Before the show me, Cole, and Ian get chewed out by a French-looking Polish waitress. Ian orders a concoction that tastes like Berries and Crème Lifesavers. Why Ian, why?
Two fights break out during the show. Two dudes throw punches like windmills. The gargantuan bodyguard tries to eject one of them, but the 5 foot terror had a lot of fight in him. It takes 3 guys to escort him out. The other guy goes more peaceably. Tons of people take over the stage during Bad Kids. Fortunately, security eased up, and the crowd can't stop cheering.
After the show Ian and Cole try to find Deerhunter. Some of the aforementioned mob take us for a walk, which was more like a hike. After a drunken eternity, me and Joe hit up this party where the tenants were getting evicted. I repeatedly kick a hole in the wall. People were pissed, but later became unpissed. They sang us The Pogues' 'Dirty Old Town' in drunken unison. We instantly score some hash.
The taxi takes us to the wrong O' Callaghan Hotel, of which there are 5. I think it's a deal O' Callaghan makes with the taxis, so tourists will spend twice as much fare to get to the right hotel. Either way we're low on Euros and high on life.
Because you can't live the high life without feelin high.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
05.21.09: Liverpool @ Sound City Festival
Jared departs at 8 in the morning to meet up with Dan. Best of luck in court buddy.
Atypically-dressed punks scatter the streets of Liverpool. We coast by The Cavern, famous for Beatles’ recognition. It's a festival of sorts, but for whatever reason, Gringo Star is playing a different stage. Instead, Crystal Antlers fills the American void with their bongo-filled psych rock. I sound check on bass. Jared’s bass is like a pair pants that is pulled up way too high.
Hondo and Dan ATC storm into the club in victorious clamor. With charges dropped, Jared gleefully gulps the hidden Jameson at merch. Rebecca also arrives to shove cider in my face. She was way too drunk. The choice of backstage beer was Tsing Tsao, complete with the peel-back tabs. Strange, but highly downable.
Upon load out the nightlife picks up. We all congregate at Bumper. While the pseudo-metropolitan crowd tries to propagate their species, the Americans take over the right side of the bar. I start smashing the hard plastic cups on the floor, stomping them like light bulbs. They ask me to stop. We start smoking inside. They ask us to stop. Jessie Mika Miko picks me off the floor, only to drop me back down, face first. They ask her to stop. We should have been kicked out at least 5 separate times. Dan and Martin have long since departed.
Me, Cole, and Jared search for hash on the way to the hotel. One driver almost hits Cole; he kicks the driver side with his clunky boots. I meet a Swedish girl who was totally into me. Cole and Jared abruptly drag me away. I guess her boyfriends are the jealous type.
-Kang
Atypically-dressed punks scatter the streets of Liverpool. We coast by The Cavern, famous for Beatles’ recognition. It's a festival of sorts, but for whatever reason, Gringo Star is playing a different stage. Instead, Crystal Antlers fills the American void with their bongo-filled psych rock. I sound check on bass. Jared’s bass is like a pair pants that is pulled up way too high.
Hondo and Dan ATC storm into the club in victorious clamor. With charges dropped, Jared gleefully gulps the hidden Jameson at merch. Rebecca also arrives to shove cider in my face. She was way too drunk. The choice of backstage beer was Tsing Tsao, complete with the peel-back tabs. Strange, but highly downable.
Upon load out the nightlife picks up. We all congregate at Bumper. While the pseudo-metropolitan crowd tries to propagate their species, the Americans take over the right side of the bar. I start smashing the hard plastic cups on the floor, stomping them like light bulbs. They ask me to stop. We start smoking inside. They ask us to stop. Jessie Mika Miko picks me off the floor, only to drop me back down, face first. They ask her to stop. We should have been kicked out at least 5 separate times. Dan and Martin have long since departed.
Me, Cole, and Jared search for hash on the way to the hotel. One driver almost hits Cole; he kicks the driver side with his clunky boots. I meet a Swedish girl who was totally into me. Cole and Jared abruptly drag me away. I guess her boyfriends are the jealous type.
-Kang
05.20.09: TJ’s @ Leeds
We arrive with time to spare. The room looks like a former hotel lobby, with a dining hall perimeter surrounding the dance floor. Times New Viking is also on the bill, who play indie synth-pop sans bass. It’s an all American tour, no matter where we are. A good friend of ours (whose name escapes me) takes us through kilometers of backyards to find some off-beaten Indian fare. Cole orders 'Akmed’s Very Hot, Hot, Hot Indian Curry' (that's the actual name). The waiter laughs condescendingly. Crap.
