I Was in the Lens of a Suicide Girl.

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One of my favorite SuicideGirls, the indomitable London Suicide, came last night and took a bunch of photos; some before the gig, some after, and many during the show, in the midst of which she was crawling all over the stage and the monitors and the front row snapping away.


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At the Seattle Show Last Night, I Went Outside and Played a Few Songs for the People Waiting in Line to Get In.

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ATO asked me to put together a little live EP to put up online; I had this idea of something that might be more fun than just a straight live recording. Chuck and I went out right before the doors opened; he held an Edirol R-1 MP3 recorder, standing right in front of me as I sang. The crowd was slightly mindblown! It was so fun.


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The recording sounds fabulous, too; rough and ambient, with the crowd’s laughter and chatter, and cars passing by. Right at the end of the final tune, a Harley rumbles past, growling across the stereo field as the tune winds down. Heavenly.
When I was a kid, maybe in 1990, I tried busking in the subway–in the long tunnel between the L train and the 1/9 train at 14th Street. Nobody gave a fuck, I was spooked and scared and out of there in under 15 minutes. My conclusion: I do not busk. Perhaps I should reconsider this long-held belief.
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Bauhaus Vs. Vivace, Who Wins?

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KEXP was rocking rocking today. Handsome Dan and I are really getting that mind-meld down. I was beaming as we walked out of the studio. Recorded some mystery covers, too, for a possible online EP.

A Delicate Balance of Flesh, Starch, and Butter.

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I’m in Seattle. The indomitable John B. from ATO flew up here to walk me through a bunch of radio stations and record stores–and he took me, Handsome Dan, and Smokey Chuck the Sound Guy out for a steak dinner that was positively barbaric in its manly proportions of blood and potatoes.
Cute vegan girls, please disregard this post.

Mpls.

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Like comin’ home.


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I had the jitters before this one; I always want to rock good for the Twin Cities. I managed to shake ‘em in the first few tunes.
Almost everybody that played on the album was there; Munson, Ken, Andy, Brad Kern, Dan, Eric F. So moving to see them all backstage at the show. Full circle stylee!
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Chicago.

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A lovely, relaxed show; and, as always, a gut-punishing trip to the Wiener’s Circle.


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I managed to get to the Wiener’s Circle just in time; during the day, they’re severe and haughty, and scornful if you don’t order right; at night, they turn cruel and excoriate the drunken post-bar crowd. One time I walked in after the gig and the girl yelled, “Yo, ROGAINE! What the FUCK do you WANT?!”
This time I ordered a char-dog with everything but pickles, tomatoes, and hot peppers. The girl said: “So you want it with grilled onions, mustard, relish, and celery salt?” Yes. “Hm. Order it like that next time, OK?” Yes, ma’am.
I did the show stoned on their cheese fries. So delicious, but afterward my gut cried: What did we do to you? After all those protein shakes, I thought we had patched up our relationship?!
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Show was fun, too; lots of good heckling which led to improvised mic patter. One guy yelled out, “Paint your guitar! It’s Packers colored!” Which led to a long discourse about my entire discography being actually a concept album about Brett Favre.
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Free Cake in Cleveland.

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The good people at the Odeon bought me the above cake, which I found in the dressing room. Nice! Though my inner fat man begged to eat the whole thing, instead Chuck sliced it up and we gave out slices of cake to those who came up in the CD autographing line after the show.


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PS–Handsome Dan was killing last night. Oh, man! The solo on “Unsingable” was fierce, fabulous. And there was a moment where I inadvertantly held onto a chord in “Sunken-Eyed” and Dan was right on top of it–we let it ring out for a dramatic moment. I love that musicians’ inter-mind-connect thing that happens.
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Tronno.

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I love Toronto–I wish I played here more often. Homeland of Dan Chen; atmospheric city of brick houses and streetcar wires. Good hot dogs and pho, too.


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