Well, like it or not, here's video proof:
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RULES FOR COMMENTING: You do not have to registered with Google, AltPress.com, or any of the affiliated to leave a comment. It's open and free. Be kind.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Seattle owes me a voice.
I've never really been renowned for my ability to take care of myself (I eat one meal a day and it's usually fast food). But last night in Seattle, the combination of lack of sleep, lack of nutrition, a day of running around in freezing rain and a week's worth of shouting our free subscription deal to fans who seem highly suspicious that it's actually free (oh, but it is. Please believe.) in the same room that five bands are playing at extremely high decibels has stolen my voice.
It's gone. Completely. To be fair, it was never really that great a voice in the first place. But now the fans in Salt Lake City (at least) will never get to hear it. All that's left is this raspy whisper that makes my chest and soul hurt when I attempt to communicate.
Luckily, we have a day off today and we're somewhere in Boise, Idaho, so I've been mostly able to throw my hoodie up, lay in my bunk listening to DJ Shadow and refrain from having to speak.
Aside from the fact that my throat feels like a Space Needle has been lodged inside it, Seattle was actually a great time. The venue (El Corazon) was at maximum capacity and was the first time for me on this tour in which I literally could not move. It's a rad place in a town with history that a grunge kid like me dreamt of seeing (Jason Pettigrew, you'll be happy to know that I did visit Stone Gossard's studio and I did take a picture). All the people there, too, were insanely chill. That possibly excludes everyone who was in line for our All Time Low signing and began pseudo-rioting Hayley-style when we ran out of posters. I tried drawing a picture of the guys on a few napkins, but nobody was having it.
For those of you worried about the lack of ATL swag at the AP table, I'm working on it. Of course, I have to work on getting a dry erase board first, so that I can communicate tomorrow.
If you've got any remedies, please help. I told my mom about my voice and asked for some maternal wisdom. Her solution: "Smile a lot."
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Portland owes me a new sign
I don't know a lot of things.
I don't know the capital of Wisconsin.
I don't know how to make proper mac and cheese.
I don't know as much as I probably should by now about the female menstrual cycle.
But I do know this: Portland loves All Time Low.
It was kind of ridiculous last night.
It all started like any other day.
We loaded in at the Hawthorne Theatre, most of us walked around and filled up on coffee and vintage novelty T-shirts, it began to hail the most painful hail ever (I came up with the idea of making a high-priced spa for wealthy older women where we stand them in their underwear before an industrial fan and then blast them with hail to facilitate exfoliation), then we opened doors.
Forever The Sickest Kids were widely embraced, Sonny won over a ton of new fans, the Matches (who were our table signers for the day) elicited screams from teenage girls that were actually so high-pitched that we received reports that 431 dolphins somewhere offshore in the Pacific suffered instantaneous embolisms and the Rocket Summer played what I believe to be a clinic in showmanship.
Then came the chants for ATL. When they took the stage, I had to put my hoodie up just to shield my eardrums from the deafening roar. It quickly became clear as there was a steady stream of stagedivers and crowdsurfers (literally one every 1.2 seconds) that it was their best show of the tour and later, as Jack would procaim, likely their best show ever.
On Warped Tour, you couldn't go anywhere without hearing someone humming "Misery Business" by Paramore. On this one, the song that you can't get out of your head with needle-nosed pliers is All Time Low's cover of Rhianna's "Umbrella." Seriously. I paid an exorcist $45 to get it out of my head, but as soon as I left, even he was singing the refrain. (Actually, I'm not sure that guy was an exorcist. Legitimate ones probably don't also do blacktop repair on the side.)
By the end of ATL's set, Alex had taken his wireless mic and guitar to the back of the venue and played "Shameless" from the merch table and our two big tour banners on either side of the club were trampled under 75 tons of unbridled teenage repressed sexuality. The band were forced (physically) back out for an encore, even though most of their gear had been demolished, bassist Zack Merrick had already cleared out of the venue and most of the security staff were sobbing on the floor in the fetal position. I think the band actually ran out of songs since they ended up covering Blink's "Dammit" to the extreme pleasure of everyone within a 6 mile radius. After the show, it took a team of 13 venue employees to clean the ravaged girls' bathroom, as I saw many grown men visibly weeping and traumatized.
Okay.
So the bus is pulling up to our Seattle venue and I have to unload.
Come by.
Who knows if this place will still be standing tomorrow.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Orangevales and exquisite corpses
I apologize for the lack of an update yesterday, guys. For reals. But when you're on a tour bus and literally every single person next to you is on their laptop, it has a funny way of bringing the internets to a blog-stifling crawl. I don't know how Sabbath or Zeppelin ever made it without checking their MySpace pages six times a day.
So yesterday we were in Orangevale, California. I was completely unaware that it's a suburb of Sacramento until well after we left. After playing the huge and ornate Grand Ballroom the day before, it was a little weird when we pulled up to the Boardwalk--a mainstay in the rock world but for all intents and purposes, a bar not much unlike one Patrick Swayze might rough up punk-asses in. Obviously the place has some history, gauging by the ceiling covered with autographed guitars and the bathroom covered with stickers (and a love letter to Thrice's Teppei Teranishi right across from the urinals). But it was a sold out show and the place is tiny, so I spent most of the night telling people it's cool that they accidentally grabbed my crotch.
