drove home through the states. finally got new tires in montana, after nearly driving off the road in the rockies.

ryan had to fly home immediately following the tour, to give his house to the bank, so we could stay on the road. he never missed a payment, just couldn't afford to keep it, and it wasn't selling after a year on the market.

fucking rock and roll...

april:

went to japan for three shows opening for foo fighters, one in tokyo and two in osaka. it was awesome. great food. beautiful cities.

the ep came out in japan right before we got there, and the full-length was coming out right after we left. we did some cool radio interviews, lots of press at rough trade japan (our label there). it was my first time ever sitting to do press. it was kind of fun. cool translator. went to a club later where one of the interviewers was dj'ing. the japanese punk fans will slam dance, shout along to every word.

met a young band from england called 'fast reaction', also on tour. nice boys.

rich got WASTED, lost outside of the hotel, and slept in an elevator.

he nearly lost all his belongings (cameras, cash, passport, etc.), but thanks to an amazingly patient japanese woman forwarding his stuff (found in her front yard) to the police, things worked out.

thanks to the japanese label for being fantastic hosts. thanks to the foos and crew.

got a really cool les paul junior in tv white in tokyo. i've been looking for one of these guitars forever. saw some unbelievably cool music stores. one small store has more amazing stuff than ten or fifteen of the most high-end stores in the states.

got hassled by the police in downtown shibuya district, looking for said stores.

apparently, i fit the profile of douchebag westerner. this resulted in a very interesting pantomime between me and three cops on a crowded streetcorner.

one approached me as i was checking a map, and i thought he wanted to help, as most everything is in kanji, so it's hard to find stuff unless you read japanese.

i noticed two other policemen flanking me, and they were a little aggressive.

one pulled his hat off and made gestures to say "put the contents of your pockets in this hat, please."

the first cop asked for my papers. "ahhh, musician!" as they read my work permit.

they thoroughly checked everything, including my chapstick. they looked disappointed to find me without contraband.

they didn't help me with my map, either.

we got home and suffered the after-tour depression. none of us could get back on a regular sleep schedule. for a month afterwards, i slept at the most random hours. i'd get a text from rich at four in the morning, "are you up?"

may:

we worked on new material. tried to work off some of the bills we accrued being out of town. sold everything that wasn't nailed down. annoyed the neighbors by practicing a lot, trying to get new stuff ready for the next record.

tony needed new frets for his guitar, but we couldn't afford to get them installed.

i came up with an idea. he absolutely loved the way my guitar played, so we sold his guitar to dave from the loved ones, and bought a nearly-new guitar just like mine with the proceeds, with like-new frets, etc...

tony really missed his old one though, and was thinking of getting in touch and buying it back, when he saw the loved ones on a tv show, dave playing his old axe, looking very happy.

he was crushed.

kim and i adopted a cool little dog named jackie, a 6-month old male fox terrier/boston terrier mix.

june:

cancelled a show in toronto for the canadian warped tour kickoff. would have been a huge gig, but as soon as we got over the border, we took the van to a canadian tire. it had been making bad noises in the days leading up to the gig.

the wheel bearing we'd replaced on the earlier canadian foos tour seemed to be the culprit, and should be under warranty. too bad the lift at the closest shop wouldn't handle the weight of the van, even without the band gear. the bearing was bad enough that we couldn't risk taking it to toronto, so we canceled the show and limped back to detroit. i spent the rest of the day at the shop getting it fixed.

july:

finished some demos we recorded at the house (333 college, ferndale). got ready to move out, the lease was up in early august.

hit the road at the end of the month. did a few shows on the way out to start the warped tour.

we were given five dates this year, two of them in canada, none anywhere near where we might actually draw. too bad they coincide with against me leaving the tour temporarily to go to japan. would have been nice to see them.

we started our trek to warped in chicago. played the same place we played with the loved ones in february.

to no one.

notice a pattern?

