I ride on top of cop cars
50 points to anyone who knows what the subject line refers to.
I feel like I should post about my show last Friday/Saturday. I kept talking about it and talking about it and leaving up that picture of two guys knitting for everyone to see. It was the most emotionally draining, physically draining, full of drama-ly, could-have-been-a-LifeTime-movie experience. For all who were there and stuck it out till 2 in the morning, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have made the experience of playing Manhattan for the first time ever all the more special and memorable. And for those who couldn't...well...let's leave this a cheery post.
The show was definitely frustrating in that the venue did not provide a snare drum nor a hi-hat clamp, though it was to my understanding that they would. The snare drum, the most vital component of the drum set, I found out about a few bands before we went on. I had to ask a band that weren't one of the first to play that night, since how could I possibly ask them to stay till 2 in the morning and wait around for their snare drum back? Luckily I found an amazing drummer who was willing to trust me and lend me his drum for the night (the weekend in fact) while he left for home. It was a bit unnerving to ask him at first because he wore a shirt that said something along the lines of "Don't Talk to Me. I'm Not A Social Person." Turns out he was wearing that because it was Backwards Day. Silly of me to forget!
But the clamp, that I found out right when I sat down. Imagine my face of disappointment as I simply stared at the empty space. Who knew a tiny piece of metal would have so much impact on my life?
But the show had to go on, so I played on, without it on, and I rocked it out pretty well.
Another special moment of the night came at the end when amidst our "this-is-it-let's-rock-the-fuck-out" ending, Preston dropped to his knees and landed upon broken shards of glass. You wouldn't have noticed it at first. He didn't lose his composure and he kept on playing. Staring into his face, we, the band, thought he was just playing with all his heart and soul. Turns out that the broken shard of glass scooped out a piece of his kneecap. Like an ice cream scoop.
Preston is my hero for keeping his cool. For our next show, find out what we'll do to the bat we've been keeping. Hint: more blood to come!
Post show, once we settled back into normalcy, my coworkers give me shit about my female fan base. I have to tell them that my sister and cousin can't really count, though they reply there were other girls there screaming my name and who wanted to get into my pants. So now every once in a while someone calls me Super Sexy Bitch. And that with this much support, I should break out into a solo career. I'm still thinking about that one.
Oh, and we have a name. Finally. Preston Demands. I'm 99.9% sure we're sticking with that one, though I think Fox Hunter Fhira (pronounced phy-ra) sounded edgy and hip. But whatevs. All for now. It's hard to type when your middle finger has a nice perpendicular slice just deep enough to sting every time you push it down on something. Like a letter key. Ow :/
Again, thanks to all who made it. I promise the next time we play Knitting Factory, it will not be at 1 in the morning.
Night!
I feel like I should post about my show last Friday/Saturday. I kept talking about it and talking about it and leaving up that picture of two guys knitting for everyone to see. It was the most emotionally draining, physically draining, full of drama-ly, could-have-been-a-LifeTime-movie experience. For all who were there and stuck it out till 2 in the morning, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have made the experience of playing Manhattan for the first time ever all the more special and memorable. And for those who couldn't...well...let's leave this a cheery post.
The show was definitely frustrating in that the venue did not provide a snare drum nor a hi-hat clamp, though it was to my understanding that they would. The snare drum, the most vital component of the drum set, I found out about a few bands before we went on. I had to ask a band that weren't one of the first to play that night, since how could I possibly ask them to stay till 2 in the morning and wait around for their snare drum back? Luckily I found an amazing drummer who was willing to trust me and lend me his drum for the night (the weekend in fact) while he left for home. It was a bit unnerving to ask him at first because he wore a shirt that said something along the lines of "Don't Talk to Me. I'm Not A Social Person." Turns out he was wearing that because it was Backwards Day. Silly of me to forget!
But the clamp, that I found out right when I sat down. Imagine my face of disappointment as I simply stared at the empty space. Who knew a tiny piece of metal would have so much impact on my life?
But the show had to go on, so I played on, without it on, and I rocked it out pretty well.
Another special moment of the night came at the end when amidst our "this-is-it-let's-rock-the-fuck-out" ending, Preston dropped to his knees and landed upon broken shards of glass. You wouldn't have noticed it at first. He didn't lose his composure and he kept on playing. Staring into his face, we, the band, thought he was just playing with all his heart and soul. Turns out that the broken shard of glass scooped out a piece of his kneecap. Like an ice cream scoop.
Preston is my hero for keeping his cool. For our next show, find out what we'll do to the bat we've been keeping. Hint: more blood to come!
Post show, once we settled back into normalcy, my coworkers give me shit about my female fan base. I have to tell them that my sister and cousin can't really count, though they reply there were other girls there screaming my name and who wanted to get into my pants. So now every once in a while someone calls me Super Sexy Bitch. And that with this much support, I should break out into a solo career. I'm still thinking about that one.
Oh, and we have a name. Finally. Preston Demands. I'm 99.9% sure we're sticking with that one, though I think Fox Hunter Fhira (pronounced phy-ra) sounded edgy and hip. But whatevs. All for now. It's hard to type when your middle finger has a nice perpendicular slice just deep enough to sting every time you push it down on something. Like a letter key. Ow :/
Again, thanks to all who made it. I promise the next time we play Knitting Factory, it will not be at 1 in the morning.
Night!