Show tonight with Jealous Sound should be really good. If you're reading this today (Wednesday), then you can check it out in real time on Digital Club Network. California Uber Alles.

Well, today started off wonderfully when a piece of one of my bottom front teeth broke off. Not a big piece. And it's on the back of the tooth. But it's still annoying, because now it feels really weird, and I don't have dental coverage and this'll cost me a fortune, and blah, blah, blah. Let this be warning, kids: brush and floss at least twice a day! Actually, I think this might be from slamming my mouth into a microphone a week or so ago. The wages of rock.

We arrived in Albuquerque yesterday around 5:00pm and checked into a Holiday Inn Express. The weather was hot, but not too hot. Clear blue sky. Really nice. Since we didn't have to be at the club until 7:00, I'd planned to go in search of an outdoor pool. (Who has an *indoor* pool in the desert?? Holiday Inn Express). But as usual, I got sidetracked by logistical crap. Bringing this laptop on tour has been both a blessing and a curse, because, in addition to allowing us to do stuff like write this tour diary, it also allows us to deal with the same day to day crap that we deal with at home. So instead of taking the Nestea Plunge in some neighboring hotel's pool, I answered a bunch of email, did some work on the site, and watched Cheech and Chong's epic masterpiece, "Up In Smoke" on Comedy Central.

The Launchpad is one of the nicer music venues in the Southwest. It's very big, with a big stage, great PA, and friendly staff. The show was -- shally we say -- underattended, but extremely fun. We knew that attendance would suck before we even got there. (Not every day of the week is a Thursday, Friday or Saturday. The trick with tour routing is to make sure that you hit the big places on the big nights, and the small places on the small nights. However, I've been talking lately about hitting the small places on the big nights, just for a change. It would be a blast, say, to do Chapel Hill and Athens on a Friday/Saturday instead of Monday/Tuesday. Those are both huge college towns and I bet we'd play for a lot of people; it's something to think about for next time). I think about 7 people watched our set at the Launchpad. Too bad, 'cause that's only 7 people that got to witness the awesome rock presence of our soundman, Kevin Nessle, singing Thin Lizzy's "Jailbreak" for all it was worth (and then some), while we backed him up smiling and giggling.

We were the second of two bands on the bill, and we were done by 12:30, way too early to go to sleep when you've been couped up in a van all day taking one nap after another in an effort to counter the insane boredom. So we did the only proper thing a rock band *could* do in Albuquerque on a Monday night: drove around cranking Outkast and looking for a strip club. Finally found one. It was mildly titillating (and I got to pay $9.75 for the worst cosmo I've ever had -- bonus!), but it really only served to amplify the, uh, frustrations we've already built up over the last 4 weeks. Boo hoo.

Got back to the hotel around 2:30am and still didn't feel like sleeping. The search for food began but, seeing as how Albuquerque exists solely to vex touring musicians in search of alcohol and pizza, we had no luck. What is it with that town?! It's like there's been a crackdown on every post-gig amenity you'd ever want (OK, they have strip bars, I'll give 'em that...). We finally gave up and crashed around 4:00am. Woke up and 11:00. Dragged ourselves to a Denny's (I fulfilled a lifelong dream by trying the Reeses Peanut Butter Pie -- it sucked), and then hit the road for the 12 hour drive across the desert to San Diego. The plan is to get there late tonight, relax in town tomorrow, and then play the show at the Casbah tomorrow night.

Today is our last crazy-long drive of the tour. Hellelujah.

Sitting in the backseat of the van in the parking lot of the Van Horn, TX Days Inn. We arrived this morning around 3:00am and crashed immmediately.

The drive across West Texas has been as uneventful and boring as it always is. It's so dark out here at night. It's like you're in a tunnel, with only the headlights illuminating the immediate 100 feet in front of you. We had to stop a couple times to clean the bugs off the windshield, 'cuase they were threatening to obscure the whole road.

After lollygagging around Austin all day yesterday, we hit a laundrymat in the afternoon before we split. I'd actually done my washing at Dale and Hoa's, so I busied myself by sitting in the van and learning "Jailbreak" by Thin Lizzy. We're planning to debut it tonight in Albuquerque (with Kevin on lead vocals). Kevin bought an excellent baseball cap that's actually a stuffed animal shark. It's pretty cool. We split around 7:30pm, just as the sun was going down. We were sad to leave; Austin is such a cool place and the weather has been phenomenal. It would have been nice to hang out for another day and soak up the town.

Heading out, I put on the "Paris, TX" soundtrack, which was perfect for the drive into the Texas scrub. That was followed by Lucinda Williams (I've become a total convert on this tour; she's amazing). It's cool to be heading west, toward home. It's the little things that pick you up at the end of a long tour, like passing by signs that say "10 West", or realizing that you're driving into sun as it sets instead of rises. I'm starting to get that feeling that I always get near the end of the tour: the desire to just spend a day walking around Berkeley or San Francisco and appreciating that I'm home. Seeing familiar people, eating familiar food, knowing where the post office is. That's not to say that we're not amped for the San Diego and LA shows. They should be two of the tour's best.

On the way here, we stopped about 3 hours out of Austin, before we got into the desert, at a tiny little town in the hill country, with just a couple gas stations and a mini-mart. It was so quiet, the crickets were blaring. I took out my mini-disc recorder and just stood in a field for a minute recording it.

Another thing: you realize as you drive through West Texas, that Lyndon B. Johnson is like a Christ figure in the region. Everything is named after either he or his wife, Lady Bird Johnson. There's Lady Bird Johnson Elementary School, Johnson City, the Lyndon B. Johnson Library, highway, municipal power plant, etc. The guy is really like some mythical figure here. I wonder if Clinton will get the same treatment in Arkansas. I'm sure he will.

Today we drive five hours to Albuquerque for the show at the Launchpad, a really good club that I'm guessing will not exactly be filled to brim with people, given that it's a Monday night. That'll be a brief respite, and then tomorrow we drive 12 hours to San Diego. That'll allow us to hang in SD all day Wednesday and the play the Casbah show with Jealous Sound Wednesday night. I'm thinking some world-class Mexican food and possibly the beach (hopefully simultaneously) are in order.

Sitting in the house of Dale and Hoa, our hosts in Austin, TX. They've been very kind to put us up, feed us, and let us do laundry. Thanks, you guys, your hospitality is much appreciated.

We got in from the show this morning around 5:00am. I think it was the best one we've played so far on this tour. Attendance was great, I think we played a great set, and Silver Scooter and Deathray Davies once again wowed us (and everyone else in the club) with their powers of rock. All in all, a kickass night.

And Austin is just the coolest city ever. If you've never been here, you need to come here at least once, preferably on a Friday or Saturday night. Austin is called the live music capitol of the world, and it's true. You can't walk down 6th Street (the main drag in the club district) without hearing at least 20 bands. It's like a Disneyland of music, with blues, rock, folk and, of course, country, all vying for peoples' attention. Factor in the balmy weather, and a few thousand scantically clad people in varioius states of inebriation, and you have a recipe for a pretty good time.

The drive from Dallas to Austin was pretty easy, about 3 hours. We arrived in the late afternoon and met up with Dale and Hoa at their place. Had a beer and then headed for the club and loaded in. After soundcheck Ross and I strolled over to Stubb's, a famous Austin BBQ joint that lived up to it's reputation. Mmmmmm. You can't go to Texas and NOT have real BBQ.

Emo's once again lived up to its rep as one of the coolest clubs in the country. It's pretty much a Texas landmark at this point. Looking up at the ceiling, I noticed a bunch of old rock posters. It was like a who's who of the last decade of (real) alternative rock in the U.S. Another cool thing about Emo's is the drink tickets that they give bands. That is, they give you a lot. And with three bars, it's easy to get get your drink on, which usually ensures a good time.

We emerged from the club around 2:00 to find the whole of Red River Ave. swarming with cars and people, with dance music blaring from the club next door. We started loading out, watched a fight (par for the course). Eventually we got everything loaded and followed the Deathray Davies to a party somewhere in suburban Austin. Hung out there for a little while and then headed "home."

We leave today for Albuquerque. It's about 800 miles, but we have two days to do it -- a luxury compared to our travel schedule over the last week. We'll probably leave here around 4:00 and drive until midnight and then score a cheap motel in the middle of nowhere. Anyone who's every driven across west Texas knows that it's flat as a ironing board. You can practically put a brick on the accelerator, bunji-cord the steering wheel in place, and just take a nap. And today Marty and I will introduce Doug and Ross to an old Actionslacks west Texas ritual, specifically, listening to Swervedriver's "Mezcal Head" at peak volume with all the windows down. That record was made for west Texas.