we don't have a record out, no promotion, so no draw.

myspace isn't a substitute for flyers or press.

we did hook up with our friends from detroit, theresa and nick. they both work for the kills.

theresa tour-manages and does sound, her husband nick is the backline tech.

we saw the band play at the apple store, and hung out with jaimie, the male singer/guitarist, afterwards.

he apologised for the "shitty english crowds" ahead of time.

who knew how prescient he'd be?!

ended the month in de pere, wisconsin. teeny bar, decent crowd.

august:

played the triple rock in minneapolis with off with their heads. saw paddy from dillinger4 (he'd been playing bass in the arrivals on the february tour), met some cool locals, did an interview with switchblade comb, stayed with rich's pals and ate good food at a killer diner.

made our way to the canadian border and across with no problems. we entered sunday night before the monday morning warped tour crossing en masse.

stayed in the same motor lodge the suicide machines used to stay in, in saskatoon. went skateboarding at the free public park. tony and i met some cool locals.

started the warped tour. lots of young kids in bands, younger on average than i can remember, going back to the first one. a shitload of that horrible high-school-clique vibe. even worse, the christians have invaded secular punk music!

at least a third of the bands were straight-up rockin' for jesus. as in, "let's watch this sermon on the bus after the gig, and have a prayer circle when the sun goes down!", but they play it off like they have no agenda. i just felt like it was kinda creepy. warped tour-as-revival.

when i was around 'target audience age', i thought church was as lame a place as you could be. these kids think it's so cool, they have to bring it to you.

very little of the old hang-out vibe warped used to have, even at the aftershow bbq's. it's a bummer, because this used to be such a fun summer tour.

still, we met some cool folks. brooklyn and the crew on our stage, damone and the production staff, street dogs, bronx, gbh, the bbq band longway, greg from bouncing souls and his wife...

unfortunately, we got nailed for weed on our way to the last date we were playing, just outside of tacoma. the cop pulled me over for speeding, and smelled it. we'd smoked a joint the night before, and tony had accidentally dropped a miniscule amount on the floor when rolling in the dark.

i took responsibility and got the misdemeanor possession charge.

this would require an expensive attorney, seeing as we were headed to europe coinciding with my court date.

f-u-c-k!

played our last warped show in portland. the crowds were mostly uninterested, though we did make a few fans at each stop.

we didn't sell shit for merch.

we are definitely not what the kids dig these days. we thought they might appreciate the old-school take on melodic punk, but we're just old. at least, i am...

hustled down from portland to LA, stayed with jenny again and did laundry, ditched the van at 606, and flew to europe.

started in belgium.

met our driver, ben. he got lost leaving the airport and driving to the hotel nearby. i don't blame him, i'd have fared no better.

we ate at the restaurant adjacent to the hotel. they had either meat or fish dinner, for almost forty american dollars.

i ordered the meat plate. i took a picture. it looked like a huge cock and balls (sausage and potatoes), next to a coiled pile of dogshit (another sausage). tasted about the same (and i like pretty much anything).

we played pukkelpop festival. found out we didn't provide the proper paperwork ahead of time, so we couldn't sell merch.

f-u-c-k.

we need this money to make the tour work.

saw some pals from dropkick murphys. they couldn't believe how much better i looked since i'd quit drinking.

they related some story about the last time we hung out, in boston. james (the guitarist) is laughing and telling the tale, and i honestly didn't remember a single detail from the night in question.

sadly, there are lots of instances where i was blackout drunk and have no recollection about large portions of tours, etc.

ben had an annoying tendency of shilling his band at any opportunity, to any band we were pals with, but he was such a good dude, we didn't want to say anything.

played a pretty decent set.

thanks to the great hostesses we had.

we made our way to salzburg for the frequency festival.

ben nearly killed us en route, driving off the side of the road, out of control and way too fast on rain-slick roads, nearly rolling the hooptie van we were renting. it was pretty fucking scary.

