Jesus Christ am I still writing a blog?!  Who does this?  You people who write (I think they call them writers) must really like what you do cuz this sucks.  :)  Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to do it, but good lord.  I looked at the "views" part of our blog and apparently my word vomit has caught an eyeball or two over 100 times today.  So, I'm gonna guess that's a lot of people are really bored at work and read the first paragraph... of course, someone DID complement me on these blogs the other day at the Northside Tavern (which should now be referred to as The Sundresses Basecamp, just don't even call it Northside Tavern), and John Curley (Afgan Whigs) said he "thuroughly enjoyed it" so maybe I'm doing something right, or totally wrong.  But let's not wax philosophical, let's get right down to it, guy or girl on their "lunch break",

jklfadjkl;fsdajkl;
dfsajkl;asdDJKL;
SDFJKLDFSAKL;JDFS
AJKL;
SDFJLKDFSAJKL

...and here's the rest of the story...



*THE BLUE BUS... DONE CALLED ON US, DRESSES.

THE SANDWICH BLOG PART III
"Rounding New York, and Headed For Cincinnati...thank God." by Brad Loans (dick)


THE TRASH BAR - NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK NEW YORK CITY ....ERRRT.

Yup, it's no secret.  If you want to move to New York then you want to shoot yourself in the face.  You want to shoot yourself in the face while covering your eyes and holding your wallet out at a Bank of America Convention.  That's right, you're a masochist.  Congratulations!  You actually want to die.  You're a real winner.

We've played in New York many many times, more than 10 for sure, and we've had one really great show and a couple good ones.  The great one, was with The Giraffes at The Mercury Lounge.  Other than that I really could have just stayed at home, blow-torched my bank account, snorted some coke and gotten pretty much the same result... I don't even think Nathan's Hot Dogs are that great.  I really don't.  Actually, they were kinda gross.  ?!  And really expensive.  I guess that's what happens when marketing goes bad, or so good.

We played at Trash Bar and we were paid $7...cool...whatever...just like you would if you played there.  The joke was on us, as it has been for us every time we've played The Trash Bar...three times now.  Never again: unless we open for the reunited Van Halen...or even just David Lee Roth if he sang "Man U" with The Giraffes.  What happens here is that 50% of everyone you know who moved to New York will be there.  There will be other bands on the bill, too, but the same will be true for them.  Their friends from their hometown will be there; you know, the ones who always said "eew magoud, I hate Nebraska seeeew much.  Im mooving to New Yaaahhwk so I can be a famous writerrrr or an interpretive daaaancer," but they won't stay to hear the other bands.  And who can blame them, really?  It's New York, there SO much to DO!!  Shit, I'd rather get a bagel than listen to a band I've never heard of, too.  It's cool.  There's just too many damn people in that city, see. ---- So, we played a really good set to all our friends who saw us at The Comet four years ago.  Don't get me wrong, that's still awesome, and was.  We love our friends dearly and we always have a blast.  The best blast was when we went to Coney Island with Dylan & Brian a couple years ago (different tour).  Just some glowing white Midwesterners in jeans, boots, sportin' farmers tans and racin' around in tiny cars.  Another day at the beach, as they say. ---

Turned out the best part of this trip was seeing my brother Dave, my little sister Anne-Marie, my cousin Dan (who'd never seen us live before and who helps engineer stuff for the Navy) my Sister-in-law Steph (she's an accountant and was one year too late in convincing me to try out for American Idol) and two of my three nieces all in one fell swoop.  It was kinda weird that we were all there at the same time.  It wasn't planned that way, but I'm really glad it did because my brother was able to retrieve our merch case from it's own tour of the East Coast. 

SHIT!  Have I told you about the sandwich?!  Our friends Katie and Scott made sure we consumed a few and I wish I could remember the name of the place.  (...standby) Brooklyn Gourmet.  "Just a bodega", they say, that happens to have some delicious sandwiches.  They were good and I think mine was, damn... another turkey sandwich!?  Yup.  Sandwich 9?  I'm losing count.  I also had a burrito which may or not qualify (Carrie Nation says no and I think there's actually a U.S. court case that proves it).


ASBURY LANES - ASBURY, NEW JERSEY
"Foggy, Cold, Windy and Cloudy.  My Kind Of Beach."

So we bowled.  Oooh did we bowl.  Our friends Dylan & Anna came down from NYC (we'd hung out with them the night before, too) and they were with us on the The Cincinnati & The Sundresses bowling team.  We played The New York Giant Giraffes; very tall majestic creatures of fantastical myth, and damn good bowlers for their size!  It was declared at the bowling arena that The Cincinnati & The Sundresses had won the contest.  BUT, upon further review, it looks like maybe The New York Giant Giraffes actually did.  I kept the score sheet.  Looks like we had more points, but we also had an extra player, and I have no idea how bowling teams work, but my guess is that each team has the same number of players?  But we still won because we play by Sundresses rules.  And The Giraffes won, too, cuz they play by Giraffe rules...that's why we get along.  I bowled a personal best of 101, so I know I won on a personal level.  Yeah, so?  I never bowled a  hundred before.  Well, if I were taking the sport seriously (which, mind you, many serial killers and your 1983 neighbor's wife do) then I would still only have the cumulative bowling experience of one year total, if that.  So to hit 30 years in age and finally bowl over 100 is probably about right for NOT being a serial killer, or your 1983 neighbor's wife.  God knows I could have been either.  I'd have been 4, but you know, I'm not really a writer, so just stop doing the math and try to enjoy the rant.  But whatever, right?  We weren't there to bowl, JUST!!