Unfortunately, Sonny took the night off to rest his throat. That sucked because I caught his set the night before and was immediately sold. His new stuff is like if Circa Survive threw a rave and Depeche Mode handled the catering.
But the crowd, although probably the smallest of the tour so far thanks to the venue size, was widely regarded as the craziest. The place was vibrating by the time All Time Low took the stage. (The mom that I ran into there, however, insisted that I speak to them about the "potty mouths," which I fully intended to do after the show until I saw Alex running naked through the parking lot screaming about his laundry. Then I chose to wait.)
I met a ton of awesome kids, though, including two who offered to drive me to their places so I could have my first shower in four days. (Showers on tour are worth their weight in gold. Instead of bringing your favorite musician a homemade quilt featuring hand-stitched likenesses of them, just offer them a shower and maybe a place to watch Lost.) Unfortunately, we had an early bus call so we could start the trek to Portland, so here I remain, wallowing in my own squalor. (To be fair, it's not that different from the squalor I live in at home. My hair just looks way worse.)
Once we got on the road, I spent most of the night trying to write this blog without success and writing filthy exquisite corpses (that's where you collaborate on a story with other people but can only read the line before yours) with the Matches. I can't repeat really anything of what we came up with for fear that I will lose both my job and my place in society, but I can tell you that they almost always ended up being about Matt Whalen, much to his chagrin.
Well, I can feel the bus slowing down, so we're approaching our destination in Portland. But if you're coming out tonight, totally stop by the AP booth. Get your free subscription and bring me some food. Mention this blog and I'll give you a poster or a high five (Your choice. Cash value of high five: $2.34.).
AP Tim
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
San, Fran. (And a little leftover L.A., too.)
Hey there.
Alas, for those of you who've grown accustomed to the acerbic wit and observational humor of Chris (formerly of this blog), yesterday in L.A. was his last day.
For the next couple weeks, you're gonna have to settle for the sophomoric wit and obscure references of me--AP's associate editor Tim.
Believe me, I truly do feel for you and I miss Chris more than any of his groupies (yes, the man has groupies) ever could.
So I met up with the tour yesterday in the midst of setting up at the Henry Fonda Theater, right under the Hollywood sign (and across from a tremendous mural of Owen Wilson) in Los Angeles.
Don't tell my general manager, but my cab ride from the airport cost $50, mostly because the driver was apparently looking fruitlessly for the Jane Fonda Theater. We both had a good laugh about it as I stiffed him on the tip.
So the Hollywood show was rad. I stood at the doors pimping our autograph session with Forever The Sickest Kids as the ticket counter girl was astounded at the crazy amount of fans who were lined up clear down Hollywood Boulevard past seven Starbucks locations.
(Side note: A dude actually said to me: "Forever The Sickest Kids are so sick!" As he walked away chugging a Rockstar Energy Drink and pumping his fists, I whispered to myself, "Sick forever, my friend. Sick forever.")
I really thought we would encounter a few celebrities at the show (I had my fingers crossed for Jenna Fischer and/or John Stamos), but if they were around, I musta missed 'em. However, our street teamer said she saw Tate Donovan running into the venue, and I couldn't have imagined anyone would ever make that up, so it must've happened. Meg and Dia, however, did show up in time for the rooftop after-party, where I had a quick meet and greet with Bryce Avary (who immediately endeared himself to me when I was introduced to him as "Tim from AP" and he said, "Wait. Are you Tim Karan?" and I said, "Why yes. You're the first person who's ever known who I was from my bylines ever."
Since I was still on Eastern time, by the time I hit my bunk at 3 a.m., it was actually 6 a.m. to me and I'd been up for something like 32 hours.
And here I am today, literally typing on my knees behind the AP table at San Francisco's pretty amazing Grand Ballroom. It would be way grander if I had a chair, but I'll cope. Right now, there's another ridiculous line of you awesome people winding down the street. I just hung out a little with Sonny Moore (who's signing at our table tonight at 6:20 and is very, very tiny and adorable.)
So if you're reading this at home in the Bay area or on your iPhone in line, swing by and say hi. I'll be the guy who looks like he's been up for something like 46 hours and screaming about how you need to pick up your free subscription. Seriously. It's free. Don't be suspicious. A dude in a dirty white v-neck would never lie to you.
AP Tim
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
For lack of a better title: off day in LA
So you know in all those “old time” Hollywood type movies you see those film executives looking all dapper and totes “To the nines” (ask your mom) in silk pants and velour shirts that don’t have the top 3 or so buttons done so you can see their graying chest hair an unnecessary gold chain that’s placed purposely, subtly, at the maximum shine point in their man cleavage? Well if you don’t apparently you need to ask Mom about that too.
We found their hive.