when the van came to a standstill, and didn't roll over (it was tipping back and forth, very top-heavy), we took stock to make sure everyone was okay.

tony was asleep when it happened, he woke up as the slide door next to him flew open and he flew out of his seat.

did i mention there are no seatbelts in the back?

he caught the doorjam as he was on his way out of the van and miraculously held on.

rich was still chewing the sandwich he'd been eating.

everyone looked pretty shocked.

it would have been funny it if wasn't so shitty out and we weren't so fucking hungry, tired and cold.

we were soaked in rain and mud from pushing the van back on the road, and got lost in the austrian alps. by the time we finally found the place, we were told we had to drive back the way we came, which was nearly impossible with the van's burned-out clutch.

i realized i'd seen the festival grounds before, they hold a lot of big motorcycle races there, and i'd watched several on tv.

still, i was in a terrible mood by the time we got where we needed to be.

sleep deprivation and fatigue were beginning to factor in.

we were freezing. the rain was heavy. we had an early set time. very few people watched us (maybe 2-300 on a ground that easily held 25,000?), and most were pretty uninterested.

did i mention we sold no merch?

we took full advantage of the catering, it was the warmest place on the grounds.

saw the hives destroy the joint. had dinner with matt, the bassist. it was cool to make his acquaintance.

we were informed we'd been confirmed for a german festival called highfield the next day, a far drive.

we piled back in the van and made our way towards the show.

got there in the morning after an all-nighter, which included my first experience working a right-hand drive van with a left-hand manual transmission, on right-side roads.

i impressed all with my skills, including getting us lost and working the ever-fading clutch backwards up dirt roads.

finally, we made it.

beautiful area.

sunny and warm.

the site was on the edge of a picturesque lake. i kept thinking "the hills are alive with the sound of griswald" from european vacation.

too bad the stage crew were obviously annoyed at our last-minute addition to their workload (which bumped up the schedule that day an hour early), as we'd find out when it came time to load our gear onstage.

after a lovely breakfast with a few of the hives guys, we played.

the monitors were non-existent, my voice was getting wasted, and the engineer was a dick.

he wouldn't let me use my mic, he insisted on using a shitty condenser, which is REALLY not suited to my singing style, i.e.: lots of spit and sweat. kills condensers dead.

he wasn't paying attention to us as we started, pissed we had made him work an hour earlier, leaving us hanging with nothing in the monitors on a big outdoor stage.

i noticed matt from the hives standing there among the very small crowd (even smaller than frequency, on a bigger ground). great.

after trying to get through a few songs to no avail, i made a shitty remark along the lines of "how about you do your fucking job and put some vocals in the monitor, asshole?!" and was met immediately afterward with a very hostile stage crew, realized this was gonna get bad if we didn't get gone. they were really getting fired up.

there were locals banging on the dressing room door and mulling around nearby, with some local production assistant shouting and making gestures in our direction.

all i wanted to do was pound someone, but getting my ass kicked by a crowd of germans and then spending the night in jail didn't seem too appealing, so we left immediately.

without getting paid.

oh yeah, no merch sold.

we honestly thought there might be some locals coming after us as we drove off.

yeah! tour!

at this point, we were supposed to play a few shows with alkaline trio in germany and then onto england.

their producer jerry finn died unexpectedly, and they flew home to attend the funeral.

two of the german shows had been cancelled.

one was still on, but it was a far drive and only paid 100 euros. it was still three days away, so we made the call to cancel the gig (saving money we'd spend on sleeping arrangements and food) and go straight to dover, where ben lived, and rest for a few days before we picked up again with alkaline trio in london.

we took the ferry across, and once in dover, we did laundry and relaxed.

we had our first REAL, official sea-side-english-town-fresh fish-n-chips, not frozen stuff. very good, but heavy as hell in the gut. i wasn't hungry again for a day and a half.