Ah, Texas, land of Dubya, ZZ Top and the Alamo. Rolling toward Austin. Thankfully the drive today is short, about three hours. Seems like we've been living in this van lately.

Woke up this morning in the (relatively) blissful confines of a Holiday Inn in Dallas, near the airport. We got two rooms. Much needed sleep and relaxation was had (and free punch in the lobby!), and we're now back on the rock horse, heading to Austin for our second show with Silver Scooter and the Deathray Davies, at one of the south's most hallowed rock venues, Emo's.

Our in-store at Good Records yesterday was really fun. Thanks a ton to everyone at Good, and to everyone who came out to see us. The Good folks set up a bunch of BBQ and a cooler of beers for the bands and patrons to ejoy. It was a nice balmy Friday afternoon, and everyone was very relaxed. I was talking to one of the guys who works there about the recent Grandaddy in-store. He said it was nuts, with some people even standing on the traffic medium out in front of the store. Anyway, this was a really pleasant afternoon for us; we're much obliged for the hospitality.

There's a feature on us in this week's edition of the Dallas Observer. Check it out here.

The show last night at the Gypsy Tea Room was really good, as well. The venue itself is top-notch, very nice, and staffed by cool, helfpul people. And the line-up was great. Silver Scooter were fantastic - I love that band. They remind me so much of the New Zealand stuff that I was obsessed with a decade ago. If you appreciate NZ bands like the Bats, Chills, and the Clean, or bands like Luna and the Feelies, you will love Silver Scooter. Deathray Davies were excellent, as well, busting out some great melodic songs and a great show. And such nice people! Both the Scooter and the Davies are comprised of immensely cool folks. It makes a real difference to play shows with people that you like.

There was one downer to last night, which was the Dallas police shooting and killing someone in front of the club. No, I'm not kidding. From what we can gather, a guy was chasing and shooting at some other guy. The cops gave chase and, when the gunman started firing on them, shot him dead. This took place during the Deathray Davies' set (unbeknownst to everyone in the club), outside the venue, on the opposite side of the block from where we were. Pretty freaky. The Deep Ellum district is a pretty nice 'hood. You wouldn't expect something like that to happen there. But then again, this America, where anyone can get a gun in about 4 seconds.

Point of interest from last night: Flickerstick, one of the bands on VH1's "Bands on the Run" (see my tirade against it earlier in this diary) was playing at Trees, which is just a few blocks from where we were. Before the show we sat at an outdoor taqueria across the street from Trees and watched the people line up to get in. I'm really wondering how much the VH1 exposure has increased that band's draw. I would guess the answer is "remarkably." A sick part of me really wishes we could have been on that bill, just to witness the demographic inside the club. Any time a band gains sudden exposure on VH1 (or MTV, or commercial radio), it introduces a whole new Everyman element into their fanbase. You suddenly start seeing sorority girls and stockbrokers and mall people showing up and their gigs. It's pretty fascinating to watch. And sure enough, as we sat across the street last night eating our tacos and scrutinizing those in line to see Flickerstick, it was pretty obvious that a lot of them weren't exactly your diehard music fans. There were manicured blondes in Gap leather pants, guys with neatly cropped hair and buttoned-down Oxfords, and generally an abundance of people who looked like they don't frequent rock dives on a consistent basis. Or maybe that's just Flickerstick's original fanbase. But I kinda doubt it.

(Kevin just annouced from the backseat that he's imbibed 5 beers in 45 minutes. Nice work, chief. "And tonight I'm drinking a ton of whiskey," he adds. Nighty night.)

Tonight we'll crash in Austin with some friends of Marty's. Following that, we'll have two days to get to Albuquerque, for our show at the Launchpad on Tuesday. We just found out that our Tempe, AZ show fell through, so it looks like we'll drive all day to San Diego on Tuesday, and then hang out there all day before the show on Wednesday. I must say, I think we're all looking forward to crossing the California state line.

Oh, man, are we pasty. Sitting in the van. We're into hour 10 of our all night/day drive from Atlanta to Dallas. We need to be at Good Records in Dallas for an in-store gig at 4:00 today. Should be getting into town in the next hour and a half, at which point we'll try to locate a hotel before we head to the record store. The interior of the van has come to resemble a nutritionist's nightmare; there's three inches of empty Krispy Kreme boxes, Wendy's wrappers, mushed candy bars, dead batteries, socks, crumpled paperbacks and CDs. It's clearly time for a major clean-up. Anybody got a leaf-blower?

Right about now, I'd like to brush my teeth for about an hour and sit in the shower for a couple days, followed by a week's worth of sleep. In a word, we are burnt.

Show last night in Atlanta was a really good time. It was promoted by Mr. Henry Owings, publisher and svengali of Chunklet, a superb zine that you should be able to find at your local quality newstand. Henry has pissed off a lot of people in his day (the last issue of Chunklet was the Asshole Issue, in which he and a group of accomplices ranked the 100 biggest assholes in rock, with hilarious results), but he's really just a big sweetheart. Anyway, he promoted this show at a dance club called MJQ, which is located somewhere in the shadow of downtown Atlanta. Also on the bill were Grumpy, a great loud and rocking local band, and Bingo Trappers, who hail from Holland.

We pulled up to Henry's place in Atlanta around 6:00 yesterday evening. He's got a killer spread that costs him dirt (spend enough time crashing at places around the country and you come to realize just how obscene Bay Area rents are). We hung out, checked our email and then split for dinner. Dinner was at a place called The Local, which is right around the corner from the club. Henry insisted that I have the BBQ plate, and it was pretty tasty. He also ordered us some boiled peanuts, something I've wanted to try ever since our last trip to the south. Boiled peanuts are just that -- peanuts that are boiled in their shells in hot salt water. When they're served they have the consistency of edamame or something, and they're pretty tasty. A southern delicacy. It was good to catch up with Henry; he's a pretty interesting dude with some very staunch beliefs on the subject of indie rock credibility. We had a long discussion on the topic, ultimately concluding that the notion of cred is bullshit -- you either do something well or you don't. Whoever likes it, likes it. Whoever doesn't, doesn't. If you stay true to your original goals and beliefs, the notion of cred is moot.

After dinner we loaded into the club, which is a spacious underground room that's long and narrow, with a stage at one end. The highlight of MJQ is the huge rectangular longbar, the surface of which is lit from beneath, creating a very cool effect. There's also a Tron video game. I used to rule this game when I was a kid. Of course, I suck now.

Henry proceeded to DJ (Thursday nights are rock night, with Henry DJing between bands), busting out dope rock hits from the last 3 decades. We took the stage around 11:30 and did our thing. I think we played a pretty good set; at least people seemed to be digging it. We sold a ton of stuff afterward, so we must've done something right. The turnout was good and everyone at the club was super friendly and cool to us -- that makes such a difference. Props to them.

Grumpy played a great set, followed by the Bingo Trappers, who were the victims of a mile wide power blackout on literally the last chord of their last song. Emerging from the dark club, we could see that the entire immediate block, including the massive 24-hour Kroger supermarket across the street, was totally without power. Bizarre.

Eventually, we loaded up the van and said our goodbyes to Henry and the Grumpy guys and their posse. Headed for -- what else? -- Krispy Kreme, to pick up a couple dozen donuts and some super-sized coffees for the all night drive to Dallas. (If anyone wants to find me when we get home, I'll be at the gym pedalling furiously...) And here we are, sleep-deprived, pasty and about to play two shows in the next 7 hours.

Still, it's good to be back in Dallas. All the clubs here are located in a part of town called Deep Ellum. On a weekend night the whole 'hood takes on the feel of an adult Disneyland, with live music emanating from every other doorway, and people walking around in various states of inebriation. I'm praying we can catch a nap before the show tonight at Gypsy Tea Room. Speaking of the show, we'll be playing it with two great bands, Austin's Silver Scooter (check out their awesome new record "The Blue Law") and Dallas' the Deathray Davies. We'll hook up with both bands again in Austin tomorrow night. Luckily, the drive to Austin tomorrow is mercifully short, about 2 hours. We need some down time. Hallelujah.

We're leaving Nashville, Music City USA. In the van, eating Burger King (barf) and drinking beer (not Marty, who's driving). Last night's show at the End was good. Seems like a lot of stuff has happened since the last entry. Here's a recap...

