ich bin ein auslander

Last weekend’s highlights in full.. we were up bright and early Friday morning and made our way down to Manhattan Beach where the rock and roll express was due to leave at 10am… traveling in style, the manager (Scott) had a nice Acura SUV with an amazing air conditioner, which proved to be particularly useful. I’m not sure it ever dipped below 100 once we passed Baker.

Anyway, off we went. Much to my dismay, we started the trip with a fine medley of Old Van Halen (Aerobics with the Devil) and Journey. Never got much better than that, but to be honest, I quickly discovered that techno and my favorite mope rock bands, while wonderul individual listening, do not party t00ns make. So, with a mixture of 60’s rock, funk, and schlocky 80s tunes, we made our way through the desert. Wendy convinced everyone to stop at Calico, the “ghost town” off the 15… it was 120 degrees outside, but the Japanese tourists didn’t seem to mind. Neither did we, but I think that might have had more to do with the herbal supplements being consumed.

Back on the road, Wendy attempted to get all the truck drivers to honk. Success more than once… typical road shenanigans, mostly at Wendy’s expense, as she was the only female. Pulling the car around to the other side of the gas station while she was making a pit stop, etc., etc… a quick stop for In and Out in god knows where, but at least there was an In and Out… hit quite a bit of traffic and saw: a completely burned down truck; a pulled over SUV with two girls behind the wheel and their boyfriends, handcuffed, on the side of the road; a guy being carried on a stretched to an ambulance, his car having gone more than 50 feet off the road and slammed into a chain link fence.

Finally pulled into Vegas late afternoon… didn’t even hit the strip as we were a bit late, straight to the Hard Rock. Found the band, wandered around the venue, headed up to the dressing rooms for the first beer… then off to gamble for awhile. Wendy and I have a history of NEVER winning at the Hard Rock, and we kept the string going. Grabbed a quick dinner at some shite restaurant there, then back up to the dressing room.

Rock and Roll Lifestyle Myths debunked: in a nut shell, here’s what happens on tour. Band wakes up and finishes driving to the new city. Arrive at venue, do soundcheck. Do a few interviews - either in person, or over the phone. Ass around in a shitty dressing room. Eat some crap cold cuts. Maybe get a greasy dinner in a restaurant. Sleep on dressing room couches. Play gig, talk to girls for approximately 20 minutes, go back to dressing room and wait until gear is loaded. Get back on van, drive to new city. Lather, rinse, repeat. ROCK AND ROLL!!!!!

They played a pretty good gig that night, the crowd seemed into it, and even had a nice little mosh pit going for about 20 seconds before security swooped in. Never seen security presence like that ANYWHERE… guess they’re concerned about losing gambling revenues to a lawsuit.

Show’s over, back up to the dressing room for the post-gig beer, then back out to the tables to lose the last of the gambling funds. About an hour later, gear loaded, time to move on the Phoenix. Scott wanted a little time alone with the band for official “wisdom impartation” sessions, so Wendy, Sareb and I headed for the tour van for a lovely drive with the crew. Pretty sweet setup - DVD, Xbox, etc, all set up on headphones so you don’t bug other people, good amount of space for stretching out. Nice drive, saw the Hoover Dam and fuck all else since there’s nothing out there but cacti.

Pulled into a Comfort Inn at about 3 in the morning in some godforsaken pimple of a town, but at that point, any clean bed in an air conditioned room (95 degrees at 3am) would do. Gave the poor night manager the worst night of her life, as 9 somewhat intoxicated and very tired people wanted to get checked in with all speed. 30 minutes, 2 computer reboots and much exasperated sighing later, mission accomplished. “You fellas in a band or something?” “Yes.” “Maybe my daughter has heard of you.” “Maybe. Can we get our keys please?”

Back up at 8am, and back on the road… we’re still in the tour van, and the crew decides they’re hungry. Being a typical road crew, they opt for a Dennys in an even smaller pimple of a town, just about an hour out of Phoenix, where real food exists. There’s a fly hatchery on the table next to us, and no one in this town has apparently ever seen people wearing nearly all black, piercings, and shaved heads or colored hair. We get quite a lot of stares, and not in a good way. Rubbery chicken sandwich in gut, back on the van… not twenty minutes later, we passed the fast food mecca of Sun City and my stomach complained bitterly.

On to Phoenix and a radio station show… two acoustic songs in a bar with a bunch of contest winners, all of it broadcast. The DJ got the name of the band wrong, but they did a great job, even acoustic. Scott got to talking with some local guys, and we learned all about life in Phoenix… he gave them a few passes for the show later on that evening, bought them a few beers… always fun to meet the locals.

Phoenix impressions: damn, it’s fucking hot. This the strip mall capital of the world. damn, it’s fucking hot. Scottsdale is quite nice - there’s a few blocks where it’s pretty much all just bars. People stumble from one to the other, and that’s about the extent of it. Damn, it’s fucking hot. Every single girl is blonde and tan, and every single guy has short hair, wears a baseball cap, baggy shorts and a t-shirt. Due to the homogeny, the males tend to protect their female aquisitions with a particular vengence - hands are always held quite tightly when walking past other groups of capped males. I felt like doing a sociological study of this strange tribe…

Anyway, off to the venue, “Nita’s Hideaway.” Basically, it’s a grungy little bar, with some character. It’s also sandwiched between a porno shop and a junkyard. Still, it was pretty cool. If there’s anything Phoenix isn’t lacking in, it’s space - there’s a huge parking lot behind the bar, and that’s where bands play. They setup a big outdoor stage, wheel out trashcans full of ice and beer, and go to town. Really quite cool - I wish we had a place like that here. Sat around the bar for a few hours, ran out to try and find a restaurant - not successful, as we still hadn’t sorted out the whole “good things are in stripmalls” aspect of Phoenix and kept looking for a big, stand alone restaurant… then back to the venue for naps on the couch. No dressing room here, so we were still lounging on the couches when they let people in.

Anyway, they played a fantastic show - it was a three band tour, with Audiovent playing the second slot. Both other bands were a bit droning and mopey, so they always got a great response as they rocked out and ran all over the stage… a much more lively show than either of the other bands put on. Watched the show from the side of the stage… the front rows were filled with baseball-capped boys doing the devil horns and heaving Phoenix busoms. The band looked pleased.

We met some more interesting folk - Wendy got on with this slightly fried hippie hairdresser (originally from Canada - we always seem to meet Canadians) and her husband, who watched stoically and with good humor as his wife continually smashed her breasts into whoever she was talking to… Scott’s new Phoenix buddies showed up and proceeded to put on an unprecedented - and unrivaled - show of excess drinking… and then we snuck out as soon as the band was done, got back in the SUV and did the ridiculously long drive back to LA… arrived back at 4am, crashed into bed and let the alcohol seep out of the pores.

Oh yeah, the band’s Audiovent… they’re playing the House of Blues in OC and LA this week, so go check them out.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 29th, 2002 at 10:40 am and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.