son of a ...
EDIT: I'd like to thank Jason for this newsbreaking story, by the way. Thanks kingcoalmusic!
Beginning of the end. Still, an uplifting and well-written email from Brent Best. This is a sadness because I know that King Coal enjoyed playing with Slobberbone probably more than any other band. Those shows always kicked a lot of ass, and they’ll be sadly missed.
For Slobberbone fans,
Sent: Wednesday, December 01, 2004 5:59 AM
Subject: December, NYE, Life, the Universe and reason to drink
Hey all fans and friends faithful,
I have two announcements, the first minor, the second fairly major:
First off, I will commence with a short solo run beginning this Saturday, the 4th, in New York City at the Knitting Factory. This show was booked as recently as last week, so I'm not sure how much advertising or notice might be involved so I wanted to make sure any listers who might be in that area know ahead of time. The tour will continue with TT the Bear's in Boston on
the 5th, The Narrows Center in Fall River, MA. on the 6th, the Iota in D.C. on the 7th, a possible Richmond date on the 8th, and will finish up at The Fire in Philly on the 9th. The Boston, Fall River, and Philly shows will all be with our good friend and songwriter extraordinaire, Walter Salas-Humara of the fabulous and sexy Silos. Look forward to seeing any and all who can make it out and kick off the holiday season with me.
Secondly, speaking of the holiday season, as it winds down on the
threshold of the new year, we will once again spend those final waning moments at our traditional New Year's haunt of the past several years, the Barley House in Dallas. And in the spirit of the New Year and, thusly, of new beginnings, I wish to tell you of two very significant aspects to this year-end's festivities: 1.) it will be the last New Year's show at the Barley House as we know it, as it will begin shortly after the beginning of the year to stretch its atrophied tendons, muster the strength of its years, and pull itself up from its foundation to begin its tortoise-like journey to its new location a few blocks to the north. Please help us to stink up the old room New Years - style one more time. 2.) this will be Slobberbone's last Barley House and, indeed, our last Dallas show ever. We too have decided it's time to stretch some tendons and raze the walls we have built
and maintained for so long.
Please know that even beginning to prepare ourselves for what seemed such an insurmountable task has not been easy, nor is it something we do flippantly or without great consideration. An email cannot even begin to be an adequate enough forum to try and express the scope and meaning that this band and all of you who have played even the smallest part in its history means to the four of us. Already, as I begin to sift through the enormous
bag of mental and emotional souvenirs that I've accumulated over these past ten years, I realize what a task it will be to categorize and carbon-date, to make sure no piece is lost or mislabeled, that it might for any reason not be mounted and displayed in the full light of its own significance, both
as its own artifact and as a piece of the larger exhibit as a whole. So many friends, so many moments both onstage and off, the sum of which, though gargantuan to calculate, points only to enormous satisfaction and pride.
If you had asked Tony and I what we expected to come from our endeavoring as we began to eek out the first shaky basic tracks to the first Crow Pot Pie in Sam McCall's dirty little house on Hickory Street back in 1994, we would've been bold to have guessed maybe some Tuesday night gigs in Dallas. If you could've somehow shown up with the bag of souvenirs I'm speaking of, we would have surely thought you had the wrong address. We knew we wanted to record and tour, in whatever meager fashion we could muster. We wanted not only to know what it meant, but to hopefully fashion however short of such a journey in a way that spoke to the ways in which our heroes and friends had done before us. I realize now that in just about anything I've ever pursued heartily, my conviction for it stems not from some notion of
hard tangible gains or of physical results, but rather from the influence of some vague and often indefinable aesthetic fog hovering at the base of my skull and in my chest, a concoction born of all those inspiring and meaningful moments taken from witnessing those that came before me in similar endeavors. It's a need to explore, survey, and ultimately validate that mysterious fog, to know that what you believe may lay there for you either does or doesn't. Sounds flighty, yes, and it's probably not the kind of way to approach a career in say, banking or medicine, but I'll be damned if it hasn't finally worked for me. I've found those once-fog-like items, and have learned that they were indeed very real and that, in fact, some of them did have our names on them. We've named the unnamable, were able to
bring some of it back with us and share it, and savor not only the enormous satisfaction of having navigated our own course to do so, but also the winks and nods of those who've done it before and recognize it, the support, love and endearing vocalizations of those who watched, listened and helped us do it, and the ability and desire to encourage and support those who will look
for it after us. The only thing is, I never in my wildest could've imagined there would be so much of it, and I'm sure everyone in the band will say the same. Any band, anyone who strives for the same should be so lucky as we have.
There's only one thing, in my mind and heart, that could possibly mar this wonderful four-headed creature that we are about to lay to rest in formaldehyde slumber, and that would be if all of you, our dearest of friends, couldn't take part in helping us to put the lid on the jar. It's a really big jar and will take several people just to lift the giant Sharpie to label it. For this, there will be a small handful of occasions. The first of which is, of course, the NYE show at the Barley, by far our most
hospitable and mothering home in Dallas. After that, the plan is for maybe three or four shows at some of our other most friendliest of ports in the Midwest, probably sometime towards or around the end of February, and then of course, a resolute, heartfelt, and final goodbye in the only locale appropriate for such a thing, the loins from which we spawned, Denton, TX.
More details on those shows as they become fleshed out. For now, know that the NYE will be the beginning of the end. So in the words of some dearest of brethren, Little Grizzly, "Drink with us now until it ends. It's got to end."
Verily,
Brent David Best,
Attorney-at-Law
Boo.
Glad I took some photos of them last time they were in Houston. Don't know if they'll be coming back through on their "wrap up" tour of TX. It's possible I guess. Perhaps Jason should beg them?