The Athens show was good, but the attendance factor was pretty dismal. What can you expect from a rainy Tuesday night? However, the band we played with, Michael, were great. They're from Athens and play a kind of Americanized version of British shoegazer stuff that's really good. Props to those guys. And props to their bassist, John, for putting us up and for being so hospitable. Talk about a set up, the one these guys have would make every band in San Francisco weep openly. John lives in a house right next to another house that serves as the band's studio/practice space. They pay $500/month rent for a two story house in which to practice and record at their leisure.

I LOVE ATHENS, GEORGIA. Every time we go there I'm totally jealous of the people who live and go to school there. It's just the coolest town. The downtown area is pretty small -- about 5 blocks square. But it's chock full of cool bars, independently owned restaurants, bookstores, cafes, etc. It's just really small and quaint and cool, and the people are nice.

Tasty World, where we played, is a cool venue that's located right downtown. Great stage, huge bar, nice people.

Before the show I took a walk around town. It was slightly drizzling, but not enough to be annoying. There wasn't really anyone around. It was incredibly relaxing to just mosey around town, looking through shop windows, peeking in record stores, etc. I think it would be so cool to go to school there. Any pre-college people reading this: check out UofG, you won't be sorry.

One highlight of the evening was stopping to peek into Wuxtry Records. Wuxtry was where Pete Buck of R.E.M. worked for a long time before he finally quit to do the band full time. Right in the front window, prominently displayed, was a massive poster for R.E.M.'s new record. How cool is it that the guy used to be a record store clerk at this tiny store in Georgia, and he's now one of the most successful rock musicians of all time? I love shit like that. Props to R.E.M. Even though I haven't dug anything they've done in a long time, I completely respect the fact that they succeeded on their own terms (and buckets of blood, sweat and tears, endless shows, and generally earning it the hard way). It's pretty inspiring. [I obviously have R.E.M. on the brain, as witnessed by these last two diary entries. Sorry, I was once completely devoted to that band, and I think being in the vicinity of their one-time home base has brought on some weird nostalgia that you have unfortunately become privy to. Sue me.]

Thanks to Dave from Michael, for setting us up with dinner at the Five Star Cafe. It was totally delicious. Another reason to love Athens.

So we played the show, crashed at John's and then got up and pointed the van in the direction of Cookeville, Tennessee, home of Tennesee Tech and the radio station WTTU, where our new record was #1 earlier this year. We'd been invited by the station to stop by and do an interview. We rolled in around 5:00, and had a lovely on-air chat with the music director, Tristessa. She and Anne, the public affairs director, were very kind. We told 'em we'd put them on the list for the show, and then headed to Nashville.

Rolled into Nashville just as the sun was setting behind the city, and it was very pretty. On the way to the club we freaked out upon seeing a real live Krispy Kreme Donuts. This was no tiny donut stand, this was a full-blown, state of the art, Krispy Kreme -- something we've been looking forward to for weeks. To anyone not familiar with Krispy Kreme Donuts, they're basically the Cadillac of fried bread. Extremely tatsy.

Loaded our stuff into the club and headed to a surprisingly good Indian restaurant called Sitar. It was so nice to eat something other than gross fast food. Wonderful. After dinner, Ross and Marty and I headed to Krispy Kreme to procure some donuts for the inevitable post-show sugar fix. Couldn't help eating a couple right away. Damn, they're good. Walking out of the KK, we ran into Tristessa and Anne from WTTU, and their friend Amanda. Turns out they made the 80 mile drive to see us play. That's dedication far beyond the call of duty.

After the show us and the WTTU ladies headed to a bar to shoot some pool. I was ecstatic at finally being able to drink again. That first beer tasted real good. Pool was played, drinks were imbibed, and we eventually headed back to the club to load out. Said goodbye to the WTTUers (ladies, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts; people like you make this worthwhile) and headed to the house of Marty's friend Nate Sizemore (playing Thin Lizzy's "Jailbreak," as is our post-show custom on this tour). Crashed out and woke up late this morning feeling refreshed. Now we're in the van headed toward tonight's show in Atlanta at MJQ. This show has been set-up by Henry Owings, who publishes the excellent and totally hilarious magazine Chunklet. MJQ is a dance club apparently, and tonight is indie rock night; there's a DJ (Henry, I believe), followed by bands. Also on the bill are Bingo Trappers from Holland (ex-Solex, apparently) and Grumpy, a great Atlanta band. We're looking forward to it.

These next two days are going to be incredibly long. We play our set at 11:30pm tonight and then immediately get in the van for the all-night drive to Dallas. We need to be at Good Records there for an in-store (with Silver Scooter) at 4:00pm, then we head to the club for our show with the Scooter and Deathray Davies. We will be quite crispy by tomorrow night. Whatever -- it's why we're out here and it's what we do. You can't stop The Rock.

Sitting in the van on the way to Athens, GA and tonight's show at Tasty World (by far the best named venue of this tour...).

We just stopped off at RedEye Distribution's national headquarters in Graham, NC. RedEye is one of the main distributors of our album. We stopped by, met everyone, picked up some free records (thanks, guys!) and gave them some shirts and stickers and stuff. It's good to meet the people that are working on your behalf; you get to say "thanks" in person, and they get to meet the people behind the music.

The show last night in Chapel Hill was really, really good. It was a four-band bill featuring us, Ashley Stove, the Glands, and My Dear Ella. The Glands and Ashley Stove were particularly phenomenal -- two amazing bands. I'd like to take this moment to thank Ashley Stove again for their incredible hospitality and generosity (they gave us half of their door money 'cause we're on tour -- that is abvoe and beyond the call of duty). So here's a shout out to Ben, Jennifer, Jim and Billy. Thank you, guys. It's people like you that make touring fun. The Stove is also an incredible band with some great songs. And they closed with a spot-on cover of X's "The Once Over Twice," which pretty much made my week. The Glands were excellent, as well. I think they're from Athens. They reminded me of the Grifters -- really good songs, great guitar interplay, and excellent songs.

I spotted 3/4 of Superchunk in the house, and some other Chapel Hill luminaries. Go Rehearsal is a kick-ass venue. Thanks to Derek and everyone else for being so cool. We can't wait to come back.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day. We woke up in DC at Marty Big's house and hit the road around noon. It was sunny and about 80 degrees. The drive to Chapel Hill form DC is one of the most beautiful drives of any East Coast tour and I was loving it. It was my turn to drive (which means I had control of the stereo), so I put on this R.E.M. compilation tape that I made.

Everybody was crashed out and I was left alone with my thoughts. I started thinking about how I used to listen to R.E.M. in high school and wonder what it would be like to be in a rock band. For me, there are so many memories locked up in those songs (the first 5 albums; I draw the line at "Document"). Memories of first playing the guitar, and daydreaming about being in a band and going on tour. I think yesterday was one of those perfect sytheses of music, scenery, weather and state of mind. There's something wonderfully intangible about R.E.M.'s early stuff (which is precisely why it's so brilliant and timeless). Songs like "Sitting Still," "7 Chinese Brothers" and "Cuyahoga" just sound perfect on a sunny day with the scenery whizzing by. There are always moments on tour when you think to yourself, "Why do I do this? Why am I here?" Yesterday's drive reminded me, and made me appreciate the fact that I'm not chained to a desk or doing something that I really don't want to be doing. And listening to those songs and remembering my adolescent fantasies of being in a touring rock band, I was able to appreciate all the work we've put in to get to where we are. It's not like we're Oasis or anything, but my dream has turned into a reality. Now we just to need figure out the Oasis part...

The road we were on, the 85 south, runs right smack through Civil War country, and being the complete history dork that I am, I was loving it. We passed by famous battlefields and locations one by one: Richmond, Spotsylvania, Manassas, Fredricksburg, Petersburg. Most Americans don't realize [here he goes...] that the Civil War was the bloodiest war in American history. The ground around these cities is literally hollow with the bodies of thousands of dead soldiers. End of history lesson.

We rolled up to the Chapel Hill Holiday Inn around 5:00pm. Much to our horror, the pool was closed for the season. Understand that it was 80 degrees outside, with the late afternoon sun beating down. What's more, the pool looked for all intents and purposes to be completely usable -- it was big, blue, and just sitting there taunting us. I settled for a luke warm shower.

We got to the club around 7:30, where we hooked up with the Ashley Stove kids. Loaded the gear, grabbed a burrito and then went back to the club. I still can't drink, which is incredibly annoying, considering that everyone else in the band started drinking the second we got to the hotel. I only have one more day of antiboitics, and then it's time to make up for lost time...er...alcohol.

