We have entered into the realm of the unwell.

Rehearsals have been the torturous affairs that they always are, but the set is going to be a barn-burner--more on that later. We are now in the equally tormenting phase of gear selection. Which guitars? How many? Amps? Drums? Flight cases for all of it. . .

Kill me.

We once had a flight case that held twelve guitars (in their individual cases). During ordering, no consideration was made for physical dimensions, so when completed and delivered, it couldn't be rolled down the ramp of a truck--or fit into the doorway of any venue with the exception of Texas Stadium. . . I wonder where that is now. . .There's probably a family of four living in it outside of Tempe. . .


I made the mistake of letting someone borrow one of my amplifiers a while back--the logic being that electronics, like old cars, need to be utilized or things begin to deteriorate. . . and this particular amp needed a workout so I said, "sure." This was at least six months ago.

I have acquired lots of amplifiers over the years and I can use one of them, but I really need the speaker cabinet that was accompanying the one I loaned, since it's fairly small compared to my other rigs. . .

So, I called the number that I had for the guy. . . and again and again, leaving messages--trying to sound pleasant in a non-hassling musician kind of way. . .(you don't want to sound like you're in any way 'uncool' in these situations, music-types scare easily). Finally a woman answers (I assume it's his wife) "He, uh, doesn't live here anymore. . .no I don't have his number, check his myspace page. . ." So I do, and there are vague mentions of a benefit show, and donations regarding the guy. . .

Great, he's dead.

Then, I check the contact page which reads: "(name with-held) cannot get to a computer because he is in jail. . ."

This is of course worse than him being dead. There is no telling where my amp and speaker cabinet are. . . Anyone with any decency would have used their one jail phone-call to contact me and tell me how to get my amp back! Dang.

I should know better.

This is the third time this has happened. . .

Three different amps, three different people. . .at least this one has a reason for not getting back to me.

I never loan books. So don't ask.

Howdy.

I was thinking that since most of the tour dates are close together (by Texas standards), everyone could just go to all of the shows. . .so start arranging carpools.

I also thought you might like to know why we chose the cities in which we are playing. . . We will be re-tracing the steps made by the explorer Rene-Robert-Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle in 1680 when he came across the Rio Grande into Texas on the Belgian clippership 'the Sour Wind' in search of the lost city of the Toltecs. Legend has it that if you have an ambivalent heart and a good compass--the Ghost of Navasota will guide you on your journey. . .

Also, (and this is really only by coincidence) each city is covered in detail in my delightful and irreverent book, "The Delightful and Irreverent Guide to Quaint Bed-and-Breakfast Inns of the Northeast." I'll be hosting walking tours of each city while we wait for soundcheck. . .

The Baron of The Barnett Shale,
todd

I don't know how to start this. News like this comes when you least expect it. Even when the voice on the other end of the line had uttered the phrase, I didn't hear it. . .the details don't matter. I didn't hear details--I just sat there recalling scenes that he had been written into; some of the most fun gigs we ever played, hysteria in hotel rooms, and some truly great recording sessions. . .

Jeff Roe was a Musician among musicians. Once, for us, he came to Nashville with some other Denton horn players to the sessions that would become 'Byzantium.' We didn't know for sure what we wanted them to do--only that we wanted some horns on some tunes. . .we sent them some demos, they drove overnight--writing the arrangements on the way. Our producer asked why we were using these guys instead of some Nashville cats. . .we told him he'd see soon enough. . .

They played on 'So Precious' and 'Tonight,' and we had left space in another song for a solo of some sort. . .

We've posted 'Enough To Get By.' Please give it a listen. I don't really know what else to say.

Tell me Papa, why are the children crying?
Oh Nikita, 'Byzantium' is still only avalable as an import. . .


There's really no turning back now. . .we are doing a winter tour. This time we head for the East Coast. Sure, lesser bands would shy away from the cold and damp, but not us. . .why? I'll tell you why. . .actually I don't have a specific answer, but we've said, 'yes' and that's that. We start February 18th in Oklahoma and slowly work our way though Chicago, Philly, Boston, to NYC and down through the Carolinas towards Dallas again. This tour will celebrate the American release of the fabled and legendary 'lost' DBS album "Byzantium." I say fabled and legendary since unopened copies were going for $200+ on ebay, and that seems silly, so we got the rights back to the record so the world will be at peace again.

For those of you who have written me concerning my thumb. . .it is a full year after the accident and IT STILL HURTS. Poor flexibility, weakness. . .I'll be forced to seek acupuncture, which I've done before for my left index finger when arthrits came creeping in. Now it can support my full body-weight-- (I'll try to remember to do a fingerstand during the shows on the tour) so I've got that. . .and all. . .yeah. . .