As it was Easter Sunday, the Rockstar AP Tour took a day off. So I wake up at the undisclosed hour that I felt was appropriate to awake on such a day of rest and relaxation, to our bus being parked in the parking lot of an establishment crowned the Sportsman Lodge. The easiest way to explain what I walked into is by simply stating that our bus driver, John (yes, his name is John, not Joe, or Dan or Steve. I have this one right!), waltzes back on the bus boasting that he just saw David Caruso hop in his Bentley there. It’s not that I have anything against David or CSI, it’s just he conjures up an image or “old-timer” Hollywood to me for some reason. I’m probably not painting the best picture of this place, but it f’reals felt like anybody who was anybody in the film industry in the 1950’s was at this place for Easter Dinner at 3 in the afternoon.
Or maybe that’s just the vibe I got. Rumor has it there were some lovely ladies sitting poolside. Moving on.
It was actually a pretty low-key day until dinner time. Indy and I were both hangin on the bus getting some work done. We watched the end of an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie (Commando, maybe?), bit’s of ATL, because T.I. is my homeboy and the beginning of the immaculate The Food Of The Gods. This movie is beyond spectacular. Netflix this right away. Seriously, open a new tab and queue that shiz up. I’ll wait.
Back?
Ok, the premise of TFOTG (yes, we are on an anagram basis, got a problem?) is that a pro football team has had a grueling couple of weeks of practice, so they get an off day to relax. Well a few of the players decide to take a ferry to a local island and spend a day in the wilderness. What they come to find is a farm on the island with giant sized flies, rats and roosters! My lord the giant roosters! Tragically, one of the untouchable stars of the football team was killed by one of the ridiculously large flies of the island, oh my! So before I go all “Classics According To Keith” on you I will cut my cinematic waxing short and say only that what follows is an touching action love story with comedic highs and daunting lows (give or take the love part, Indy and I actually stopped watching in favor of getting sushi with J-O-H-N, John, our bus driver. J-O-N, Jon from the Matches filled us in on the details when we got back).
So the sushi. I’ll glance over this. The dinner was a lot of fun, good convo all the way around, but if you get a chance drop in on Ahi Sushi on Ventura in the general LA area. Really good. If you don’t like sushi, well, expand you palate.
So we get back to the bus and the “oh, whatever shall we DO with the evening” question raises it’s head. Naturally, as the generally extroverted lot of the AP/Matches tour bus goes, the notion of Karaoke bar was the easily prevailing option. There is, however, as it turns out, a slight problem with going Karaoke barring on Easter Sunday in the Burbank-ish area. They aren’t open. No biggie though, the plans were slightly modified and I was accordingly afforded the circumstance that is allowing me to bring you mention of an AP Tour co-headliner I’ve yet to formally bring to the blog and (!) a special guest star that I hope you’ll be stoked on hearing about.
We wind up at some gin joint called the Casting Office. Apparently there’s some history there or something. Honestly I don’t really know. Honestly I’m not all that sure that I care. Anyway, we stroll in, crickets chip, tumbleweeds roll. The place is empty save for 2 random with chairs pulled up at the bar. Do not fear though, because nary a few minutes after my small posse overtook the place our special guests arrive. Unbeknownst to us, AP’s friends Meg and Dia of . . . yeah . . . MEG AND DIA showed up to say a quick hello and share a quick beverage. Apparently they’re in town not only upping the cute factor of the entire city, but also working on a new album for all you bright-eyed bushy-tailed fans out there. Their visit that night was brief, as they left shortly after, but it was an extremely welcome one.
No sooner do they leave than, slightly less randomly, but just as equally welcomed, Mr. Bryce and the Rocket Summer crew crash the party. As you all know and have pointed out to me, I haven’t had much of a chance to just relax with those guys yet so it was really nice to sit and chat. That is, until the bar may or may not have started burning down. I’m not really sure what happened, and I think I’m ok with that, but out of no where we saw this fairly thick smoke rising from behind a door a few booths over and the very distant smell of burning crept up our noses. Shortly thereafter a man emerged from the smoky crevice claiming that all was well and that he was a firefighter in a former life. Nothing about that sequence of events was as comforting as it sounds. Whether or not the smoke was of the monster variety and was or was not comprised of nano-bots remains to be seen.
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
We found their hive.
As it was Easter Sunday, the Rockstar AP Tour took a day off. So I wake up at the undisclosed hour that I felt was appropriate to awake on such a day of rest and relaxation, to our bus being parked in the parking lot of an establishment crowned the Sportsman Lodge. The easiest way to explain what I walked into is by simply stating that our bus driver, John (yes, his name is John, not Joe, or Dan or Steve. I have this one right!), waltzes back on the bus boasting that he just saw David Caruso hop in his Bentley there. It’s not that I have anything against David or CSI, it’s just he conjures up an image or “old-timer” Hollywood to me for some reason. I’m probably not painting the best picture of this place, but it f’reals felt like anybody who was anybody in the film industry in the 1950’s was at this place for Easter Dinner at 3 in the afternoon.
Or maybe that’s just the vibe I got. Rumor has it there were some lovely ladies sitting poolside. Moving on.
It was actually a pretty low-key day until dinner time. Indy and I were both hangin on the bus getting some work done. We watched the end of an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie (Commando, maybe?), bit’s of ATL, because T.I. is my homeboy and the beginning of the immaculate The Food Of The Gods. This movie is beyond spectacular. Netflix this right away. Seriously, open a new tab and queue that shiz up. I’ll wait.