i caught up on sleep that night, but the other guys went with ben to his pal's place, and ended up playing drinking games like "put the kevlar vest on and i'll shoot you with this bow and arrow!"

i wouldn't have believed them if they hadn't produced photo-documentation.

we made our way to london, and met up with miles, one of the guys behind our english label, deck cheese records. we'd met him and his partner eugene the previous fall when we toured with saosin. gus (our manager) knew them. they were one of the few punk labels in england that seemed interested.

once we made it to his flat (which was in a dodgy tenement, very clockwork orange vibe), we were met with super-shitty news.

we were talking about the past few days, the money we'd spent getting the lawyer in washington state, the money we'd missed out on, not selling merch.

miles asked us how we were going to complete this tour, as he'd seen the guarantees, crunched the numbers, and figured we'd be severely in the hole by the time we'd finished and readied to fly home.

like six thousand dollars in the hole.

which would have to be paid in full before we could fly home, or a suit would be brought against us, and customs would not allow us to leave.

gus had told us we'd be roughing it when we went there, but we figured this was no different than any other tour we'd "roughed it" on.

he'd made arrangements, so we figured everything was cool, as he's been our go-to guy, and he knows his shit.

we looked over all the figures, and panic set in.

we'd only booked all these shows as a condition to the label putting the record out; they wanted a big tour to promote or they wouldn't release it, so gus and our agent threw a ton of dates together.

we also found out from miles, they considered a big seller to be maybe 2500 records.

they released the latest living end record in the uk, and it sold 4500 copies (and they're a shitload bigger than we are!)

we'd hoped with all the festival shows and decent dates, we'd maybe move 25,000 in the months following the tour, if the word-of-mouth and press held up. we were playing in front of SEVERAL thousand people over the course of the tour, or so we thought.

it dawned on us, we'd never see a dime from record sales over here (they'd just barely recoup with 2500 records sold), and were spending every single dollar we had to be there, including the advances from the japanese and australian labels, money that we needed to go to those respective countries and tour to promote the record there.

we spent a miserable several hours in miles' flat that afternoon, on the phone with gus, trying to figure out how to salvage the majority of this and still remain out of court.

we settled on a short tour, that would see us lopping off all dates that would put us in the red.

we'd play the alkaline dates in england and scotland, cancel the alkaline date in dublin (the ferry was 500 pounds, and we were making 150 euros for the gig), play the reading and leeds festivals, do the smaller dates on our own up until a scheduled bbc radio recording session, and fly home right around my birthday (sept 4th).

we'd be able to pay the rental of transportation/driver, backline, food and gas, and have enough money left to pay for luggage overages on the flights home, and have gas money to drive the van back from where we'd stashed it in los angeles, if we made our guarantees.

we'd have to terminate the backline (amps and drums) rental early, and beg/borrow/steal what gear we needed.

we were returning the stuff after the gig that night, and we'd work on other gear before the next gig two days later.

we readied ourselves for the first alkaline show in camden.

played a great gig.

sold some merch, will wonders never cease!

of course, eugene, miles' partner in the label, was telling us afterward what we did wrong.

this fucking guy rubbed me the wrong way when i met him last fall, came off like a total douche a&r weasel, and he's pulling that shit again, telling us how to talk to the crowd, telling us we need to play some ballads ("give it a bit of room to breathe, mate"), all with combination vomit/beer breath, a close-talker to the nth degree.

i'm trying to be cool, but...whether it's valid or not, i'm not interested in hearing it right now.

i took advice from douche a&r guys throughout the years, and it was always a compromise that nobody ended up happy with.

i avoid him the rest of the night, so he corners tony instead. poor guy.

hung out with derek, original drummer from the 'machines, now with alkaline. he's an old pal i hadn't seen in forever.

they were great.

after the gig, we met with the backline guy, and gave him back the gear.

he looked like harry fucking potter.

