show #49

4/3/2009 Brattleboro, VT @ a house !

Preschool

American War

Letters to the Moon

Jason

We woke up early at Alex’s parents. We were hyper sensitive to over staying our welcome so we took off before 9am. I hadn’t even chiseled at the sleep boogers that seem to form perma crust on my eyelids. The drive to VT got more beautiful as we went along with winding roads, mountains, and dark green roadside rivers turning white over rocks. We arrived in Brattleboro at 12:30pm. The sun was drowned in a solid grey sky and a cold rain fell steadily. Unfortunately, our moods were collectively parallel to the weather. We killed time munching on falafel. Then we killed time at the public library, maybe the best place to be in a new city when there’s bad weather. Then we killed more time at a café. We were all tired. Not even caffeine could summon our spirits from the potty. We needed fresh and energetic interaction.

We grocery shopped at Dottie’s discount foods. They had free samples. We indulged. The kid working the cash register under a curly black afro and from behind square glasses said, “You know we poisoned those right?” We invited him to the show. He actually came too, and gave everyone some beer. We went to the thrift store next door and browsed while an 8 piece mountain folk band played. It was open gallery night. By the time we met up with Georgios, we were feeling better. It helps that he has a strange and contagious energy. Wild black greasy curls, pilot glasses, a bright orange and yellow striped shirt, tattooed toes that say “Dance Party.” What’s not to like?

The show turned out to be one of my favorites of tour. We played in a small and homely living room on Western Ave. Abby Banks, author/photographer of “Punk House” was a resident. She is SO COOL! All night, it was easy to approach people and strike up conversation. We were made to feel very welcome.

Locals and house residents Preschool began the show. They said they usually play extremely loud but they went acoustic on guitar, used brushes on drums, and kept the bass low. They played up beat and dancy power pop garage punk. The lyrics made me laugh. They had a song about a not over totally over relationship. They were just catchy and fun. They were animated performers, totally in to it, singing until they had red faces, clanking away. I loved them.

Matt played next and he was perfect. We were singing full voice with him and shuffling our socks on a carpet with a Siberian tiger image on it. We were petting it with our feet.

Lisa and I belted it out with tipsy energy. I was just happy to be in a beautiful town amongst people aren’t afraid to dance. A dog in the room seemed to like us too.

Jason the 18 year old beer mooch played last and he LOVED J Mascis (dinosaur jr.). He told a story about being on acid with his friends outside of a Wal-Mart. He said, “This fat chick wanted us to party. She was listening to Hells Bells with a bunch of other ones. They asked us to party…” a crowd member said, “Well, did you?” He didn’t. We booed him. I told him he would understand true love when he is older. That is an example of the kind way to coach someone in the right direction of how to think and talk about people. Oh and if you can every party at Wal-Mart to AC/DC, it is your fucking rock ‘n’ roll duty to do so.

Right after the show I jumped into a car with Thorn and Lilly. We made a 20 minute drive to Marlboro for a party, whipping through sheets of fog and flying around dark curves and ups and downs. Thorn pointed to a cabin he had built on his Dad’s property with his own hands. I couldn’t see a thing through the woods.

The party was advertised as a chili cook off, a wife swap, and a dance party. None of the aforementioned themes were present when we arrived. The party was steps away from Marlboro college, boasting a student body of 300, most of whom were at or had been to the party. We were in the woods in the mountains. Imagine summer camp on a hill but with solar panels and that’s the college. The party was in this cabin looking apartment wilderness fort. It was supposedly married student housing but I guess that’s less common in VT these days.

I was invited to smoke weed with a certain girl and this rad kid with the coolest name that I won’t say here. I said no but meant yes and I joined them in a joint passing circle. Everyone seemed good at pot. I am not. Everyone knew I wasn’t from there, but no one was mean about it. I got into a conversation about creative writing and then I met a kid home grown in Columbus. We talked about High Street. All you have to know to talk to someone is something that they know.

Shortly after, we headed half a mile down the road to the small woods home of Anna, Lilly, and Raff. They got us 3 mattresses and Raff kept bringing pillows because he believed you can never have too many. Right before retiring for the night, I stoner jammed on a trumpet while Raff played banjo. My dad is always happy when I play trumpet but I imagine he wouldn’t be that pleased with the inspiration that led me to tooting in the kitchen. I played a clear headed scale for him the next morning to make up for the stoned putzing around I had done. In my head I was sure that I was making the sweetest music. My intention for picking up the horn was good if that counts for anything.

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