Back?
Ok, the premise of TFOTG (yes, we are on an anagram basis, got a problem?) is that a pro football team has had a grueling couple of weeks of practice, so they get an off day to relax. Well a few of the players decide to take a ferry to a local island and spend a day in the wilderness. What they come to find is a farm on the island with giant sized flies, rats and roosters! My lord the giant roosters! Tragically, one of the untouchable stars of the football team was killed by one of the ridiculously large flies of the island, oh my! So before I go all “Classics According To Keith” on you I will cut my cinematic waxing short and say only that what follows is an touching action love story with comedic highs and daunting lows (give or take the love part, Indy and I actually stopped watching in favor of getting sushi with J-O-H-N, John, our bus driver. J-O-N, Jon from the Matches filled us in on the details when we got back).
So the sushi. I’ll glance over this. The dinner was a lot of fun, good convo all the way around, but if you get a chance drop in on Ahi Sushi on Ventura in the general LA area. Really good. If you don’t like sushi, well, expand you palate.
So we get back to the bus and the “oh, whatever shall we DO with the evening” question raises it’s head. Naturally, as the generally extroverted lot of the AP/Matches tour bus goes, the notion of Karaoke bar was the easily prevailing option. There is, however, as it turns out, a slight problem with going Karaoke barring on Easter Sunday in the Burbank-ish area. They aren’t open. No biggie though, the plans were slightly modified and I was accordingly afforded the circumstance that is allowing me to bring you mention of an AP Tour co-headliner I’ve yet to formally bring to the blog and (!) a special guest star that I hope you’ll be stoked on hearing about.
We wind up at some gin joint called the Casting Office. Apparently there’s some history there or something. Honestly I don’t really know. Honestly I’m not all that sure that I care. Anyway, we stroll in, crickets chip, tumbleweeds roll. The place is empty save for 2 random with chairs pulled up at the bar. Do not fear though, because nary a few minutes after my small posse overtook the place our special guests arrive. Unbeknownst to us, AP’s friends Meg and Dia of . . . yeah . . . MEG AND DIA showed up to say a quick hello and share a quick beverage. Apparently they’re in town not only upping the cute factor of the entire city, but also working on a new album for all you bright-eyed bushy-tailed fans out there. Their visit that night was brief, as they left shortly after, but it was an extremely welcome one.
No sooner do they leave than, slightly less randomly, but just as equally welcomed, Mr. Bryce and the Rocket Summer crew crash the party. As you all know and have pointed out to me, I haven’t had much of a chance to just relax with those guys yet so it was really nice to sit and chat. That is, until the bar may or may not have started burning down. I’m not really sure what happened, and I think I’m ok with that, but out of no where we saw this fairly thick smoke rising from behind a door a few booths over and the very distant smell of burning crept up our noses. Shortly thereafter a man emerged from the smoky crevice claiming that all was well and that he was a firefighter in a former life. Nothing about that sequence of events was as comforting as it sounds. Whether or not the smoke was of the monster variety and was or was not comprised of nano-bots remains to be seen.
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
Monday, March 24, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
“I have a tumor. It’s you guys. You’re growing on me.”
That would be a direct quote from Alex of All Time Low to a stoked Bakersfield, CA crowd last night. We’re going to forget proper blogging chronology for this entry because I’ve got to share a little on Bakersfield because it was so . . . we’ll go with unique. The venue was a little less concert hall and a little more, as I came to learn, former furniture department store. We were playing the upstairs of a mall, but not just any mall. This mall contained such wonders of the world as a bootleg Panic At The Disco, My Chem merchandise specialist, a store that had a shirt that said “window shopper” with a wad of cash sticking out of the pocket displayed in its window display and a liquor store that sold only tequila and a single bottle of Jack Daniels. But lets go back to the bootleg band merch lady. You name it, this woman has bootlegged merch for it. If you walk through her store you find Panic At The Disco lunch boxes, door hangers, scarves and cigar boxes. This isn’t the kind of merch you’d actually want tough. We’re talking total novelty, side-splitting laughter inducing merch. What this woman does is cut pictures, mostly out of copies of AP, and essentially scotch tapes them on various afore mentioned items. The gentlemen in the Matches were so impressed with the quality of her work that they asked the woman to fashion a custom lunch box (or humidor, depending on your perspective) for them, which she obliged. Scattered through out the store you could also find such high-ticket items as I Love Lucy bumper stickers and assorted Sno-Globes. Next time you’re at the Golden State Mall please, please, please check this store out. You’ll love it.
Among the other completely genuine scores were 4 genuine family portraits picked up by Indy and the All Time Low crew. Both the All Time Low and AP/Matches bus now have wholesome 18”x12” family portraits to remind us of home. Never mind that we have no idea whose families the portraits are of and the fact that the portraits are easily the creepiest things we’ve seen on this tour. It’s totally the thought that counts. I don’t know what’s more disturbing, the fact that someone was selling random family portraits, or that we actually bought them. Also, we witnessed a man totally rocking a coonskin headband. Not a coonskin hat, a coonskin headband. So feel free to picture that.
