April 21, 2005
♥ 3 weeks into 12
I would go on about just how awesome all of our shows have been but I won’t bore you with the typical, “we rocked hard!” or “7 encores in a row dude!” Know that things have been very good since Portland. I feel like amazing things are starting to happen.
Instead lets talk about one of my best friends peeing on the floor of a convenience store in Missouri while we were pissed on Jager and Corona (can you say “she wants to get arrested again?") or how if Nubby doesn’t bring Boy George to Lit Monday I will strangle her or how the van computer had to be replaced and how mobile mechanics rule. Ah, tour.
I’m reading this fantastic book by Bill Drummond called “45”. My good friend Neal O. turned me onto him one drunken night in Lincoln. We were at some bad after-show party and he was cooing over the book and wrote “Best book Neal’s ever read” on a little piece of paper and stuck it in my pocket.
I’m not far into it but already I want to be a band manager deciding their every move, recording fake albums by fake bands and selling them to major labels,spending the ridiculous amounts of money made by pop stars on ridiculous things. I’ve amused myself with the notion of creating a top 40 band and making hit after hit, just to prove I could, but of course I must follow my dreams integrity intact first. (damn you conscience) And there is that time thing, will, when this is over, I look young enough to be a top 40 princess? Or will I have to find my 14 year old Annabella Lwin? Either way, mark my words, one day I will create pop music for the sick masses, just so I can write a book one day and snort, giggle and slap the bar laughing with my friends “remember when I did that!? har aharhar har”
“Don’t you miss the music business, Bill?” I try to tell them that the music business is about making unsuccessful bands successful. Successful bands by their very definition are as interesting as a packet of cornflakes. No, it’s strange, weird, fucked-up, unsuccessful pop music that I dig. Deluded pop music that wants to be successful and can’t understand why it isn’t. I don’t mean any of that avant-garde shit, or stuff made for and by those who value musicianship, but the cheap and nasty and mistaken and cracked, sung by singers who will fuck up with the first hint of success and by bands who will only ever make two singles before they fall apart. Records from places far away, by people who have no understanding of how things work in the worlds of London or LA but think they do. Records with crap sleeves. …”
03:08 PM | link | comments (0)