Thursday April 2, 2009

Woke to my alarm at 9:30 AM. I was supposed to open at work today but have been fighting a wretched fuckin' sinus infection and I have felt like shit all week, so I switched with someone for the afternoon shift to allow myself for a few extra hours of sleep.

I get up, take a leak, down some meds, then hit the shower. I put the water on flesh-burning hot as so the steam can help get rid of my congestion. It works for a short while, until the shower is over and the steam dies out. Then I'm back to square one. I throw on some clothes, make myself some hot tea to go, and head on out.

I get to work and clock in. Luckily, I'm working with Jill, who ultimately sympathizes with my being ill, so she doesn't expect too much out of me today. She actually insists, bless her heart, that I sit down and relax for the day and she take care of the work. Of course, me being the nice guy that I am, I cannot except the responsibility of making her do all the work for the day, so I definitely help where I can, but I make sure to take it easy as much as I can.

5:00 PM hits and I'm out the door. The band has a show at the Elbo Room in the city tonight and we need to be there by 7:30. I gun it home, change my clothes, and head over to Dave's to load the drums into my car and to pick up Tim. We get on the road to the city just about 6:30 or so, hitting some decent, but not awful traffic.

Once at the bar, we unload everything and Dave, Ryan, and Tim head off to Guitar Center for some guitar strings. I opt to stay behind just in case the sound guys or the guys running the show need anything from the band. Of course, they don't, so I get myself a beer and start to set up my kit. We're the second band playing, so I figure setting the shit up ahead of time would be ultimately beneficial on my part. I get everything set up and proceed to chill out at one of the tables while I sip my beer and listen to the first band's sound check.

The rest of the band gets back about a half hour later and it's then that Dave decides to spring on us that our set is going to be recorded and broadcast live over a live concert-streaming internet website called Sync-Live. This sparks a little nervousness in me mainly due to the fact that I still feel like hell from my illness, so I don't feel like I can perform to my fullest capabilities. It also doesn't help that tonight is the first show that I am singing back-up vocals for. I'm not shy when it comes to singing, as I used to sing a lot of lead vocals for my first band, but I'm kind of sweating tonight's vocal performance because, again, I still feel congested and my throat isn't exactly a hundred-percent. So immediately order myself up another beer and try to relax.

It wasn't long after I started to sip my second pint of beer that a gorgeous looking woman comes up to me and asks if I'm in the band. I struggle to find words for a second, mainly because everyone who asks about the band generally goes right to Dave, as he is the singer/songwriter... and the band is under his fucking name. But this heart-breaker apparently decided to skip Dave and go right for the drummer rocking a 2 and a half week beard of coke-addict like proportions. I get my shit together and introduce myself. She tells me her name is Julie and she's with Chicago 3 Media. This obviously means fucking nothing to me, as I have never heard of Chicago 3 Media. I thought maybe it was a pick-up line, but I wasn't really understanding the witty pun that could have been associated with one such pick-up line. It was then I realized that there was no pun and she was, in fact, with some website called Chicago 3 Media. Then I notice the microphone in her hand. Then I notice the big ass fucking camera being held by a camera guy behind her, and I wonder to myself how I was so fucking retarded not to initially notice the massive piece of electronic equipment with a giant fucking light damn near blinding me. I'm trying to put the pieces all together, but I'm failing miserably. Part of me is secretly hoping I'm being casted for a porno with this insanely beautiful woman shaking my hand, but I'm just not that lucky. One can dream though.

I turn to Dave and ask him if he knows what the fuck she's talking about, as to which he responds very nonchalantly that she's here for an interview with the band, like he's known about this shit for weeks. Well, it turns out the fucker has indeed known about this for quite some time, and failed to mention it to us, kind of like the live broadcast ordeal. As Julie is explaining how she wants to film this interview, I start slamming my beer. By the time she's done talking, I'm ready for another poison. At this point, the first band also starts their set. I order up another beer and watch the first band, trying to keep my mind off of the live recording and the interview to follow. It really doesn't work, so I'm still kind of sweating bullets.

The first band wraps up and it's time for us to set up the stage for our 45-minute set. My drums were already put together, so it only takes me about 5 minutes to set my shit up in the proper place. I order myself another beer to have during the set and me and Dave use the remaining set-up time to go over some vocals. My nervousness finally gets the better of me and I actually tell him that I'm not sure if I'm up for singing due to my illness. He understands, but also insists that I'll sound fine. I don't know why I'm so fucking nervous, I sing all the time and have actually had many compliments on my voice. But for some reason, tonight was just tearing me apart inside. I take a huge swig of my beer and prepare for the first song.

And just as fast as the set started, it ended. Not only did I do better than I expected, but I fucking killed!! We even ended up gaining some outside fans that night that had no clue who we were at the start of the show. And out of everything, me and Dave got the most compliments on our vocals. This, in turn, loosens me up tremendously for the interview about to take place in about 5 minutes. I order myself one more beer and we head upstairs to the 2nd half of the bar and assume positions on the couch (don't get fucking perverted).

The interview goes well, with most of the questions being asked for Dave to answer, mainly about his past battle with Hepatitis C and how his body rid itself of it, but destroying his liver in the process, which ultimately led to his inspiration to become a songwriter/musician. The rest of us get asked the obvious questions: how we came to be in the band, musical influences, etc. All of which may or may not make the final cut post-editing room session, but we'll see. We bid farewell to the lovely Julie and head back downstairs to watch the rest of the bands. I'm greeted with another pint, compliments of Mikey. At this point, I'm pretty fucking sauced, but I take it any way as sort of a reward to myself for such a killer fucking performance.

While we're watching the band, I'm greeted by Greg, our pseudo-manager, if you will, who owns the studio that we will begin recording our full-length album in this weekend, and also the one in charge of making the album happen. He introduces himself and we shoot the shit for awhile about what he wants the album to sound like and a few ideas he has for me for the way the drums should sound. The guy has some killer ideas and it was really a nice fuckin' guy. Just the fact that he came out to see us play was incentive enough for me to trust his work. He tells me he will try to stop by the studio on Saturday to check on the recording process and we both part ways for the rest of the evening.

After the show ends and we load everything back up, we all cruise back to Dave and Ryan's apartment to have a post-show critique and discussion. We throw around some ideas for the album and talk about some other songs that we want backing vocals on, now that we got so much praise for the way our voices blended. We stay there long enough for me to sober up some before hitting the highway to cruise home. We make it back in one piece and I drop Tim and Mikey off at Dave's parents' house and make my way back home. I get home to find Tool still awake, making himself a late-night bowl of cereal. We shoot the shit for awhile and I tell him all about the show and the interview. He calls it a night and I cruise into my room, do the nightly routine, and then pass out trying to watch Charlie Kaufman's latest opus, Synecdoche, New York. I only get through the opening credits and I'm out.