The show:  Once again, I nearly throw the guitar from my body, knock over the mic stand and/or yank the cord out from either end.  All for good reasons, not bad.  I feel kind of sorry for our gear cuz we're pretty mean to it in general.  But it's tough shit.  We don't play with toys.  I think my favorite part of the show was when Aaron got up on stage (I think at first to lift the mic stand back up for me, and thank you, Aaron) but then to sing along with me.  I remember the first time he did that in Cincinnati and it kinda threw me off, but I was ready this round.  He's the only singer I know who could do it so good.  Yeah he did it so good yeah he did it so good!  Cuz I can sing, mutherfucker!  Knowhumsayin?  I ain't s'bad m'self.

The Giraffes laid it down solidly as well in the rock arena, as they always do.  Indeed they did, yes.  Each Giraffe impressed me, as usual:

AARON "I'll Be Right Back" LAZAR
- At one point during a song Aaron ran off stage all the way to the bar (it's a bowling alley remember), got a drink, ran back, bowled a 200, did a photo shoot, and got back on stage before the last verse and finished the song.  All this while in those bowling shoes.  What can you do? 

THE DAMIEN "LeDamien"
- So, our man Remy Rifles decided it was time to lift this greasy fucker up off the lanes and spare us his machine-gun-like fingers (wow, you should read that sentence again, that was pretty good).  You see, when Rifles sees a threat, his first reaction is to try and destroy it.  That's why he's The Sundresses Armed Forces.  And so it was that with a mighty heave, Remy Rifles threw The Damien LeDamien upon his shoulders... and to quote from The Damien LeDamien after the show. "I knew we were both going down the second he put me on his shoulders."  The Damien LeDamien did not cease his riffage, though he was to go for quite a violent ride.  Impressive. 

ANDREW TUH-TUH-TUH-TOTOLOS
- Obviously, an extremely talented and efficient drummer, but what made watching his drumming this time so much better, was the pornographic film that was projected on the big screen behind him.  Impressive... and wildly entertaining. 

JENSENSEN CHESTERSONTSONVILLE
- I have a picture, taken during their set, of him about 5 feet off the ground by his own volition. 


THE MATINEE' - AKRON, OH

I have to stop writing.  I really can't do this any longer, I've got other stuff to do.  I'm gonna try and speed this up. 

Akron was good.  The Cleveland... um...  who the fuck are they...  LeBron James....  the fuckin' uh - Cavs.  Right.  Well, they lost and I was dumb enough to bring it up when, after the game, it was our turn to cheer up the bar crowd.  Not the best idea.  I like the Cavs, I really do.  LeBron James, specifically.  Team USA, man.  I patched it up.  (We did the same thing in Pittsburgh once when I wore a Carson Palmer shirt and Jeremy made a joke about Ben Rothlesburger's motorcycle accident...hmm...we haven't been back to Pittsburgh since...I'm sure that has nothing to do with it, right?).  We made up for it, though, because at this point in the tour we're tighter than a Catholic Chicken's Vagina and we made a bar full of fans. 

We didn't stay in Akron, though, we headed staight for Columbus where we stayed with Lauren from The Jellyhearts.  We got to her lair around 3:00AM and she wasn't there.  We called her and she had apparently passed out downtown in her car outside the Spandex R' Us deparment store; French export retail.  Nice stuff.  Apparently, she wore herself out putting heart stickers all over the store display windows.  Those Jellyhearts sure are on a mission to coat the world in plush stickers and sweet candy.  I'd say in about 5 years Columbus, OH will look more like Candyland then any other city in the world.  To which I say, "Proceed."     ...So, I fell asleep in the grass while she made her way to us.

On the drive to Akron, we had a few sandwiches.  My favorite was from the church folks, who proudly displayed a sign that said "EVERYTHING IS FREE".  I nearly had a siezure and decided to prove them wrong.  I donated some of my own money to buy one of their chilli dogs, and also had a really great new idea about where we should set up a merch table with the exact same sign.  And oh yes, a chilli dog is indeed a sandwich.  It's just such a special breed it gets its own special name.  Kind of like religion.  This should be SANDWICH #11. 


COLUMBUS, OH @ BERNIE'S  (IN BULLETS)

- Oh look, it's The Lions Rampant again. 
- Hey wow, The Jellyhearts and Burglar, too!
- Hey let's go sleep on my sisters couches until we have to play.
- Yes, Joey (my nefew) I do look retarded on this little bike.
- Is a quesodilla a sandwich?  Let's Google it!  Yup, sure is. SANDWICH #12
- Remy breaks his guitar
- Makenzie gets pissed
- I continue my bar tab.
- Nate (TLR) is invited to a secret seance in the woods by a Vietnam Vet.
- The Sundresses are presented with an artwork Sarah Katz (see our pics)
- Let's go home.


CINCINNATI, OH @ THE NORTHSIDE TAVERN

What can we say?  The place was jam-packed.  Sundresses Basecamp never felt so good.  I knew I was home when I saw A.J. (Pearlene, Mysts Of Time, etc.) look at me with one eye and had the other eye lookin' toward somewhere else.  "Welcome home, bud."

...I'm done with this stupid blog shit.  This tour was fucking awesome.  Awesome AS FUCK!  We think we might be headed to The West in November.    This is something we've never done.  Something people out there have been waiting a long time for.  Something I hope we can finally deliver.  We take the long hard road; that's the only road we know.  We're like Bob Seeger, or Woody Guthrie with a distortion pedal.  You can't stop us.  Nothing can. 

Unless you are a Turkey Club.  In which case, you win.  See you out there.


