Backseat

So a little while back we set up shop in a house down the street and had our pal Mike Mohan film us playing a buncha songs and recorded the whole thing. "Backseat" is up first, and you can watch it on Filter today.



More to come!

where the water tastes like wine

In which we commuted to Prairie Sun, up in Cotati, about 45 minutes north of San Francisco in Sonoma County, to finish our record. We were still staying in the city (except for our last 3 days) and driving up and back down every day. Our van's accelerator requires an inordinate amount of quadricep strength to operate, and after a few round trips, we got tired and caved in and rented a Chevy Cobalt, whose factory stereo proved invaluable in listening to mixes. Will's aunt came up to play oboe and English horn and brought a bassoonist friend, and thus, some class to the whole thing. Tom Waits sang about Red's Recovery Room down the street, but they lost their lease last summer and now there's nowhere to drink. So we stuck to playing cards and watching every episode of Celebrity Rehab.




we got to drive thru this twice a day, which means we got to cross the Golden Gate Bridge twice a day, and did you ever realize what a badass bridge that thing is?


there was an In N Out, and it was time to eat.








told you




actual musicians!









these Minimoogs once were the property of Michael Jackson, whose keyboard player ran it through a keytar on stage. until the keytar was stolen from his car.






photos by will

Drama at the Chili Parlour

Been a few days; much/not much has happened. Saturday, drove all day and all night from St. Louis to Pittsburgh, stopping only for our first taste of that famous beanless Cincinnati chili, per drummer Dan's proselytizing/hometown pride. Out of all 300+ options - according to Dan, Cincinnati has the highest chili-parlor-per-capita quotient - we chose Camp Washington Chili. It was built a long time ago, possibly by George Washington himself, but was lost to road-widening in the 90's and rebuilt, retaining absolutely no divey charm, but the exact same sweet-ass chili. Thing is, there, they serve it over spaghetti, so it's almost like a hyper-meaty bolognese pasta.


chili remnants

The most thrilling aspect of it, though, was our waitress Nikki, and I hate to say you just had to be there. She totally wins Personality of the Year, with an entire 'nother personality's worth of personality to spare. So much so that we kinda wonder if she was an actress in intense character study for an upcoming Cincinnati chili parlor movie. Killer waitress, to boot. Everybody razzes her for her rainbow steez (e.g. "rainbow brite," "gay," "Skittles-bag-kicker"), but she caps 'em back with "picklehead" and "5-gallon buckethead." And now we've got her back. If you're ever looking for a hug, go see Nikki at Camp Washington Chili at the corner of Hopple & Colerain in Cincinnati, in the heart of the historic meat-packing district. But still, you had to be there.


Tim 'n' Nikki

Anyway. Sunday was Philly, the first show with A Place To Bury Strangers and All the Saints. Monday was DC. Rocked Little Ethiopia. Last night was Chapel Hill, after a record buying spree at Plan 9 Records in Richmond, courtesy RVA Magazine and the mighty Les Enfants Terribles blog. Times are good.

And one final show announcement:
We're headlining a London show, on Nov. 16. At the Borderline. Get tickets here.