Dishes arrive, piping hot with cumin and brightly sliced chili peppers. Me and Cole grab spoons. Ian and Joe look on in terror as the aftertaste creates a flashflood of sweat and tears. Yogurt alleviates the situation, and I soak through handfuls of napkins. No one around seems to mind. When they take away our plates, and Cole proudly tells the waiter 'it’s not that hot'. Sure dude; you didn’t even finish half of it.
Back at TJ's, Jared is wasted. He’s concerned about the court date. He stumbles around on stage, putting feet through monitors, and flinging his bass in the air at least 4 times. On the fifth toss, it smacks some fan in the knuckles, leaving a viscous red puddle on stage. They play through it, in it, and with it. It’s beautifully bloody.
While everyone parties, me and J Brad hang back at the hotel, exhausted and inebriated. Nawlins hiphop sets the tone, and we observe the bright hotel lighting system. Sometimes, you just need a break.
-Kang
Dishes arrive, piping hot with cumin and brightly sliced chili peppers. Me and Cole grab spoons. Ian and Joe look on in terror as the aftertaste creates a flashflood of sweat and tears. Yogurt alleviates the situation, and I soak through handfuls of napkins. No one around seems to mind. When they take away our plates, and Cole proudly tells the waiter 'it’s not that hot'. Sure dude; you didn’t even finish half of it.
Back at TJ's, Jared is wasted. He’s concerned about the court date. He stumbles around on stage, putting feet through monitors, and flinging his bass in the air at least 4 times. On the fifth toss, it smacks some fan in the knuckles, leaving a viscous red puddle on stage. They play through it, in it, and with it. It’s beautifully bloody.
While everyone parties, me and J Brad hang back at the hotel, exhausted and inebriated. Nawlins hiphop sets the tone, and we observe the bright hotel lighting system. Sometimes, you just need a break.
-Kang
05.19.09: London Day Off 2
Ok, so today’s my actual birthday, and some proper Korean food is in order.
We hitch a ride on the bus to Chingu, which usually means ‘friend’ in Korean, but today means ‘badass’. The Oriental fare is much like we have at home, except without the abundance of appetizers. Still, no complaints here. Spicy, sizzling plates crowd the table. It’s a nice change from the tour diet of chips and carbs.
Later on Arwen and Chloe ask me to meet up for drinks near Oxford Circus. My phone runs out of minutes. Wondering aimlessly for half an hour, they finally get through. With the right directions, I stop into The Crown Bar, which I previously overlooked. After a generous order of gin and tonics, TM Martin calls me upon arrival; a birthday dinner is in order. We hail a driver and head towards the Columbia.
Tired and weary, the boys suck it up for a walk to a nearby Chinese restaurant. Even after close, they seat all 14 of us. Content and full of MSG, we stumble towards the nearby Moroccan bar that serves up grotesque Sex on the Beaches and melon hookah. I can tell the guys are tired, but they stay up smoking melon hookah for the greater good. In a fury of exhaust and anger, the bar abruptly gives us the 86. We tag the freshly painted fence on the way back to The Colombia.
If you ever check into this place, watch out for Chuckles. Chuckles is this dude at the reception who is a closet nazi. Our crew tries to head upstairs, but he refuses us entry. Chloe gets up in his face and interrogates his disrespectful ass. Minutes later, the internet starts working and the after hours Grolsch arrives. We make a break for it, and spend the night drinkin and spitting off the balcony.
It's good to be 21.
-Kang
We hitch a ride on the bus to Chingu, which usually means ‘friend’ in Korean, but today means ‘badass’. The Oriental fare is much like we have at home, except without the abundance of appetizers. Still, no complaints here. Spicy, sizzling plates crowd the table. It’s a nice change from the tour diet of chips and carbs.
Later on Arwen and Chloe ask me to meet up for drinks near Oxford Circus. My phone runs out of minutes. Wondering aimlessly for half an hour, they finally get through. With the right directions, I stop into The Crown Bar, which I previously overlooked. After a generous order of gin and tonics, TM Martin calls me upon arrival; a birthday dinner is in order. We hail a driver and head towards the Columbia.
Tired and weary, the boys suck it up for a walk to a nearby Chinese restaurant. Even after close, they seat all 14 of us. Content and full of MSG, we stumble towards the nearby Moroccan bar that serves up grotesque Sex on the Beaches and melon hookah. I can tell the guys are tired, but they stay up smoking melon hookah for the greater good. In a fury of exhaust and anger, the bar abruptly gives us the 86. We tag the freshly painted fence on the way back to The Colombia.
