We Might Need to Start Thinking

About seeking employment in Raphine, Virginia, where we are without a doubt, no joke, no kidding about it: stranded. Virginia is a shadowy realm, a twilight zone, terra icognita.

I don't usual write titles that complete themselves in the text, but as I am in a place, both physically and metaphysically, that I have never been before, the most unexpected and preternatural of actions seemed logical.
In fact, I rarely write sentences like that one.
I am shocked and luck is a real thing.

I know a lot of you have been keeping up with the twitter's and such, but I'll fill you in officially on the time line of horribleness:

August 1 - Trailer tire blows out on a highway at 3:30 in the morning



August 2 - Trailer is totaled by drunk driver outside of Travis's house
August 4 - On the road to Nashville, back outside tire of RV blows out.
- Having reached Nashville, the other back, outside tire begins leaking air.
- By the end of the night, the tire is flat.




August 9 - Back, inside tire blows out, causing a hidden oil leak.
- Engine completely breaks down in Raphine, VA





Funny, the time line doesn't appear that substantial. At least there is no entry reading "Marshall breaks left arm" "Matt get's arrested for PI" "Brett is missing"

I used to think about this poem when times were bad. I'd walk out of my house and think, at least my car is still there. Or, I should be grateful I was not attacked in my home last night by a psychopath with a knife. Now, the poem carries a bit too much irony. Maybe, in that way, the piece will remain special for years to come.

Show Biz

I can't have it
and you can't have it
and we won't
get it

so don't bet on it
or even think about
it

just get out of bed
each morning

wash
shave
clothe
yourself
and go out into
it

because
outside of that
all that's left is
suicide and
madness

so you just
can't
expect too much

you can't even
expect

so what you do
is
work from a modest
minimal
base

like when you
walk outside
be glad your car
might possibly
be there

and if it is-
that the tires
aren't
flat

then you get
in
and if it
starts--you
start.

and
it's the damndest
movie
you've ever
seen
because
you're
in it--




Gone for now, we are still searching for ways to get back. Currently, we are marooned here. But I read in the town newspaper that a dance is going on tonight at the local dance hall. I still have one clean suit left and ten dollars. I know there have got to be some pretty girls.

Wednesday, August 5th, Morning

Very early wake up today. It's still raining from the night before. We played a great show in Nashville, but sadly we've sprung yet another flat tire. The nearest tire joint is about five miles. The trip should be relatively simple.

Last night a little piece of hell broke loose in the sky outside of Nashville. Boy, what a storm. I did notice a few things, though. When moving into a driving rain, the drops become clearly defined at the last second and they look like a hundred or a thousand stars passing by. Also, in the thickest of it, I saw a strange thing. I could make out, just for a second, an object on the road as we drove over it. There was a little toad there, amidst the cars and trucks and howling rain, a toad hopping across the road. The toad appeared to be an albino one. Or maybe its dark, bumpy skin bleached out in the presence of the RV's white lights.

First Day of Tour, August 4th

The RV is ready to go. We are packing the stuff straight into the inside, rather than using the trailer. This makes the RV top heavy, like a christmas tree swaying back and forth, stuffed! We were supposed to leave yesterday, but we had no place to stay. We opted to drive the ten hours today and play the show later tonight. This is no worry, everyone gets their second wind.

Matt and I watched The Hurt Locker last night. The film was intense. Matt experienced some sure fire symptoms of cathartic release, happiness in the shadow of maimed bodies, ultra-low frequency explosions and humming and hard-nosed soldiery. A row of upper-crust, hamster faced fraternities sat four abreast the row in front of us. I heard a few scattered shouts of towel-head and I just want to see some towel-head's get killed! Thanks, Tim and John and Tony and Mark. You're heroes, some real class acts. Matt said, They must have gained a little bit of perspective after seeing that film.

Sadly, no. Their driving, too, lacked the subtlety of an informed political opinion. We smoked their Mustang in a pure route. It was too easy. The STI tore into the gravel and sped away. That was sweet. So sweet. I just know one of the less fortunate of the bunch will grow up to be a police officer. Surely, we will meet again.

The road unfolds ahead, as surely as we expected the road to unfold. With every mile conquered, the road itself is catalogued into a memory type substance. Every mile of track is spooled into a fruit roll up of pavement travel, the forward movement essentially pushes more layers onto the outside of the fruit roll up. Don't know if you get quite what image I'm trying for. You get it. Nashville tonight. The basement. Nice girls, last time we visited. Hope for more of the same.

Updates, EP sampler Progress

We are working really hard to finish up our new material. The stuff is turning out really great. This stuff is irreverent, cocky, and completely without pretention. I worked on some lyrics for "You Should Start a Band" (working title). We call out rappers, indieophiles, and smokers that hold cigarettes like they are fucking trophies. If you heard "Burning Panties" at out show in Ft. Worth, you're already excited about that one.

Truly, fame awaits the weary and the persistent and the confident.

