Introductions and Creepy Cemeteries

9 02 2009

Before I dive into this, my first blog, I should probably introduce myself in case someone reading this didn’t just follow a link from my facebook… My name is David and I play in a band. If you don’t know what band that is you’ll be dying to know by the end of this blog.  Everything else about me you can just learn on the way while I chronicle my adventures and misadventures…which will just be embellishments of actual events that were really neither.

Maudlin, my totally sweet band, is headquartered out of the frigid metropolitan ‘Twin Cities’ in Minnesota.  However I hail from the exceptionally bizarre little college city of Winona, where I met and fell in love with a gal named Priscilla.  Because we have family and friends there we return often, and since we’re both also in the before mentioned totally awesome band, Maudlin, we force Jason to go down with us and play music.

So, Jake, my little cousin, set up a show at the local lodge in Winona and asked us to come down and play along with a bunch of other local acts- most of which are friends of ours we went to high school with.  It’s nostalgic as hell- and for a guy who names his band ‘Maudlin’ obviously I’m game for stuff like that.  We were pretty much grossly unprepared to play.  …I’m sure us being grossly unprepared is going to become a primary theme in this blog…

We had been working all this summer on our upcoming album, Maudlin, and the Second Law of Thermodynamics.  (ha… I typed that and then had to correct the spelling  when I saw the red line… that’s sad) We finally finished it in November, and will just be getting around to officially releasing it in March.

Between November and now, we haven’t done anything… aside from one perversely awful Christmas show  that was so humiliating Jason almost left the stage.  In fact, he was so sure it was going to suck that he was overheard talking about how pissed he was with me for booking the show in a Minneapolis restaurant.  This prompted internet rumors and bloggings that Maudlin was breaking up… Needless to say, the eavesdropper was not familiar with Jason’s assertively pessimistic demeanor.  …Anyway, after all the excitement we dropped off the face of the earth bandwise, and went back to normal lives for a while.  So, we cram jammed right before the show this past week, but we hadn’t had a real practice in about four months, and we haven’t been in good shape since this summer.

The day of the show was a typical Maudlin cluster.  All of us had come down with the flu.  Priscilla and I went over to Jason’s after work, and dilly dallied our way to packing up a few things and calling the other bands to see if we could borrow the rest so we wouldn’t have to carry so much.  Stopped for cokes and rockstar beverages, and we were off to Winona.

Holzinger Lodge in Winona is nestled in the eerie and striking bluffs along highway 61, which is a highway Bob Dylan liked.  Right next door to it is Woodlawn Cemetery.  Woodlawn is probably the creepiest and biggest cemetery I’ve ever been in.  …granted I don’t spend all that much time touring cemeteries.  There are at least three songs I’ve penned all on this last album that were inspired by, or happened in, Woodlawn.

When we got there we were several hours late, and there was one more band to go before we closed out the show.  It’s a stark contrast for me at the lodge.  If we go out to the bar, or play a show in downtown Winona, everyone recognizes us, and probably went to school with one of us.  But the lodge shows are all ages, so they attract a younger crowd.  This is good, bands always want to attract the all-ages crowd. But it also makes me feel really old.

Now, we all know that young people don’t live in the real world, but it’s important to remember that the reverse is also true. Wherever the hell they do live, is a hop, skip and a jump from your apartment.  There was this fuzzy-headed little man leaning up against Jason’s van when I was grabbing some guitars.  During the course of my invading his space to get our crap, he began to ask me questions about my band.  Inquisitive measuring questions like I was trying to sell him a vacuum, and he was pretty sure the Kirby he had was way better than the Hoover i was selling.  “If you could name one band that’s… blah blah blah… who would it be?”  What do we sound like? Explain it to me in terms I think are cool.  …crap. Honesty? Go for the deep musical trenches and pull out something obscure and weighty… or should I try and think of the most recent band I can think off that Rolling Stone called hip that sounds remotely like us at all? Making and breaking sales for Hoover right here.  So, I said “The Pixies.” Why? Always the Pixies.  If I don’t say it about us, someone will.  They are a huge influence, and everyone has heard of them; they also garner huge respect even among music elitists. …Then I have to wait to see if that registers with fuzzy, and he’s not to young to know who that is.  “Cool.  We’ll stick around for you.”  Success.  I’ll be able to tell US Bank to stick their job up their stuffy rectum any day now, and the money will roll right in.