Rewind a night to an utterly jam packed Soma in San Diego. This was the biggest crowd we’ve seen at the tour so far and it showed, so thank you lads and lasses of the beautiful Whales Vagina for making the stop great. One of my good, good friends, Mindy, from Fox Racing Co stopped by to hook the tour our with some staple items like socks and boxers, and some less staple, but equally welcomed items like sun glasses and guitar straps. Either way, I big ole thank you goes out to Fox for keeping us in fresh clothes for one more day. Today: off in LA and a sushi Easter dinner. Very traditional. Deets to come.
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
Among the other completely genuine scores were 4 genuine family portraits picked up by Indy and the All Time Low crew. Both the All Time Low and AP/Matches bus now have wholesome 18”x12” family portraits to remind us of home. Never mind that we have no idea whose families the portraits are of and the fact that the portraits are easily the creepiest things we’ve seen on this tour. It’s totally the thought that counts. I don’t know what’s more disturbing, the fact that someone was selling random family portraits, or that we actually bought them. Also, we witnessed a man totally rocking a coonskin headband. Not a coonskin hat, a coonskin headband. So feel free to picture that.
Rewind a night to an utterly jam packed Soma in San Diego. This was the biggest crowd we’ve seen at the tour so far and it showed, so thank you lads and lasses of the beautiful Whales Vagina for making the stop great. One of my good, good friends, Mindy, from Fox Racing Co stopped by to hook the tour our with some staple items like socks and boxers, and some less staple, but equally welcomed items like sun glasses and guitar straps. Either way, I big ole thank you goes out to Fox for keeping us in fresh clothes for one more day. Today: off in LA and a sushi Easter dinner. Very traditional. Deets to come.
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The Smoke Monster is Nano-Bots!!
Yes, the smoke monster is nano-bots. Just ask Ben, the Matches guitar tech, and you’ll understand. See, as I was loading the AP junk back into our trailer I hear Ben screaming the aforementioned phrase to everyone he sees. So come to the show, find Ben, look him dead in the eye and say, “the smoke monster is nano-bots.”
Anyway, sorry I’ve been gone for a few days, but we’re hanging out at a casino/motel parking lot in what I can only assume (hope?) is the equivalent to suburban Las Vegas. Apparently the venue we’re playing here has some blitzkrieg loading rules so I’ve got some time to kill and about zero interest in gambling all my cash I don’t have away.
But enough about Vegas, lets talk about Arizona. Tucson, we need to have a chat. It’s not that I didn’t feel the love, but it could have been a little stronger. I did, however make a new best friend that was helping me out all night (you know who you are, thank you!). The Matches new album came out on Tuesday so the guys took an excursion to Best Buy to celebrate. AP was set up right next to the FTSK merch table, so there was some bonding going on there. Solid night but . . .
Tempe. Tempe, Tempe, Tempe I love you. Huge crowd, everyone was friendly as can be. So Tucson, try and take a lesson from Tempe. I’d ask you to borrow some love from Tempe, but I need all that love from Tempe, so just watch and learn. Everyone at the theater was rockin to every band. I practically couldn’t find anyone to hang with when the bands were on.
Luckily, during the show, Indy, our tour manager, came up to me and asked what I thought about having a BBQ. As a bonafied foodie and lover of all things grilled I didn’t so much answer as made grandiose gestures in an effort to indicate that I would do what was necessary to turn the dream into a reality. Well boys and girls, dreams can come true.
By the time AP loaded back into the trailer I wander to the grill with expectations of charry grilled deliciousness to only find a confused Indy and All Time Low Tour manager (I’m giving up on names, I think it’s in everyone’s best interest) staring at raw chicken on a grill, wondering why the “raw” was not slowly turning into “cooked.” Well, after a quick hand check of the grill I discover the likely culprit to be that the coals, which had been burning for upwards of 2 hours, weren’t so much HOTHOTHOT as cold. Here’s your quick lesson in cooking: hot works better than cold when attempting to raise the temperature of food. (This lesson has been brought to you by the AP Culinary Arts Department.) So, I add coals, add lighter fluid, add fire and wander to the bus to change clothes.
I return to find that my grill which had been expertly reignited to have been commandeered by a gentleman you may be familiar with. A certain Alex from All Time Low, grill tongs in hand, was ferociously, miraculously, throwing meat (and fake veggie meat) on the grill, through the fire and through the flames, until the grill was overwhelmed with BBQ goodness. Right around this time we notice a flurry of police activity in the venue parking lot. None of us being keen on figuring out what all the fuss was about we ran like roaches from daylight to our respective buses, burgers in hand and left the 5-0 activity to the “adults” (aka Indy) for the evening. So before you get all “OMG wut wer they doing!!” on me, turns out someone stole, or was trying to steal a car from the parking lot of the venue during the show. Illegal activity was confined to residents of Tempe. So maybe it’s Tucson that needs to teach a little something to Tempe after all . . .
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
Anyway, sorry I’ve been gone for a few days, but we’re hanging out at a casino/motel parking lot in what I can only assume (hope?) is the equivalent to suburban Las Vegas. Apparently the venue we’re playing here has some blitzkrieg loading rules so I’ve got some time to kill and about zero interest in gambling all my cash I don’t have away.
