Hola from the road. It's Friday the 13Th and we feel the sub woofers vibrating up through our air mattresses. Friday night in Cleveland isn't as rock and roll as the town's reputation would have you believe. The last two day's have been a bit of a roller-coaster. Morgantown was easily the best show of our trip thus far. We were the only band and as a result decided to play as many songs as we could. The crowd was nuts! We played our first (2) encores! And they actually had a real jukebox and not one of those damn "Touch Tunes" things.
Here is my problem with those terrible machines:
1) A jukebox should contain actual physical copies of music
2) The song selection should reflect the tastes of the proprieter, the clientel and the region.
3) If I pay a dollar for one song, I should own that song
4) It just takes one turbo who likes the Stone Temple temple pilots to kill your buzz
Jukebox expenditures are the biggest drain on the few funds I have.
Pittsburgh
Pittsburgh preceded Morgantown and here is what I have to say about that: The trekkie who runs that place is on our shit list. We showed up at a normal load in time and saw him in the door so we knocked. He stood there not acknowledging us. So we knocked again. Nothing. We gave up and shot the breeze, figuring he would eventually let us in to unload our gear. The door swung open and the first thing this guy says to us is "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" he claimed to be on the phone but clearly it was a speaker phone or we would have noticed that (we could see him in there seemingly just standing still). We found out the next day that this is par for the course for this notorious grump. He is mentioned as such in some "top ten worst.." lists in a couple of nationally circulated publications. In a twisted way it was a privilege to meet such a notoriously insufferable dum dum. (he is not pictured here. these people were cool)
Cleveland
I am starting to understand why they call this place "Cranky's". The relentless bleeps, booms and blip blops prevented us from sleeping (despite the sleeping pills) so we decided to pull a publicity stunt. Life handed us a rave and we'll be damned if we didn't turn it into raveonaide. It was time for Kent to create his raver-alter-ego MC Fuckit. He did so and gooved with the turbo's at the rave (our band opened for) tonight. The Malibu shots he took knocked him out already. So before the pills take hold and I can fall asleep here in the crack den upstairs: here are some stills, a video will follow
see video below: mc fuckit 2009
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