Our show in Baltimore on Sunday night was a lot of fun. We played with two great bands -- The Put Outs and Liars Academy. Both of these bands rock and they have SONGS, a precious commodity that can never be taken for granted. The Put Outs have worked with Tommy Stinson and recently did a tour with Superdrag. Great guys. Ditto for Liars Academy. Check 'em out if you get a chance. Marty Big accompanied us to this show. Great to have him there. Now he knows what the rock lifestyle is all about.

I was amazed by Baltimore. The last time we were there we played at Memory Lane, an absolute dive of a club (you could smell the bathroom from the street). it was located in a seedy warehouse district near the ballpark. My overall impression was that Baltimore sucked. But the Ottobar, where we played on Sunday, is located on the other side of the city, right downtown. I was shocked to see that Baltimore is actually a really cool place, with a whole refurbished waterfront area that I didn't even know existed. What's more, they have an old frigate -- The Constellation -- moored in the harbor. It was awesome. Anyone who knows me well also knows that I have a total fixation on things that are sea-oriented, especially old ships. This ship was incredible. It's been totally restored to its original Revolutionary War appearance. The thing that's amazing is that this ship is about the size of Paul Allen's dingy, but back in the day it was considered a huge battleship. It's probably about 50 yards from stern to bow, and about 50 feet wide. I can't imagine being in a battle in that rowboat. It must've been a pretty harrowing experience, especially since the whole thing is made of wood.

So we walked around the waterfront for a bit before the show and grabbed dinner at a place where we could sit outside. It was a really nice night -- about 75 degres and very balmy. After the show we headed home (stopping at numerous junkfood establishments to procure the crap food that we so crave following gigs). Got home around 3:00 and hit the sack.

I want to give a HUGE shout-out to Marty Big for taking such good care of us these last few days. Sir, it has been an honor to have you with us.

Tonight's show in Athens should be pretty fun. Tasty World looks to be a pretty cool venue that's run by cool folks. It'll be good to be back in Athens. Perhaps we'll see Mike Stipe walking around. I'm not holding my breath. Tomorrow we head to Cookeville, TN for an appearance on the local radio station (where were apparently #1 for a while), and then to the show in Nashville. And ya don't stop.

We're currently on the way to Baltimore for tonight's show at the Ottobar. The weather is downright hot and it feels like summer already. Today we did absolutely nothing except go to brunch with Marty's dad (Marty Big) and his wife Sharon. We came "home" and slept for 2 hours. Now we're trying to wake up and get the rock juices flowing.

We got into Marty, Sr.'s place in Silver Spring, MD (a suburb of DC) around 5:00pm. On the way there, somewhere outside Philly, we stopped at Crown Deli, the deli/hoagie shop of Marty and Kevin's friend, Patricia. She comped us all super-tasty hoagies and drinks, and we sat around shooting the breeze for awhile. Thanks, Patricia, that was very nice of you.

The show last night at the Metro in DC was cool. The set up was a bit odd: there was a play ("Night of the Chihuahua", very bizarre, according to Kevin) up until 9:30, then our set from 10:00 to 11:00, and then an indie-pop dance night. But the club is really nice, and staffed by friendly people (thanks, Nick), so it was an enjoyabale experience. Thanks to everyone who showed up. Kim Coletta and Bill Barbot of Desoto Records and Jawbox came out. Kim is currently about 6 months pregnant and having a bit of trouble moving around; she's a trooper to make it out. It was great getting to catch up with those guys as they are two truly great people. We swapped some rock stories (best/worst one: Bill recounting how his entire effects rig was stolen right off the stage in Florida). And Kim came bearing gifts, specifically the new Burning Airlines and Juno records. I'm such a dork (and because I can't drink due to the antibiotics that I'm on) that I sat in the van for two hours listening to them. There are few records that I've anticipated as much as the new Airlines record, and I'm pleased to report that the finished product more than justifies the wait. It's pretty awesome; I'm sure I'll be obsessed with it by the end of this tour. Props to Juno on their new disc, too. Arlie has written some genius lyrics this time around.

The highlight of the show was actually after we played, when Marty Big became unglued after the DJ played some faux-Springsteen song. Being a massive fan of The Boss, Marty Big made his displeasure clear, alarming some of the more thin-skinned patrons. Good for him. You go, Marty.

Came home from the show around 2:00am and stood around Marty Big's kitchen for a while, shooting the breeze. I had a major donut fixation going on. Marty Small and I split for 7-11 (the only option; the closest Krispy Kreme is halfway down Virginia). Scored some sweet fried pieces of dough. Drove up a one way street (my bad) in full view of a cop and didn't get pulled over. Luck was clearly shining upon us.

DC is a great town, and Marty Big and Sharon's hospitality has been top notch, as usual. Thanks to them for making our stay so relaxing. Marty Big will actually accompany us to Chapel Hill tomorrow. He's getting us all hotel rooms. What a champ!! We're pretty spoiled -- staying with Marty Big for two nights in DC, then the hotel tomorrow. We're getting soft. But I'm sure we'll be floorin' it pretty soon, so we might as well live it up.

Tonight marks the end of our Northeast gigs for this tour. Starting tomorrow we head to the south. Chapel Hill, Athens, Nashville, Atlanta, Dallas, Austin, et al. I'm looking forward to getting back down there. The south is probably the most fascinating region of the country. There are so many idiosyncracies that you don't see anywhere else. I'll do my best to chronicle some of them.

Finally leaving NYC, heading for Philly to get some cheesesteaks (or cheeseseitan in Marty's case), and then on to DC for the show tonight at the Metro. It feels like we've been here for a week. This city totally rocks. Can't wait to come back.

The show last night at Knitting Factory was really good. The turnout was great and I think we played well. People seemed really into it, which was very cool. The Knitting Factory treated us well -- another professional venue that knows how to treat bands. The Figgs rocked, as usual.

My voice held out pretty well, and much to my surprise I could still talk after our set, so I stuck around for a bit in the downstairs bar. Three of my friends from Australia -- Aaron, Kate and Jim (all now living in NYC) -- showed up and we split around midnight to go grab a bite at a super tasty Italian place near the club. Great to catch up with those guys. We all went to school together in Melbourne a long time ago and they were conjuring stories that I'd completely forgotten. A great time. I need to go back to Oz. That country and the people in it are amazing.

It feels good to be back on the raod. We're looking forward to crashing with Marty Sr. in Silver Spring, MD, a stone's throw from DC. We'll kick back there tonight after the show and then on Sunday before the Baltimore show.

We're back at Sophie's place, waiting around to play tonight's show at the Knitting Factory.

I realize that this diary has had a real lack of anything exciting the last couple days. To anyone who cares, sorry about that. Things should pick up a bit when we hit the road again tomorrow.

That being said, I woke up this morning feeling pretty lousy. I think I had a fever briefly, but I feel better now, just kind of out of it. I had a nice lunch somewhere on Bedford and then came back here, where I've pretty much spent all day working on the Slacks site and workin' the email tip (and most importantly, keeping my mouth shut). I think I'll be fine for the show tonight. I'm more worried about blowing my voice out again and jeopardizing tomorrow night's show in DC. Only time will tell. In any case, I'll probably split immediately after our set tonight and come home and drink yet more tea and go to bed (this exciting rock 'n' roll lifestyle is killing me). Duty now for the future; I don't wanna blow the rest of this tour, so I'd better take it easy. I'm bummed, though. I was really hoping to kind of tie one on tonight and get ugly with all of our NYC peeps. Alas, that is not to be. Next time.

For now I want to give a massive shout-out to Sophie, who's let us 5 losers completely take over her apartment for the last few days. You rock, girl. There is a special place in the Actionslacks pantheon for you.

Tomorrow we head to DC for our show at the Metro, and after that, to Chapel Hill, where Marty's dad is buying us hotel rooms. Marty Sr. is the bomb. Can't wait to meet up with him.

"Open wide/ the doctor's here." ~ "Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out", Replacements

Ah, when it rains it pours, and currently we're weathering a torrent of bad luck. I'm sitting in the emergency room of Somerville Hospital in scenic Somerville, Massachussetts, a stone's throw from Boston. I'm waiting to see a doctor about my throat, which currently is the source of great pain. I still can barely talk. And now my nose is stuffed up and I'm coughing up some lovely shades of phlegm (More than you wanted to know. Sorry.) I think I may have strep throat, which would be so cool, considering I'm the singer in a rock band that's on tour. This is the kind of situation that is just so totally bad that you have to laugh.

