New Orleans flyer (detail) for the Dragon's Den:
Termite and Vine (NOLA house) blog:
www.sicknessandfilth.com
Thursday, July 17, 2008
June 25, 2008: Day three
We wake up to the hot sun through a broken window in a house partially floorless; where there are holes you can peak into the basement while you walk across a series of wooden planks. I sit outside and drink cold tea, smoke some cigarettes and meet one of the folks staying at the house. He begins to talk about 2012 and divine connections, albeit was fragmented and only slightly understandable. He tells us of his dog and his old love in Florida who is watching the dog, awaiting the end her battle with cancer. This fella also seems to be the butt of many jokes around here and also requires a lot of outside motivation for things like waking up and bathing every few weeks.
Cory and I go to the coffee shop and get eaten by mosquitos. I drink two and a half iced coffees. It begins to rain but the rain in New Orleans cools things off. While in Houston, it often creates a sona out of our fair city. Nights are also cooler in New Orleans but there are a shit ton more bugs. and rats. After coffee we walk around a lot, staring a stuff and trying to find vegetarian food. We consider playing music in the little squares around here but it looks like rain. We end up spending too much money on a plate of Mexican food, which we share. We walk and return to Termite and Vine.
I am extremely grimy at this point, being too shy to ask about a bath. New Orleans is dirty and crazy and poor. We are offered cheap drugs and keep walking. Alcohol in the street, the park, the backseat of a car all shameless and devoid of those little paper bags. We begin to tan and our legs hurt. We won't make gas money tonight. We return to the house to wait around a bit before the show. We hear gossip about an ex-roomates thrests which makes "the Captain" crazy. He didn't sleep all night.
Cory and I begin to make our way to the Riverfront Park. It takes us 45 minutes to find parking. We are just outside the French Quarter and in the Museum/shopping/IMAX district. Cory and I butt heads but figure everything out eventually, which is a relief. We walk into the park and find a crowd of 25 kids or so hanging out with beers.
Cory and I go to the coffee shop and get eaten by mosquitos. I drink two and a half iced coffees. It begins to rain but the rain in New Orleans cools things off. While in Houston, it often creates a sona out of our fair city. Nights are also cooler in New Orleans but there are a shit ton more bugs. and rats. After coffee we walk around a lot, staring a stuff and trying to find vegetarian food. We consider playing music in the little squares around here but it looks like rain. We end up spending too much money on a plate of Mexican food, which we share. We walk and return to Termite and Vine.
I am extremely grimy at this point, being too shy to ask about a bath. New Orleans is dirty and crazy and poor. We are offered cheap drugs and keep walking. Alcohol in the street, the park, the backseat of a car all shameless and devoid of those little paper bags. We begin to tan and our legs hurt. We won't make gas money tonight. We return to the house to wait around a bit before the show. We hear gossip about an ex-roomates thrests which makes "the Captain" crazy. He didn't sleep all night.
Cory and I begin to make our way to the Riverfront Park. It takes us 45 minutes to find parking. We are just outside the French Quarter and in the Museum/shopping/IMAX district. Cory and I butt heads but figure everything out eventually, which is a relief. We walk into the park and find a crowd of 25 kids or so hanging out with beers.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
the first. since livejournal. in the year 2000.
hi. it's me, rachel t. I decided to set up a blog for music, art, and crafts to document my arduous journey through creativity.
the summer of 2008: June 23-28, micro tour(tour of the quiet ones)
day one, Baton Rouge:
Baton Rouge is tranquil and seems very ready to welcome us with the swampy gulf coast air we so lovingly find at home, in Houston. We arrive at the house (the Clitterbox) a bit after 8pm, late for our first show of the tour. We are quiet and sit together and wait like two pre-vivisected monkeys in a metal cage. But then the Baton Rouge folks start coming up to us. Are we random kids? Where is the touring band? There is a large school bus, bainted light blue with red stripes, where many kids are drinking and smoking. and then, this must be the venue. and it is beautiful. couldn't ask for a better start to tour. The lady who recently bought the bus is planning to convert it to run on veggie oil and take it on a road trip. We don't take pictures because we don't have money for film and the digital camera was dead before we left Houston. Kids in BR drink and smoke blunts, no matter how sweet they look. The house asscoiated with the big blue bus (Calamity Jane) is rented by four girls. Perhaps I shoul dhave taken notes on peoples' names because I cannot reference them as easily now. and if we are to meet again, I will not remember your name but your face and your personality. Joelle is the name of one of the women. She makes her own dresses out of bedsheets. Joelle and one of her housemates tell me how to make a dress frame out of packing tape. a cheap and easy way to make clothes that fit your body correctly. The fella that actually booked the show, Jachob, was very animated and very sassy. He told us a little story about the flyer made for our show. One of the bands slated to play dropped off the bus due to the graphic chosen for our flyer. The graphic goes as follows: a half-naked Japanese girl, squatting with a noose around her neck and hands tied behind her back. She was wearing a school girl top. I found the graphic offensive but not anymore offensive than the war crimes our country is involved it. and found it mildly amusing that this emotionally and physically violent image might describe our sound the the Baton Rouge diy kids. Very far from it. So the lineup is Sew What, Cory Derden and some folk punk/cover music from a local kid. People on the bus danced and sang. Many dogs on the bus too. Lots of noise and beer and clapping. Sew What and Cory get great responses from the BR kids. Something acoustic to counter the mass amount of hardcore and metal that supposedly dominate the DIY scene in Baton Rouge. We sleep well that night under the roof of the Clitterbox.