Did anyone else assume that they shot TV shows during the rerun season? They go week to week? What happens if they do a bad one? They just run it? I guess they do, that explains a lot about American television. . . I don't watch that much tv. . .'The Office' of course--greatest show in history. . .'How It's Made,''Survivor Man,' yep, that's about it really.

'Survivor Man' needs to come on this tour with us. . .20 shows in a row on a bus with John's sleep-apnea, Toby's drunken gunplay, Taylor's black cloud of despair, and Nolan's advances. . .that's harder than a week on the Kalahari*. . .what about me? I'd show him how to make a three-course gourmet meal out of a Truck Stop snack section, and teach him to use words that help, not words that hurt. That's just who I am. . .

(*that's what she said),
todd

all shows have an element of danger. "as attendance rises, the collective i.q. decreases--so that a large concert has the collective identity of a five-year-old. . ." david lee roth said that. or maybe jim morrison. i don't know, now that i think about it, but one thing i am sure of is the fact that everyone gets a bit loopy when gathered in large quantities. that's why birds and fish are so easily led by whoever's in front. . .anyway, we were doing this gig in South Dakota and it was one of those big, two day thingys where everyone camps over night and by the end of it, everyone is really tired on top of the usual festival-grade drunkenness. we were playing and like always, we were more intent on the songs than the audience when we began to notice that the security guys (who were between the stage and the barricade) had basically abandoned their posts and were looking at us with "can't you do something about this!?!?!" looks on their faces. it took a measure or two before we saw the source of their terror. a really large corn-fed woman was naked and pressed up against the aforementioned barricade with her mams heaved over the top of it, singing and waving at us--as if one of us was going to stop the show and go to her and say," let me take you away fom all of this. . .there's so much truth in you and so much emotional larceny in these others. . ." meanwhile a pale emaciated methed-out looking dude had casually eased his hand across and is gently giving this cow some much needed support (at least on one side i guess). well i can't let this go without comment of course, so i say something really clever like, "dude you better tie a rescue rope to one of your friends before you get lost in one of those rolls. . ." well, meth-dude takes exception to this line of humor, because over the course of the previous song he had grown rather attached to this beast and i had now insulted his lady love. before i could say anything else clever, he was onstage with a gun (that he probably found under the left teet of that woman) forcing me to the ground and yelling, "you ain't so baddass now is yer!" i was concerned to say the least. obvious to everyone, this young man hadn't planned for anything beyond where he then found himself and in the freezing cold of that North Dakota October, band, assailant , and audience were bound together in silence for six and one half seconds. upon the seventh second i heard a sound that was almost cartoonish looking back now. . .it was an electronic caucophony like no one has ever witnessed. suddenly beside me was my transgressor with x's for eyes and i will swear i saw tiny birds circling his pointed head. beside him was my brother, standing arms raised holding a broken rickenbacker 12-string. he grabbed the microphone and yelled,"did y'all see how hard i hit that summbitch!" the crowd exploded, meth-dude was dragged away, and john counted us off into 'red light' and the show continued. i often wonder about the fat girl and meth-dude. did they ever find each other after that? do they ever think back to that night when they hear us on Muzak at the grocery store? is that how they pictured that festival weekend as they looked down into their sweaty hands when the ticket guy handed back their stubs at the entrance gate? probably. probably.

it's getting to be festival season again.
todd (my thumb STILL hurts)

Is it always this hot? I can't stay here if it's gonna be this hot. . .This is like Africa hot. . .

The winter tour '07 will go down in the DBS books as a goodly one. The wind chill in Ames Iowa was -25. MMMM, snuggly. We played well, even though my beloved G&L Bass went down after the first show. Nolan, who had brought his Rickenbacker out for the Sean Russell gigs, let me use his--which was very kind considering that I treat guitars in the same manner that I treat whores: Consistent beatings command respect. (Truthfully, my thumb hurt so bad after the Steamboat incident, I wasn't exactly bringing down the Hammer of Todd--in fact I flaccidly stumbled through the sets numb from the wrist down. . .) BUT, the Engine of Unlimited Pain that I brought out for my amplifier was amazing. It's a mid 70's Peavey which kicks down to 2 ohms simultaneously out of two channels. To you lay people, that means Kilimanjaro style headroom. Beyond thunderdome.

Anyway, we recorded the Denver show and in the cold, cruel, sober light of day it still bears our masochistic scrutiny. We may even release some of it. I've often wondered why we are so hyper-critical of our performances. We just are, I guess. Woe unto the poor bastard that misses a single sixteenth note somewhere during the show. I like giving the death smirk infinitely better than getting it. It's probably the Rush influence.