Kevin, Marty, Ross and myself woke up this morning in a Holiday Inn near Boston. Actually Doug woke up in the same Holiday Inn, but in a different room. Martha has flown out to see us and hang with some of her Beantown friends before heading to NYC with us, so she and Doug are shackin' up together. They're going to meet us at our Knitting Factory show tomorrow night. As for the show in Philly tonight, we're cancelling. I don't see the point of playing that show, given the way I feel right now. I think the smart move is to take the day off, not talk, take some meds and pray that I can sing tomorrow night, which is one of the most important shows of the tour. Sorry to anyone in Philly who was planning to check us out. We'll be back.

The show last night at Middle East in Boston was good, despite the fact that I could only hit about 75% of the notes that I usually do. The turnout was great, and we sold a bunch of stuff. All in all, an excellent evening. (And the Mekons were playing downstairs; Marty wants it known that he caught most of their set and that it was excellent.) I think I drank about a keg of tea before our show, and it helped. But there's really only so much you can do before you need to break out with the heavy artillery (read: prescription drugs). Anyway, Middle East really knows how to treat bands. Props to them; it's always a pleasure.

The drive up to Boston yesterday was really beautiful. Connecticut has got to be one of the most scenic states in the union; every time we drive through it I'm amazed at how pretty it is. The weather was nearly perfect, which only enhanced the scenery. I'd love to go back there and spend some time outside of a band context. Must remember to do that.

After the show I could feel my throat getting worse and worse. On the way to the hotel I announced that I'd like to cancel tonight's show and was luckily not met with any resistance. By the time I woke up this morning, my throat felt like a pinata after a 5 year-old's birthday party. I finally decided that it was time for medical care, so here we are.

The scene in this waiting room is priceless. It's all mothers and their kids. Sample coversation:

Woman #1: I'm 28. I'm too young to have kids.
Woman #2: Ha! I had 3 by the time I was 20.

They're watching a soap opera, discussing which of the 4 male protagonists could have fathered a particular child. The tone with which they're talking about this show is hilarious. It's like "All My Children" has taken on the importance of Rwandan famine relief. I'm praying that they call my name soon (I was told at least an hour and a half). And I'm praying that the doctor doesn't take one look and say, "You have a cold." 'Cause it's worse than that. I can feel it.

Once we get out of here, we're high-tailing it back to NYC and the relative comfort of our friend Sophie's place in Williamsburg. We'll hang out there tonight and tomorrow and then do the Knitting Factory show tomorrow night. Here's hoping I have voice by then.

Sitting in the middle of the New Jersey Turnpike, trying to fight our way out of NYC and up to Boston for tonight's show at the Middle East.

Bad luck continues to plague us. I'm now the victim of another cold, only this time my vocal cords are taking the brunt of it. I could hardly talk last night and this morning. Things are a bit better now (thanks to Kevin for turning me on to Throat Coat, a kick-ass tea), but last night my tonsils felt like baseballs and each swallow was an exercise in pain. This is so typical -- we're only on the 2nd show of 13 in a row. No rest for the weary this time.

We woke up this morning in the apartment of our friend Chris Sizemore and his wife Samantha. They live in Hoboken, NJ, just across the way from Manhattan.

We rolled into Hoboken around 12:30 this morning, after playing what will hopefully be the worst show of this tour: The Saint in Asbury Park.

I sincerely hope that no one reading this ever has the misfortune to visit Asbury Park. If you live there, I'm sorry. By all indications, it is a pit, the Do Long Bridge of New Jersey.

I wish I could say that our experience at the Saint was a good one, but that ain't the case. The booker refused to pay us our guarantee, and the other bands actually encouraged people in the crowd not to clap for us. That completely juvenile behavior most definitely stems from the fact that we didn't let the other two bands borrow our bass amp, because half of us are sick and we wanted to leave the club as early as possible to get to Chris's and rest up. We actually played a great set, and I was kind of giddy the whole time we were on stage, despite the overtly hostile environment, because I knew that we'll never be back there. Oh, and Mr. Club Booker: what is up with the Dixie Cup-sized beers you serve? FYI: you book a small club in suburban New Jersey, not Madison Square Garden. So drop the high and mighty crap. End rant.

(Thanks to Doug for singing the high part on "Folding Chair" last night; nice shootin', Tex.)

The second half of the day notwithstanding, yesterday was a good time. We woke up in the Wiliamsburg (hipster division of Brooklyn) apartment of our good friend Sophie, after getting to bed around 4:00.

Monday night's show at the Lakeside Lounge was really fun. The Lakeside is basically a small bar in Manhattan with an area for bands to set up. We were made to feel at home from the second we walked in, and the hospitality continued throughout the evening. We were the only band on the bill, and a good-sized crowd showed up. Shout outs to Chris Newmyer of Self-Starter, Greg from Arena Rock, Scott, Johnny and Alexis of Girls Against Boys, Mike Donofrio of Saturning/The New Year, Craig Finn of Lifter Puller, Brendan from Girlie Action, our publicist extraordinaire Carrie Klein, and all of our other NYC peeps. it was great to see you guys. This show was one of two NYC dates that we're doing. The second one is this Friday at the Knitting Factory. That'll be a damn-site more rocking. But it was fun to play a more mellow set at the Lakeside; I think people dug it. I was sick before we played this show, but the combination of singing, drinking, and then talking to a bunch of people afterward really messed with my vocal cords. I woke up yesterday morning with a croak for a voice. (And like an idiot, I kept talking throughout the day.) Ross, Doug, Kevin and myself went to lunch with Sophie, then the whole band took the subway over to Manhattan and the offices of Digital Club Network, where we did an interview and short acoustic set ("Shining Jewels," "Folding Chair" and "Bury Me in the Blue Sea"), which should be live on the DCN site pretty soon. After DCN, we headed back to Brooklyn, jumped in the van and drove to Asbury Park.

The show tonight in Boston should be good, assuming my voice holds up. Middle East is a live music institution on the East Coast, renowned for treating bands well and really caring about the music. This will be our third time there and we're looking forward to it. Tomorrow we head south again, for our show in Philly at Pontiac Grille.

The weather today is perfect, which is a nice change from last night's drizzle. I'm just chillin' the back of van, drinking my tea, sucking down Ricola's and not saying a goddamn word until showtime. The (rock) train kept a rollin' all (day) long.

Gig last night at Lakeside Lounge in Manhattan was a blast. Stage was very small. Lots of alcohol consumed. More later, after hangover subsides. Onto Asbury Park tonight.

"Substitute you for my mum/ at least I'll get my washin' done." ~ The Who

Ah, clean clothes. Thanks to Phyllis and Greg, Doug's mom and brother, for hosting us at their home here in State College. In addition to being treated like kings, we also did laundry, which is a glorious achievement for any touring musician.

We rolled into town yesterday, Easter Sunday (and one of our two days off on this tour). We got to the house around 5:00pm, after a 5 hour drive from Cleveland.

Saturday night was very...Rock. It was the kind of show that reminds you why you're in a band, and why you go on tour.

We played at the Grog Shop, a mainstay midwest rock club, located in the Cleveland Heights part of town. The 'hood is nice, with shops, restaurants and some really nice houses just up the block from the club. Though the club is relatively small (probably about 200 capacity, tops), it's hosted a number of legendary or semi-legendary rock bands, including Oasis, Travis and Supergrass (all of whom played to close to no one, according to the owner/booker, Kathy). We shared the stage with Cobra Verde, a Cleveland-based band led by John Petkovic, a journalist, radio commentator and general rock authority who's spent time in Guided By Voices and Death of Samantha, his pre-Verde band. John's a great guy, and his band rocks.

The turnout was good and CV sounded great (and the bubble machine as a nice touch). The reason I dig Cobra Verde is that they have an unironic love of rock music. There is no knowing wink or nudge in their music or performances; they're simply a great rock band in the tradition of previous great rock bands. It's refreshing to see a band that's unfettered by notions of what's cool and what's not in 2001. (Not that CV arent' cool; they are. They just define the word for themselves.)

