series detail their recent, and first, US tour. So keep at the TV PRTY throughout the week for more tales of dead rats,
drunk groupies and vicious high speed car wrecks. I'll let Mookie take it from here...
6/23/05 @ 10:22pm
So Hamilton's parents really love Hamilton. Like A LOT. It's extremely adorable--and 'adorable' isn't a word I use lightly
(or 'extremely' for that matter). Check out the visual proof below of Mr and Mrs. Jordan's undying love for their son--and
GT!
PRESIDENT." Thanks asshole, I almost forgot. Tomorrow is our first show.
6/25/05 – 3:15pm
We scrambled out of Hotlanta at 3pm sharp yesterday. After nearly getting our asses blown apart by an exploding car in
rush hour traffic, we drove around 6 hours to a house show at The Immaginarium—and arrived a healthy two and a half
hours late . We last played SC on the January tour at the original Imaginarium (on the other side of Columbia) with a 7-
piece Christian grindcore extravaganza called “Lights for Nero.” After the show, we were offered several hits of acid in
exchange for some Genghis Tron shirts. Unfortunately, the hallucinogen-bartering was nowhere to be found at last night’
s show, but there was still a pretty decent-sized crowd and I’m sure we sufficiently brought the jamzz.
As I was guiding Hamilton out of the parking space I failed to notice the car and the trailer converging on each other and
we put a tiny dent and some scratches in the car. I’m clearly not meant to be in charge of a car in any capacity. I feel like
a Grade-A asshole.
But everything worked out in the end seeing as we went back to our friend Jordan’s house and watched some
unbelievable BET Uncut. Holy shit—has anyone out there seen Nelly’s “Tip Drill” video?!?! There is so much “blurred
labe” and a whole lot of that crazy flapping ass trick that black strippers do. The song is like 6 minutes long and at
around 5:20 Nelly actually swipes his credit card in a strippers ass. It was a soothing end to a pretty crazed first day.
We’re currently on our way to another house show in Greenville, NC. More later.
6/26/05 @ 4:16pm
Our trip from South Carolina to Greenville was uneventful and borrrring. We rolled up to a two-story house in Greenville
at around 8:30pm and were immediately struck by a subtle bouquet of fried goodness that wafted our way from the
Krispy Kreme across the street. Jeff, the fellow who booked the show and lives in the house where we played,
immediately stated that the smell alone makes him and his roommates exponentially fatter every day. The house started
to fill up rather quickly. The opening act—a dude who played a theremin through several effects pedals—was pretty
excellent…certainly one of the best noise bands we’ve played with (and we’ve seen WAY too many of them in our short
existence).
Apparently no decent bands come through Greenville, so people seemed especially excited to see us last night. The
room was very, very packed and I had a hard time keeping the mic stand out of peoples’ grills. Other than that, the show
went really well, the crowd was a lion, and we sold a ton of stuff afterwards. We had an 8.5 hour drive to NYC, so we
decided it was probably a good idea to get an hour or two of driving out of the way after the show and stay at a Hampton
Inn--a reasonable idea considering we live in America—a land where cheap motels are as common as mouth herpes,
right?
We leave the party at 1:30 and start heading north. When we enter southern Virginia at around 3:15am, we get off the
highway and pull into a very full Hampton Inn parking lot. A sign on the door says “NO VACANCY.” We pull into the
Holiday Inn across the street—“NO VACANCY.” Days Inn—“NO VACANCY.” We get back on the highway in hopes of
pulling off at the next round of motels. 4am hits, we get off the highway. All three motels are filled. I ask the concierge at
the Holiday Inn what gives. He says there was some big Nascar race up in Richmond (90 miles north of where we are)
and a huge Jehovah’s Witness convention and that every motel in a two hour radius is booked. If this concierge is telling
the truth, we have to drive at least another 3.5 hours before we find a motel. We get back on the highway.
Three and a half hours and around 40 packed motels pass (one of which had “Welcome Fredericksburg Optimist Club!”
posted outside). It is now 7:30 and Hamilton and I are getting insanely cracked out. Somehow we’ve made it to
Washington D.C. and are about to find a deserted parking lot to try and sleep in for a few hours. A Holiday Inn appears
on the horizon and we decide to give it one last the shot. Bleary-eyed and still a little drunk, I plead my case to the
concierge and he offers us a double room with a 2pm check out time. We finally pass out at around 7:45am.
We’re currently in slow moving traffic somewhere in Delaware. The show tonight should be fun, albeit a bit stressful due
to everyone I’ve ever known showing up.
You love my tome posts.