we're renting gear from a rich university kid.

i paid him cash for the bill up to that point.

miles was drunk and assuring the guy he'd be taken care of.

he told us this amounted to ad space in the magazine the label publishes, a good word, etc.

we would come to find out after we got back, he agreed to pass on the early-termination penalty of the rental contract to us, without our knowledge. harry potter brought suit against gus.

we spent the next day arranging to borrow gear, driving around london. we hooked up with our driver for the rest of the tour, lee. turns out, we met him and his band at that club in japan!

small world...

friday came around and we made our way to northampton.

i got into an argument with my girlfriend on the phone RIGHT before we played.

we did alright, but i wasn't into trying to talk up the audience, and they responded in kind. we didn't sell much merch.

we're playing reading the next day (saturday), so we look forward to doing our best, and hopefully salvaging something of this tour...we stand to play in front of a big crowd, and this would help us immensely (if we go over alright!)

we made our way to the festival grounds, and from the get-go, we were fucked.

the stage crew wouldn't let us use our gear, they had backline provided. we wanted to be easygoing, so no problem.

no problem until the bass amp takes a shit in the second song. after the third song with no bass, they plugged rich into the backup bass amp, which took a shit half a song in.

we played a couple more songs without any bass at all, while the stagehands prevented our guys from bringing our bass amp up to fix the problem.

meanwhile, the audience (let's say twenty-five hundred people in the tent) were mostly just standing there, arms crossed, unimpressed.

i don't blame them, we never got cooking, and all i remembered was looking across the stage, seeing rich in mid-air jumping like pete townshend, all the while he's not even audible.

total bummer.

i get the argument that "the show must go on", don't allow distractions to be noticed by the audience, etc., but this is just fucking pathetic. i'm thinking the whole time, "we spent all this money, came all this way, to fucking do THIS!?"

i'm ashamed we didn't play better, ashamed that the only impression we'll give most people is of a horrible fucking bunch of hacks, and ashamed that we were dumb enough to get ourselves in this situation.

we've been around the block, but we trusted gus, and we went into it with his assurances.

he was hoping we'd just catch some magic pixie dust and take off, sell a bunch of records, come back with tons of good press, conquering heroes.

we were too.

all signs pointed to it, leading up to the tour. lots of good press, etc. we were getting a ton of airplay on bbc radio one, we had the live-at-the-bbc session coming up, etc...

it wasn't gus' fault, we all let our common sense take a backseat to the snowball effect.

we needed to try and look towards making leeds as good as possible...we were thinking, 'we'll use our own gear, no fucking around, we're gonna get this thing back on track.'

we left reading and drove to the festival grounds in leeds, getting there as rage against the machine are playing their last song to end saturday's live music.

slept in the van, freezing our asses off, parked in a muddy field next to some campers.

woke up the next morning to see our pals in gaslight anthem. they are HUGE over here, and it was cool to see how far they'd come since february.

we loaded the gear backstage, got ready, and soon it was go time.

we had everything ready to go, we'd done a quick line check, we were literally about to start, when the stage manager tells us to hold on, they have to power down the stage to hook a bus that just pulled up to the grid.

they failed to tell us this will take ten minutes, eat into our set time, and kill any buzz we had with the audience.

i stood dumbfounded, watching people mill around for minutes, then finally leave the tent to go see who else is playing elsewhere, while we twiddled our thumbs onstage.

very few people in the audience even knew what was going on.

if we'd have known the set would've been shortened, we would have come up with something specific to the allotted time.

we weren't told until "one more song" was signaled, and we suddenly realized our set-time had been ticking away while they were hooking up the bus (alkaline trio's, i might add...nice timing!)

so our set had very little build-up, and absolutely no climax.

we fucking sucked again.

even worse, i'd heard the english festival audiences were notoriously vocal when they didn't like a band, to the point of throwing bottles of piss, sod chunks, etc.

