So, Kansas City - if I can remember it - was pretty below average. We had a lot of fun hanging out with another band in the parking lot, though. The sound was awful in the big echoey room. And the people who put on the show (who were really nice and good to us) put the highest-drawing local band first. If they had it to do over again, they’d have had them headline, they told us. Ah well, we had a good time anyways.
Described to us by someone, as “the Brooklyn of St. Louis,” Belleville, Illinois was a bit better than KC. First of all, we roll into town, and it’s a real cute little place, and we stayed at a motel that 375 yards from the venue. We were concerned about what kind of venue would be in a town that looks like it is dominated by antique and candle shops.
But then we go to this place called the Ground Floor, and find a venue that looked a hell of a lot like the now-closed Rothko (of NYC). A great space with a nice stage. The sound system was definitely too weak for the room, though. We played for a decent size crowd (seeing as how it was a weeknight in a sleepy little hamlet), though only a few of them came up to the stage. I liked this show, because all of a sudden “Goes Cube Song 42″ clicked for me, performance-wise.
Kenny slept with his eyes open that night, which was an endless source of entertainment for EarFarm Matt and me.
The next day we rolled into Champaign-Urbana, where I was initially overcome with nostalgia. (Me and Goes Cube Matt went to school there, at the U of I.) We went to where we were staying: One of our best friend’s brother’s house.
The house turned out to be the “senior frathouse,” meaning all the seniors from the frat live there. Fourteen people. Furniture included couches, a big screen tv, beer pong tables (multiple), and things for playing a game called “bags,” which as far as I can tell is a hybrid between miniature golf and horseshoes, and probably includes chugging beers.
We rested up for a bit, then went to the venue - yet another place with a shaky soundsystem (the vocals were mythical, in that no one could say for sure if they actually existed that night). We played well, though, and for a pretty good crowd. Our friends Mikey and Mark (we met them freshman year in the dorms) came down from Chicago to see the show, which was nice and as you will see in a bit, clutch.
After the show, we brought our gear back to the house. Side note regarding gear: It is dying. The bass drum head exploded (non beater side). I have no idea how this happened (sheer force of the drummer is our working theory). One of my pedals is failing, the other is about to fail (it’s occasionally not responding), and my strings broke (typicall not remarkable, but I change them before almost every show). Matt’s bass amp lost a wheel and makes a strange humming sound, and his instrument cable died, but we think there might be a bigger problem with the input jack. In short: Dear music industry, Please give us money so we can buy shit that works/fix stuff that doesn’t.
So we drop off our stuff, and we head out to… what was that we just ran over? Oh, rocks? Probably not a big deal, but let’s pull over and shut the car off to check it out. Wow, the car is bleeding all its oil out at an alarming rate. Sweet.
Nostalgia is immediately replaced by worry and concern. We call AAA and a tow truck arrives.
Worry and concern is immediately replaced by frustration and disdain as drunken 19 year old kids wearing khaki pants, plaid shirts, and flat-brimmed backward hats start shouting observant things like, “Wooo-hoo! Tow that thing! YEAH!” and even more astounding, “Honda! YEEEEAH!!!!!”
Things don’t change much. It’s a Friday night, and most of the guys who are out are looking for a fight. Same old Champaign.
AAA tows it to the Honda dealership in nearby Savoy, which will surely be able to fix it the following day, Saturday.
We head back to the house to attemp to dig up a keyboard that was used in the band I had with Matt and Mikey. We buried it seven years ago. Mikey sees a tree and says “five paces to the north, three to the west.” I plunge the shovel in the soggy Earth, and after two scoops of dirt, I hit something that feels strangely Casio-like. A few more shovelfuls, and we have unearthed the keyboard. It is an oddly amazing and euphoric moment.
We turn in for some sleep, looking forward to getting the mini-van back.
Matt wakes me up at 9am with a quick tap to the forearm and says, “Honda’s service department isn’t open on the weekend.” Nissan’s, however, is. So, the car is towed next door to the Nissan dealership.
Two or three hours later, we get a phone call: We need a new engine oil pan. Problem is, that part has to be obtained from the Honda dealership. Problem is, Honda’s service/parts departments are closed in Champaign-Urbana, Decatur, Danville, Normal, and anywhere else that happened to be within a 90-minute driving distance.
So, the car can’t be fixed till Monday the earliest. Now it’s problem solving time. We identify our options:
1. Rent a mini-van to get us to Chicago until van is repaired.
2. Pack half our gear with Mikey and then find another car to drive the rest (and ourselves) to Chicago until the van is repaired.
3. Stay in Champaign until van is repaired, missing all shows till we get the van back.
4. Stay in Champaign until van is repaired, and then go straight home.
We research mini-van rentals. There are n0ne available. U-Hauls are far too expensive (mileage charge). We don’t want to cancel the rest of the tour. We don’t want to miss Chicago. So, we need to find another car.
The guy who we’re staying with is a close family friend of Matt’s. He has a Dodge Intrepid. We get the nod to use it till Monday. Amazing!
So we bring the cars to the dealership, transfer our equipment and go to Chicago, tired and frustrated.
We go to the home of Mikey and his wife (Andrea). It is spacious, it is clean, it is familiar, it is fucking wonderful. We have a beer and a shower and some food. We are absolutely exhausted. I have no awareness that it is my birthday.
We get to the venue (the Elbow Room), and wearily begin the process of loading-in. It’s a really cool room, and our name is writ-large on the marquee, so our spirits are lifted ever so slightly. Then Matt Goes’s brother shows up unexpectedly. Awesome!
We park the cars, and the boys go in to have an Old Style.
I hang outside in the rain, finishing up a phone call. I am exhausted beyond words and though I’m excited to play and expect the show to be OK, I miss home.
I say goodbye, and I open the door to the venue. I pick up a copy of the Reader, and begin my ascent up the five stairs, which I am looking down at. When I look up (about midway up the stairs), I am stopped dead in my tracks, and my brain has a hard time processing what I am seeing: Tammy and Andrew (of 423smith fame) - two of my closest friends from Brooklyn - are sitting in a both, smiling at me. “Happy birthday,” they say. Tight hugs all around. It’s going to be an amazing night.
An hour or so later, we take the stage to pretty much a packed house, consisting of old friends and family and a surprising number of faces we’ve never seen before. EVERYONE is in the mood for a rock show.
We are not exhausted. We are not frustrated. We play a ten-song set that ranks among the best of the tour.
The rest of the night is spent catching up with people and them putting birthday drinks in my hand.
Eventually, we have to pack it up, and we go back to Mikey’s house for one of the best sleeps in a month.
Today we are relaxing and Matt is seeing family. Tonight we play Chicago again, and though we expect it to be a rather intimate affair, we think it will be fun, as we’ll still have some friends in attendance, and one of our favorite bands from the tour, the Constants, joined the bill. (We played DC with them - our first show of the tour.)
Last night gave us a new shot of energy that we’ll need to finish out the tour.
Unfortunately, because we have to make another trip to C-U to get the mini-van tomorrow, we have to cancel our Ypsilanti show. But the plan is that we’ll be back on track to rock out with our great friends, Necropolis, in Columbus, OH (which I stupidly failed to mention in my last post, as Bo pointed out). Then, we hit Pittsburgh. And then…
…home.
