split minute

we put another new song on our myspace. it's called "Split Minute" and it's on our new record and now you can hear it.

through the dark wicket

Croquetmania has bitten the band. We'll be importing it to the states - namely, Elysian Park - in short order, to be played on one of the days we're not already meeting at Burger King at 7 am to play gin rummy 500.


croquet

Stayed 2 nights at our new friend Dean's honest-to-Jehu farm in semirural Leighton Buzzard (which is a town, and somehow not the name of a forgotten 70's British metal band). Made peace with cows, played sherpa with sheep, grilled mackerel and pork shoulder and adopted croquet, or our own version of it, until long after dark, and again at the crack of dawn. Didn't watch any World Cup. It made us feel good.


good morning!

Now we're in Wolverhampton, scene of our last show with Band of Horses. They're dudes of the best variety - genuine, beer-battered country-fried ones - and we wish them the best of luck on their journey.


Roundhouse


for Keith

PSYCHEDELIC SOUNDS OF THE SONIC CATHERDAL OUT NOW

Guess what: Roky Erickson/13th Floor Elevators tribute album The Psychedelic Sounds of the Sonic Cathedral - which includes our cover of "She Lives (In a Time of Her Own)" - is out (as the subject so subtly implies). Now that we've held it in our hands, we can say it looks, feels and sounds badass, and you should buy it here:

swift kick

London Roundhouse tonight. This place is big and badass. Also, round.

Managed (barely) to escape Manchester last night, but failed to allot enough time this morning to visit the scene of Rick Allen's limb-severing.
(scenes:)


That's the chocolate!

Ireland

We have to cryogenically freeze Jared before every show to prevent chop deterioration. It's on our rider.


Irish Sea. Leprechauns, Lucky Charms, etc., etc.


John, our moral support agent and driver, view'd through Malahide Castle. While built in the 12th century and occupied by the same family for 800 years, it's frozen in 1975, when the old lady that lived there alone retired to Tasmania. Plush carpeting, wallpaper, the musty smell of isolation in the 1970's. We played American football on the front lawn. Tim/Jared 28, Rob/Will 21.

another day, another metal show

So we needed to play a warmup show. We've been practicing in a cramped room at Rob's house all month and needed to get our stage legs before these big Band of Horses shows and all. Which is why we found ourselves flying into Glasgow (pronounced Glahz-guh) and playing at the venerable King Tut's Wah-Wah Hut, site of Alan McGee's discovery of Oasis in 1993. Only thing is, we were on a bill with 3 prog-hardcore/bordering-on-grindcore metal bands, the likes of which haven't been seen stateside since 2000. That was ten years ago. One of them had a live hawk on stage, wearing a headset, screeching at key moments. Or at least that's what it sounded like from 2 floors up. All this just when we've practically exorcised all the fuzz from our set. We even almost got the elusive no-clap after a song, until somebody broke the silence in pitiful fashion. It didn't get dark until 11. The whole thing was fucked up and retarded as shit, and we'd like to thank our booking agent.

Otherwise, while we did get to taste the National Canned Beverage of Scotland - Irn Bru (pictured below) - which tastes exactly like bubble gum from a pack of last year's Topps baseball cards, we didn't manage to get thee to a chippie for another Glasgow classic, the deep fried Mars Bar. Because what donuts are to Chinese restaurants in LA, deep fried Mars Bars are to fish-n-chippies in Glasgow. As in hey, we got this deep fryer, might as well use it.