these people all just stood, arms crossed, looking bored.

i made mention of this, which i hoped would at least get them annoyed enough to show SOME sort of emotion, but...nothing.

we ended with 'white belt blues', me calling out all the shitty garage-rock fans that made the white stripes a household name.

it was the only song that anyone seemed to like, and we were insulting them with it.

go figure.

eugene from the label tried to talk to me afterwards, "hey john!" and i told him to fuck off; i wanted to pound his teeth down his throat.

i was fucking embarrassed, disgusted at our miserable showings...

to think, every moment we spent here was bleeding what little money we had to live off, playing shitty shows to uninterested kids, just beating ourselves up mentally and physically.

they kicked us out of our dressing room trailer fifteen minutes after the set was done, they needed it for other bands playing later in the day.

guess we can go stand in the fucking mud!

i finally realized, i was OVER IT. this was the straw.

if i wanted to be broke and miserable, i could just as easily do it back home.

i felt like i was in logan's run and up for 'renewal'.

my music-biz expiration date came and went with the fags, this was an accidental band after-the-fact that took off without much effort.

it was supposed to be a local punk cover band, but it snowballed with gus' involvement; fast-forward to sucking bigtime at the reading music festival...

i've been on the road for what feels like forever, and i've been through a LOT of shit, but this was like living a spinal tap skit.

i've had monitor trouble, bad crowd reactions, horrible food, run-ins with the law, run-ins with angry locals, lack of money, nowhere to sleep, nothing to eat, near-death road accidents, etc., but never all in one tour!

it was like a bad joke.

and we caught a LOT of that "who the fuck are you yanks?" attitude.

we KNEW we were a bunch of nobodies, so we never went into any situation with any sense of entitlement or attitude.

we hump our own gear, we bust our asses, we don't ask for shit except the bare minimum.

it really sucked to get treated like a shitty local band playing their first gig, almost everywhere we went.

rich and ryan hadn't had much experience like that with the suicide machines. i'd come across tons of haters in the fags (duh!), but the name made us such an easy target.

we caught more shit with this band than i ever expected.

this was supposed to be fun.

we were all so pissed, we decided then and there to call the whole tour.

i got gus on the phone, told him to do whatever he had to, to get our tickets changed.

we'd be waiting at the airport, which was where we were headed once we made arrangements to get the gear returned.

we said goodbye to gaslight anthem, and headed home.

i was hating england.

got there at 7:00 sunday night.

washed the mud off my shoes and cleaned up in the bathroom, put on a change of clothes. we hadn't seen showers since the first night in belgium.

i spent the evening trying to hustle work, seeing as i had no job when we got back, and we were all so fucked on bills. we hadn't made any money off this, we didn't get paid shit on any of the tours we did, the exposure was the thing.

on the foos tour, major labels were offering them large sums of money to take out one of their bands, and we were nobodies that actually got paid (a little bit)...

slept on benches until flights home the next morning. the airport shut down entirely at 10 o'clock that night, no food (save for a tiny coffee kiosk) or lounge to kill time.

the rest of the guys flew back to detroit.

i made my way to LA. shared the flight home with avenged sevenfold. made small talk with one of the crew waiting in customs.

the dude had all the band members' faces tattooed on his arm in photo-realistic black and white.

full sleeve.

dude.

i'll leave that one alone.

once i left the airport, i hooked up with john lousteau (house engineer at 606, the foos' studio, where we'd made our record and stashed the van) and his pal nick for some grub.

when i went to pick up the van, dave grohl was just leaving, having messed around with some drum demos that afternoon.

john invited me in, and i got to sit on dave's green sparkle ludwig kit, doing my best (worst) john bonham impression.

that was pretty cool.

knowing there was a loooong drive ahead, i couldn't put it off any longer, and hit the road.

stopped at the vans outlet store and got some sweet kicks and clean socks, a hooded sweatshirt for any cold weather i'd come across headed east.