But enough about Vegas, lets talk about Arizona. Tucson, we need to have a chat. It’s not that I didn’t feel the love, but it could have been a little stronger. I did, however make a new best friend that was helping me out all night (you know who you are, thank you!). The Matches new album came out on Tuesday so the guys took an excursion to Best Buy to celebrate. AP was set up right next to the FTSK merch table, so there was some bonding going on there. Solid night but . . .
Tempe. Tempe, Tempe, Tempe I love you. Huge crowd, everyone was friendly as can be. So Tucson, try and take a lesson from Tempe. I’d ask you to borrow some love from Tempe, but I need all that love from Tempe, so just watch and learn. Everyone at the theater was rockin to every band. I practically couldn’t find anyone to hang with when the bands were on.
Luckily, during the show, Indy, our tour manager, came up to me and asked what I thought about having a BBQ. As a bonafied foodie and lover of all things grilled I didn’t so much answer as made grandiose gestures in an effort to indicate that I would do what was necessary to turn the dream into a reality. Well boys and girls, dreams can come true.
By the time AP loaded back into the trailer I wander to the grill with expectations of charry grilled deliciousness to only find a confused Indy and All Time Low Tour manager (I’m giving up on names, I think it’s in everyone’s best interest) staring at raw chicken on a grill, wondering why the “raw” was not slowly turning into “cooked.” Well, after a quick hand check of the grill I discover the likely culprit to be that the coals, which had been burning for upwards of 2 hours, weren’t so much HOTHOTHOT as cold. Here’s your quick lesson in cooking: hot works better than cold when attempting to raise the temperature of food. (This lesson has been brought to you by the AP Culinary Arts Department.) So, I add coals, add lighter fluid, add fire and wander to the bus to change clothes.
I return to find that my grill which had been expertly reignited to have been commandeered by a gentleman you may be familiar with. A certain Alex from All Time Low, grill tongs in hand, was ferociously, miraculously, throwing meat (and fake veggie meat) on the grill, through the fire and through the flames, until the grill was overwhelmed with BBQ goodness. Right around this time we notice a flurry of police activity in the venue parking lot. None of us being keen on figuring out what all the fuss was about we ran like roaches from daylight to our respective buses, burgers in hand and left the 5-0 activity to the “adults” (aka Indy) for the evening. So before you get all “OMG wut wer they doing!!” on me, turns out someone stole, or was trying to steal a car from the parking lot of the venue during the show. Illegal activity was confined to residents of Tempe. So maybe it’s Tucson that needs to teach a little something to Tempe after all . . .
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Dallas, El Paso and everything that wasn't in between
Step One: Yes, I meant “Sean and Jon” the tour makes me tired, what can I say? You all are clearly on top of it, so I’ll have to watch my words I guess ☺ (disclaimer: that does not mean i am responsible for forthcoming typo's and other grammatical errors, but I still love you)
So are you ready for some random? Today was random. Today, actually starts yesterday, in Dallas. House of Blues Dallas. Sold out House Of Blues Dallas. First, my man Nick from Rockstar sends me a text at noon, simultaneous to me a) waking up and b) realizing our bus is backing into the loading dock at the majestic HoB Dallas. Nick is asking what the deets for the evening’s show happened to be, which I kindly oblige to giving him. So after Erica from Keep A Brest and I rampage the venue with AP Tour posters (ahem, they’re totally free on the tour) we find out that Nick and his Texas Rockstar crew were bring about a truckfull of Rockstar to hand out. This happened to come in handy because the amazing sold out Dallas AP Tour-goers were lined up that sweltering day the scale of 2 city blocks before doors opened. Want to know what Nick did? Want to know what I did? Well, come to the tour to find out, but it involves a lot of free Rockstar and a lot of Bret Michaels-style FACE TIME with AP cameras.
I’m actually going to refer you to my last blog to understand how the actual show went, but for you lazy folk that don’t get that “reading” thing: the show killed it. Start to finish, Sonny, to FTSK, to Rocket Summer and everything in between (that’s the Matches and All Time Low for those just tuning in) just simply killed it. Such an amazing show, thank you all!
OK, resume the random: What you should understand about touring is this, things rarely go “as planned.” Case in point: the “plan” was that the AP Tour bus containing the Matches and myself was to stop in Mingus, Texas for an off day. Let me tell you a little about Mingus, Texas. Well, the only reason I can’t tell you a lot about Mingus, Texas is that the only thing in Mingus, Texas is a Flying J (or equivalent trucker stop) and a port-o-potty. Luckily for this AP Tour crew (and you, for storytelling sake) we have an awesome bus driver named John who decided to spare us the hellish landscape of Mingus and drive us straight into El Paso for our lovely St. Patricks off-day.
So, the bus wakes up and casual conversation commences and in-side jokes are perpetuated. Meanwhile I take a phone call with (AP Cover Stars to be named later) to work up some A++ points for all of you. I suggest sometime around April 10 you look out for a limited edition merchandise deal for a band I’m sure you’ll love. Meanwhile my would be brunch crew takes a stroll down to a f’reals down home Mexican restaurant (look up El Paso on a map, you’ll get it) without yours truly, who was promised a spot at the Matches table. After drying my tears our amazing tour manager, Indy, and amazing (as previously outlined) bus driver, John, invited me to join them for brunch. Well just so happens our B-to-the-rizzunch crew hit up the exact same down home Mexi-ness as the uber-cool “artist” bunch did.
