Aloha Chingasos!

Man, it's been a long time since we've posted on here. The previous one had to do with our newish album finally going up on iTunes. Boy, did that make me remember a lot of stress, frustration and apathy! Here's a piece of advice: never plan a CD release around a CD release date, because it will make for a lot of hassles, extra money and you won't have digital distribution for months. But I digress.

Anyway, I've noticed from a couple text messages and emails and the response to the scuttlebutt I've not accidentally let slip that Darth Vato, after seven years of bandsmanship, will turn in our buffoonery guns and badges. In fact, Eric Griffey sort of dropped the bomb (he asked first) in last Week’s FW Weekly. What's sort of cool is that it will nearly be to the day we played our first show. Our first one was April 20ish, 2002 at Fat Harry’s. Our final one will be April 25, 2009, at either Lola’s or Longhorn’s.

Seven years is a long time for anything, let alone a band. It's a lucky number, but it's also a Biblical number, and in that context, it's often associated with vengeance, punishment or some other evil as often as it is associated with good fortune. In light of that, A Metaphorically Biblical (Somewhat, anyway) Seven Years would be a great title for a Darth Vato biography.

But really, who cares, besides the person reading this? Where's the market for the biography of a local band that, while known for drinking too much on stage, were otherwise relatively tame partiers? Where there was no real almost-had-the-big-break-but-missed-it moment, just a lot of playing and fixing shitty vans? One in which the core always remained the same three guys, without any sub-plot spawning lineup changes? Who wants to read about three dorks playing uncool music to bars in Fort Worth, TX?

Well, I would read it, but only because I'm a narcissist. But seriously, that book will probably never happen, and after all, Darth Vato was, is and always will be just another local band. I think that given what we had to work with (in terms of personal circumstances, i.e. student loans and the like) we did about as much as a local band can do without any fortunate hookups or extensive financing. Like every local band in our town and yours, we had big dreams, big obstacles, big triumphs, big failures, huge jealousies, bad pictures, worse shows, weight gain, hair loss, hearing loss, great times, okay times, really shitty times and then just times, man, just times. If you're in a band, especially a Fort Worth band, you know all about this. You know that you're better than that other band the paper likes, and you know that if you could only tour more you'd have enough MySpace friends for that promoter in California to take notice.  You know that you are having a lot of fun playing these songs, but you also know deep down that they really aren’t that good. Except when they are, which of course means you know how to imagine a situation in which that one good song opens the right door at the right time.

You also know that that one dude who knows the booking lady at Red Rocks (or Spaceland, or the Mercury Lounge or more likely, this sportsbar in Azle that pays real good, man). who can totally get you a show probably can't. Except when he does, in which case it's one of the best nights of your life. More than that, though, you know that you have to live with that wanky drum fill your drummer does because he has to live with all your tucked in t-shirts and that shitty digitech pedal board. You may also know that the bass player is pretty bad, but maybe he’s right and maybe we should just play all the time instead of practicing to perfection. You know (especially if you’ve been a band that’s come and gone) what an egomaniac looks and sounds like, unless, of course, the egomaniac is you. Then there are lots of things you probably can’t recognize. Sometimes you know that if he does that thing one more time, you’re going to punch his fucking lights out, but you also know (as in “all I know, man…) that he’s also the best player , if unsung player in town. One thing you probably know is that the trip there is better than the trip back, which likely means you also know that these trips would be way more fun if you didn’t have to go to work the next day.  A thing you do not know, however,  is what you did, but whatever it was you're sorry because this trip is just not as much fun as it could be given so-and-so's volatile mood. And if you know that, then you also know that getting in the van on a Friday and not coming home until Monday because all of you have that Monday off is so badass. If you know that feeling, then you know what the undercurrent of jealous admiration sounds like when the guy in the Godsmack soundalike band at your rehearsal space says, "well, have a good trip drive safe" after he's asked and you've answered the question, "Where you guys goin'?"

I am under the influence right now, so I apologize for this post's longwindedness.

Anyway, Neal Sedaka were totally right. Breaking up is hard to do. And I'm sure every band that has ever broken up has probably made that joke. I mean, it's a real chestnut. But seriously, think about it. Imagine John Lennon saying, "It's like Nick Carter said..." or Stewart Copeland, upon hanging up the phone after getting dumped by that tantric asshole Sting, goes over to his record player and finds a version, the Gloria Estefan version, plops into an easy chair, pulls those knee high athletic socks up around his chin and covers them with tears. For me, every show we've played since the beginning of October has been bittersweet; apart from a couple moments, I feel like we've gotten along, had fun and played most tightly (this does not, obviously, include the Fairmount with PH7 a while back). So our remaining shows have been a lot of fun. But I also know they're the last ones, and that bums me out.

Consider this, though: the shows we do annually--like Halloween and NYE and Soundclash? Well, you caught the last ones! Soundclash will still go on, but you caught the last year it had its core lineup of Pablo and the Hemphill 7 and Darth Vato. Pretty weird, right? That's also another thing that bums me out. I never really remember Halloween or NYE shows (except for eye witness accounts), but I always remember Soundclash, and they have always been my favorite Fort Worth shows.

But yeah, breaking up... I was reading weshotjr.com a while back, and it being the snooty dallas blog it is, made fun of the Feds' recent break up. I was never a Feds fan, though I did meet the guitar player and thought he was nice. But I thought, "jeez, that's pretty harsh. I mean, whether the music sucks or not, those dudes tied up a lot of their lives into that band. That's kind of crummy to piss on them like that." And in certain circles, I can imagine Darth Vato's name being mentioned (if mentioned at all) with the same sneering tone as used with a mention of the Feds. Oh well, I guess. The point is, the three of us put a big chunk of our lives into this band, and we have just decided to do other things.

