ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To right the wrongs of yesterday Okay, so there are rumors floating about that I'm an insensitive jackass, and I'd like to dispell those at this time. Let me start by saying this: I AM AN INSENSITIVE JACKASS!! I started this on-line journal as a cathartic way to exorcise the evils in my head that cloud my better judgement. I went into not caring who got hurt. This is for me to vent and calm down and unleash words on a screen rather than fists on the innocent or bullets on the students of an upstanding university. It's mine. And I'll never apologize for it. That being said, I didn't intend to bruise any egos or hurt feelings or belittle anyone's passions or talents. I apologize for the misunderstanding; not the words. Let's go through it, now, shall we? This, from August 25th, 2003: We got to Dream Street at about nine or so and ordered beers right off. We watched the first band which was not bad but was most definitely billed in the wrong venue. They had about four people there to see them. I started writing in my journal and then the rest of the band showed up and we kicked it and greeted all the people who were filing in to see us. The second band, a last-minute addition called The Maniactions, took stage with a lot of intensity that was directed at about six to eight fans. They had a fast, punkish Offspring sound to their music but I could not understand a single word that the vocalist said. When we finally hit stage, fifty or so people had assembled to see us play. I did my mic check not really knowing how and John played the lead in to "World of Confusion." The crowd perked up and the set was underway. We ripped throught that song and, by the end, people who were formerly not paying attention were now overpaying it. We had discussed going straight into the second song but, apparently, the rest of the band was so taken aback by the successful completion of our first song in a live setting and the reaction that they paused. I worked the crowd a bit and then we launched into our second song "In My Life". After this song, I did the official introduction of the band and the welcoming of the crowd. I looked down to check to song sheet to see what segue was appropriate only to find that it had blown away from the huge fans on stage. So I said something like "Okay, gang. Here's another song!" It turned out to be "House of the Rising Sun", which I paid particularly close attention to knowing that Bo was in the audience and this song would be the yardstick that he would use to measure me by. We segued into Point of No Return and then the shirt came off. I was remarking to the boys earlier that day that I was getting a little fatter so I spent the rest of the gig sucking my gut in, which isn't really all that bad. However, when you're on stage in front of fifty people, you tend to get a bit vain and superficial. We ripped through "Messenger", my personal favorite, then into "Our Little Secret", my soapbox song. We slowed it down with "40 Days" and then sped it back up with "Mystical Moon", on which I stripped my voice immensely. I must have sounded so terrible from out there. No one chose to judge, however, and we rent straight into "Twisted". During this song, John does a painstakingly long guitar lead-interlude thing. For the first two measures, I jumped off stage and hugged everybody in the audience. Then I hopped back up on stage and introduced each member of the band. We finished off the song and I announced that the next would be the last. We kicked in on "Shine on Me" and heads bobbed like crazy. I leapt from the stage and into the crowd during the second verse, knocking over my beer in the process. Somehow, through all that depression, I finished the song. The crowd roared for more, so we did "World of Confusion" again, for "the late people". After that, Chris and I squacked the beginnings of "Mudshovel" and "Between Angels & Insects". We took off out of there and then Bo, Preston, and I took Katie's car to Sparky's and kicked it there for a while. Bo and Preston cut out early and I stayed behind to get more feedback from Meg and Wes who later drove me home. Not, however, before launching into a boring three hour tale of the incestuous history of relationships in the circle of friends that I've made since moving to San Diego. I crept in at about five in the morning and passed out of consciousness. The next morning, my rock star status had already worn off. Okay, there's nothing wrong with this. It's all true. What might be questionable? Maybe "painstakingly long guitar lead"? By that I mean that it is a feat of gigantic proportions that he can affect that lead and continue to come up with fresh licks. It's a compliment. How about "Somehow, through all that depression, I managed to finish the song."? That was a joke about the spilt beer. Mayhaps "The next morning, my rock star status had already worn off"? That was my interpretation of how only hours earlier I had a crowd in the palm of my hand and then I'm just another guy having breakfast at Carl's, Jr. No cameras of paparazzi. Just a guy and a Six-Dollar Burger. On August 13th, 2003, I wrote: So, band practice was four stars, to say the least. "To say the least"? That means it could only be better than four stars; the highest rating. Just to clear up any confusion. Perhaps there is confusion as to the level of respect that I have for my guitarist. How about this entry from August 6th, 2003: The band has been practicing fervently for the upcoming gig. John, the guitarist, had a rare emotional moment with me on the steps outside of the practice house while we smoked cigarettes. He expressed his happiness that I'm in the band and attributed all of our drive and determination to that sole fact. He expounded on how excited he is about our upcoming gig and tried to infect me with his excitement, though I'd been bitten at the beginning. It was nice, nonetheless. Last night I dreamt that John and I wrote a song on piano and I was shocked to hear that he was a better singer than I could ever be. I said something to that effect and he shrugged and said something about being a guitar player. That's all that I remember. I think that's all that needs to be