6/27/05 @ 3:46pm
Yesterday was a nightmarish wet dream. We hit around 2 hours of traffic on the NJ Turnpike and another half hour delay
right outside of the Holland Tunnel. By the time we had the New York skyline within view, it was already 7:30…a half hour
before we were supposed to go on. We caught sight of a “NO COMMERICAL TRAFFIC” sign right in front of the
tollbooth, and didn’t think anything of it. The toll woman was all like “you can’t go in here—go pull up to that cop.” We
pulled up to some po-po and they said “You have to turn around.” Michael immediately started arguing. If Michael’s
aggressive approach didn’t work, I planned on using my expert chin quiver and letting loose some pitiful tears. After a
minute or two of arguing we stated that we were scheduled to go on at a “jazz club” downtown in ten minutes, they let us
go without even having to pay the $6+ toll.
With our collective heart in the Tron throat, we drove to the knitting factory and loaded in. The show was brutally hot and
crowded (apparently it sold out). Unfortunately, I couldn’t check out the other bands due to the unbearable heat, but we
still have another 6 days with them. It was lovely to see my lady friend and everyone I’ve ever known. Kudos to my mom
for giving me some sweet “you look like shit!” compliments after the show.
On our way to Allston, MA…
6/28/05 @ 4:18pm
I’m crossing my fingers that our streak of bad luck comes to an end tonight. It seems that God has been having quite a
good time hurling a hurricane shit-fest of stress at Genghis Tron the past few nights, and last night’s show at O’Brien’s
Pub was no exception. We got to the venue at around 7, loaded our stuff in, and then the bartender asked for all our IDs
so she could mark our hands accordingly. She responded to my standard “I was mugged in Baltimore last week” excuse
with “I can let you in for your band’s set, but that’s it.” Jake, our merch man extraordinaire was under the same
restrictions. Boston has a reputation for being pretty tough at bars, but this has never ever happened to me before.
Jake and I stood outside the venue for the vast majority of the night while I seethed with anger and humiliation and
unbridled hatred for Boston. The show was mediocre. Essentially, the only good thing to happen yesterday was Rachael
being awesome and amazingly hospitable, which afforded us a good night’s sleep and some excellent breakfast at a
vegetarian-friendly diner.
Onwards to philly…
6/29/05 @ 4:46pm
The Genghis Tron bad luck train didn’t stop in Philadelphia despite my pleas for crossed fingers and prayers. Almost
immediately after I wrote my last post, we were pulled over by a state trooper in CT for driving in the left lane with a
trailer. We incurred a $143 fine and drove on to Philly. Once we pulled up to The Khyber and started to unload, two girls
in an SUV hit the side of our trailer. The damage on our trailer was unnoticeable, but they drove away with a scuff mark
the size of a volleyball. Still, even a minor car accident was the last thing we needed. The show itself was pretty
awesome. There were around 100 people there (which was a really good draw for the club on a Tuesday night), and we
played pretty well. Afterwards we drove to Halimah’s house in Narberth and gorged ourselves on her amazing
assortment of soy delicacies and fruit. Between Halimah and Rachael, we’ve been treated like kings the past few days.
Smelly, smelly kings. Thanks ladies.
Binghamton next…then our RIDICULOUS drive to Newport, KY.
6/30/05 @ 4:32pm
Despite Binghamton being a pretty shitty town, yesterday was our official first non-stressed day. Our streak quickly
ended though, as we are now sitting in the most abominable traffic somewhere in Pennsylvania--still 5 or so hours from
the venue.
There were some stereotypical post-industrial shit town New York crazies who made their way into our show last night
(anyone who has spent enough time in Poughkeepsie/Newburgh/Binghamton is probably familiar with the type). One
such woman was extremely offended by Behold…The Arctopus’ t-shirts. Apparently their depiction of a bionic sea turtle
was at extreme odds with her Lone Star state upbringing. “I’m from Texas!” she exclaimed to anyone who would listen.
“How can they do that to animal life?!” After the show, we drove 3 hours to lovely Olean, New York, where we got a
motel room and crashed until 11am.
We’re on the way to Newport, KY right now and this traffic seems to be going all the way to California.
7/01/05 @ 3:17pm
I feel born again now that I’m on the other side of yesterday’s 10+ hour drive. It actually wasn’t too bad--I read, listened
to a lot of Mike Jones, and convinced myself I was constipated. Nothing feels better than clearing your plumbing when
you’re convinced the stomach apocalypse is upon you—especially when the rest area toilet seat is still warm from the
gnarly, 300 pound trucker who just lumbered out of the stall. As I commented on stage last night, “that trucker ass-
warmth made me feel more like a real man than ever before.”
The show was barely in Kentucky. It was right across the water from Cincinnati in a huge converted Victorian building
called “Southgate House.” According to a landmark sign out front, the inventor of the Tommygun was born in the house
and died a sad, lonely death lamenting the tarnished image of the gun as a gangster weapon. Luckily he died before the
image of his home was tarnished by microphone-vomiting jackasses like myself.