So, we take to the stage… or rather the corner of the lodge designated to be used as a stage.  The room lights go down with a ‘click.’ I can see the attractive, smooth-skinned mass waiting with skepticism, wondering if we’re cooler than the conservative late model vehicles we rode in on.  There’s always a shift from when they’re looking at you waiting to hear what you sound like, and when they’re waiting for the next song.  Usually that, ‘oh, I thought this would blow, but it’s bearable’ kind of look.  I love it.

Now, Jason fled the scene as always when we finished, and refused to stay the night in town.  Even with the flu. Priscilla and I went out on the town.  Abby, or “handful” as I like to call her, kicked me square in the gut and I went down an icy staircase where another friend, Joel, caught me like I was a rag doll.  That was about it. Then we went to Perkin’s where I talked way too much and Priscilla fell asleep at the table.

But, what does it all mean? What did I learn from it all?  Don’t talk when there’s loud music.  It will hurt your throat, and if you already are sick, that sucks.  If you thought this blog sucked, read the first one that’s up before you give up on me, cause that one’s funny.  I brought it over from our myspace, http://www.myspace.com/maudlinmusic

Your pal,

David





The RNC and Other Unexplained Phenomena

3 02 2009

The RNC.  This happened a while ago… but it was… what’s the word they kept using… ‘historic!’  That’s it.

Imagine, if you will, it is a time of political upheaval and unrest.  The quaint Midwestern metropolis of St. Paul is suddenly overrun and occupied by idiots of all political standings. The time was late August, in the year of our Lord, Two Thousand and Eight. It was the eve of the Republican National Convention, and the drunken Irish town that could was in for a week of more frightful sights than a commercial for Valley Scare.

On August 28th, it was a cool summer afternoon (I mean, probably, I don’t actually remember) when I left my stuffy desk job in search of noble charitable triumphs and creatures of the night.  Rock the Cause was putting on a benefit to help children in communities in Africa devastated by the evil AIDs virus, and had asked us to come and help.  The theme for the show was “ATTACK OF THE 50FT ROCKER IN 3D”

Maudlin arrived at the show in style in our gaudy, jewel-encrusted limo, ‘Samantha.’ Because it was a charity event, and we feel pity for the ‘little persons, we commanded our driver, David (ironically, that’s my name too, but I can’t drive a limo legally…) to give rides to other people who didn’t have jewel-encrusted limos  so that they wouldn’t feel bad.  We also commanded Pat O’Brian of howwastheshow.com to interview them, even though it would be far less newsworthy than the interview he did with us on the red carpet.  The red carpet itself was immaculate. It was sewn with the skins of baby seals, black rhinos, and democrats, and was graciously donated by the GOP for the event. We did many other fancy things on the red carpet, because we could.

Of course, after our glorious entrance, the masses demanded we perform. We explained that that’s why we were actually there in the first place, but they would not stop screaming for us to play until we took the stage with all the majesty befitting a band who used fancy cigarette filters. How did it go? Well, friends, we were amazing.  Missed chords?  Out of key vocals?  …I don’t remember, probably not important.  What was important was that we rock the place.  Melted face parts were everywhere.………………
Then, in a historic moment, at the end of the show, as we violently flailed about, I ruthlessly smashed my bass as though it were a cheap used instrument I had bought from a pawn shop for $59.00 just for the purpose of smashing it. It was legendary.  After us, some other bands that were ok too played.  Some did before us as well.

Later on in the evening we went to the famed Weber Estate in Minneapolis, a place so insanely cool that my trying to exaggerate it here would probably hurt someone. But what I can tell you is that Priscilla and I both scored with aliens from the Twilight Zone.  …and they have some freaky moves…

Of course, we’re workaholics (no punintended) so we also took an opportunity to snap a few promotional shots for one of Maudlin’s corporate sponsors, Sacre Bleu wine. Their wine is good, buy it.

Eventually we went to sleep or something and it was all over…

BUT THEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

…a few days later the Dreaded Republican National Convention (RNC) began. ‘So What,’ says you, ‘I once met a republican while walking alone in the woods.  At first I was scared, but he seemed just as scared of me as I was of him.’  Fair enough, but the Republicans did not come to St. Paul alone to hike in our scenic woodlands, they came with a bazillion armed guards, cameras, protesters, and likely many of the nobles of the thirteen bloodlines.  There was probably a Reticulan or two as well.