~brad loans~ 



*REMY RIFLES (LEFT) POWERBOMB (RIGHT)

PROLOGUE: Here is a blog that was written back in February and which made a certain booker mad enough to cancel our show.  That show was in Chicago and was supposed to be at Quenchers; a place I'm sure we'll never play now...and especially now.  We appologised to this booker and took the blog down so he wouldn't get scared, but alas, he decided he didn't want a real rock and roll band to play at his bar.  Dang.  It may be that this person no longer books there, I don't know.  And I don't care.  This is the first and only time a venue has ever cancelled on US, and this blog is cool as fuck.  Apparently, it's a bit harsh on the other bands, but look, I know what I don't like and if I don't like it AND if I think the world is worse off for having it, I'm gonna tell you that; if you go to thier MySpace page and listen, you'll probably agree with me.  If you don't, you probably don't really "get" The Sundresses.  Anyway, for those of you waiting to read The Sandwich Blog Part III, here's something to tide you over unti I finish writing it...   enjoy:
----------------------------------


*now Brad Loans 

**The image above is from our show last night in Louisville (6-4-09), which was not officially part of The Sandwich Tour, but since I broke my bass drum pedal on the very last note of the very last song, I thought that was cool as fuck enough to get some eyeball time regardless.


THE SANDWICH BLOG PART 2
BY: brad loans (your first/wurst banker)



Last time you were reading this blog, our friends The Sundresses were in a heap 'o trouble with the law.  Cooter and Boss Hog had just caught up with the boys and miss Daisy.... wait a minute... no that's something else...

I left you at Huntington, WV.  Shamrock's Pub.  I went into plenty of detail about that place, so we'll move on to Richmond, VA where we failed to get there on time to perform, but we succeeded in our primary objective, eating sandwiches.


THE CAMEL.  RICHMOND, VA.  "RAFAEL! WO IST MEINE HAWKS?"

About an hour or so after we left Christopher's hilltop spaceship house, Makenzie Diamonds realized she had left her cell phone there.  Fuck.  We had to double back.  It's one thing to lose it and not know where it is, but quite another when you know where you left it but it's about 70 miles behind you.  We gunned it pretty hard, but this was unexpected and our departure time from Huntington did not figure in for extra time.  I call this The Diamonds & Rifles Coeffienct.  I love my band mates dearly, I have to.  I have no choice.  They make me do it.  :)  But Remy & Makenzie have never read The Scouts of America Handbook. 

Two Sundresses do not hope for the best and prepare for the worst, one Sundress does?

(Let me explain a bit: There's a completely retarded game we play called 2 to 1.  The Sundresses are very rarely in total agreement.  Basically if one Sundress X, then two Sundresses not X.)  I'm the one that realizes it's not actually a game, unfortunately for me.  But it's fun as fuck sometimes and is one of the things we use to pass the time and laugh.  Right.  So we get to The Camel at, like, 10:30PM.  Apparently, we were supposed to play at 9:00.  The other band had already played but the bartender, who we'll call Cindy until she reads this and reminds me what her name was, still gave us free drinks and supplied Remy Rifles with a Turkey Club.  Sandwich 5.

This night would start out not so good, as you can tell, but it ended cool as fuck.  Raphael, who was in the band we were to have played with (what's that Past Participle? Grammer police, anyone?) he tried his damnedest to get us on the list for an open mic that he runs after things wrap up at The Camel, but unfortunately it was too full.  But that's OK because we got to hang out and have fun like regular non-rock stars.  Normal folk.  The lowly averaged.  It was humbling and I learned a lot about what it's like to be regular.  I was moved.  Honestly.  He-heh.  (sigh)  There were two things that stood out the most to me at this open mic:

First, the old guy in the shinny, silver, sequins (sp?) suit and hat who played the wood block to every performance.  Some funky wood block; that's hard to do.  Not only was he cool as fuck on the wood block, but when he got up to play the drums with some of the musicians, he killed it!  Pure enjoyment.   The other thing I enjoyed was watching the metal guitar shredder-guy (in red leather pants) perform with a bass player who looked like he just stepped out of an Office Depot commercial.  ...At this point I'd like to tell you a theory I have about East Coasterites, or rather, The Pre-Appalachians.  I can't say for sure, but I'm fairly confident that L.L. Bean forces them to wear their clothing.  Everyone's wearing khaki pants and button up shirts; all of them, even the girls.  I'm not even joking.  I don't know what it is, but I think there's something creepy goin' on at L.L. Bean Headquaters.  That being said, we had very much fun at the open mic.   Well, Mayor Diamonds & I did.  I think Jeremy was having ear problems at this point.  eeew.

At the end of the night we stayed with Raphael at his mother's lovely home.  And by lovely I mean like nice as fuck.  Grand Piano, antiques, furniture like they be havin' in the White House and shit, ...and hawks; Remy Rifles and I estimated there were at least 50.  We were in the courtyard and I tugged on a rope hanging from a tree to see if it could support all of my heavy muscles. It sounded like every hawk in town took off after I pulled it.  Rifles & I froze, and muffled our laughter (it was nighttime).  Rifles then joked that when Raphael's parents came home his German father would yell at him: "Raphael!!  Wo ist meine Hawks?!"   Whatever, you weren't there.  It was funny as fuck.

Even though we didn't get to play at The Camel, we DID play some songs for Raphael and his friends.  And one of his friends, Guitar Girl Glenda, can sing like a damn angel.... well, no wait, I sing like a damn angel (Satan), she sings like a heavenly angel.  I felt like we were watching a finalist on American Idol.  She fancied the word 'perturbed' and we laughed a lot every time we said it.  Spoken over and over again, you realize just how funny sounding it is.  So... Richmond, Virginia.  There it was.  We'll try again soon.