We took the stage after them, around midnight. Our set was fast, loose and loud. It felt good to sweat and jump around and finally do what we came there to do. Touring can be incredibly tedious; you sit in a van for hours on end. Then you sit around a club for a few more hours. By the time you get on stage you have a choice: you can either get it over with and go to sleep, or you can seize the moment and justify the hours of boredom (and the insane logistics of actually putting out a record and booking a tour). I think we definitely seized the moment on Saturday night. At one point, I accidentally knocked over Doug's keyboard (sorry, buddy) while thrashing around on stage. But that's just the wages of rock. Anyway, people seemed to dig it -- we got an encore and sold some stuff. Thanks to everyone who came out, and to Kathy and the Grog for having us. For anyone who cares, there's a feature on us in this week's Cleveland Scene, Cleveland's largest weekly. You can check it out here.

We left the club at about 3:00am and began the ordeal that was finding our hotel. Kathy hooked us up with a reservation at a Super 8. But the directions were wrong. By the time we finally found it, it was 4:30am. We crashed, woke up around 11:00am and split. Went to Applebee's for breakfast. (Speaking of breakfast joints, we have yet to hit a Waffle House, which is outrageous. In our defense, I'll say that we've only seen a couple of them. I'm sure that before this tour is done we'll all be staring at plates of "scattered, smothered and covered" hash browns. Who knows, we may even find ourselves at the dreaded Huddle House, the sub-Waffle House chain that you find in the south. Scary. Reason enough to go to Waffle House is their jukebox, which contains actual songs written for and about Waffle House. Kevin told me that once he went to a Waffle House and, just to be annoying, programmed each of the 5 Waffle House songs into the jukebox. Half way through the second song the jukebox was abruptly unplugged. The waitress walked over to Kevin and, placing his 75 cents on the table, simply said, "Sorry, honey, I can't take it today.")

Anyway, we arrived at Doug's mom's place yesterday around 5:00pm. It was very nice to be in real home, and she took very good care of us. The evening's festivities consisted of doing laundry, eating lots of food, and watching TV. I felt like a shell of human (most of us have colds at this point), so the downtime was much appreciated. We watched one quality show after another: "Jackass" (genius), "Burly Bodies" (painful, in the best way), and one of the scariest pieces of television I've seen in a long time, VH1's "Bands on the Run." Have you seen this show? It's basically "Survivor" with unsigned rock bands. They pick four bands and follow them around various cities, pitting them against one another. The goal is to sell as much merchandise and make as much money as possible. What band would do this??? Yeah, it's exposure, but it's totally demeaning. And, though some of it will hit home with any musician, it generally gives people a completely distorted view of what it's like to be in a band. No thanks. I recommend you watch it for the unintentional comedic element.

Speaking of exposure, it looks like we'll have three songs from the new album used in an NBC show called...I forget what it's called. But it's on Sunday mornings beginning in early August. They're paying us a nice chunk of change to use these songs. We'll put it back into the band, which will hopefully create more opportunities like that.

Right now, we're on the way to New York City for our first show there, at the Lakeside Lounge tonight. It'll be great to be back in NYC. For one thing, our label, publicist and agent are all based there, so it'll be cool to catch up with them. But we also have a lot of friends and acquaintances that we're looking forward to hanging out with. It's kind of sad rolling into NYC the day after Joey Ramone died. That guy WAS New York. I only half-jokingly told the rest of the band that we should cover "Blitzkrieg Bop" tonight. Why not? We gotta give the man his props.

We're back out on the highway, headed for tonight's show with Cobra Verde at the Grog Shop in Cleveland. It should be good; Cobra Verde are a fantastic band. I highly encourage you to check out their stuff, especially their most recent record, "Nightlife," which came out last year. If you dig early Bowie, early Roxy Music and the Who, you will love this band.

Chicago was a blast. The show last night at Schuba's was great, and that club smokes. They treated us like royalty. When you're on tour it means a lot to encounter a great club with friendly staff -- people who are ready to help with whatever you need. That was the case last night.

There were two other bands on the bill last night: Giant Step (locals who rock) and Ours..., a band on Dreamworks that appears to have a pretty substantial appreciation for Jeff Buckley and Radiohead (there were falsetto vocals on at least half the songs; the music was dark and brooding). Apparently, the singer used to roadie for Buckley, and some of the band members were tied to him in some way. They were good. We were marvelling at the amount of stuff they managed to lug into Schuba's (which is your standard 250-capacity rock club). First, there was the massive white tour bus parked outside. Then there was the gear, the sheer volume of which was kind of incredible. It also looked brand new. It's always funny playing with bands who are on the receiving end of piles of major label cash. From my perspective, it's almost gaudy. For one thing, this club is pretty small, but these guys had 4 crew members setting up their stuff. As I told Kevin, our soundguy, I'd feel really strange having someone set my stuff up in venue that small. I guess I could get used to it, but it just seems a bit much.

Looking at Ours..., the major label machinery and M.O. becomes very clear: sign a band that -- let's face it -- sounds very similar to a particular million-selling band, throw a huge chunk of change at them, put them on the road, and see if it sticks. If it does, great. If it doesn't, you write it off. When a band willingly skips steps 1 through 9 (slug it out in vans and shitty clubs, gradually make fans, meet people, and generally build a loyal following outside of the MTV/commercial radio box), they set themselves up to fall as quickly as they rise. The thing about bands that succeeded outside of mainstream media channels (think R.E.M. or Sonic Youth or Nirvana in their pre-major days as the biggest examples, and then add any number of smaller acts, including Mudhoney, Guided By Voices, Fugazi -- the list goes on), is that they didn't need to sign major label contracts to reach a huge number of people. Their great success was a direct result of their talent (first and foremost), which in turn engendered huge word of mouth, press, radio and REAL buzz, not hype manufactured by a publicist sitting in an office 28 floors above Manhattan. This is a subject that can be debated for days, but my feeling is that slow and steady wins the race. Of course, a cynic would immediately accuse me of rationalizing our relative lack of fame and widespread success. But I honestly believe that winning people over one by one over time (and keeping them) is preferable to signing a monster deal, having a 15-minute audience with the ever-fickle MTV Nation and hoping that you succeed. I guess I've just seen so many try that route and fail miserably (and then break up because the anger, frustration and resentment were too much to bear). All of this is not to say that I don't hope Ours... succeeds. I wish them the best of luck. Only time will tell. End rant. (BTW, if anyone has any comments on this spiel or thoughts of their own on this subject, I'd love to read them. You can email me here.)

Onward... Our hosts in Chicago, Cherie and Hagen, effectively raised the bar in the hospitality stakes. They totally spoiled us with their central beer, German pancakes, cozy digs and general niceness. Thank you, guys. We appreciate it more than you know.

Driving around the neighborhoods of Chicago yesterday, I was struck by how much that city resembles Los Angeles. It's basically a giant grid, with a central downtown area surrouned by miles and miles of city blocks, complete with mini-malls on every corner. What can I say? I'm in love with San Francisco. But we ain't there, so it's time to just roll with it and enjoy this trip.

Sitting in the lovely house of our wonderful hosts Hagen and Cherie. Their house, which is situated on a quiet street complete with those brick houses that scream "Chicago", is especially lovely because of the "central beer" system that Hagen has installed. There are taps throughout the house pumping cold beer! Today it's a Czech pilsner. Mmmmmm.

What a night. We rolled into the outskirts of Chicago this morning at 6:00am, after the all night drive from Minneapolis. We crashed with Marty and Kevin's friend Ken at his house for about 3 hours and then woke up and drove here. Ken lives out in the outer 'burbs, in a house that will be bulldozed in two months to make room for a residential community. The two-story house overlooks a lake and genuine farm land. It's trashed (he inherited it after hs grandmother passed away), but pretty cool. I went open a door but realized the glass had been knocked out, so I just walked through it.

I decided to miss the Cubs game at Wrigley in favor of some much need down time. It's now totally silent except for the birds chirping in the trees and I am loving it. Silence and solitude are two commodities you never get enough of on tour. It's nice to just sit somewhere alone in silence, and be able to think straight. On the agenda for the afternoon are a nap, a walk and a shower (it's the little stuff that counts). I'll get in the van around 6:00 and meet everyone at Schuba's, the site of tonight's rock performance.

Our show last night at MPLS's 7th St. Entry was good. I think we played really well and the sound was excellent. The only problem was the turn-out, which was minimal. Kinda weird considering the show was promoted well and that we've been getting emails from people in the Twin Cities asking us when we'll be there. Oh, well, no big deal. Whenever that happens, I comfort myself with the knowledge that I've seen every single one of my favorite bands (bands on bigger labels, with bigger profiles) play to no one. It just happens sometimes. Props to Nate, the Entry's booker, for being so cool to us and trying to take the blame (forget it, buddy). I'm confident that tonight will be different, and I think I can safely say that tomorrow's show with Cobra Verde (one of my current faves) in Cleveland is going to completely rule. I'm still pissed about the Kansas City debacle (see the 4.12 entry), but there was nothing we could do.