Travis & Marshall are Native Americans

Did I mention that Marshall and Travis are registered members of the Choctaw nation?
Among other perks (affirmative action, casinos, cool Indian names) Trav got this swell birthday card. Neat, huh?

Invest in our record.

Hey earthlings,
I'll be telling you guys A LOT more about this amazing program we've designed later. (I'm tired!) But check this out. And BE sure to read the "About the band" page. It's pretty cool.

-Brett

A Reason to take a look below at the DONATION DRIVE

I am getting poned by some serious noobs right now. I'm sweating all over. It's this entire group, all at the gaming center together, all having fun. I resent that because even the girl with them has killed me two times in a row. I'm cursing and everything. And when I leave and they are congregated outside, I won't say a nice word or anything. A pretty shit life I lead. But not if you participate in the donation drive!

See if this album doesn't get made, if TFB doesn't ultimately triumph, my life could look like forty years of this.

A Bit of Media, Moon Media

One of many Terrible RV experiences

I always thought that the problem rested in the rusted bowels of our own Tioga Montara. The truth is, RV's break down. All of them do. That's what the RV is designed for, to shit out on you in the middle of camelfucking nowhere. Even the ones passing by on the highway that look like spaceships, the ones kept clean, those with shiny wheels. You end up passing them three hours later. The Tioga is not one of the nice specimens. I think it was made in 1987, a date that corresponds to my birth, funny enough. Our worst shit out came on the tail end of our East Coast Tour. We were almost home and the noises started. Well, we took a couple of pictures. The first one, here, is Travis beside the Tioga in a Pep Boys parking lot. Our thinking ran like this: If we park right in front of the place, they'll be more likely to help us get the thing running. It worked.



The mechanic that fixed us up. Nice guy. And he wasn't weirded out that I wanted a picture.

Experimental Artwork #2: Bunny Hat

Starring unknown man, Allie, Alyssa, Max, and I. Special thanks to Brian for photography.



Further consideration- is this really a bunny hat? Which animal is it? A free album for the best comment.

New Old Instrument: The Autoharp

Dear Earthlings,

In case you didn't know, I'm sort of an instrument addict. Check out my new old Omnichord. Craigslist baby!

-B

Well, TFB is going on a new tour in two weeks so...

TOUR MEMORIES.

Travis on the New York Skyline shortly after our 5:30 a.m. arrival



Matt on the Philly Skyline



M Galactic (myself) towing beer for Space Party 3 NY, New York



The Frontier Brothers in Charleston, SC.

The Frontier Brothers, Driving - March and April Tour

I think we're all smiling because these photos were taken at the beginning of the tour

Second and third runner-up, best hair

Even Marshall Galactic opted for a business minor

And so I-he have been busy crunching up the numbers, up and down and across the page. Brett has returned from Iceland where he was studying how to brew the country's only alcoholic beverage (the black death). It's not bad, though. I had some. Brett brought back a bit of it on the boat.

That is why there came a swish of silence, (two or three days without the blog a bit) it is two doors opening closing. '

"Burning Panties" is coming along well, wonderfully. It progresses to a place that I-me knows, that we knows, where latches are not tinkered with.

The Frontier Brothers are practicing and recording and creating new pieces. In short, do not live fearfully. And by that I mean you should not be afraid (to litter in your dream garden). Such is the place I-we knows.

Perfect Road

The lack of a good book eats me up. I finished Tropic of Cancer a few days ago. Yesterday I was so bored, I actually read through my copy of last year SI Swimsuit Edition. Yes, I own a copy. I read about all of the luxury resorts where the photographers and models stay. Places such as these are too perfect. I don't want a gaggle of people asking me what I want all the time. May I get you that, get you this. My room is a great resort. I get privacy and all the comforts of home. I have a shower. I do not have internet access, though.

Last night when I was riding my bike, I coasted over the evidence of a profound truth. That truth: Where money is, nice things are. Not in the ways one would expect, either. There are the obvious things, of course. And signs one has to feel around a bit to notice. While I was riding my bike, I noticed that nice cars were popping up. And as that little observation, like a pleasant bubble, expanded to a proper size within my brain, the road surrendered itself. Like a virgin too tired it was, and sweeter. I tell you, the road was as smooth as baby's bottom. Not a bump to disturb my straight course. I could have worn a blindfold and taken my hands off the handle bars and still ridden all night through the streets of that wealthy paradise, all without a care in the world. The smoothness, like that of a baby's bottom or like that of sanded balsa wood, was delicious. I wonder how the folks over there made that road so smooth.

Does the city pay for it knowingly. Do they let all the other roads go to shit but keep the best ones hidden like a secret in back road neighborhoods.

Some political and economic points occurred to me. Fuck them. I just want to think about how perfect that road was.

Found! Get Up Go Movie Mash Up

Whoever made this, Bravo! I am not sure what the video really means, but it includes tons of movies I love: Predator, The Goonies, Road Warrior, Blood Sport, Back to the Future...The list goes on. It feels like The Frontier Brothers are famous. Mash up videos start popping up. Also, there is some footage of me in high school, smiling at the camera and kissing my then girlfriend. The strangeness! I look so angelic. I don't know where that footage came from.