THE SUNDRESSES DRIVE THOUGH AN EPISODE OF THE WIRE
BALTIMORE, MD @ THE SIDEBAR

Remy really likes The Wire.  I think I saw one episode and it was pretty good.  HBO, right?  The bar we played at, Sidebar, apparently is the same bar that appears in The Wire.  Neat.  Sidebar was awesome to me because when I walked in I just KNEW this place was awesome.  Our past two nights had been a bit rough and I immediately felt at home here.  We played with Thee Lexington Arrows (no relation to Thee Shams) and The Matrimonials.  TLA were fun as fuck.  Throughout their set they paused from time to time to play some elevator music while Matt, the drummer, told a story about cocaine and 7up, then they'd go back to rocking out.  I enjoyed it.  The Matrimonials were outstanding as well.  Pure Rock & Roll and a singer/guitarist who can really hand you your ass.  One of the members' names is Eden, I think, but I totally forget which one.  In my phone, under CONTACTS, Eden is listed with a picture of a car driving away from the camera.  I don't know if that's good.  I think he was the guitarist and he lead us to where we were to stay?  ...Sure.  Either that or I tried to get his lisence plate number.  Not sure.  Also at this show, we were very much happy to see our friends The Degenerettes!  We played with them at Northside Tavern once before and they're awesome.  Was a nice suprize.  ...  I also had an incredibly heart-wrenching conversation with a very down-on-his-luck man who had just been let out of the hospital.  They stiched up his skull because some kids beat the shit out of him.  I gave him directions to where he needed to go (thank you iPhone).  He was old.  I gave him my hoodie and some change.  To quote my good friend and former band mate, Jake Speed, "Hobos are always gettin' the shaft."

We followed Eden to our sleeping destination and I ventured off with Stephan (also in TLA) to go to a bar to finish off the night.  We stayed up late again and we had sandwiches.  These were prepared by Don Awesome.  (at this point I want to just say, again maybe, that I'm making up most of these names because I can't remember them all, so if you're reading this and you know who Don Awesome is, tell me and I'll patch this up).  He made us some fine grilled cheese sandwiches.  Sandwich 6. 

We played Mario Kart, we saw patience in it's physical form, we drank more beer, and we talked about how pushing people's buttons really CAN get your ass beat.  To our new friends in Baltimore, "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.  That's right, it's better than yours.  Damn right it's better than yours. I could teach you, but I have to charge" 

The blue bus moves on.....


WASHINGTON FECKIN' D.C. @ THE VELVET LOUNGE.

Attn: Swedish and/or Swiss Agents - Please send $250 to The Sundresses, LLC / 402 Milton Street #2 / Cincinnati, OH 45202.  I'm not really sure how much I want to open my big mouth here.  I will say that our merch case ended up orbiting us between here and Grand Central Station and that there are good reasons venues hire sound engineers.  One of those reasons, however, is not so they can be outside the venue smoking while the band has reported to the stage (at the time requested by said sound guy) and while 80 people wait and wonder why the mics aren't on.  ...83 people.  There was more, but I don't wanna start a fight.  Word of advise to those at the helm:  Leave the "cool contest" at home.  Let the band take care of that.


THE M ROOM IN PHILADEFEEYA, PA. -  WE SHOULDA PLAYED 2nd

Well, what can you do when drunk frat guys form a band?  Same thing you do when you see someone driving the wrong way on a one way street.  You tell them they're going the wrong way.  Or, you turn to the other person riding in the car with you and laugh, "Hey look at that dumb-ass goin' the wrong way on a one-way street!"  I believe best quote from this show was "the only thing worse than people being too cool to watch your band is people being too lame to watch your band."  So true.  We played last and cleared the room.  Ouch!  If you're in Philadelphia and you like The Sundresses, help us out here and tell us where we need to play next time so we can play for the folks who are too cool to watch our band.  Then we'll have covered the spectrum.  The M Room stands for The Manhattan Room, but it's in Philly.  Where's The  Philly Room?  Oh Manhattan.  That part of NYC that is so.... tall.  In Cincinnati, when there's a place called, like, New York Bar, or Manhattan Cafe, it gets a brick through it's window.  Cadallac Ranch here at home has one comin' it's way pretty soon, no doubt.  Maybe the people of Philadelphaiaaiiah want Manhattan to be even closer?  Seems strange to me.  Whatever.  We ain't from there.  Y'all do what you want; go ahead and wear your L.L. Bean coats and shit.  That's cool.  But not cool as fuck.

We had fun, though.  We stayed with Katherine The Great Professor; a good friend of The Sundresses and I'm glad to say I was able to put my interior design expertise at work hanging her curtains and shelves.  She had just moved in to a new place and all her stuff had yet to be unpacked; so since The Sundresses are a full-service band, I helped out.  I even did the dishes.  Thanks Katherine!  When we arrived at her place I think it was about 4 in the morning.  I slept extremely hard.  Mayor Diamonds and Katherine caught up.  Jeremy slept in the van and was awakened by the sound of Mexicans having lunch and building stuff.  They had surrounded the van.  He was trapped inside, crying, "please Jesus, make them stop."  When he finally came out of the van they threw confetti and cheered him as he made his trek into the apartment building; smiling and then waving just before he went inside.  Pure magic. 

I know what you're thinking: So did we get a Philly Cheesesteak?  Ptth, no.  Hello, we have those back home.  Duh.  The sandwich of this stop was another Turkey Club and it was totally free!  I think the other great quote from this night was, "So do we get free food?" - says Remy.  "No." - says the bartender.  Remy Rifles Responds -"That's cool, can I get a turkey club?"  Ha!  Oh, Sandwich 7.



-----

So that's all for this installation.  Time to go downtown and catch The Dorsey Blues Revival, The Mysts Of Time & The Lions Rampant play on our fine city's Fountain Square.  This town is cool as fuck and our Lady Of The Water is cool as fuck... as fuck.

...to be continued...

SUCCESS SANDWICH!! Part 1 - by: Brad Loans
(murderer of Amerika)



Here it is: A huge dump of a blog. A Log Blog Shit Sandwich. City by city. Show by show. I will write to you about the tour. Some of this is gonna be horseshit, but it's the kind of horseshit you can only get from The Sundresses after a Sandwich Tour. Because we were, for the last month, like 3 majestic horses galloping through the country that gave us Rock & Roll. That country is America and now I'm gonna shit out my version of the story. Not Sweden! The Swedish Government officially owes The Sundresses I'd say, about $200. We'll see if I can get that far. It IS Monday you know.

