As noted on the tail end of the story, possibly penned by a donkey, on the Live Roxy review...I mentioned I caught up with the band and had a few
nuggets to spare. Before getting kicked out by the Roxy heavy handers, I had a few humble parting moments with Joey who essentially told me this is
not the last you'll hear from me, followed by some always insightful memorables with Justin. Although he has been reached for comment numerous
times, as noted on the wild wild web, and never dull with the simplest of words, we recounted the first time I saw him play live in my hometown of
Richmond, VA (with Beck), talked of big time petrification and anxieties
before the big gig (before the very first big gig and after hundreds of big gigs) and was ultimately reminded how 'old' I've become (in
a few short years) following the tracks laid by JMJ. When we talked of the 'noise' most were surrounded by in the early nineties, I was
reminded of the noise he made with his very sonic band MEDICINE back in the day
and the albums I'm currently now revisiting (Buried Life, Her Highness). Seemed a nostalgic night and all for insight-- past, present and
futurewise with these guys after all that went down, so no shame was taken in a little stroll down memory lane.
More interesting though was where the evening slid us over to and the interspection we got from a very entertaining Timmy the Terror essentially
doing just that, down the road with mere wax as arsenal. Fuck an Ipod --nü age cheaters and style suckers. Where some were hanging upstairs at the
"official afterparty" at the Roxy, the shiftier losers made their way over to this club that normally I wouldn't put up the fight to
get into through the Hollywood sludge, and the huge doorguy. It seemed though that the ice had already been in the process of being laid as I got
there and skated on in.
It's a nutty scene in there, but a lot cooler with somebody like that fucking with somebody's moves in the somewhat smoky renegade
boulevard freakscene. Righteous tracks laid indeed and even though he was hand busy for most of his time at the decks, we chatted over his vamps and
I laid down my own digital paper trail to be translated back as a homework assignment.
I essentially gave him the keys to the LA forum and in response he TP'd the place with the shards of a late night spelling bee championship.
Without further adieu, it's much easier not to interrupt with silly questions, but just to let it flow like a mudslide...or a hotwaxx icecake.
Oi
Trevor T'
>
In an attempt to describe the last few months all things IMA without boring the shit out of you and moi, Timmy the Terror says this... We travel the
land looking for fresh meat. This meat usually comes in the form of ears attached to heads propped upon necks fastened to the bodies of the youth of
today. We then inject our load in said ears while perpetrating a staunch succession of harsh/bangin' images for the teeny-eyed bandits to suckle
through tears of confused passion. Treasure this moment. And I do, and we
do, and so on and so forth.
All metaphors aside, however, we are having fun. The shows with the Stripes were amazing. A wake up call for me. Two people throwing out thunder
like that.... Makes you sit back and say "Ugghhhhh"
Next was Janes Addiction. Fun yet foreign. Their crowd did not appear to even want to want to warm up to us. Ahh yes, but we persevered!!! We
proceeded to put on a skit of sorts the second night, perplexing the audience even more as to what we had up our sleeve... Until we pulled out,
revealed it and shoved up their.. @#$ well, thats enough of that. Did I mention that there was an old man sleeping in the 2nd row at one show?
Awesome.
We had a one off somewhere in there with B.R.M.C. (Black Rebel Motorcycle Club). This was sick. Great guys and great sound. I fucking love that
shit.
Rounding it all off was 3 weeks with Hot Hot Heat and The French Kicks. Again, great guys... we've been extremely lucky that all these bands
weve played with have become friends and comrades in arms. The last night of the tour we were playing Irving Plaza, and some heavy gambling antics
were taking place backstage, particularly a dice game..... C-LO (mutherfucker)
We battled it out while Casper (our loving tour manager/babysitter) was yelling "ONSTAGE NOW!!!!" I ended up breaking those fools for 60$
just before walking onstage and ripping. In fact, we went off so hard that I tore a muscle in my upper neck, which caused me to basically hit the
ground crying right as we walked offstage. The tour was a success.
Coming back home was nice, having filmed subterranean for MTV2 as well as various other press goodies while in New York at the end of the tour. We
started rehearsing right when we got home, since our esteemed colleague and partner Joey W. had to leave the band. We quickly picked our new
skin-smasher, who happens to be my cousin Scott Devours, and got crackin'. This gets us to (last nights gig at) The Roxy. A true homecoming, I
had never felt real ownership of this ancient slut. I say had because after the
festivities ended, the bitch was ours. The Rolling Blackouts lit the kindling with ferocity, as they are more than capable of doing. When we took
the stage, with our pal Rodney "Blingenheimer" as psychedelic ringleader to introduce us, the room was wet with anticipation. As the
curtains unsheathed us as a mighty erection, we blew our own brains out. The show was an unforgettable disaster, the best kind of course. Sexy
slutty slirpy, with a side of brunette ambition. Afterwards we hung out with the kiddies
before slipping away to the afterparty, where I layed down some icecakes along side our buddy Mickey P. on the decks at Star Shizzy. I played Fat
Truckers into Info Society into I:F into Tubeway Army (me I disconnect from you). Mickey P blew my mind with a Paula Abdul mash-up and some Cash
Money mayhem.... He wasnt playin around.
Oi
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