So I'm on tour with my babyboys Black Tusk and stoner rock OGs Fu Manchu, and we just played the Masquerade in Atlanta. We stayed with our boy Dan from Zoroaster yesterday and got shwasted on top shelf liquor, had an epic cookout today (with venison! heaven), and are maxin' out relaxin' all cool in Dan's doom palace surrounded by pitbulls and pillows.
Andrew and Roadie Ben are at a bar with crazy Cameron from San Francisco, but me, Athon, and James are worn out. Kevin from Brutal Truth lives 'round the corner and warned me that the Masquerade sucks; as usual, he was right. The staff were sweethearts, but the crowd should have been way bigger, the openers drank up all the booze and got all uppity asking for free stuff, the house took a 10% cut of the soft merch sales, the moniters blew halfway through Tusk's set...bah. We hit Raleigh tomorrow, which should be cool - I like North Carolina a lot, and after that we hit DC and I get to bro down with Salome, then Cambridge, MA where I get to see my boy Metal George, then NYC for a taste of home, and on and on...
I flew out to meet up with Black Tusk in Austin last Thursday, where we were due to kick things off at Emo's that night (fourth time I've been in that damn club in as many months). After load-in, we grabbed dinner at Stubb's (Texas barbeque, yessss) then did the show thing. I went through all the merch and familiarized myself with the tools of the trade, set my shit up, and waited for the madness to unfold.
Austin is Austin, and Austin is crazy. We crashed with the boys' awesome friend Cory at her adorable little apartment, woke up late, and sauntered off to Houston the next day.
*Black Tusk LOVES lotto tickets*
Now that is a weird town - everyone's stuck in 2001 and the club we played, Scout Bar, was straight-up covered in nu-metal memorabilia. We're talking Disturbed on the house speakers and signed Saliva guitars on the walls, son.
I got cornered by a methed-out waitress who bought a Black Tusk girly shirt then spent the next ten minutes telling me about how breastfeeding made her rack huge, and the boys were enchanted by the lingerie-clad broad serving beer out of a tub (you stay classy, Houston). Crashed in a Super 8, then headed South to New Orleans - one of my most anticipated stops this time around.
I LOVE New Orleans - the city is just brimming with black magic and swamp light, and the food? Fuck. I am the pickiest eater imaginable, but even I'm powerless in the face of Coop's Cajun fried chicken and Cafe Du Monde beignets.
We played One Eyed Jack's in the French Quarter - wicked.
Drank a bunch of whiskey, sold a bunch of merch, and had a ball at Tusk's friend Alex "The Douche"'s house with her goofy dogs and champagne. On our way out of Louisiana, James won 500 dollrs off a two-dollar lotto ticket (!!!!) which provided some excitement (and a bottle of bourbon) for the rest of the evening.
The long drive out to Atlanta the next day was all worth it as soon as we rolled up to Dan's incredibly nice house, and now I'm almost wishing we had another day off to snuggle with his dogs and suck down his blue agave tequila.
On the road again...