SANDWICH TOUR BEGAN IN ATHENS, OH @ THE SMILING SKULL:

Last time we were in Athens it was cold as fuck ('as fuck' is the new mantra of The Sundresses). This time it was a little humid, but basically perfect. The opening band was a couple odd fellows who played Star Wars themed punk-folk. It was pretty weird, but Makenzie Diamonds (Mayor) liked them, so I guess it was cool. They were quite obviously enjoying themselves and that's pretty much what it's all about. After that we had the pleasure of completely blowing them away. I'm not doggin' them, I'm just stating the facts, people. I don't want some asshole from Chicago to read this and cancel any shows on us, so just keep in mind as you read this that a lot of it is horseshite. Just like that horse's asshole from Chicago. Yeah, bud, you know who you are. I'm putting that blog back up right after I'm done with this. ...anyway, apparently I'm holding a grudge. Back to Athens. So yeah, we played at it and - it - was - totally - sweet. And then... and then.... We had the pleasure of watching The Dragline Brothers do their thing. I gotta say, I don't remember being this floored when we played with them at The Gypsy Hut, but holy shit, they laid it down hard. I'm forever a fan. I believe they just recorded with Mr. Brian Niesz (Sleezy B Neezy) here in Cincinnati and I was fortunate enough to get my hands on a copy of their new record. Get it! But you can't yet. Smiling Skull has one of the greatest shitty PA systems I've ever had the pleasure trying to break for good. Vocals only. I'm totally cool with that as long as the speakers sound like they're gonna tear your eardrums out. And - they do. Fucking awesome. Awesome as fuck. After the show we hung out with Seth (Dragline Bros.) and Jaimie (The Never Evers). Seth and I talked about Athens & Cincinnati music and I think we talked about spaceships, but I might be making that up. Jaimie provided the tour's first sandwich which was made almost entirely out of cake. It was a strawberry & cake sandwich. It was consumed at aproximately 2:30am. It was delicious. She was also kind enough to make sure we learned something about the local mating rituals of snails. At night all the snails are crossing the road and the road is covered with dead snails. I don't think any of us ever seen that many snails all at one time! It reminded me of when Jeremy saw his first Amish person. He was so little.

DOWNSTREAM, THE SCENE OF THE CRIME: THE POUR HAUS IN LOUISVILLE, KY

Many of you will recall the tragic events of our last visit to The Pour Haus. We were robbed pretty hard. But were not gonna talk about that. We're just gonna mention it cuz it happened and gives this passage some not-so-cool Sundresses history. I really don't think that set this band back a full 2-years at all and I really don't think I'm gonna beat the dog shit out of the guy walkin' around in Louisville with the only other pair of glasses as cool as fuck as mine, except mine are cooler because although my current pair is identical to the stolen pair, my current pair matches my complexion more perfectly that the stolen pair. So when I see that muther fucker I am not, repeat, I AM gonna beat their ass unless they are elderly or female, in which case I will pick up the phone and bite down on a piece of wood. The first thing we did when we got to the Pour Haus was call in reinforcements from home base; Cincinnati Muther Fuckin Ohio. CMFO! (copyright: Brad Loans) We called opon the bitches known as Thems Lions Rampants. These dickweeds are vicious little fucks and they don't like it when their friends be gettin' robbed. So we called ..em up to make sure someone in Louisville got fucked that night who WASN'T in The Sundresses. I think we did a great job. There wasn't nobody else there at the Pour Haus except the only band in Louisville that matters, Scotty Lust & The Two Timers (SLTT) their wives and associates, Usdresses, and the rampantly offeeensive unit, hitheeerto abbreviated ...as, TLR. So that's that.... There was, as usual, some pretty disturbing Kereoke (sp?) and a giant pile of gravel in the parking lot (where the terrorists hatched their plot to rob The Sundresses) now known throughout my imaginary world as Louisville Beach. Nate (TLR) and Jeremy (Remy Rifles) moon-bathed on its gravelly summit, only to find that they share a deep passion for anal sex. Naw, I'm just kiddin' I think they were just cuddling under the moonlit sky. (insert sound of ocean waves) So afterward we party all night with SLTT & TLR at Shane's (SLTT) house. I think it was Shane's, right? Yeah. What can I say, it was a party. People were fuckin, people were drinkin booooze, talkin about shit, listenin' to tunes, what have you. It was cool as fuck. There were even gold fish and cats. This is about all I remember. I remember finding a couch and deciding to sleep on it. I remember Stuart (TLR) getting me a pillow or blanket. I remember waking up and seeing Nate (TLR) on the floor next to the couch I was sleeping on, and having the feeling that I won some sort of "find a better place to sleep" contest. Although, it depends on what the rules are regarding the contest because our golden-haired pal Stuart (TLR) may have won that contest. But, again, it does depend on what you're talking about. I remember finding out that Nick (TLR) had chosen the van. He's is probably going to be the overall winner. Yeah, the next morning there was breakfast at some really expensive restaurant with incredibly frustrating table games (Paradise Cafe). It was like some ex-carny decided to quit the circus and open a restaurant with the same sort of feel. The extra cost was worth being able to put my legs through the part your supposed to put your head through, but then again I wanted to smash the tube thing that claimed there was a top hat inside. You can't possibly know what I'm talking about at this point. So I'll move on. Louisville, I enjoyed your - Panera Bread. And Makenzie Diamonds enjoyed your - circus burger. Sandwich number 2.