(Insert boring detail of buying tour supplies at Office Depot and food at Target here, except that it seemed impossible for Matt from the Matches and I do shop anywhere without passing in an aisle)
After all this boring randomness, more interesting randomness peaks its head.
Ah?
Well, at the very same Quality Suites as the AP Tour bus is parked we find the charming gentlemen of the RX Bandits are also located for the day. Our buses exchange pleasantries and go about our business showering and relaxing and the like. The lovely Miss Erica, as previously mentioned, brings to my attention that not only is Foxy Shazam playing a show across town, but also Portugal. The Man is playing the same show. Two quick calls the two good friends later Miss Erica and I and set up primo guest list style and are off to a show that we started the day not knowing about in a city we weren’t even supposed to be in. As amazing as both Portugal and Foxy were, there was this local band called Gideon (gideonrocks.com) that blew my mind. I rarely get taken away from seeing a band live, but these guys have something rad going on and the randomness of seeing them was perfect for these 2 days. Check them out, tell them Chris from AP said to check them out. Highly recommended.
A short, but feeling of hijacked inducing, cab ride back to the bus later Erica and I find not 1, but 2 members of the RX Bandits hanging out swigging wine, with bus AP Tour. After partaking in the wine swigging, Matt from the RX Bandits not only picks up John from the Matches guitar and begins creating music as such, but also begins an in-depth discussion on the overall state of music. What I haven’t told you to this point this that the frequent AP contributing writer Emily Zemler has been hanging out with us and interjected her thoughts on the state of music journalism into the conversation. I wish you could have been there. Frankly this was the single most intriguing conversation I’ve been a part of in the longest time. Three sides of the same business setting it all out on the table and the only common ground was AP. The evening started to trickle off as Matt had to return to his bus to drive off into the nightfall, but the other member of the RX Bandits that was hanging out, Joe, began a story trade with Monica, the Matches ever-so-lovely “Merchandise Facilitation Expert” who’s ending is yet to be seen and may end up in this very blog . . .
Let me leave you with this, and feel free to comment and discuss (this if for you Matt, if you’re reading): what’s most important, the art, critique or business of music?
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
So are you ready for some random? Today was random. Today, actually starts yesterday, in Dallas. House of Blues Dallas. Sold out House Of Blues Dallas. First, my man Nick from Rockstar sends me a text at noon, simultaneous to me a) waking up and b) realizing our bus is backing into the loading dock at the majestic HoB Dallas. Nick is asking what the deets for the evening’s show happened to be, which I kindly oblige to giving him. So after Erica from Keep A Brest and I rampage the venue with AP Tour posters (ahem, they’re totally free on the tour) we find out that Nick and his Texas Rockstar crew were bring about a truckfull of Rockstar to hand out. This happened to come in handy because the amazing sold out Dallas AP Tour-goers were lined up that sweltering day the scale of 2 city blocks before doors opened. Want to know what Nick did? Want to know what I did? Well, come to the tour to find out, but it involves a lot of free Rockstar and a lot of Bret Michaels-style FACE TIME with AP cameras.
I’m actually going to refer you to my last blog to understand how the actual show went, but for you lazy folk that don’t get that “reading” thing: the show killed it. Start to finish, Sonny, to FTSK, to Rocket Summer and everything in between (that’s the Matches and All Time Low for those just tuning in) just simply killed it. Such an amazing show, thank you all!
OK, resume the random: What you should understand about touring is this, things rarely go “as planned.” Case in point: the “plan” was that the AP Tour bus containing the Matches and myself was to stop in Mingus, Texas for an off day. Let me tell you a little about Mingus, Texas. Well, the only reason I can’t tell you a lot about Mingus, Texas is that the only thing in Mingus, Texas is a Flying J (or equivalent trucker stop) and a port-o-potty. Luckily for this AP Tour crew (and you, for storytelling sake) we have an awesome bus driver named John who decided to spare us the hellish landscape of Mingus and drive us straight into El Paso for our lovely St. Patricks off-day.
So, the bus wakes up and casual conversation commences and in-side jokes are perpetuated. Meanwhile I take a phone call with (AP Cover Stars to be named later) to work up some A++ points for all of you. I suggest sometime around April 10 you look out for a limited edition merchandise deal for a band I’m sure you’ll love. Meanwhile my would be brunch crew takes a stroll down to a f’reals down home Mexican restaurant (look up El Paso on a map, you’ll get it) without yours truly, who was promised a spot at the Matches table. After drying my tears our amazing tour manager, Indy, and amazing (as previously outlined) bus driver, John, invited me to join them for brunch. Well just so happens our B-to-the-rizzunch crew hit up the exact same down home Mexi-ness as the uber-cool “artist” bunch did.
(Insert boring detail of buying tour supplies at Office Depot and food at Target here, except that it seemed impossible for Matt from the Matches and I do shop anywhere without passing in an aisle)
After all this boring randomness, more interesting randomness peaks its head.
Ah?
