|Toronto! Shit! We had to lie to cross the border! No shit! I haven't lied in years.
I should backtrack though. When did I write last, Chicago? Right. I meant to say something about The Glands, who played at the show in Minneapolis. What a hot rockin band! Goddamn! What else do I have to say? I, uh... uh...
All the shows have been fun so far. We went to Cleveland after Chicago, stayed at Johnny K.'s house, it was fine. Cobra Verde played their sultry rock music and strutted around with their well-proportionied sultry rock girlfriends, which made Andy and I hop up & down like brittle bunnies and run off into the crowd in search of, uh, you know, "action." I immediately pounced on Jr. Miss something-or-other & lost her to some baseball-cap wearing drunk; Andy took the high road and wound up naked in a mustard-filled hot tub while a pair of Wellesley grads whispered old testament quotes in his ear, the lucky bastard!
But the show was good, Cleveland was fun. Tim spent a few hours under the van the next morning, pulling out some little gadget and replacing it with some other gadget, I don't know what the fuck he was doing. But he did it and we drove to Pittsburgh, and I think it made a difference because before, every so often, the van would surge forward like a racehorse out of the gate, no warning! You'd be cruising along at 70, trailing some motorhome to save gas, & then suddenly you'd be tearing into their bumper! But not anymore.
We played at Carnegie Mellon in Pittsburgh. I'm sure you remember what's been said here before about college shows? College kids? It's still the same. They're nuts! They're totally nuts! There are thousands of them running around these campuses, and they're all out of their heads! They don't know how to get anything done! Everything they do is either by committee or out of some book, none of them can think for themselves. It's sick! There were about 70 kids running sound in this lecture hall we played in, literally 70 kids, and each one had their little job, and God forbid they should do any other job. One of them was moving a couple vocal microphones, & he called out, "hey! Who's moving the drum mikes?" And, I mean, the fucking drum mikes were bumping him in the ass! Move the fucking drum mikes yourself, you fucking college kid!
The show was a hoot though. Karl Hendricks played first & he was good; he has a wife and two children and his wife is the sweetest person ever. Then we played and it was like a three-ring circus, at least for me it was. I said a funny thing, too: Tim questioned whether "Slave Wages" sounded like music or not, and I compared it to the experience of being in a bus that crashes, and it careens along the guardrail and then goes into a roll, and you're in the bus and it's rolling end over end, and after awhile you're like, "hey, this sounds kind of cool!" Not everyone laughed but a few folks were rolling in the aisles. So it was fun, we were well taken care of & the people there were nice, really they were, it was just that damned sound-and-lights army - they called themselves "tech" - that was so goony.
So the next day - today, or much earlier today - we lied our way across the Canadian border ("oh, you guys are from the states, eh? that's cool! you guys play music, eh? what kind? like niel young, eh? cool! have fun guys!"), shopped in Toronto, and played at El Mocambo. This is where, in 1977, Mick Jagger got a blowjob from Margaret Trudeau - at least that's what it says on their marquee. But the show was a hoot, we played with a local band full of beautiful women, at least one of whom I nearly convinced to take me home, even, I told her, even if it's just to mix drinks for your husband, even then, just take me home with you!! That's what I said. But she wasn't convinced of the purity of my motives, so instead we're at Liz Clayton's apartment, I've got a room of my own, I feel good. She's even promised us Froot Loops in the morning. Heaven!
Sorry this is all just catching up. I'll try to be more consistent. Now go back to work! Eden! Back to work!
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