The weather today is thankfully MUCH better than it was in Tornado Alley earlier this week. In fact, even MPLS was great, if a little chilly. It really is a perfect day in Chicago. I need to stop typing and go for a walk, check out the local flavor. We're staying in a predominantly Polish/Eastern European neighborhood. Apparently it's ranks have swelled by 10,000 in the last couple years, due to refugees immigrating from Bosnia, Serbia, Croatia, etc. Let's hope the change of scenery will allow these newbies to get along better than on their native soil.

Sometimes your luck runs out, and sometimes you're just completely screwed over by fate. Last night was one of those times.

That show we were supposed to play in Kansas City last night? Didn't happen. The gusty winds caused a power failure, which in turn stopped the flow of electricity to the club, which in turn ensured that our show didn't happen. Well, actually, the show did happen. That is, there were quite a few people there, the merch was set up, the gear was loaded and soundchecked, and all the requisite rock show accoutrements were in place. Except for that one little ingredient that makes all those loude amplifiers and lights and PAs function: electricity. In a word, it was heartbreaking.

The power actually went out briefly before we soundchecked, but came back on right away. We didn't even consider that it might happen again. But upon returning from dinner we learned that the power for the entire block was down. The power gods truly have a sick sense of humor: the lights across the street, and on the next block down from the club were on, almost as if taunting us ("Too bad you drove 2000 miles to play this show. No dice.") There was really nothing to do but have some drinks by candlelight and catch up with the cool KC folks that we haven't seen in ages. But still, this was just one of those times when you feel truly vexed by things that are just completely out of your control. I wanted to break something; we were really looking forward to this show, and it looked like it'd be a great night. I dunno. Is this cosmic retribution for some transgression that we've perpetrated? If so, WE'RE SORRY, NOW CAN YOU PLEASE STOP FUCKING WITH US? To anyone who came out to the show, please accept our apologies. There just wasn't a whole helluva lot we could do. But we'll be back sooner than later.

Power failure debacle aside, the night was actually a blast. After hanging at the club with our KC peeps (shout outs to Billy and Kathi of the Hurricane, and David George and everyone else), we headed to the supermarket to score some booze and snacks. Kathi from the Hurricane was nice enough to let us have her house for the evening (she crashed with her boyfriend), and what a nice place it is! We rolled in around 2:00 and made ourselves comfortable. Shortly after our arrival we encountered Kathi's housemate, Jason, who lives in the basement, which is not your typical subterranean spider-infested hovel, but rather a full-blown entertainment center stocked to the rafters with DVDs, video games and miniature, remote-controlled tanks that shoot BBs (yes!!). Turns out Jason is not only hilarious, but also an authority on film and video game minutea. We spent the next three hours drinking, quoting Neil Hamburger tapes ("Dude, I'm in your band!!") and generally laughing our asses off. A good time was had by all, and it really helped alleviate the frustration of our bad luck. Thanks, Jason and Kathi, you guys are lifesavers.

Oh, and there was a great feature on us in the KC New Times affiliate, Pitch Weekly. Check it out if yer really bored.

Onward... Tonight we play (hopefully, assuming a massive earthquake doesn't level the city) at one of the midwest's legendary rock venues, 7th St. Entry in Minneapolis. We're en route now. Arrival time should be around 6:00pm. Should be a great show -- MPLS has always been good to us. Immediately after the show we're piling in the van for the all-night drive to Chicago 'cause we need to be at Wrigley Field for the first pitch at 1:00pm (I may have to skip it in favor of sleep; we'll see). Show tomorrow night is at Schuba's.

We just stocked up on more road tunes: Television, Stooges, Thin Lizzy and everyone's favorite: The Best of Red Foxx. There's nothing like a little completely tasteless humor to start off your day. Turn it up.

I'm sitting in the van outside the venue for tonight's show: The Hurricane, in Kansas City, MO. It's nice to be here. I really like KC. It's kind of like an oasis in the middle of nowhere. And the Hurricane's a nice place in a nice 'hood, with shops and restaurants and places to check out.

We rolled up about an hour ago, after spending most of the day at Kauffman Stadium a few miles away watching the Royals get hammered by the Yankees. But first, some history...

We rolled into Lincoln, NE around 3:00am yesterday morning. We then slept for 6 hours at a Super 8 (They're preferable to other chains, due to their free "breakfast" -- cold muffins and bad coffee -- from 6:00 to 9:00am. Of course, we missed it.) We woke up around 10:00, got cleaned up, checked email (its so un-rock, but who cares) and headed for Columbia, MO, the site of the tour's first show. The weather was kinda crappy during the 4 hour drive, but nothing compared to what was in store.

We rolled into Columbia, a nice town about 130 miles east of Kansas City, at around 5:00pm. The venue, the Blue Note, is pretty huge, with a massive stage and room for what looks like about 800 people. We had a brief look around and Kevin unloaded the stuff. This whole time the weather was getting progressively more shitty, with dark clouds roaming on the horizon and the wind starting to pick up. It was also about 80 degrees and very humid. In other words: the perfect recipe for that most terrifying of midwest occurrences, The Tornado. Suddenly the sky turned black and a torrential rain started. Then the wind picked up something fierce. Then the siren sounded. Yeah, a siren. Like the bomb sirens that municipalities in California always test but never use. Well, in Missouri (and Kansas and Nebraska and Oklahoma) they use 'em all the time -- for tornado warnings. By this time the rain was pissing in sheets, the wind was howling, and the loudest thunder I have ever heard was cracking in the sky. It was like something out of "The Perfect Storm" -- totally nuts, especially for this little sheltered Cali boy who used to it being 75 and sunny all the time. It was basically "The Wizard of Oz" just before Dorothy gets swept away. The drummer for one of the other bands went home to hide in his basement, no joke.

One of the people at the club said we might have to go down into the basement. Luckily that didn't happen and we continued with soundcheck. Props to the other two bands, Good Eggs and Elite Monk Society, for loading gear in the downpour. Those poor guys, they basically got drenched (and some of them drove for 3 hours to play the show -- you guys rock).

Miraculously, the crappy weather cleared up just as quickly as it arrived. We grabbed dinner and I took a walk around the town. Note to anyone in dire need of making a phone call in Columbia, MO: there are NO PAYPHONES. I circumandulated the entire freaking city practically, and I found ONE payphone, but only after an hour. Why? Are they afraid of being overrun by drug-dealers? Grrr...

The show was good. There were some sound problems, but nothing that can't be worked out (that's why you start your tour in a place like Columbia, Missouri, instead of New York City). Attendance wasn't great, but you can't expect much else on a Tuesday night, after a torrential downpour/storm warning (and when Marc Olson from the Jayhawks is playing across town...).

After the set we loaded the van (again, just missing a complete and utter downpour that created a river in the street in about 3 minutes) and headed to Marty's friend Gwen's place to crash (thanks, Gwen!). Stayed up for a while talking, playing with her cats, and playing her mandolin, and then hit the sack.

Woke up this morning and drove to KC for the ball game. The first pitch was at 1:05 and we made it just in time. For those who don't know, Ross and Marty are baseball-mad. Especially Ross, who I'd bet knows more scary baseball stats than a room full of sportscasters. The guy is the Master. Anyway, we took our seats (about half-way up, just behind home plate -- pretty cool), scored some snacks and kicked back. We talked about how much money these guys are making. Much to my horror (I'm not sports guy), I was told that Derek Jeter, the shortstop for the Yankees that I watched today, is paid $20 million a year to play baseball. What is up with our society that these guys get paid this amount of money and teachers can't pay their bills? Something's totally wrong with his picture. I mean, Jeter is good and all, but $20 million? That's insane. [stepping down from high horse now]. I should point out that the weather on the drive to KC this morning absolutely sucked (more rain, more wind), but in another miraculous turn, by the time the game started, it was nearly perfect, with not a cloud in the sky (but super windy). It was nice getting to kick back for a bit and forget about Rock Music. I think you need that on tour -- little breaks that remind you that there's more to life than driving, loading gear, soundchecking, etc.

Oh, today's my birthday. Happy Birthday to me. I'm 23. [right! - ed.]