day two, New Orleans:
We get into NOLA in an hour and a half. I have never been to New Orleans save for a 45min. greyhound layover.We park and walk the French Quarter. for five hours. We survey shops and I gather ideas for the clothes I will make once I get back home. We find a surprisingly cool shop in the Quarter. Recycled and handmade clothes from local NOLA folk. They have $1, $3, $5, 7$ (high end) clothing sections. Nothing much in Houston like that. Anything similar here has a bloated price and ego to match. We walk and buy cheap water for too much money and smoke cigarettes in the hot sun. The French Quarter reminds me of Galveston; the houses, shops, the shit everywhere, matresses out for weeks awaiting heavy trash day. We come upon Bourbon St., which I don't realize until I am told by a man at a to-go beer and liquor stand. There is porn on the windows of the shops and young girls in two piece underwear sets showin' they legs to all of Bourbon St. I wouldn't put my feet in the water here. We drink beer in the street and get some falafel sandwiches. More walking than music at this point in the tour. Four o'clock, five o'clock and only five hours to go until our show at the Dragon's Den starts. We've walked the French Quarter four ror five times now. The sun is bright but it is about to rain. We decide to sit by the river where there is breeze and call our only NOLA contact, a kid named Kozmo. He seems spastic and anxious and full of energy. Perhaps the can of Sparks in his hand has somehthing to do with it. He seems very rude at first. For in NOLA we were clean cut while in Houston we are the dirty ones. and he enthusiastically predicts that no one will be at our show tonight..Very disheartening but we know how to play that game from time to time so I keep a smile on my face. Many in New Orleans are drunk before night fall, even lunch; many folks seem quite insane here. This city seems to eat people and there are crap houses everywhere with toxic water stains STILL.
Kozmo lives in a house called Termite and Vine. This house has been reclaimed from the city of New Orleans after 20 years of vacancy and the big fat fucked up storm, Katrina. The house has about five others staying in it, which is low occupancy from the normal 20+ talked about amonst the group. Before going to the house, we get coffee with our host at a small place called Kahve. I run into a friend of my old roomate that I met in Asheville. It is nice to see a semi familiar face. She rides a tall bike now and wears a bowler hat. We all agree to meet after our show to go on home to the Termite and Vine.
Ten o'clock rolls around and we are at the Dragon's Den with the other musician, My Graveyard Jaw. My Graveyard Jaw mainly involves one man on guitar and suitcase drum, playing folk/blues/drifter music, named Styx duh Clown. I am certain that isn't his birthname but that is all I know him by. He is a big fellow with a black leather vest, cowboy hat, and boots. clown makeup tattooed around his eyes. Big drinker, five beers in one set. Very cordial for such an intimadating figure. I give him a tiny black and yellow Sew What button (sewing machine) and he adds it to the many on his vest. Cory plays before Styx and Sew What after. The Dragon's Den has deep red walls. There is a large mirror with gold trim in back of us and a medium sized mirror with gold trim in front of us. It's vaguely reminisent of my idea of a brothel. We made money for gas even though Kozmo turned out to be right. no one showed up save for four people. Luckily we are used to small audiences since we hail from Houston; where girls with acoustic guitars belong at Lilth Fair (so they say) and the boys with electric guitars belong at Warehouse Live or the Westhemier Block Party. New Orleans is like the block party Houston never had. We are tired by the end of the night. We stay up anyway. At 3:30am, I am ready to collapse.
More on Summer Tour 2008 to come!