CURRENT FAV VENUE OUTSIDE OF CINCY: THE GREEN LANTERN, LEXINGTON, KY

 The Green Lantern has it figured out. It's the Northside Tavern of Lexington (for you Cincy family), but really it's The Green Lantern of Lexington. :) We have been treated with such kindness, respect and all kids of other good words, that it almost makes me want to cry that such a place even exists. From the bottom up, this venue exemplifies exactly how to do it right and get it done. Get people drunk at a fair price, provide the patrons with some fine rock and roll, and sit back and watch. Beautiful. We played this show with SLTT as well... well... we were supposed to. But, as things turned out, Makenzie Diamonds (Mayor) decided it was time to break some wrists. I'd rather her or Remy tell the story because I wasn't there to witness, but let's just make it clear if it wasn't before - don't mess with the Mayor Diamonds. She can do pretty much anything. Apparently, she can break people's wrists. Unfortunately, it was SLTT's bass player. Also on this bill was Oso Closo. I'm not so sure-o I get the name-o, but bingo, these Texas rangers are alright. Not exactly my cup of tea, but hey, talented musicians and certainly worth seeing if you see them listed. I got my own opinions, OK? So again, guy from Chicago who books Quenchers, change the channel if you don't like it. If you can't look away from The Sundresses, then guess what, you love us. I know you're reading this, pal. I probably don't like your band either, OK but you might be a nice guy. Back to Oso Closo: When they covered Kissed By A Rose, by Seal, I kinda wanted to step in and lay my penis on the keyboard. But, yeah, yeah, it is a pretty song, and I guess it's good, I was just ready to rock and drink red bull so I wasn't thinking about being sensitive. (If it's not clear, I like Osos Closo, but not Seal). ...And then The Sundresses happened! And oh shit, people were shakin'! The bar owner (Harry) said to me after the show that [this guy] was watching our show like stink on shit as we completely terrorized the stage. "Hi, we're The Sundresses, the stink on yer shit!" I think I had about 6 beers and a couple shots of whiskey in me this night (before the show, that is). I was jumping around like a prick on pins. So much so that I think we ended the set with me completely fucking up the end of a song just so I could jump into the drums and smash everything. That was soon followed by the first ever Sundresses pile-up. Guitars feeding back, drums spread across the stage, drinks spilled everywhere and the biggest grin I've had on my face since I don't know when. At this point in the tour, I am so happy I can't even stand it. I could have died that night if it were up to me. That night we stayed with Harry, the owner. I forget his buddy's name but he was cool as fuck and kept complementing me on my mustache, which is incredibly powerful. You have no idea. Again, at this point things really get pretty foggy. We all might as well 'been just goin' muh muh muh muhh blahh guh pppptthhe instead of trying to make sentences. But, you have to try, right? Even through the pain. Of livin' is gone. Here's a little story, bout Jack & Diane... sorry about that... Anyway, Makenzie Diamonds made the sandwiches this night. And I have no idea what was on it but I took a picture and I know it was good. I think it was grilled chees and turkey on wheat? Sandwich number 3 I've got all those pics up on my Brad Loans Facebook page . I don't know what the link is... facebook/bradloans? I dunno.

NOW IT GETS WEIRD: HUNTINGTON, WV @ SHAMROCK'S PUB

I don't know how many of you have a moat around your house, but I'm gonna guess it's not too many. If I had to guess, I'd say probably 3 of our ten-gazillion friends who we know personally really do; that's not counting myself. I have a moat... in my MIND! If you have a moat around your house or mind, please get in touch with The Sundresses ASAP. Ask for Shawn Abnoxious. He's a doctor. Let's see, this show we played with Qiet (pronounced 'quiet'), and The Family Conspiracy. Christopher (who if I remember correctly was in both bands) was the stand out character in a play-pool of really awesome strangers. What the fuck is a play-pool? It's a metaphor and a damn fine one that I just made up on my own without your help. ...The stand-out character is always the person we stay with because they are the one we spent the most time with. That's really interesting, Brad, thank you. We'll start at the end of the night where Christopher leads us to his hilltop lair. He lives with his father who is a genius of architecture. The house is shaped like a globe and the interior walls are completey covered in NASA-quality polished mirrored glass. The house was lit with one light at its center and cranes moved and lifted the rooms around in real-time so as to give one the sense of constant forward progress, ...and the furniture in the bedroom we slept in was suspended off the ground; nothing touched the floor, including The Sundresses. Six giant eagles greeted us at the gate and we were led into a tool shed to listen to Christopher's perspective on all things everywhere. We saw the sun rise and were treated to an amazing breakfast mix that I skillfully crafted into a sandwich with my pointer finger. Who knew peanut butter and eggs could work so well?! I didn't. And you probably still don't, and likely never will. Unfortunately, I ate it too fast to document in a photo. I was able to take a picture of the mixture, but alas, I have no evidence of the sandwich. This was the only time this happened and you'll just have to trust me that a sandwich WAS indeed consumed in Huntington, WV. Sandwich 4. I tried to cover it up by calling it a "sans bunwich". I know, pretty bad, right? John Curley (The Afgan Whigs) called me out on this Sandwich Fail a mere 15 seconds after I posted the image. It's good to know our forefathers of Cincinnati Rock & Roll are looking out for us when we stray from being anything but completely amazing and perfect and like three modern Gods of humankind. I would be Zeus. You can call me Dr. Zeus if you'd like, or just Brad, Brad Loans, Gordon Amerika, Brad Hangout, Brad Shitslinger, Brad Howe, and Fucker. But that's all....Stephan has a picture he took of us this night and I hope he sends it along. He also gave Makenzie Diamonds (Mayor) a picture of a dead bird. It's pretty cool. He's a good photographer. The bird was not so talented. He was talent DEAD, oooh! snap! So OK, before we went to Christopher's we were at a party with some of the locals. One guy had a mouse who actually LIVED - on - him. He was very interested in talking close to your face and not letting go of your hand. Nice fellow. Completely open-minded, like totally. WAIT!! (At this point something happened while I was writing...I remembered something) OMG! There WAS a sandwich documented for this night but I was so hammered I just remembered it! Dang! Yeah, we all had sandwiches at this party. I posted that to facebook I think... anyway, sorry, I just freaked out. I was thinking that there was actually a day we did not eat a sandwich and I was totally wrong! That means The Sandwich Tour was actually a complete SUCCESS TOUR!! Fuck yeah. Awe wow, I'm really excited about that you don't even understand. Well, if you know anything about The Success Tour, you know it was tough. I'm gonna write more later. Right now I'm gonna sit back and enjoy my success sandwich . See people, you just gotta keep pluggin away. We've never quit, we've never changed. We can do anything.