Well, at the very same Quality Suites as the AP Tour bus is parked we find the charming gentlemen of the RX Bandits are also located for the day. Our buses exchange pleasantries and go about our business showering and relaxing and the like. The lovely Miss Erica, as previously mentioned, brings to my attention that not only is Foxy Shazam playing a show across town, but also Portugal. The Man is playing the same show. Two quick calls the two good friends later Miss Erica and I and set up primo guest list style and are off to a show that we started the day not knowing about in a city we weren’t even supposed to be in. As amazing as both Portugal and Foxy were, there was this local band called Gideon (gideonrocks.com) that blew my mind. I rarely get taken away from seeing a band live, but these guys have something rad going on and the randomness of seeing them was perfect for these 2 days. Check them out, tell them Chris from AP said to check them out. Highly recommended.
A short, but feeling of hijacked inducing, cab ride back to the bus later Erica and I find not 1, but 2 members of the RX Bandits hanging out swigging wine, with bus AP Tour. After partaking in the wine swigging, Matt from the RX Bandits not only picks up John from the Matches guitar and begins creating music as such, but also begins an in-depth discussion on the overall state of music. What I haven’t told you to this point this that the frequent AP contributing writer Emily Zemler has been hanging out with us and interjected her thoughts on the state of music journalism into the conversation. I wish you could have been there. Frankly this was the single most intriguing conversation I’ve been a part of in the longest time. Three sides of the same business setting it all out on the table and the only common ground was AP. The evening started to trickle off as Matt had to return to his bus to drive off into the nightfall, but the other member of the RX Bandits that was hanging out, Joe, began a story trade with Monica, the Matches ever-so-lovely “Merchandise Facilitation Expert” who’s ending is yet to be seen and may end up in this very blog . . .
Let me leave you with this, and feel free to comment and discuss (this if for you Matt, if you’re reading): what’s most important, the art, critique or business of music?
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
Monday, March 17, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Alright AP Faithful. Welcome to the AP Tour!
This is Chris, AP’s subscription manager, and I’ll be keeping you in the loop with everything that’s going on at the tour for the first batch of dates. After hopping a flight from Austin a day after our VIP Cocktail party at SXSW Aaron Wilson, AP’s marketing director, and I drove our weary selves, (in a silver Mustang convertible no less) to day one of the AP Tour.
After pulling up and having a quick chat with the Rockstar Energy Drink guys I rolled into Warehouse Live, our beautiful Houston venue. I gave a quick what up to the uber-nice Sean and Joe from the Matches and equally uber-nice Sonny Moore before setting up for the show. The Rockstar Energy guys, in their endless support of AP and all the bands threw a quick little pre-show pizza party and then we really got down to business.
Let me just say this about all you All Time Low fans: you’re amazing. We set up a signing with All Time Low before the show and it honestly seemed like everyone in the venue lined up to meet the guys. Fast forward to about 10 minutes after the signing and let me just say this about all you Forever The Sickest Kids fans: you kill it. The very second FTSK hit the stage the whole venue exploded and it didn’t stop for Sonny, it didn’t stop for the Matches, it didn’t stop for All Time Low and it certainly didn’t stop for the entire Rocket Summer set.
If Houston was any indication of how this tour is going to go then I’m stoked to be out here on the road bringing you the dirt from the bus. Make sure you get to the show early so you don’t miss the nightly signings and free Rockstar and don’t forget to redeem your subscription to AP with your ticket. Seriously, one year of AP is part of your ticket if you live in the US. This isn’t a trick. We’re not going to bill you for these 12 issues. It’s just 12 issues. No extra money. We’re thanking you for your support and for coming to the tour.
Talk to you guys tomorrow. If you’re coming to the Dallas show stop by the AP table and say hi!
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
After pulling up and having a quick chat with the Rockstar Energy Drink guys I rolled into Warehouse Live, our beautiful Houston venue. I gave a quick what up to the uber-nice Sean and Joe from the Matches and equally uber-nice Sonny Moore before setting up for the show. The Rockstar Energy guys, in their endless support of AP and all the bands threw a quick little pre-show pizza party and then we really got down to business.
Let me just say this about all you All Time Low fans: you’re amazing. We set up a signing with All Time Low before the show and it honestly seemed like everyone in the venue lined up to meet the guys. Fast forward to about 10 minutes after the signing and let me just say this about all you Forever The Sickest Kids fans: you kill it. The very second FTSK hit the stage the whole venue exploded and it didn’t stop for Sonny, it didn’t stop for the Matches, it didn’t stop for All Time Low and it certainly didn’t stop for the entire Rocket Summer set.
If Houston was any indication of how this tour is going to go then I’m stoked to be out here on the road bringing you the dirt from the bus. Make sure you get to the show early so you don’t miss the nightly signings and free Rockstar and don’t forget to redeem your subscription to AP with your ticket. Seriously, one year of AP is part of your ticket if you live in the US. This isn’t a trick. We’re not going to bill you for these 12 issues. It’s just 12 issues. No extra money. We’re thanking you for your support and for coming to the tour.
Talk to you guys tomorrow. If you’re coming to the Dallas show stop by the AP table and say hi!
XOXO
ChrisAtAP
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