made it home in three days, sleeping in the van at rest stops when i didn't want to drive anymore.

stopped in fort collins and took jeff and stacie and the family to dinner. they'd been so generous with their house and hospitality when we were in town.

got followed by a cop for several miles in utah, right up my ass and making me nervous for driving UNDER the speed limit.

listened to the democratic convention on npr radio, anywhere i could find a signal.

felt strange to be listening to what felt like history.

got home, gave my girl and my dog big smooches, and tried to figure out what i was going to do next.

i called anyone i knew and liked over my years in the music business, asking if they had any leads. i'd do anything.

most of my time on the road was spent doing something other than playing music, so i figured i was overqualified at the least.

we weren't going out again any time soon.

we were so broke and burned, we had to cancel a big national tour with streetlight manifesto in september/october, our appearance at 'fest in gainesville (which we we pretty sure would nail down a deal with no idea records for a US release), and a tour of japan and australia in november.

we also had to sell the van, as we couldn't afford the payments anymore.

we were 20 grand in the hole to our manager for flights, studio time, expenses, etc. over the past year and a half...he had no more money to pour into this, and we never did to begin with.

i'd talked to evan, the tour manager for dropkick murphys, at the baggage claim in LAX.

he mentioned tim (my pal, one of the guitarists) was looking for a guitar tech coming up.

sounded good to me!

my pal theresa called. she also had some work if i was looking.

her friend tour manages silversun pickups, and they needed a backline guy for some festival fly-in dates.

i ended up getting both jobs.

silversun were working through september, and the murphys weren't going out until november.

amazing.

all the bullshit i've been through has prepared me to handle all the bullshit for someone else...at least i'd be getting paid for it this time around!

september:

spent my 36th birthday uneventfully at home, shuddering at the thought of sitting somewhere, broke/hungry/tired of sleeping in the freezing van.

we'd have been in stoke-on-trent (imagining we'd stayed on tour), a place i'd enjoyed when we were there last fall.

i knew we'd made the right decision, no matter how painful it was.

the english label published an amazing review of the record in their magazine (go figure!), which was written before we cancelled the tour.

then, they did absolutely NOTHING to promote it, as a 'punishment'.

they took most mentions of the band off their website, etc.

it's your money, assholes!

we handed them a finished record with artwork for no money, all they had to do was press it. they have distro, they have a magazine that is very widely read, we have a little buzz leading up to it...they promise gus time and again (via phone and email) they'll "help out" with whatever we need to make this tour/record happen. we paid for all expenses out-of-pocket, and they're acting as if we've completely screwed them. our flights alone were over five thousand fucking dollars.

i then started my new career as a guitar tech.

i did three festival shows with silversun pickups; toronto for v-fest, denver for monolith @ red rocks, and austin city limits fest.

it was pretty cool, the band were all great and i saw some cool stuff.

met paul weller and watched a great set in toronto, AND i was on stage right 25 feet away when the crazed idiot attacked the two gallagher brothers during oasis' set.

hooked up again with theresa and nick in denver, saw two-cow garage and drag the river at the suburban home records ten-year anniversary show.

got to check out red rocks...a very spiritual place.

austin was really cool.

saw my pals chris and joe from detroit, who live down there nowadays.

went with them to see an awesome judas priest tribute band.

met up yet again with theresa and nick, saw the kills play on the outside stage of stubbs opening for the butthole surfers.

imagine a thousand-plus people, all out of their heads on various substances, milling around a big backyard party on a warm september night.

met up with my pals in against me and the foos.

hung out with uri, the tech for against me.

spent a bunch of time with gus (he tour manages the foos, moonlights helping out bands in what little spare time he does have) and the foos crew.

went with the foos guitar techs to see an amazing austin guitarist, redd volkaert, with his band heybale!, at the continental club. it was like a lifetime of free guitar lessons.

