Halfway through tour, recently recovered from stolen laptop/passport/blank checks, I figured it was time to post an update about how things are going. First of all, here’s a list of the dates coming up, including a few new shows added in the Southeast.
If you live anywhere on the route and want us to stop by and play in your living room (ask the rad guys in Wichita about this, it was very fun), write me and we’ll set up a time.
I’ll post a bunch of updates about the things that have happened since we left L.A. two weeks ago, from mind-numbingly boring to epic and everything in between. But right now I have to go get a CMJ badge (for the first time ever, really weird that I get to do this, thanks Bar/None!) and float around the L.E.S. listening to bands for free. More soon. Byyyyyyyeeeee.
Would anyone in NYC happen to have a netbook or a smaller laptop you’re looking to get rid of with at least 2 GB RAM? (I know, beggars/choosers, but I got software needs, yo.) Mine was stolen off of a Greyhound bus a few hours ago. Fortunately, I backed up my data, so this is a “money + time” problem, not a “oh no I lost all of my hard work for the past year” problem. I don’t have much money to spare for it ($150 tops, hopefully less), so I’m very willing to buy anything beaten, in bad condition, buggy, etc. I’d also love to borrow one for this tour (through Nov. 23rd) if you RRREALLY have more than you know what to do with and don’t care about it, but I’d much rather buy it so I don’t have to worry about owing you a laptop if it’s stolen again. Buses are risky.
By the way, I’m in NYC for a week and I’d love to see all of y’all at some point, laptop or not. Hit me up! 562-340-5106
PS- To the person who took the laptop (and I think I know who did it, someone who made fun of my glasses the minute they saw me on the bus and scoped me out the whole ride from Richmond to the Port Authority): THE BATTERY’S DEAD AND THE LAPTOP WON’T BOOT WITHOUT THE CHARGER I HAVE IN MY BACKPACK, SO ALL YOU’RE GONNA GET FOR IT IS LIKE $40 AT A PAWN SHOP, TOPS, AND I DON’T KNOW HOW MANY METH SNORTS THAT IS BUT IT’S PROBABLY BARELY WORTH YOUR TIME, YOU RETARD.
Western Teleport: Pre-Order Vinyl! Digital! CD! Sehr Kuhl!
Some of y’all know this, but I was waiting to post until it was for sure. I’m beyond psyched to say that New Jersey’s venerable Bar/None Records will release my new album Western Teleport on Oct. 4th. The pre-order link is already up on the label website for 180g vinyl, CD, and digital versions. A lot of strange and excellent things are happening with another project called Western Teleport Nodes this week too: I’ll post about that soon. In the mean time, CLICK BELOW!
We’re playing in Richmond tonight, and I hope this dumb, improperly-focused, counter-productive, semi-fascist kind of law enforcement prohibiting citizens from gathering in private homes doesn’t cause any problems.
E-mail me if you want to come to tonight’s show, we’ve got to keep the address and time on the DL.
Summer this year was ferocious, full of worldwide heat waves and rave riots in Hollywood (pictured above) and hockey riots in Vancouver and opportunistic consumer riots in London and more legitimate civil unrest on several continents and the discovery of running salt water on Mars by a college sophomore and imaginary stress from stock market crashes and real stress from salary cuts and slashed budgets and various pestilent plagues and signs in front of the downtown L.A. Walgreen’s screaming “SCABIES TREATMENT HERE!” in bold red letters. This mix is intended for a slowly cooling back porch at 7 p.m., just after the sun goes down, just before your best friend comes over and says, “It’s gonna get better, girl. Ride it out.” and then hands you a cold beer and sets up a slip-n-slide in the backyard and offers to buy you fish tacos.
Radiohive Eleanor is the most cheerful illegal media dissident I’ve ever met. We caught up with her on the third floor of a dingy office building in an NYC location she made me swear not to reveal. The offices housed a lot of socialist/communist/anarchist organizations, media outlets, NGOs, etc., a little lefty Alamo in a sea of finance and fashion and affluence. A busy and secretive-seeming older man with glasses, a briefcase, and an anachronistic tweed suit passed us in the fluorescent-lit stairwell on the way up to the studio of what is, to my knowledge, Manhattan’s only pirate radio station, on which Joel, Tyler, Anna and I were about to perform live. He pointed us to the door and skulked off to write a manifesto or something, and we filed in.
The studio was a cramped office with a decent street view, the transmitter apparently homemade and housed in a beat up film canister Faraday cage, the monitor a boom box with unrealistically killer bass response. Eleanor, chirpy and focused, set us up to broadcast in minutes. I plugged a delay pedal and dynamic microphone directly into the board, set the levels right, and waited for her to start the broadcast and announce us. Joel opened fire with bursts of static and warped harmonies from his microcassette recorder, Tyler beat on the floor, and we started singing songs. Here’s a link: Radiohive.