F Yeah Fest

We're making both our return to the stage (after almost 5 months!) and our return to the F Yeah Fest (after a one-year hiatus) on Sept. 5, here in L.A. Last year notwithstanding, it's kindof an annual tradition for us. Last time we played it, you'll recall, we played without Tim, who was in the hospital because he got bit on the foot by a rattlesnake in his bathroom, or something like that. Some friends we are. Somehow that turned out to be a really good show though, probably because we just jammed for 20 minutes and split. Tim would go on to make a partial recovery, and still requires the use of a cane.

But that was back when it was on the streets of Echo Park, spread out between 4 different venues along Sunset Blvd. This year, it's a) renamed something weird and awkward, so we'll keep calling it the F Yeah Fest, at least in mixed company, and b) down in that big patch of grass and dirt next to Chinatown, which is apparently a state park, which is at the risk of closure, thanks to the Governator, although I don't know how you can shut down a big patch of grass and dirt. Our pals Sean and Phil and Keith, who put this on, are bringing a lotta needed attention to this gnarly aspect of California's ongoing going-out-of-business sale, as well as putting a charitable twist on it. It'll be more of a proper festival this time, and possibly maybe even more fun than it always has been. Quite a lineup, too.

Most exciting, though: all the new songs we're gonna play. We're psyched.

European Vacation: Day 1

We made it to Dublin. So far here, we've endured the misfortune of arriving at the precise moment that Dublin's cab drivers have elected to go on strike. Imagine that - flying into an international city and being greeted at the cab stand with "Taxi? There are no taxis." So we did the only possible thing we could, which was to take a bus into the city, and then walk an almost-comically grueling mile with our gear to our hotel. And then we did the only thing you're told to do when in Ireland, which is commece the steady, incessant consumption of Guiness. Which, of course, had the side effect of hastening our descent into an 18-hour slumber. Jetlag, y'know. Right now it's 3 pm here, and I'm doing this to bide my time until the sun goes down. Just wanna make it to sunset, and then I'll sleep. It's kinda silly flying into a city like this and not having it in you to do anything other than lie in bed... zzzzzzzzzz......

UPDATE: Didn't make it to sunset. But we all somehow simultaneously woke up around 9 pm and unanimously agreed we should adjourn to the pub across the street for, y'know, a few more pints, before resuming sleep.

So, if you missed it, we had a kinda-show Sunday at the aforementioned Fuck Yeah Fest. "Kinda" because our main Darker-My-Dude Tim Presley (last seen plowing his junkyard convertible into the Old Old Spaghetti Factory) was gettin' all IV'd up - that is, in the hospital - and missed the show. Pretty rock n roll, right? As the story goes, Jared thought it would be really funny if he put a fucking rattlesnake in Tim's bathtub (where/why/how did he get a rattlesnake in the first place?). Well, turns out, it was really funny, because Tim's brushing his teeth in the morning (of the show) and next thing you know, said rattlesnake's sunk its cruel fangs into Tim's foot. Tony hears some pained yelp-cursing from the next room, finds Tim slumped on the floor, bleeding out of three new orifices on his foot (or, pedifices), and the snake coiled above the bathroom mirror. Rest-of-long-story short, Tim's in the hospital all day getting de-venomized, and we're getting periodic updates from Tony, who seemed to be at Wendy's through most of this. After trying in vain to move our 8:00 set time, we erected what turned out to be our little Tim Presley Memorial gear-pile and bullshat our way through 3 prolonged song-jams, hoping that Tim would make a dramatic wheelchair-bound mid-set James Brown-style entrance. But he didn't.

So we rose to the occasion and it was alright and everybody got to overplay to fill the void and Rob got to sing ballsy leads and Will got to make up harmonious non-lyrics and Tim never showed up and then we stopped.

But in all seriousness, it wasn't a snake. It was a spider, and that's much less exciting. But it's close enough. Then again, maybe the story should just be that he was poisoned. Because it's true.