The show tonight should be good. We're gonna soundcheck shortly and then head to dinner (the club is doing a dinner "buy out" -- they give us money, we spend it on whatever food we want). Tomorrow we need to get up kind of early for the drive to Minneapolis (about 8 hours). After MPLS comes Chicago on Friday (and another baseball game, this one at the famous Wrigley Field).

I dunno, if tonight is my birthday, and we're on tour, I'm thinking we really should book a suite at the Marriott and trash it. At the very least, I'm afraid that copious amounts of alcohol may be the works for this evening. My scheming girlfriend has already tried to arrange for champagne at the club. Here's hoping the Booze Gods smile upon me tonight... ~ Tim

It's a lovely, clear, cold and crisp day in Utah. There's scattered snow on the ground, but not on the road -- just the way we like it. The scenery right now is very "Roadrunner" -- lots of red rocks and small shrubs, with not a whole helluva lot in any direction.

Just had breakfast at Denny's and now we're back in the van for part deux of our three day hellride to Missouri. (RE: Denny's, the drink scam that is detailed in our last nat'l tour diary didn't work; I'm very sad.) We made it to a friend's house in Salt Lake City last night. Rolled in about 12:30am, completely fried and dreaming of being horizontal and asleep. Pat and Greg were our hosts (thanks, guys). It turns out Pat is a falconer. That is, he keeps a pet hawk that he takes outside (there's a wooded area just beyond his house) to let fly around and hunt quail and rabbits and whatever else hawks like to hunt. He brought the bird out last night for us to check out and it was pretty nuts. The thing was kind of freaked out and squawking a lot. Pat was wearing one of those leather forearm guards and holding the bird's little leash firmly in his grasp, but I think we all had visions of that thing breaking loose and gouging our eyes. Still, it was very cool to see. Thanks to those guys for letting us crash -- their spacious house was waaay better than a Motel 6.

The drive to SLC last night was pretty amazing. The moon was full and looked like a dinner plate in the clear black sky (sorry if that sounds pretentious -- I call it like I see it). We drove through salt flats for about 300 miles -- with the moonlight reflecting off them it looked very cool. There was no one on the road, which made it ever cooler.

' We've seen quite a few mullets on this trip so far. It seems that the farther you venture away from the ocean, the greater the frequency of America's most heinous haircut. We call those who sport mullets the "mullitia".

Later that day...

It's now 10:23pm and we're just outside Sidney, Nebraska. We just ate dinner at Perkin's, which is essentially Denny's under a different name (we can hardly wait to hit our first Waffle House...not). It was decent, but the food at those places always tastes the same. The scariest thing was their seafood specials. Like anyone is going to order seafood in Nebraska. Then again, it's all breaded to the hilt and deep fried for about half an hour. If you put one of those entrees in a wine press, you'd end up with about three inches of grease. Mmmmm....

Before dinner we explored the wonder that is Cabela's outdoor emporium. This place -- the original loacation of three or four -- is totally insane. In addition to having everything even vaguely related to the outdoors (think Home Depot, only filled with sporting gear, kayaks, sleeping bags, camping gear, etc.), they also have a huge collection of taxedermy (sp?), i.e. stuffed animals. They had a moose, a polar bear, a California grizzly, deer, foxes, pheasants, badgers -- literally hundreds of stuffed animals mounted on elaborate fake landscapes, like something you'd see at a natural history museum. Pretty bizarre. Of course, we had to take a few pictures. I'm sure the staff thought we were complete idiots galavanting around in coonskin caps, but whatever.

Today basically consisted of driving, driving and more driving. Around this part of the country especially the landscape is just a giant blur, speeding by at 85mph. You find yourself nodding off for 15 minute periods of time, because there's really NOTHING to do but sleep, read, stare out the window, talk about British metal minutea and, well, that's about it.

Props for Marty for bringing along Springsteen's "Nebraska" album. We started playing it right after we crossed the state line. It was raining and the landscope was barren in every direction, and I must say that listening to the title track with those visuals (and actually BEING in Nebraska) was a great moment. That record is so phenomenal, I've kind of forgotten how great it is.

I just got a peak at tonight's moon and it's even better than last night's. It's huge and orange and it's sitting at what appears to be a couple inches off the horizon. We're driving straight into it.

Our plan is to barrel through to Lincoln tonight -- about another 4 hours. We'll get a hotel and then wake up with only a short drive (350 miles) to Columbia, MO and the first gig of this tour. Too bad we're not playing in Lincoln this time. We had a great show there at Duffy's last time. ~ Tim

Wow. The tour has begun. I can't really believe it. So many months and days and hours have gone into doing this thing that it's hard to believe that it's actually happening. We're currently in the middle of Nevada, barrelling along at about 90mph (the road is straight, with nothing on either side for miles). The crew on this trip is the four Slacks and our trusty soundman/road manager/jack-of-all-trades, Kevin Nessle. Our mission: rock the nation. By the time the dust clears we will have travelled nearly 10,000 miles, playing 23 dates in 25 days. It's a pretty great feeling to finally be out on the road after all the planning. I think this is gonna be a great tour.

Right now, the task at hand is making it to Columbia, MO in time for our first show on Tuesday night. It's about 1900 miles -- more than half the length of the country -- but if we average a little over 600 miles a day, it shouldn't be a problem. Tonight we'll probably crash at some motel or other. It's always a challenge sneaking 5 guys into a hotel room without the management getting suspicious, but that's half the fun (on the first day of the tour; talk to us a couple weeks into it...).

The farewell show at the Paradise Lounge in SF last night was pretty ragged, but really fun. Technical problems abounded, but we had a good time and people seemed to be into it. Thanks to everyone who came out; we appreciate it. And props to Ashley Stove and Blue Sky Roadster, who both played excellent sets.

We're traveling around in a 2001 Chevy passenger van with only 1500 miles on it, which rules. We can't wait to see the look on the face of the people at the rental agency when we bring it back with 10,000 miles added to the odometer. As it stands now, they've given us 8,000 miles, with the stipulation that we can't take it out of California's bordering states. Uh...ooops. Hopefully there won't be a catastrophe somewhere. That would be kind of an awkward phone call. Us: "Hi, there's a problem with van." Them: "No problem. Where are you?" Us: "Um...West Virginia." Keep your fingers crossed.

We've brought a lot of reading material -- probably almost enough to last us the whole month. I'm currently devouring the new issue of Mojo, the Smith's issue (ever since our near-encounter with Morrissey in LA, I've become kind of obsessed with them all over again). I went to 5 book stores to find it. Kevin is reading a hilarious, twisted book called "Letters to Wendy's" that's a collection of essays for and about the Wendy's fast food chain. Ross is reading "The Big Wheel" by Bruce Thomas (commonly known as the bass player for Elvis Costello's Attractions). Marty is reading one of the finest autobiographies ever (really), David Lee Roth's "Crazy From the Heat." I highly encourage you to read this book. It pretty much confirms what I always suspected about Diamond Dave: that the entire time he was in Van Halen he was operating about 5 steps ahead of everyone else in the band, with a major wink and nudge toward everything they ever did. The guy is remarkably intelligent. Most remarkable is that the book is almost devoid of stories of groupie encounters, which is actually kind of cool. In fact, he sums up the entirety of his multitude of groupie experiences by saying something like, "I don't really want to elaborate, but let's just say the craziest it ever got was 7 at once." Wow. Personally, I've brought a lot of classic rock on this tour. After doing several tours on which I brought records by lesser known bands, I finally realized that what you really want to hear on tour is the classics. It's good for morale, and ZZ Top and vintage Van Halen, for instance, are gonna pick you up way faster and better than, say, The Blackheart Procession. It ain't all classic rock, though. Other tour perennnials for us include Guided By Voices (one of the best driving bands ever), Swervedriver ("Mezcal Head" is THE perfect soundtrack for the drive between Austin and Albuquerque), American Music Club (makes me really homesick, but that's why you gotta bring it) and a bunch of other stuff.

We stopped a couple hours ago and a big truckstop somewhere in Nevada. In our haze we walked through the door expecting to see a typical gas station scene, but instead we were greated by a huge expanse of slot machines, black jack tables, waitresses carrying drinks around, and someone over the PA exclaiming about another "thousand dollar winner." Weird. Ross gambled one whole nickel and broke even. Kevin lost a buck fifty (ouch; he'll be eating sraps tonight). I didn't try my hand; I generally suck at gambling and anything to do with numbers or mental calculations.

I think that's it for now. Tomorrow we exit Nevada and enter Utah (scary Mormons!) and Wyoming. The weather right now is great. Here's hoping it stays that way. ~ Tim