....to be continued....

i really blew my lid.

i j-riza-emy, would like to sincerely apologize to shawn abnoxious, the wolverton brothers and all other attendants at the comet rock bar last friday night.

to shawn,
im really sorry i freaked out at your reading. i would like to come and read some of my stuff with you sometime. i got to be a mile right next to my shitter, and believe you me, i takes a lot of shits. you know what its like in a band, sometimes you just gotta run down the fucking street or hit a motherfucker. one or the other. but how i dealt with our inner band issue was entirely unprofessional, and for that i feel like i put a damper on your evening, i sincerely apologize.

to the wolvertons,
ive been playing in cincinnati for almost twenty years, and its always an honor to share a bill with you all. back when i was fifteen and in beel jak, yall were superstars and the idea of playing with yall was so far from reality that now i get all weepy and sentimental. its a shame to have a disaster like that and i hope we get the chance to rock asses with yall again. i think of yall like the guided by voices of cincinnati, but good. cause i think gbv kind of sucks.

to the thirty or twenty or forty people who thought we were gonna rock,
at least it was free. look at it like this,
you guys witnessed probably the worst set the sundresses have ever played. at least theres that.
and to the sexy girl who said "only the sundresses could do this and make it entertaining" or something to that effect,
that guy you were rubbing is one lucky sonofabitch, and if i see you at one of our shows again i promise to make you shake your ass off.
and that goes for everyone.
at our next cincinnati show i promise we are gonna be a tight sexy rock music machine.
scouts honor.

by me, r to that iz-a-j-za-emy.

apparently, we are a rude band. its kind of a running joke to usdresses, "its funny to me but not you!"
stu axl art mc rose nzie(not his real name) along with creepy nate from nyc, outside of the now world famous northside tavern, before the big pearlene show, while discussing our nyc bromancers, the giraffes, said unto me (in a drunken northern kentucky slur) so, um, you guys are like the assholes of cincinnati rock, right?! i mean, so, are the giraffes like the big assholes of nyc rock?" i think creepy nate, (who by the way is handsome enough to be a high class gay whore) upon moving to nyc and learning of the giraffes extremely gross and boisterous reputation, put two and two together and figured some sort of sundresses/giraffes friendly, completely not gay connection had to exist.  what threw me is that i had no idea we are considered the biggest assholes in this towns potent rock music- bigger than a pond- but not quite a lake scene. have you met some of the douchbags that play music in this town stu? you hurt me buddy. deep inside my mangina.

 of course the giraffes are complete toolbags! they nicknamed keisha "spocks father"! they tagteamed some starry eyed very drunken aspiring indiana songstress with their dirty filthy unpure little new york probably jewish penises in the bathroom at gypsy hut! they broke sarahs couch, stole my dvd copy of "throated", and refuse to stop putting their fucking band stickers next to our "jesus" sticker on our wonderful and pure white van. they make me drink bottles of jim beam in one gulp and eat the entire bag of mushrooms and saunter me around manhattan like some kind of brooklyn dildo. i like to think of the giraffes as the most highly educated idiots i have ever met, or the gayest heterosexual testosterone based life forms on earth. from what i have heard, yes, the giraffes are total asshats to sucky bands, but i wouldnt know, my band is terrific.

MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE MORE

  see that picture on our front page? thats usdresses preparing to perform "strange fruit" in front of the oldest crowd we have played to. on the other side of the camera (the side you dont see) is around seven hundred and fifty people, at least half of them old. this was at the historic emery theater in over the rhine. the neighborhood, not the band. we were only the second performers to play that stage in over a decade. the first were bootsy collins and his band of merry james brown players, including a balding guy who does a mean head-moonwalk. it was sooooooooo sweet.
later that night, we, the sundresses, were bestowed the honor of best album ever, for barkinghaus. i know, i didnt think they gave out "best album ever" awards either, but apparently they do, and they give 'em to usdresses.

this was the part of this blog where i was going to finally write the full story of how barkinghaus came to bear. i even have a title;

 BARKINGHAUS! THE SIRENS ARE REAL.
but, alas, its a long, boring story and im getting tired of writing words.
heres a bit;
im at josh dorseys house a few years ago. at the time, he lived in what is known as the covington lodge. his infamous living room had around twenty foot high ceilings and was roughly five million square feet in area. i was playing his drums, you know, just fucking around when i said, "man, man, these drums sound fucking great in here!" to which josh replied, " i know man, fucking crazy!" then, i had the perverbial lightbulb moment. "holy shit man, can we make our record in here?"
"fucking a' man!" josh said. and the rest is cincinnati lore.

heres the crazy shit, we are already thinking about the next one. shit, not just thinking, but writing.  i would say that between me and brad, right now, we have ninety percent of our new material in the air, working. dont get me wrong, we are ready and excited to promote the fuck out of barkinghaus, but the next one, well, thats what im looking forward to. and barkinghaus, as i said before, is the best album ever, for now.
the next one, tentatively titled "sweet bitch" is gonna rock your cocks into your own body while we fuck your wife from behind because your cock has hid itself in fear of our tremendous rocking out. dont say you werent warned.

well, internet, you are boring me now

                     

In Cincinnati, there is a great divide in the world of the arts. The Fine Arts: the world of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra, Pops, Opera & Ballet... and The Not So Fine Arts: the world of Cincinnati local rock and rollers, art fags, hipsters and the generally impoverished local artist. The haves, and the have nots, basically.