Beginning of the end. Still, an uplifting and well-written email from Brent Best. This is a sadness because I know that King Coal enjoyed playing with Slobberbone probably more than any other band. Those shows always kicked a lot of ass, and they’ll be sadly missed.
For Slobberbone fans,
Sent: Wednesday, December 01, 2004 5:59 AM
Subject: December, NYE, Life, the Universe and reason to drink
Hey all fans and friends faithful,
I have two announcements, the first minor, the second fairly major:
First off, I will commence with a short solo run beginning this Saturday, the 4th, in New York City at the Knitting Factory. This show was booked as recently as last week, so I'm not sure how much advertising or notice might be involved so I wanted to make sure any listers who might be in that area know ahead of time. The tour will continue with TT the Bear's in Boston on
the 5th, The Narrows Center in Fall River, MA. on the 6th, the Iota in D.C. on the 7th, a possible Richmond date on the 8th, and will finish up at The Fire in Philly on the 9th. The Boston, Fall River, and Philly shows will all be with our good friend and songwriter extraordinaire, Walter Salas-Humara of the fabulous and sexy Silos. Look forward to seeing any and all who can make it out and kick off the holiday season with me.
Secondly, speaking of the holiday season, as it winds down on the
threshold of the new year, we will once again spend those final waning moments at our traditional New Year's haunt of the past several years, the Barley House in Dallas. And in the spirit of the New Year and, thusly, of new beginnings, I wish to tell you of two very significant aspects to this year-end's festivities: 1.) it will be the last New Year's show at the Barley House as we know it, as it will begin shortly after the beginning of the year to stretch its atrophied tendons, muster the strength of its years, and pull itself up from its foundation to begin its tortoise-like journey to its new location a few blocks to the north. Please help us to stink up the old room New Years - style one more time. 2.) this will be Slobberbone's last Barley House and, indeed, our last Dallas show ever. We too have decided it's time to stretch some tendons and raze the walls we have built
and maintained for so long.
Please know that even beginning to prepare ourselves for what seemed such an insurmountable task has not been easy, nor is it something we do flippantly or without great consideration. An email cannot even begin to be an adequate enough forum to try and express the scope and meaning that this band and all of you who have played even the smallest part in its history means to the four of us. Already, as I begin to sift through the enormous
bag of mental and emotional souvenirs that I've accumulated over these past ten years, I realize what a task it will be to categorize and carbon-date, to make sure no piece is lost or mislabeled, that it might for any reason not be mounted and displayed in the full light of its own significance, both
as its own artifact and as a piece of the larger exhibit as a whole. So many friends, so many moments both onstage and off, the sum of which, though gargantuan to calculate, points only to enormous satisfaction and pride.
If you had asked Tony and I what we expected to come from our endeavoring as we began to eek out the first shaky basic tracks to the first Crow Pot Pie in Sam McCall's dirty little house on Hickory Street back in 1994, we would've been bold to have guessed maybe some Tuesday night gigs in Dallas. If you could've somehow shown up with the bag of souvenirs I'm speaking of, we would have surely thought you had the wrong address. We knew we wanted to record and tour, in whatever meager fashion we could muster. We wanted not only to know what it meant, but to hopefully fashion however short of such a journey in a way that spoke to the ways in which our heroes and friends had done before us. I realize now that in just about anything I've ever pursued heartily, my conviction for it stems not from some notion of
hard tangible gains or of physical results, but rather from the influence of some vague and often indefinable aesthetic fog hovering at the base of my skull and in my chest, a concoction born of all those inspiring and meaningful moments taken from witnessing those that came before me in similar endeavors. It's a need to explore, survey, and ultimately validate that mysterious fog, to know that what you believe may lay there for you either does or doesn't. Sounds flighty, yes, and it's probably not the kind of way to approach a career in say, banking or medicine, but I'll be damned if it hasn't finally worked for me. I've found those once-fog-like items, and have learned that they were indeed very real and that, in fact, some of them did have our names on them. We've named the unnamable, were able to
bring some of it back with us and share it, and savor not only the enormous satisfaction of having navigated our own course to do so, but also the winks and nods of those who've done it before and recognize it, the support, love and endearing vocalizations of those who watched, listened and helped us do it, and the ability and desire to encourage and support those who will look
for it after us. The only thing is, I never in my wildest could've imagined there would be so much of it, and I'm sure everyone in the band will say the same. Any band, anyone who strives for the same should be so lucky as we have.
There's only one thing, in my mind and heart, that could possibly mar this wonderful four-headed creature that we are about to lay to rest in formaldehyde slumber, and that would be if all of you, our dearest of friends, couldn't take part in helping us to put the lid on the jar. It's a really big jar and will take several people just to lift the giant Sharpie to label it. For this, there will be a small handful of occasions. The first of which is, of course, the NYE show at the Barley, by far our most
hospitable and mothering home in Dallas. After that, the plan is for maybe three or four shows at some of our other most friendliest of ports in the Midwest, probably sometime towards or around the end of February, and then of course, a resolute, heartfelt, and final goodbye in the only locale appropriate for such a thing, the loins from which we spawned, Denton, TX.
More details on those shows as they become fleshed out. For now, know that the NYE will be the beginning of the end. So in the words of some dearest of brethren, Little Grizzly, "Drink with us now until it ends. It's got to end."
Verily,
Brent David Best,
Attorney-at-Law
Boo.
Glad I took some photos of them last time they were in Houston. Don't know if they'll be coming back through on their "wrap up" tour of TX. It's possible I guess. Perhaps Jason should beg them?