said about that. The moment was described as rare due to the fact that we're guys in a hard rock band, and that sort of open sharing of congratulatory respect isn't all that common in the genre. How about this from November 7th, 2003: After two weeks of cancellations, my band and I just finished practicing for our gig next week. The drummer is now sharing drunken stories of concert-going with two of his old friends and I'm seated at the computer, fresh from e-mailing the two most important women in my life: Becki and my mother. Chris, the bassist, is rallying for a schoon-jam. A Schoon-Jam is when the band and I play a few songs after we've officially finished practicing for the evening. The schoon-jam typically takes place after midnight and after the members of the band have had several dozen beers. We're trying to resist; successfully, so far. I see this as an endearing tale of guys hanging out and having a good time. The band: as people. Maybe this from November 9th, 2003: So, the show is Friday and I think we'll be ready for it. I'm getting a little tired of playing just Dreamstreet, though. Especially since I hear from all of the fans that they're not too fond of it as a venue. I want to be part of a band that gives people what they want, so I think it's time that we sought out other venues. The rest of the band agrees, but it might actually take us putting this plan into motion to see it pan out. Gee golly! I never thought of that. This is me chastising myself, goddamnit! Maybe this one from November 15th, 2003: So the show has happened and many say that it was a smashing success. Being overally analytical, I thought that it was just so-so. The fans insisted that it was the most passionate that I've ever been, whereas the band stands firm that it was the most unneccesarily verbose that I've ever been. What can I say? I had a lot to say. Personally, I think that the show went rather well, if not merely so-so. The crowd seemed to dig it; much more than the other bands that played this evening. None of them had quite the wail that we did from the audience. I'm frankly just happy that I made it there and made it back. This, again, is me being hard on myself. I'm my own worst critic, and self-centered. When I say that the band was just so-so, I mean me. On December 20th, 2003, I said: I have a feeling that the gig tonight is going to go very well... and no one will be there to see it. That's how I felt. We hadn't sold many tickets, it was Christmas season, it had nothing to do with how good or bad we are. In, fact I went on to write "The gig went exactly as I'd expected it to: we played our asses off and rocked, and only a dozen or so people were there to see it; their loss." On January 5th, 2004, I wrote this: I have a few retreats in this world: Teresa, Borders, my writing, my music. No, wait; scratch the music. I realized the other day as I listened to the CD with her in my room how far away from my intentions that crap is. That's not me on that stage, on that mic, on that CD. That's not me! That's convenient. I live my life that way only too often. Yes, that seems inflammatory. However, it's not directed at the band. It was directed at me and my lack of passion at that particular show. I was empty and emotionless. I put none of myself into the performance; merely played a role. Perhaps I didn't clarify that, and I can see how it looks wrong. Sorry about that. On January 22nd, 2004, I wrote this: Last Saturday, the 17th, I had the distinct pleasure of being at Dream Street while Moonshine Junkie graced the stage for yet another rocking night. I secured two copies of the recording from this gig, which at the time was quite enthralling, and pored over one this morning in the sanctity of my own room. Here's what I discovered: The guitarist warbled in and out of tune and was often off-time. The singer warbled in and out of tune and was often scratchy. The bass cabinet cut out intermittenly throughout the set, giving the music an empty feel at times. Half of the drummer's kit wasn't properly mic'd up, so it also sounded empty at times. All in all: WE FUCKING SUCKED!! Here's hoping the next show goes better. I apologize to the fans who were at the last show. Now that's just plain mean. But true. Everyone knows it. If a band can't admit when they've messed up, then they're not worthy of paying attention to. One needs a bit of humility in this business. Of course, I gave to myself the worst in the end; I always do. I didn't mean to ruffle feathers, only apologize to those who were short-changed by our performance. On January 23rd, 2003, I wrote: We played the new song to near perfection and then tried our hand at some covers, which we inexplicably aced. We're some sort of idiot-savants when it comes to that. For those of you who don't know, an idiot-savant is someone who does something perfectly without trying or formal training. They come out of nowhere and ace shit that other people work a lifetime for. It does NOT mean "idiot". And, lastly, on March 2nd, 2004, I wrote: I really just shouldn't add entries to this thing when I'm drunk. "Love the M.J."? What the fuck is all that about? I was not referring to loving the M.J. being wrong; I was referring to the non-sequitir of the statement, floating out there with no context. The ramblings of a drunkard. And Just remember: "different" means the same these days and "rocking" means mediocre. is not a key to interpreting my writing, it's a commentary on the ridiculousness of pop-culture. Moonshine Junkie actually rocks; Rolling Stone thinks The Strokes rock. Rolling Stone wouldn't get Moonshine Junkie because they don't fuck around and go for image and skinny ties and stupid hair. They let the music speak for itself and play genuine rock with beer-swilling enthusiasm. I hope this clears up any misconceptions that people have about my feelings towards Moonshine Junkie. They are a dedicated band of talent and sincerity and are a force not to be fucked with. I hope that all four people who read this on a regular basis got a real kick out of this completely unnecessary self-explanation. 10:20 p.m. - 2004-03-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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