Wish You Were Here

I smell like a cheeseburger, Goose wants a cheeseburger.

More to come. Soon.


But probably not until next week.

P.S.

Last week our bus broke down after the NYC show. We still needed to get to the Cambridge show Sunday night. In order to do that, we had to rent a new van and leave our bus in New York City for the time being. New van didn't have any type of seating in the back so we had to sit/lay down on all the instruments for the brutal drive.

Turns out, PBC played their best show of the weekend. Anyway, here are some pictures from the uncomfortable drive and the show that followed said drive.

Enjoy?

Less PBC, More Trevor

Like most middle aged women like myself, there comes a time when you realize your ass is too fat and you're never going to land a husband looking the way you do. Well, this happens every five years for me and it happened again tonight. My quick fix is to usually go for a jog around the block once or twice. At night. Always at night. They can't see your shame in the dark.

After somehow managing my bloated hooves into a pair of trainers and fishing out an old pair of mesh shorts that have gone unnoticed since 1996, I was ready to hit the streets. I remember once being told that if you want a really good cardio workout, you need to keep going at least 12 minutes or something insane. I'm telling you, that first minute I felt like a champion. Then I hit what us athletes call the wall...thirty seconds later. Sure, most marathoners, such as myself, will tell you the wall doesn't hit for hours. Well, fuck you, I smoked for ten years and drank beers for even longer. You don't know me.

So, there I was, lightening shooting up my back, acid being poured into my leg "muscles" and tears streaming down my chubby face. This was all three minutes in. I felt like one of those people that get stranded while trying to climb some insurmountable mountain. Yeah, well, except I could still see my house from where I was.

Fight or flee!? Well, I fought. Sort of. I decided to finish the first and last exercise attempt of 2008. I walked the rest of the way. No more running. I would have just bagged the whole fucking thing right there and gone home but i knew my parents were in the living room. I didn't want them to see me five minutes after I left, white as a ghost, sucking for air like an overweight fish out of water.

Somehow I managed to get into the shower without taking too much criticism for only being gone for ten minutes. Dizzy. I swear to god I was dizzy. Then I was nauseous. Decision time. Vomit in the tub or try to make it to the toilet. For the second time this night I ran. This time for the shitter. Once I made it there, I expelled my dinner and fell to the ground in pale, wet, smelly pile of almost 200 pounds.

And you know what? Last week at this time, I was at work and now I'm not. So, what I'm saying is this. I'd rather be passed out in front of my parents' toilet then ever work again.

I miss my apartment. I miss talking to girls.

But fuck it. I'm never exercising again.

Polar Bear Club shows coming up this week. Hello Canada, carbs and non light beer. Dead by 35. Please.

Day Two - Knitting Factory, NYC 8/16

Call me what you must but I just don't like New York City. I actually break out in hives when I enter any of the boroughs. Everyone there is cooler than me, better looking than, has more money than me, and dresses better than me. This probably could be said for most cities including Utica and Buffalo but there's no need to be mean. Driving in the city brings stress as well but that's not usually a concern with Polar Bear Club because I'm not allowed to drive.(That's a story for another time but just know it involves a total meltdown at the wheel by yours truly.)

Even with all of my reservations this was still going to be worth the trip for a couple different reasons. The show at the Knitting Factory was going to be upstairs instead of downstairs. PBC has played the downstairs part of the venue before and while it's still a great room to play, it involves carrying equipment down numerous sets of stairs. Sure, I'm a roadie but that doesn't mean I like struggling with heavy things. (Insert a joke about my sex life here). The main room holds about 500 people and the show had been sold out for weeks now which meant a whole lot of people were going to see PBC which only helps with my recent retirement from steady employment. For me, the biggest draw of the NYC adventure was a chance to finally see The Gaslight Anthem, an enormously popular band that we're going to be doing a lot of dates with in the future.

Whether you think GA deserve their success or not, this band performs and writes songs that make an old dude such as myself almost comfortable with being an old dude. I'm not good with words so I really can't explain what I'm trying to convey here. What I do know is that themes such as regret, nostalgia for what once was, and opportunity lost paired with the need to forge ahead cater to my inner 25 year old. Gaslight played for over and hour and I swear to god, the lead singer had a smile on his face the whole time. If you don't like this band you probably like things or organizations such as the Yankees, the Republican party and the Dallas Cowboys. In other words, you're a hate monger.