What's funny, though, is that (and this will soon be backed up by statistics, a little birdy tells me) if you were to look and analyze the money generated by the two spheres of art in this city, I'm POSITIVE you would find that one is a facade held up and kept in tact by old money, old people, old ideas (old and classist concepts of what constitutes art) while the other sphere, the one YOU'RE probably interested in if you're reading this, is actually generating real NEW money, MORE money, attracting MORE people and is much better for the general improvement of Cincinnati. By "general improvement" I'm talking about attracting new young citizens to the area and keeping them here, getting them to spend their money here, getting them to invest in a home here, etc.

This, ironically, is what everyone involved in the Fine Arts wants, but because those with the clout (the CSO, the Opera, City Hall, etc.) don't really understand rock and roll, or hip hop, or graffiti artists or anything other than Barry Manilow (however you spell his name) and Beethoven, and Madame Butterfly, and because they consistently bow down to the conservative purse strings that hold up their house of cards, they are stuck in a dance where, on one hand, they hold a desire to have a broader, more progressive, young and daring arts world here in Cincinnati, and in the other they are hand-cuffed to those who pay for their arts facilities and who buy the $300 dinner at the "prestigious" fund-raising events; Aronoff, Corbett, Kaplan... the list goes on.

I've spent the last year working for and around those who are considerably vested in keeping the arts in Cincinnati the same as it's always been; like a naked Emperor. You know the parable. Let me be among those who stand up and say to that Emperor, "Hey, man, put a towel over that thing and get the fuck outta my way."

My current job is, for lack of a better descriptor, Janitor of The Fine Arts here in Cincinnati, and I've spent my time ("working really hard and doing my job well") rummaging through it's trash and holding the hors devours (sp?) at its fund raisers. I'm taking a bit of a leap by writing this, but I can't keep my mouth shut anymore; and so begins my road to quitting my janitorial position. :)

These people are fucking it up for you, young artist and/or musician, and it's source is at the top of the social ladder in Cincinnati. They are old, they are racist, they are the freaky immoral assholes that Stanley Kubric tried to portray in Eyes Wide Shut. It's fucked up and I hate it. They exist and they operate on the following premises:

1.) Kiss as much ass as you can so you can get money.

2.) Disregard any thoughts of artistic integrity because money PRECEDES art, yet never forget: YOU ARE AN ARTIST and that is reason enough to do WHATEVER.

3.) Set up some kind of Foundation or Charity so you don't have to pay income taxes.

4.) Take credit for things you didn't do. If possible, hire young struggling artists to come up with ideas FOR you so you can look good.

5.) Be as vague as possible when speaking, but consistently hold and believe that YOU are a genius and THEY are stupid and can't possibly understand your vision.

6.) Always remember: It's never your fault. Pass the buck at every opportunity and then make sure you kiss someone's ass so you can get that dollar back!

These people drive me nuts and I'm tired of them calling themselves and their friends 'artists' just so they have an excuse to avoid any and all accountability. One man I've met, who is a psychologist and who has funded the construction of some of this city's largest and most pompous art institutions, fancies himself an artist. His most recent project, of which he is very proud, is a collection of photographs of garbage. That's all. Point a camera into a garbage can, click, and call it art. Funny, though, that if he were ever to psychoanalyze himself he might realize that these photographs are not art, but are, rather, the reflection of his concept of art; a value judgment captured in an instant. I found one photograph particularly interesting: one of a Pepsi can in a pile of garbage at the bottom of a trash can. Interesting because his current wife (who is considerably younger than he by decades) owns a controlling share in the Pepsi Bottling Company. He is just one of many puppeteers of "art culture" in our Queen City and it ain't all right.

In conclusion, to quote Mr. J. Remy Sundress:

"Stand in the looking glass
and draw a bull's eye baby
point your finger
and pull the trigger.

Bang-bang-bang-bang
that's the sound you make
every time you say something
every time you think."


I'm not stopping.

~Gordon Amerika~

war! earthquake! water shortage! money! tornado! the sky! the stars! the gays! the black president!  the tennesee titans?! kerry collins?!

 

its time for another installment of t-sensad or whatever brad named this thing when he first put finger to keystroke to inform you, anonymous viewer, of the happenings and general blatherings of the sundresses.

THE SUNDRESSES ELECTRONIC NEWSALERTING DEVICE AND REPORT ON TERROR! AMONG OTHER HORRIBLE FRIGHTENING IDEAS

we, the sundresses are honored to announce the we have been invited to perform at this years cincinnati entertainment awards at the historic emery theater, or theatre. you choose.

we will be sharing a stage with bootsy collins and ralph stanley, two bonafide music legends. we dont get nervous about much, but this here is a big one. also performing is fellow cincinnati music shifting weirdos the seedy seeds. this will be my first time seeing the seeds, one of the problems with so many great bands and so many places to play in such a small town is that the good bands always end up competing. the seeds at the tavern, sundresses at gypsy hut, the suds at the comet. whats a girl to do? anyhoo, im looking forward to my cherry being popped, cause all ive heard on the street is that my ass will be moving. and i think they have a gosphel choir.

plus there is something about some record label called king something or other. the other big news is that usdresses are nominated for four ceas this year, best indie, best live band, best record and artist of the year. our parents are coming, so we better win something or theres gonna be a rodeo riot in murdertown.  i joke. i kidding. funny is better.

 

ummm, our van broke down. what really sucked is that we were on our way to a kickass show at the lagerhouse in detroit michigan. we had a guaranteed packed house full of rock city hipsters just waiting to get the shit kicked out of their heads by the queen city's finest, but general von bundeshaus (it means the peoples house in german), our beloved van, had a car stroke. luckily my dad is master fucking mechanic and a rare good christian, so hes gonna fix it up even though he hates to work on vans and get usdresses moving in the right direction again, and that direction would be named gone.

 

its late and i think madden 08 is making a booty call. keep yer fingers crossed about the van, we want to come to your town. all towns.

 

sinsurly,

j-remy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2YCTTD9Spk