If you ever check into this place, watch out for Chuckles. Chuckles is this dude at the reception who is a closet nazi. Our crew tries to head upstairs, but he refuses us entry. Chloe gets up in his face and interrogates his disrespectful ass. Minutes later, the internet starts working and the after hours Grolsch arrives. We make a break for it, and spend the night drinkin and spitting off the balcony.
It's good to be 21.
-Kang
Sunday, May 24, 2009
05.18.09: London Day Off 1
It’s 3:30 in the am, and we gotta hit the airport. It's also my birthday.
With tissues in hand, these six lucky bastards cry me goodbye at Heathrow. I ride the tube toward London on a minimal amount of sleep. Arwen and Chloe buy me breakfast, which is completely drugged. Unconscious, I wake up in the ATC offices, where Dan firmly exercises his power of authority. For hours on end, he pummels me on merch strategics and tactics until I no longer fear death. Then the room fades a slow black.
I awake in The Colombia hotel to the ringing of an overly ecstatic Japenese-Londoner. It’s Natsumi, and we make plans to see Deerhunter at Scala. The phone rings again. Arwen and Chloe want to meet for beers and food beforehand. Why are all these girls fighting for their moment of Kang? There’s just not enough of me to go around, ever.
At King’s Court, the ATC group is eating with Mike Bones, another member of the Vice Records roster. However, as soon as I settle in, Nat and Taka dissuade me from my meal to meet up at Scala. After using up my Oyster card credit, they greet me outside wearing all denim. They are uniformed like the Yakuza.
The place is packed to the balconies. Natsumi grabs me and Taka by the collars, determined to find us a spot at the front of the house. Deerhunter sound great, even with Bradford back on guitar. It's hard to imagine them as a 5-piece. It’s their sound man’s birthday, so they sing him Happy Birthday through various onstage effects pedals. Then Bradford purveys the audience, seeking the Almighty John Kang. I'm onstage. A different, but equally contorted version of Happy Birthday engulfs the room. We head backstage to chill with some more fellow Atlantans. I meet an old London acqaintance for 3 minutes.
With ciders and cigs in hand, we head to Nat’s after the show. I learn them some Atlanta music, much to their chagrin. It’s amazing to see two strangers fascinated with our city of notoriety. It makes my heart swell up like a massive bloodclot.
-Kang
With tissues in hand, these six lucky bastards cry me goodbye at Heathrow. I ride the tube toward London on a minimal amount of sleep. Arwen and Chloe buy me breakfast, which is completely drugged. Unconscious, I wake up in the ATC offices, where Dan firmly exercises his power of authority. For hours on end, he pummels me on merch strategics and tactics until I no longer fear death. Then the room fades a slow black.
I awake in The Colombia hotel to the ringing of an overly ecstatic Japenese-Londoner. It’s Natsumi, and we make plans to see Deerhunter at Scala. The phone rings again. Arwen and Chloe want to meet for beers and food beforehand. Why are all these girls fighting for their moment of Kang? There’s just not enough of me to go around, ever.
At King’s Court, the ATC group is eating with Mike Bones, another member of the Vice Records roster. However, as soon as I settle in, Nat and Taka dissuade me from my meal to meet up at Scala. After using up my Oyster card credit, they greet me outside wearing all denim. They are uniformed like the Yakuza.
The place is packed to the balconies. Natsumi grabs me and Taka by the collars, determined to find us a spot at the front of the house. Deerhunter sound great, even with Bradford back on guitar. It's hard to imagine them as a 5-piece. It’s their sound man’s birthday, so they sing him Happy Birthday through various onstage effects pedals. Then Bradford purveys the audience, seeking the Almighty John Kang. I'm onstage. A different, but equally contorted version of Happy Birthday engulfs the room. We head backstage to chill with some more fellow Atlantans. I meet an old London acqaintance for 3 minutes.
With ciders and cigs in hand, we head to Nat’s after the show. I learn them some Atlanta music, much to their chagrin. It’s amazing to see two strangers fascinated with our city of notoriety. It makes my heart swell up like a massive bloodclot.
-Kang
05.17.09: The Globe @ Cardiff
This woozy Sunday brings us to the Globe. It’s a cool theater type venue, complete with visceral lighting. Tonight I run the oil light from the merch booth. TM Martin finds old clips of CCTV to be played during their set; maybe he was also lookin for footage of Jared . Even though it was Spaghetti-o’s with meat sauce, we had a pretty decent venue-provided lunch.
Gringo Star plays, and sound great as usual. I met some kids who drove 3 hours to see them. About 30 minutes after their set, Mika Miko is nowhere to be found. I head backstage and open the dressing room door; all the bands pack into the broom closet party. Unfortunately I break up the congregation, as Miko Miko is well behind schedule. They flood out of room, knocking over half-opened Red Bulls along the way. At this point, we all reek of whiskey.