Even before all of this though, Polar Bear Club played, I took some pictures and hang outs were had in the cool guy room. Oh, you don't know what a cool guy room is? Well, I do and I was lucky enough to get to hang out in one. A cool guy room is the room backstage where the bands and crew get to hang out. The most magical acts happen back there, I'm telling you. I can't really get into all the sordid details but I rest easier knowing that you aren't allowed back there. Take that you better looking, better dressed, more money having NYC residents.

Enjoy the pictures and please keep in mind that I'm not a photographer. I'm a drunk, a roadie, and magnificent lover.

http://picasaweb.google.com/trevorjames/NYC

(Footnote, nothing cool happens in the cool guy room except we get some cookies and bottled water. Oh, except on this night when both Jawbreaker and a Glen Danzig fronted Misfits reunited to perform exclusively for us.)

Day One No Radio Records Ithaca New York 8/15/08

You see, before we actually left for shows, the plan was to write an entry here immediately after, every night. Then the shows actually happened. Quickly, I realized that posts immediately following any of the shows would consist of intoxicated and clumsy declarations such as-

"I LOVE MEATBALL SUBS."

"GOOSE'S JEAN SHORTS ARE TOO TIGHT OR MAYBE THEY'RE NOT TIGHT ENOUGH."

"IS A TEN YEAR AGE DIFFERENCE CREEPY OR ROMANTIC?"

"MUSIC IS FUN, KEYSTONE LIGHT IS MORE FUN!"

There would be more spelling mistakes but you get the idea. All kidding aside, it was a busy weekend and there just wasn't enough time each night to break out the computer after loading up for the night or before obligatory post show hang out. So for right now, I'm going to do three different posts over the next couple of days about each show in Ithaca, New York City (that's NYC for fans of brevity), and Cambridge.

Some of us left from Syracuse in the "new" PBC bus you see to your top right. This was actually the first time laying eyes on what will essentially become our home for the next couple of months. I fell in love instantly with the girl because She shares the same traits I prefer in a mate - white, used, and roomy enough to fit seven dudes inside. There's still a lot of work to be done on the interior (a loft needs to be built and a stereo of some sort needs to be installed) but the vehicle makes a beeping noise when it is in reverse and that makes up for any shortcomings. Extra added bonus is enough headroom to stand up while peeing in a Gatorade bottle.

Once in town we grabbed a bite and headed over to the venue which was a small, independent record/show space. Yo be honest, this was probably the first time in years I'd actually been in a record store. You see, I download my music. My sense of entitlement insists on it. The show itself had Polar Bear Club headlining and playing with our friends in Summer People. Two other bands were on the bill and honestly I can't remember their names. Whatever, watching opening bands is for people who don't enjoy sitting in a van getting torn up. Don't judge me, I was once like you. Point being, Summer People include members of Fire When Ready who have been friends with myself Nate and Emmet dating back to the Marathon years so it was nice to reconnect. The history between us doesn't mean I actually watched them either. Priorities, people.

This was the first Polar Bear Club show in about four months and acted as a welcome warm up before two really big shows with The Gaslight Anthem. It was important to work out all the kinks tonight because the following evening there would be five hundred or so people in attendance. Don't ask me what they opened their set up with, in fact, don't ask me any of the songs PBC played. I was drunk, ok? Who are you, my mother? What I can tell you is that four songs into the set, the police showed up and the band was immediately told to stop playing. Apparently, The Party Bears were too loud and a noise violation was handed out. There was no haggling with the cops or owner of the venue. Party Bear Club was instructed to shut everything down and everyone asked to leave immediately. No songs, fun, or refunds.

After packing up, our friend Steve invited us over to his house for a night of sophisticated conversation covering such topics as politics, literature and film. Instead we showed up with a rack of 30 Stones (cheap beer), I forced the other roadie Bobby to kiss a man, cops once again showed up but this time with a flood light, and we all crashed on a floor in a house that smelled like a wet hamster cage.

No pictures of the aforementioned party or man on man action but here's a couple from the actual show. Not a lot, four songs doesn't make for many photo ops.

Ithaca is gorges.

Fin

Seven more work days and I'm out of this hell hole. Semi-retirement.

Polar Bear Club shows this upcoming weekend.

Someone's going to get pregnant.

Again.