So what did all this mean for Maudlin?  Well, naturally when the most important delegates in the galaxy descend on a city for a convention, they will need entertainment.  The City of Saint Paul foolishly asked McNally Smith College of Music to find musicians and let them lose on the city.  The school lazily passed the responsibly on to the student body because they clearly overestimate the education they provide.  I was contacted by an informant within the school who suggested we play, so I contacted the under qualified mass running the show and they leaped at the chance to have us.  We were told we would be at an undisclosed location for security purposes, and that we would meet at the school where an orange wagon would take us to the area we would perform. We were also promised gyros.

……Upon arriving at the meeting point -an hour late, we were mortified to find out that the ‘wagon’ we were supposed to use to get to our performance area was a freaking radio flyer… A freaking radio flyer. The students were unaware that their conveyances were actually childrens’ toys.

Terrified of an impending riot that was predicted, they informed us that one of our sets had been cut and that we should rush to our spot and play for only a short time before running for our lives.  They said that we could even take shelter in the school  so that we wouldn’t die a horrible death at the hands of poop-flinging protesters.  We, of course, informed them that we were Maudlin.  No one was going to throw poop at us. Then they informed us that we weren’t supposed to bring all the crap we brought, and that they had encouraged acoustic, unamplified performances.  …We then informed them that we knew what they ‘recommended’ but we weren’t a bunch of pussies. So like pirates, we captured several other radio flyers from lesser musicians who were sailing about the open seas of the RNC  in order to carry all the stuff.

We got down to the area we were supposed to play, which was a block over from the Excel Center and adjacent to the Death Star.  Naturally we plugged our crap and started blasting face parts all over and rolling around on the sidewalk. Of course the student weenies told us we were too loud, and that we should be more quit or we might disturb people.  Priscilla got snippy with the lady and, I though we were going to see blood, but then we just pretended to turn down like we always do in these situations.

Anyway, the crowd of people randomly walking by loved us. We had positive comments from both Republican’s and protestors.  Emperor Palpatine gave us a nod when he was walking past, and Count Dracula actually asked for an autograph after the show.  We were interviewed by MPR and a ton of people took pictures that I’ve never seen…  I made lots of jokes about the Illuminati and Priscilla got nervous after we saw a delegate shapeshift so she told me to shut up.  …I didn’t.

Anyway, we got done and had a good time, and then the nerdlingers of McNally Smith were whining about how we needed to leave, and if we stayed it would be at our own risk and the school would not be responsible for our broken bodies after the impending riots happened.  I made sarcastic rude remarks under my breath about how I thought they were dumb and I didn’t like them because they were bossy and snotty.  It was a stark contrast to the treatment we got at the 50ft rocker show.

Because we knew they were dumb, we stayed after the show for about five hours to prove we weren’t going to die or get hit by poop.  We hung out with the SWAT team for a good long time.  They were a hoot, and the once we were hanging out with were very much in support of peaceful protests.  They were afraid of rumors that some protestors intended to throw HIV infected blood at them.  I guess the poop and fermented pee they had been throwing could have been HIV infected too… but I didn’t mention that too them.

One of the hotcops there (yeah, there were even more than one… it was like afreakin robocop movie!) was totally crushing on me because of how rad I am. Priscilla didn’t really get any attention from anyone though, I think she got jealous of me and hotcop.

Anyway, then we went to hang out with the protestors too.  We spent a longtime there, but all the pictures we took were on real film sitting right here on my desk… we’ll get it developed sometime… But, that was wildly interesting too. The Ron Paul delegates came out and were protesting with the crowds, demanding that the police let the protesters march downtown.  The city was keeping them out of the downtown area because their permit for assembly had expired… I had thought the bill of rights was more or less of permit for assembly, but I guess there are some gray areas.  Darth Vader came by and told one delegate, ‘I am altering the bill of rights, pray that I don’t alter it any further.’  And after he had already arrested Han Solo, few argued.  Eventually we left to go to the art store for screen printing supplies.  The store closed at 8pm so we rushed over and made it just in time.  Also at about 8pm police started tear gassing to break up the crowds.

Anyway, that’s about it… Comments?  Questions?

David








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