We've had this under our collective hat for a few months now. Fact of the matter is, it just sort of stopped being as much fun. When I think about a year ago, when we were putting the final touches on the album at Skyline, we were so stoked about what we'd made. We were really ambitious, like quit-your-job ambitious, I would say that it was the beginning of the end. If you’ve heard the album (and please buy it if you haven’t, because we’re really proud of it), you’ll notice that it sounds… dissatisfied. And bitter. There’s a lot of bitterness in that thing; while some of it dates as far back as 2005, a lot of it was written in 2007. 2007 was a rough year for us, both as a band and as individuals. As proof, consider that I wrote five of the songs; in writing them, I wanted a voice on the album, but I think that passively, Kerry might have been manifesting a loss of interest. I dunno. But anyway, those songs sound pissed off. Plus, we had to pay on the loan we took out for it, a situation not dealt with since we paid off Havoc  in 2006. If there was ever a time I was going to seriously quit, it was probably in early 2005, when I just didn’t see the point and felt trapped by money owed to a bank. So the idea that we still had to pay this fucker off loomed over us no matter how good we felt about the new album. We had pretty optimistic goals for money making, so we didn’t worry too much about the loan, but that didn’t last for very long.

Since this was our “big push album” aka, our “big investment album,” we wanted to do it as best we could, to make something that was unmistakably us.  We mixed with Adam Lasus, who was the guy who did the Oliver Future album and made someone a lot of money with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! Not to mention among many other albums that we are not cool enough to regularly listen to. And he was awesome. Oh No! We're Doing Great! came out exactly how I wanted it to sound, because Adam was a genius. I had a lot of fun watching him work, but again I was in L.A., where everything was fun.

Problem was, Adam and Jordan couldn't mix it until April, because they were working on this little project down in Austin that was taking longer than expected. If you're curious, it's the movie the Burning Hotels are in. But anyway, our album just sat, and we had to start paying it off, so we didn't get to promote it the way we had planned. No big deal. Par for the course. We have a saying at Darth Vato headquarters, stemming from a time I got turned down for a Guitar Center credit card: "It's ah, it's not gonna work out."

And at the time, the months between recording and mixing were just the latest manifestation of things not working out. But as the rest of the year wore on, I think we weren't having as much fun as we should've been having. Then we went on tour, and that was weird. Here's another piece of advice: don't tour in the summer. It's fucking hot, noone's around and gas cost a billion dollars. Did I also mention it's fucking hot? If you're a band like our band, that's a pretty captivating factor. Don't bother fixing the a/c in the van, because it'll just go out again on the way back.

The tour was mostly fun, but I know we all got sick of each other. If you want to find the next awkward thing after having to talk to your parents about sex when you're in middle school, drive from Phoenix to Fort Worth with a couple other people in almost total silence. And then there was this one time in Austin where I was in one of my moods and then got super drunk and Eric got super pissed. Or this other time when I was super drunk and Kerry got super pissed. And on and on. Eric had this mentor once, great guy, this guy, and he always said, "A band is like a marriage..." and much to my chagrin, that guy was right. I would prefer that he had said "family," because Eric and I have lived with each other and it didn't work (no marriage there) and Kerry is already married. So yeah, being in a band is rough, but losing friends is rougher. I guess we chose friends. That's how we all started out, and that's how we're ending.

I guess friendship is what Darth Vato has always been about. I say that with a straight face knowing full well that it sounds corny and that the three of us have all said not nice things about each other at one time or another. But through this band, I have met and made lifelong friendships with people I would not have otherwise known. I know that sounds lame and saccharine, but it's totally true. Snarky critics can shit on a band, but they are not taking into account the knot of relationships that are impacted in some way when one dissolves. At the end of it, the scheduling, the strain on our personal relationships and the decay our friendships had us headed down the breakup path; the third van breaking down for the last time was the final straw. As it says in the Bible, we saw the writing on the wall.

But here's the thing:
We have had a blast. We were never supposed to make it past the point of playing Sublime covers for free at a crappy bar, but we ended up packing a few clubs in out of town places and playing places we had no business playing (I’m looking at you, Spaceland and Viper Room). The only way we have lasted this long is because of all you people reading this (if you've supported Darth Vato, at least). You guys have come to the shows, and helped us put out albums, and given us places to sleep and beer and food and an ear to hear complaints and hopes and undelivered ultimatums. You've bought our records and spent money at bars and made us look waaaaay better than we ever were, and for that, on behalf of Kerry and Eric, I say thank you. I don’t know how Darth Vato will be remembered in the grander scheme of Fort Worth music (I wrote that sentence with a straight face, too. Maybe less earnestly than the previous hard-to-believer, but still.), but I know we’ll at least be remembered for having pretty good-sized crowds that liked to drink. Allegedly, we have broken booze sales records. I don’t know for sure. I am certain, however, that of our legacy of selling liquor is all because of you guys. So thanks for that. But more importantly, we wouldn't do this if not for everyone who has ever willfully come to a Darth Vato show. Especially you guys in Fort Worth, Corpus Christi and especially the dude in L.A.. You know who you are; we owe the past seven years to you. If you've got pictures or a funny story or one about how you saw us and thought we totally sucked, or a picture of Eric passed out in a garbage can or something, please post it or email it to us. We're closing a chapter of our lives, and we'd appreciate the memories, especially since you were there, too. If you can make it to one of our last shows, please make the trip. We’re still having fun, and we’re still pretty good. Not great, but pretty good.

 Thanks for everything

love (sincerely even),

Steve

p.s.

If you are curious as to what the title refers, I would like to point you in the direction of Lee Greenwood. And if you know the joke about me and Lee Greenwood, then you have an idea of what it's been like to write this post, in which case I love you all very dearly. Again, you know who you are.