The room we played in was absolutely gigantic. It was definitely the biggest venue we’ve ever played and was
comparable in size to Irving Plaza, yet sadly there wasn’t an Irving Plaza sized crowd. Only around 40 people showed up,
so the performance felt kind of absurd. Regardless, they had an amazing sound system and the few people who showed
up seemed way into it. Again, we were shocked at how much merch we sold. We grossly underestimated how many
shirts we needed and have to place another order tonight for extra smalls, mediums, and larges.
We’re on our way to Toledo right now. This is our first headlining show of the tour and we’re expecting a decent crowd
tonight…
7/4/05 @ 6:08pm
Kudos to me on the best pun of the year! We finally have a day off and I'm doing my best to relax. The past few days
have been especially ridiculous (and without much internet access...), so its been hard to slow down after going 63
billion miles per hour.
Toledo was the most stereotypical 'rock n' roll' night thus far. We were playing in a venue called The Underground,
which was directly below the Club Bijou theatre where Hip Hop extraordinaire Freeway was playing. Thanks to the
persistent advertising and in-store playing of our EP by Toledo's Ramalama Records, we've apparently sold a shit-ton of
records in the area so there was a healthy sized crowd to see us (this was also the first headlining show of the tour). I
had some time to kill before we played, so I did the only reasonable thing--get completely plastered. By the time we went
on at around 12:30, I was drunk enough to be around 60% uninhibited, thus the set was high energy and filled with
Jagger-esque swagger. I had fun.
At this point it's worth noting that a friend of a friend of Hamilton's--an Atlanta air force pilot by the name of Andy--saw us
the night before in Kentucky. He liked us so much (he bought roughly $40 worth of merch and a round of drinks), that he
came to the Toledo show as well. He also decided to buy us two hotel rooms at the Raddison Hotel down the street. How
awesome is that? Shock and awesome! HAHAHA! LOL!
When we stepped off the stage, we were all anxious to get back to the Raddison and have some vicious pillow
fights/circle jerks. We started packing up our gear, but when we got to the front door the promoter warned us not to go
outside for at least a half hour. Apparently Mr. Freeway decided Toledo was only worth a 2 song set. This incited a mini
riot on the street and more drinking on behalf of Jake and myself. By the time the angry mob cleared the streets, I was
WASTED. This made loading a lot more fun and dangerous--kind of like a mountain dew ad meets Moishe's movers. I
apparently wrote some drunken e-mails to Genghis Tron fans (no memory of this), killed Jake's laptop (huh?) and took
two Tylenol PM (WHY?!). The next morning was hazy.
We ate at the totally barfalicious Big Boy down the street and bid adieu to dearest Andy. Pittsburgh was next.
There isn't much to say about the Pittsburgh show besides LAME and SHITTY. Matthew David Stidle (under the
pseudonymn "Clear Channel") provided some excellent mash-up performance art though. I know that sounds totally
stupid and I can't possibly do his performance justice, but I swear it ruled. We stayed with our friends Carrie and
Lorraine, said goodbye to our lovely tour mates Time of Orchids and Behold...The Arctopus, and made the long drive
back to New York.
Last night's show in Brooklyn was decent. There were a fair amount of people there, but I wasn't really "feeling it." A lot
of friends came out and I felt really bad that I couldn't hang out with them at all.
7/6/05 @ 6:20pm
The Talking Head club in Baltimore will undoubtedly usher in the apocalypse. The sheer volume of rats that skitter
outside the venue was truly something to behold. Though smaller than the NYC sewer rats I’m familiar with, they do live
in Baltimore—so I’m guessing the bacteria that coats their oily fur is about as deadly as the city itself (which has a
homicide rate that’s like 3 times the national average). Our imminent doom will surely kick off when some scenester (very
possibly Jake Friedman) contracts super plague 9000 after a Dead Meadow show.
Speaking of Jake, he and I had the pleasure of putting together an impromptu dead rat photo shoot last night. However,
the totally awesome pic of me next to a dead rat...
the show
Jake--though also scared she would throw the dead rat at him—was calm enough to snap some amazing photos. I smell
a Pulitizer in photo journalism coming your way, Friedman!
As usual, I was awed by Baltimore’s ubiquitous and fascistic black-and-white “BELIEVE” signs. Apparently they use these
billboards as beacons of hope to combat the rampant drug trade in the area, but they always make me vaguely
uncomfortable and inexplicably thirsty. I think the letters look like milk.
The show itself was pretty awesome. Adam, our sugar daddy from Crucial Blast delivered over 300 CDs and one very
creepy-quiet Hagerstown friend. Despite The Talking Head being one of my favorite venues, they stiffed us (again) at
the door. We brought out around 50 people at a $7 cover but only received $50. Lame.
Afterwards, we made our way towards northern Virginia and crashed in a pretty sketchy Quality Inn. We don’t have a
show tonight, so we’re currently making the very long drive to Hamilton’s house in Atlanta. This time I promise some
steamy hot tub pictures. Literally.
