Friday Aug 20 -- Erick actually was the first one up this morning. The night before, the foot switch on one of his “critical-in-defining–the-ape-sounds” pedals broke. He had to get to a music store to try to find another for an emergency repair job. At the large music store chain, the nice man behind the counter told him, “We don’t got any in stock but you can buy a new pedal and take the switch off and put it on yourself.” Picture this voice with a strong southern twang, as music store employees in my band are always portrayed with a strong southern twang, even when we are in New England. Well, given that brilliant advice, Erick returned empty-handed. Our friend Andy from Tunnel of Love, our host for the evening, gave Erick one of his own broken pedals to cannibalize for parts. Macbain saves the day!
Then Jeff, aka KING SOLDER, gets busy installing the new foot switch and Paul and Johanna go off in search of coffee. I sit around knowing this will be the only time I will have to myself for the next several days. When Jeff’s genius is complete and the pedal is operable, we take off. We stop at Trader Joe’s for food and there is a lengthy discussion about nutritional value, flavor, and comparable pricing of Trader Joe’s prepared and unprepared food. I don’t contribute much to this conversation, preferring instead to down my Dunkin' Donuts ice coffee.
Traffic SUCKS and it's quite hot yet again. It takes another 5 1/2 hours or so to get back to Manhattan. I stare at all the commuters and make some lame attempt at tallying all of the non-driving activities that the drivers engage in whilst driving. My favorite one is the big man, eating a Caesar salad with both hands, talking on the cell phone tucked behind his ear, steering his car with his thigh, driving faster than we are at 65 mph. Mostly folks are eating, smoking, talking on the phone, and running their hands through their hair. Very few are driving with two hands on the wheel, eyes facing forward.
We arrive at the club around 6.30 pm. It’s a relatively new venue and its shape isn’t too inviting -- one large box. The soundman is pleasant and we sound check for the first time this tour. After sound check, Erick and I make plans with friend Aaron for dinner and when he arrives, we do our haul over to Chinatown to eat at our favorite vegetarian restaurant on Mott Street. The city reeks of a “hot rotten fish with a side of roasted trash” smell.
The show is fun enough and the sound is good although I’m quite bummed to discover that Paul has left the adaptor to his vocal effects pedal in Boston. I had been using it to do a little pre-show chat with the audiences. It's a little self-indulgent pretending you are a princess or a pre-op transsexual but everyone needs a little fantasy in their lives.
We head back to Paul’s apartment around 2am and its still unpleasantly warm. I’m not looking forward to the night ahead. We stay up dicking doing research on the Internet and reading National Geographic magazines like all partying rock bands should. When I finally get tired, I drift in and out of sleep as it feels like my skin is baking, it's so hot. I’m totally drenched in sweat and by the time it cools off around 9am, the jackhammers on the street outside the window start. I can’t find earplugs. I stuff toilet paper into my ear canals and smile.
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