Hey guys, Stephen here. Tour so far has been a series of ups and downs, and I'm not talking about the mountains in Southern Kentucky. The first few shows have been interesting to say the least, but moral is still high mostly because I wore a t-shirt outside this morning and didn't shiver once. We've made a few posts already, but let me break these first days down to you, Cool Steve style.
We awoke Wednesday morning to find roughly 10 inches of snow resting on the ground in Indiana. That didn't phase us though, and before long we were on the road. After a few hours of driving in harrowing climates, we hit our first snare. A traffic jam on I-65 south as far as the eye could see. I took it upon myself to investigate, and met a really awesome guy as mentioned in a previous post.
Traffic cleared up, and after a few hours we were at our first show in Murfreesboro, TN. We met up with some tight bros from the band Pots & Chains. Zack and I spent what felt like 10 minutes (but was really about an hour) playing Home Alone for SNES. The reason it only felt like 10 minutes is because time flies when you are having fun, and Zack and I were having fun. At some point you have to grow up though, so we headed to the venue which was a shed outside of a house. I immediately scoffed and stayed inside the van while everyone loaded stuff in because I am way too good to play a house show. Frank came inside to talk to me and I told him if he gave me $10 I would play. He produced the cash after taking a collection and everyone cheered as I stepped outside. I felt like Brett Favre returning to football after holding out. People are happy you're there because they know you will change their lives, but they hate you as a person.
The first band, Pots & Chains, tore. it. up. I don't know if you know this, but Murfreesboro has a law against things that rule. That's why you'll never see an MJ's Pizza there. The cops caught wind of a show and when they found out it wasn't sloppy country music they sped over, sirens blaring. During Pots & Chains' last song the door to the shed was kicked in and police and police dogs came swarming into the shed. Kids were climbing out of windows and pushing down walls to try to get away. A girl even screamed, which made everyone (even the police) roll their eyes.
Most of them succeeded in getting away, and after 4 people were arrested and the cops called it a day, the show continued. We played an acoustic set and I'm not even going to act like I didn't TEAR MY KIT UP. I only had a bass drum, floor tom, and snare to work with, but if you weren't looking you would've thought Tony Royster Jr. had made an appearance. We made a few hundred dollars and spent it all on pizza.
The next day we had a three hour drive to Birmingham, AL, home of Jerrico Cotchery. I drove the whole time and someone told me they wanted me to stop so they could pee. I threw a baseball behind me without looking and knocked them out so they would forget about it. They peed their pants but I didn't care because I didn't have to stop.
We pulled into Birmingham and after searching for a good 10 minutes (that's TEN MINUTES), we found the venue. It was hidden in the attic of a bookstore. I'm not going to bore you with show details, so let's just say that everyone in attendance left with their minds blown. My favorite parts of the night are shown below.
After the show we decided to just drive through the night to Baton Rouge, LA. The trip was 400 miles (6 hours). After 30 minutes we stopped to get some pizza and both Little Ceasar's and Dominoes were in our cross hairs. They knew I would blog about the pizza we were going to eat, so they both shut down business early because they apparently can't perform under pressure. We ended up going to Waffle House, which should be re-named Awful House.
I swear my whole body hadn't even entered the establishment when an old couple started scowling at me. I dipped my fingers in their coffee as I walked by and they knew it wasn't worth it to start a fight with me so they just left. The waitress obviously had a big bowl of sass for dinner because she thought it was hysterical to say I looked like Screech. I got her back by writing "$-6.05" for my tip, essentially getting my meal for free.
I drove the rest of the way to Baton Rouge, fueled only by Rufus Wainwright and Loney, Dear. We're all enjoying the warm weather, and none of us miss any of you or Indiana in general.