November 11, 2006 "Burnin' Whiskey"

11/15/2006 Headliner's - Toledo, OH
Other bands: Smile Empty Soul, Action Reaction

There was an early set on our stage in Toledo. Some runner-up from American Idol or some such. The singer was a short dark-skinned girl decked out in designer club gear. Her backup band all had the impeccable gear of musicians-for-hire. They played a forgettable blend of funk and pop rock, but doing so flawlessly in the way that only professional hired gun musicians do. And there was no one there.

Pricey gear, a bus and all the hair and makeup in the world and it gets you less than four people watching from the back while passively sipping watery beers. This was the sour reality of paid advertising, inflated SoundScam numbers and arithmetically impossible merchandise receipts playing out in front of our eyes. Smoke and mirrors.

This thing didn't adhere the rules of any other game in life, and it was clearer to me by the day that all the hard work and vintage gear and smart clothes didn't mean shit unless your cosmic axes were in line and your circadian rhythms were shored up with your diurnal cycles and then multiplied by the square root of today's powerball numbers and your chakra was full up of feng shui. And you could chase it and chase it your whole life and the best you may ever get is free drinks and a view of the country from the bench seat of a van.

This was not a future. This was a sure path to nihilism and a bathtub full of blood.

It was cold. In these Rust Belt towns, where winter was bleak and the light was dim and rancid, blood ran slow in the veins and muscles worked at half speed, tight and unbending. Ohio went to war with Michigan in the early 1800s for this territory and won.

At the back of Headliners was a bar where we would all cash in our drink tickets first thing, then go hit the pool tables, a game we were all terrible at. There was an even bigger room next door, presumably where big radio acts would play. It served as a gear-staging area on shows like tonight.

I really couldn't complain these days about the integrity of our set. James' timing was spot on. Aaron never broke anymore strings or pedals. We flew in, played the set like machines, and flew off. Made our way back to the bar and to our cell phones to keep ourselves sane from the dull crush of ennui. The twenty-three hours and fifteen minutes a day we weren't doing anything.