As we do after the last show on all tours, we wandered around the area surrounding the venue until we found an unsuspecting homeless person and we beat him to death. Good times. I haven't laughed so hard since Grandma got her left breast caught in the blender. . .

the king of pain,
todd

It never ceases to amaze me. . .I don't know if anyone could ever hear enough of college girls yelling, "WHOOOOOO!."

The tour has been great so far, we even were able to ski on the days of the Steamboat shows. We've become good skiers over the years, and our annual Skilibration is a time for old friends to subject as much grievous bodily harm upon one another as possible. In years past we've had separated shoulders, broken ribs, wrenched backs, and a lot of hate in general--but this year was different. Because of the shows, we didn't do our usual "wake up at 5 am, ski until we vomit, and pass out by 9pm." So there wasn't as much fist-fighting as usual--in fact, with the exception of a few obligatory shoves exiting the lifts, the slopes were devoid of the expected death-fest. There were no injuries at all. Until the last run before a lunch break on the last day. . .

We were on Buddy's Run, which is basically a Lazy River type run at the bottom of the mountain that takes you down to the Gondola, and like most runs of this sort it's not very entertaining--but a great opptortunity to inflict pain on members of your party. I was in a full tuck with my eyes set on Sean Russell. I was going to slide up beside him and push him off of the trail, or at least get a good punch in before eating some overpriced food at the lodge. . .Even in the tuck I wasn't gaining on him like I needed to be, so I narrowed my stance and started to gain speed. Just as I thought ,"wow, those Olympic dudes must have strong adductors, I'm getting wobbly. . ." I began a tumble that to everyone behind me looked like a helicopter crashing into the side of the mountain. I flew completely off of the trail and ended up in an Aspen tree. Then the pain began. I was neck deep in snow, and my right hand felt like it was on fire. My thumb was pointing too far toward my wrist, so like the Mensa member I am, I pushed it the other way. Surprisingly the 'pop' didn't hurt, and even gave me some relief, but the swelling was almost comical already. Three shows left, one radio performance. This is going to be interesting.

your humble narrator,
todd

The rehearsals for the upcoming tour have been filled with all the anger and spite that one expects when Deep Blue Something are together. . .I always think that as we get older, each of us would mellow a bit--but such is not the case. John's obsession with guns (and more alarmingly knives) has always been worriesome, (and I'll admit that discussing a set list with a man holding a Russian assault rifle is a tenuous situation) but his recent ascent to becoming an arms dealer is alarming even for a group as 'eccentric' as we have all become. As I write I feel the grip of madness tightening. . .The activities of my dear brother Toby are well documented, so I'll only mention the most recent events--After the Bosnian situation died down he was, as CNN called it, 'deployed with the best intentions and the worst in subversive reality' to Afghanistan to 'deal' with things there. Briefly and tuthfully: the notches in the neck of his beloved Stratocaster aren't for girls he's slept with, and 'Agent Provocateur' isn't just the name of a Foreigner album. . .Robspierre had nothing on this guy. Clay won't be able to attend this tour, he's still in India involved with the Theosophical Society there. We've discussed my problems concerning Blavatsky's involvement and philosophy (I'm an Ouspensky guy, and if he and Steiner weren't impressed then neither am I) but Clay is a man of good intent so we'll let it slide for the sake of the Society as a whole--and besides, flights out of Ceylon aren't as easy to come by as one might think. So, on guitar will be Taylor--who most already know, as he's been playing with us for several years now. Of all of us he's the least alarming. His outside interests are primarily real estate related, and if you see him, congratulate him on the recent acqusition of 14% of abandoned New Orleans--which he of course sold back to the state of Lousiana at 24 times his investment. (As he puts it, "there's nothing better than a hurricane, government incentives, and an actual retard for a mayor. . .") Amen. Nolan plays keys and we can always rely on him, but his insistance on incorporating dance elements to our performance doesn't jive with our moods. I cannot blame him, as anyone who has been trained all his life as a dancer exists to do just that. (He just came off of a tour as the lead in Swan Lake) You'll notice his onstage protest as he remains absolutely motionless and stone-faced behind the keyboard. . .That of course leaves me: peacemaker, camp counselor, activities director. . .and one day. . .I'll murder every last one of them. Watch out for my bass solo.

Todd

The rumors are true. I will do an International Blogcast (the first of its kind) on July 4 at 7:00 a.m. Central Standard time. Topics will include everything, but focus on Ouspensky's 'Tertium Organum' and 'New Model of the Universe'--so brush up on those books, and maybe Gurdjieff's 'Beelzbub's Tales to His Grandson.' I'll also highlight some new music that you may not have heard.

--Todd