it was nice to be out of town following the shitty overseas tour. tony and ryan related the torture of having to explain what happened to curious friends over and over again.

october:

played a couple gigs with my 'other' band (together since '98), skeemin' nogoods.

we opened for the bronx at the magic stick, and played a show of our own at small's for my pal's birthday.

it was nice to hang with pals, but i was still so burned...

lee, our driver for the last leg of the uk tour, was over in the states visiting.

i invited him to stay for halloween weekend in detroit.

i tried to make up for our bad attitudes when we were overseas with a great time.

we witnessed him eating his first white castle sliders, first mexican, albeit a shitty burrito at the WAB...good times.

rich and ryan's halloween misfits cover band, queens of the static age, played. tony guested as bobby steele.

it was good to get everyone back together for a few.

readied for the upcoming tour with dropkick murphys. bought some tools, etc.

november:

went out for three weeks with the murphys.

it was really cool; i'd been friends with most of the guys for a long time.

tim, the guy i was working for, was a good pal from warped tour '03, when the fags played a couple weeks.

made some new pals in the crew, and enjoyed playing in warmer places, thinking of shitty cold weather back home.

saw my pal stephen egerton, the guitarist from descendents/ALL, in tulsa.

he asked if i'd be interested in working on some music he had for a solo record.

derek from alkaline was playing drums. did i want to try some vocals on a few songs?

crazy!

the descendents are the biggest influence on this band to begin with, rich and ryan recorded a couple 'machines records with bill stevenson (the drummer), we played a gig with karl (the bassist) earlier in the year, and now i'm getting asked to work on the guitarist's record?!

missed my girl and my hound something terrible. it was nice to be home for a few.

did fuck-all for thanksgiving.

slowly, the holiday doldrums settled in, along with the shittier weather that is michigan winter.

december:

finished the court requirements for my charge in washington state, and waited for the court date.

the charges were dismissed, but not before i lost out on going to australia/new zealand with the murphys in january for big day out. the charges were still pending when the band had to apply for work permits.

fuck me.

a paid vacation to a place i've always wanted to go, in the middle of their summer, with a bunch of pals...

at least the guy i replaced as a tech, billy lee, can cover me. he's a good dude, he knows the job, and he's got a school break that coincides.

ended the month having a cool coversation with robby graham, original bassist in hifi's, bassist in hoarse, old pal/bandmate from years back...

he's working with producer mike clark (eminem, ICP, kid rock, uncle kracker, etc.)

would i be interested in playing guitar on a track?

one thing led to another, and as i type this, i'm preparing to go into the studio and cut a demo for a song i wrote specifically for kracker.

it's the first time i've felt inclined to write anything since the hifi's crashed and burned.

it's really good, too. leaves a lot of room to play to his strengths, and has a cool hooky chorus.

i guess if i have any sort of reputation besides total asshole, i'd hope it's for writing hooky tunes.

2009 so far:

i'm about to celebrate my 1-year anniversary of no booze.

silversun pickups go back out again for south by southwest.

i want to pursue writing for others further.

they say it's a young man's game, that's because young men don't know any better!

i've been sleeping on floors and couches, eating shit sandwiches and playing to tables and chairs, since i was 18 years old.

music as a business (at best) seems like one hour out of every day, the rest is dealing with monotony and bullshit.

the hifi's aren't broke up, but we don't have any plans to play anytime soon.

rich and ryan are back in school.

tony is looking to move to LA if he can't nail down a job here.

we're all just working on getting out of the holes we dug being gone so much and not making anything to offset expenses.

we owe gus over 20 grand.

we owe studios, screenprinters, etc.

made some enemies out of close friends, because we can't pay back what we owe right now. it's my personal biggest regret.

we made some best-of-'08 lists, which was bittersweet.

who knows, maybe we'll become an underground phenom, and go back on tour to huge crowds and tremendous accolades?!

i'm holding my breath....

john