the summer of 2008: June 23-28, micro tour(tour of the quiet ones)
day one, Baton Rouge:
Baton Rouge is tranquil and seems very ready to welcome us with the swampy gulf coast air we so lovingly find at home, in Houston. We arrive at the house (the Clitterbox) a bit after 8pm, late for our first show of the tour. We are quiet and sit together and wait like two pre-vivisected monkeys in a metal cage. But then the Baton Rouge folks start coming up to us. Are we random kids? Where is the touring band? There is a large school bus, bainted light blue with red stripes, where many kids are drinking and smoking. and then, this must be the venue. and it is beautiful. couldn't ask for a better start to tour. The lady who recently bought the bus is planning to convert it to run on veggie oil and take it on a road trip. We don't take pictures because we don't have money for film and the digital camera was dead before we left Houston. Kids in BR drink and smoke blunts, no matter how sweet they look. The house asscoiated with the big blue bus (Calamity Jane) is rented by four girls. Perhaps I shoul dhave taken notes on peoples' names because I cannot reference them as easily now. and if we are to meet again, I will not remember your name but your face and your personality. Joelle is the name of one of the women. She makes her own dresses out of bedsheets. Joelle and one of her housemates tell me how to make a dress frame out of packing tape. a cheap and easy way to make clothes that fit your body correctly. The fella that actually booked the show, Jachob, was very animated and very sassy. He told us a little story about the flyer made for our show. One of the bands slated to play dropped off the bus due to the graphic chosen for our flyer. The graphic goes as follows: a half-naked Japanese girl, squatting with a noose around her neck and hands tied behind her back. She was wearing a school girl top. I found the graphic offensive but not anymore offensive than the war crimes our country is involved it. and found it mildly amusing that this emotionally and physically violent image might describe our sound the the Baton Rouge diy kids. Very far from it. So the lineup is Sew What, Cory Derden and some folk punk/cover music from a local kid. People on the bus danced and sang. Many dogs on the bus too. Lots of noise and beer and clapping. Sew What and Cory get great responses from the BR kids. Something acoustic to counter the mass amount of hardcore and metal that supposedly dominate the DIY scene in Baton Rouge. We sleep well that night under the roof of the Clitterbox.
day two, New Orleans:
We get into NOLA in an hour and a half. I have never been to New Orleans save for a 45min. greyhound layover.We park and walk the French Quarter. for five hours. We survey shops and I gather ideas for the clothes I will make once I get back home. We find a surprisingly cool shop in the Quarter. Recycled and handmade clothes from local NOLA folk. They have $1, $3, $5, 7$ (high end) clothing sections. Nothing much in Houston like that. Anything similar here has a bloated price and ego to match. We walk and buy cheap water for too much money and smoke cigarettes in the hot sun. The French Quarter reminds me of Galveston; the houses, shops, the shit everywhere, matresses out for weeks awaiting heavy trash day. We come upon Bourbon St., which I don't realize until I am told by a man at a to-go beer and liquor stand. There is porn on the windows of the shops and young girls in two piece underwear sets showin' they legs to all of Bourbon St. I wouldn't put my feet in the water here. We drink beer in the street and get some falafel sandwiches. More walking than music at this point in the tour. Four o'clock, five o'clock and only five hours to go until our show at the Dragon's Den starts. We've walked the French Quarter four ror five times now. The sun is bright but it is about to rain. We decide to sit by the river where there is breeze and call our only NOLA contact, a kid named Kozmo. He seems spastic and anxious and full of energy. Perhaps the can of Sparks in his hand has somehthing to do with it. He seems very rude at first. For in NOLA we were clean cut while in Houston we are the dirty ones. and he enthusiastically predicts that no one will be at our show tonight..Very disheartening but we know how to play that game from time to time so I keep a smile on my face. Many in New Orleans are drunk before night fall, even lunch; many folks seem quite insane here. This city seems to eat people and there are crap houses everywhere with toxic water stains STILL.
Kozmo lives in a house called Termite and Vine. This house has been reclaimed from the city of New Orleans after 20 years of vacancy and the big fat fucked up storm, Katrina. The house has about five others staying in it, which is low occupancy from the normal 20+ talked about amonst the group. Before going to the house, we get coffee with our host at a small place called Kahve. I run into a friend of my old roomate that I met in Asheville. It is nice to see a semi familiar face. She rides a tall bike now and wears a bowler hat. We all agree to meet after our show to go on home to the Termite and Vine.
Ten o'clock rolls around and we are at the Dragon's Den with the other musician, My Graveyard Jaw. My Graveyard Jaw mainly involves one man on guitar and suitcase drum, playing folk/blues/drifter music, named Styx duh Clown. I am certain that isn't his birthname but that is all I know him by. He is a big fellow with a black leather vest, cowboy hat, and boots. clown makeup tattooed around his eyes. Big drinker, five beers in one set. Very cordial for such an intimadating figure. I give him a tiny black and yellow Sew What button (sewing machine) and he adds it to the many on his vest. Cory plays before Styx and Sew What after. The Dragon's Den has deep red walls. There is a large mirror with gold trim in back of us and a medium sized mirror with gold trim in front of us. It's vaguely reminisent of my idea of a brothel. We made money for gas even though Kozmo turned out to be right. no one showed up save for four people. Luckily we are used to small audiences since we hail from Houston; where girls with acoustic guitars belong at Lilth Fair (so they say) and the boys with electric guitars belong at Warehouse Live or the Westhemier Block Party. New Orleans is like the block party Houston never had. We are tired by the end of the night. We stay up anyway. At 3:30am, I am ready to collapse.
More on Summer Tour 2008 to come!
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