During the Black Lips set, Jared stage dives while kids attempt to prop him up. My epileptic light show causes two Mika Miko seizures. After the show, we all order doner kebabs, which seems like a good idea. Two hours later, our stomachs disagree. All the bands go their separate directions, and we head off into the foggy darkness.
Then we discuss my on goings for the next two days. Cannes Film Festival is flying everyone out to play a secret show, crew included. Well, except for me. And all I wanted to do is get shot down by Sophia Coppola. Regardless, we crash at the Travelodge for the next few hours. Me and Cole stay up all night with beers and depressants, talking of Atlanta’s glory days.
-Kang
Gringo Star plays, and sound great as usual. I met some kids who drove 3 hours to see them. About 30 minutes after their set, Mika Miko is nowhere to be found. I head backstage and open the dressing room door; all the bands pack into the broom closet party. Unfortunately I break up the congregation, as Miko Miko is well behind schedule. They flood out of room, knocking over half-opened Red Bulls along the way. At this point, we all reek of whiskey.
During the Black Lips set, Jared stage dives while kids attempt to prop him up. My epileptic light show causes two Mika Miko seizures. After the show, we all order doner kebabs, which seems like a good idea. Two hours later, our stomachs disagree. All the bands go their separate directions, and we head off into the foggy darkness.
Then we discuss my on goings for the next two days. Cannes Film Festival is flying everyone out to play a secret show, crew included. Well, except for me. And all I wanted to do is get shot down by Sophia Coppola. Regardless, we crash at the Travelodge for the next few hours. Me and Cole stay up all night with beers and depressants, talking of Atlanta’s glory days.
-Kang
05.16.09: Rollerpalooza @ Sheffield
We check into a wreck of a hotel named the Harley. The stink clings onto our skin as we chew on veggie burgers (or bangers and mash and burgers), and sneak the free wi-fi. After 15 minutes, my step down converter deteriorates like a melted toy soldier. To avoid the grimy mattress, I blanket out some towels on the bed and crash, becoming jaded about the days of quad skating.
Tonight's show is at a sweet roller rink. Unfortunately, it's got a lot of stairs- 5 to be exact. So, We load our brutish equipment up 5 flights of auditorium stairs, huffing all the way. It's a sad display of human fatigue. The free skates, and an unusual spread of boxti and mayonnaise salad. The cheap wine kicked in. As I was skating, I found an umbrella and did my best impression of Singing in the Rain. The cops started screaming and chasing me for half a lap.
After about 14 bands, and the Black Lips are up. Highlights include Cole puking off the side of the stage, and then some kid stealing his hat. If you find it on ebay, please hit us up. He wants to rep his Pilgrim roots.
We head to the Eurotrash party upstairs. They spin some DeeLite, Smiths, and Violet Femmes. It was me, Jared, and two girls sitting at a table, when some dude tells Jared that he hates the new album, but loves the band. Jared calmly puts down his beer, and gently swipes the chair our from under the guy; it was a glorious display of airborne beers and mixed drinks. Wrong choice of words there buddy.
After hailing down 6 taxis, we end up at Kate’s flat. People mingle in every possible living and non-living space available. Two snotty gents were dry humping on the same couch as me. I tell them where we’re from. They proclaim they hate America. Then why are your women all into us? We’re charmers, not fighters.
-Kang
Tonight's show is at a sweet roller rink. Unfortunately, it's got a lot of stairs- 5 to be exact. So, We load our brutish equipment up 5 flights of auditorium stairs, huffing all the way. It's a sad display of human fatigue. The free skates, and an unusual spread of boxti and mayonnaise salad. The cheap wine kicked in. As I was skating, I found an umbrella and did my best impression of Singing in the Rain. The cops started screaming and chasing me for half a lap.
After about 14 bands, and the Black Lips are up. Highlights include Cole puking off the side of the stage, and then some kid stealing his hat. If you find it on ebay, please hit us up. He wants to rep his Pilgrim roots.
We head to the Eurotrash party upstairs. They spin some DeeLite, Smiths, and Violet Femmes. It was me, Jared, and two girls sitting at a table, when some dude tells Jared that he hates the new album, but loves the band. Jared calmly puts down his beer, and gently swipes the chair our from under the guy; it was a glorious display of airborne beers and mixed drinks. Wrong choice of words there buddy.
After hailing down 6 taxis, we end up at Kate’s flat. People mingle in every possible living and non-living space available. Two snotty gents were dry humping on the same couch as me. I tell them where we’re from. They proclaim they hate America. Then why are your women all into us? We’re charmers, not fighters.
-Kang
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