My favorite part is when Carl Weathers and Arnold do a strong arm handshake at the guitar solo spot. The beginning comes a close second. Enjoy! And thanks to whoever liked the song enough to make this video!

I gotta say, I don't look that bad compared to Mel.

Peta makes me mad, like Jesse James

PETA has condemned Obama. They're after him. He swatted a fly. Personally, I was impressed by the video. Jesus. It's a fucking fly.

I don't have much time to write this post. I've been really busy with school. Things like this, they call upon those long dorment springs of inner frustration to erupt into the bright sun with a flash of color and violence. My hands feel heavy, stuffed with gravel, the two want to make a thud on that someone's face. That ninny motherfucker.

Sorry I've been so busy with scholastic responsibilities. The studio looks great, right? I believe I'll visit the UT pool today. Across the way from the sparkling pool and over a fence there are construction workers tearing their backs and cutting their legs on exposed nails. And they can see us there, lounging by the pool. Never felt so good about myself in my life. So lucky I am. It was all luck. Things are not so bad, that's for sure. My car starts. It is not raining and my nose is not stuffed up. Construction workers should be protected better. The job is dangerous. Perhaps someday I'll be on the other side of the fence and my twenty year old UT ID won't get me in. I'll remember the silky water and the protuding bums of women coming up for breaths.

The Frontier Brothers Visit Cacophony Studios

I Don't Wanna

I threw a pair of socks over my shoulder this morning. I couldn't find them when I turned around. I tried to find them for a minutes and then gave up. The socks are gone.

Obama was speaking today on the tube. This was during my lunch time. On top of lowering health care costs, he said, the average person in America should make an effort to take a run or go to the gym; also, he made a point to urge Americans to curb their addiction to fast food, which has "caused an epidemic of obesity in our country." To my right, two people eating Taco Bell. At my left, three fat girls munching Chick-fil-a. All eyes glued to the screen. None seemed aware of the irony. The president had just called them out on being fat asses. That's when you know you've got to change things. 

We won't be able to play with Kepi Ghoulie in Ft. Worth. I am very sad, angry even.

Remember the Build Your Own Spacesuit Tour?

Well, these are the names that didn't quite make the cut.
I just sat down and started writing whatever came to mind.
Anything that had to do with mythology, the yonder, and punkness.

Moon's Magnetism Tour
Flying Through A Supernova's Grave Tour
The Picturesque Nebula Tour
Where Venus's Water Went Tour
Perfect Space Storm Tour
When We Stayed Home to Leave Earth Tour
(The) Space Settlement and War Tour
(The) Magnificent Mystery of Magnetars Tour
(The) Exquisitely Maintained Robots Tour
(The) Greater Stardom Tour
Upstarts of the Nine Planets Tour
Technical, Electronic, Supersonic Robot Tour
The Wealthy Robot Owners Tour
Experimental Love-Craft Tour
The Return of the Frontier Brothers Tour
Vices and Devices Tour, 2009
Evolution of a New Brain Tour
To the Brightest Of Gods Tour
'Till The World is Doomed Tour
Hot is the Holy Water Tour
The Louder Than You Think Tour
The Domestic and Majestic Tour
The Face of the Spacefaring Race Tour
The Spacefarin' American Tour
The Iron Lion Tour

Any Questions?

Didn't think so.

Friday, Thunderstorms, and the Lunatics on Channel 5

Why?
cuz it's friday
you aint got no job
and we aint got shit to do.

I kind of like that in verse.

There was a large thunderstorm last night. I was sitting on my porch. Far away, violence in the sky, just endless flashes, boom boom BOOM boom BOOM. I have to admit the display was frightening. Travis phoned and told me there had been some tornados spotted on Anderson Mill and 183. This refreshed my spirit. I'd had a long day and was tired. The danger and the smell of moisture coming in, leaving the air dense and saturated, that made me feel nice. I had a Tecate with my neighbor Ty and listened to the thunger come closer. We advised some of the females on the street to move their cars under trees. Like we had shit under control. A beer is also cooler when water is tightly packed in the air around you. The cold liquid becomes more of a strange and refreshing thing when the air is pushing in warmly against you.

I believe the media needs to be stopped. They are all lunatics.

There might have been some danger last night. Some homes were damaged. If you were careless, you might have been injured. Ty and I watched the newscast for about an hour. It was shocking. The folks were practically begging for a catastrophe. When even a slight rotation is detected by doppler radar, the people at Fox plant these yellow, swirling circles on the screen. Last night, there were close to eight of these things plastered onto a map of Austin. The image is terrifying. It looked as though eight yellow, mad, reckless demon yellow eyes balls were distributing bits of Armageddom across central Austin.

When the whole thing calmed down and the radar clearly showed the storm had moved past us, the news people seemed crestfallen. "Well, at times tonight, it was really bad. We had a bad storm on us tonight" Something like that. A tinge in her voice, like she was disappointed with the level of carnage.

We cannot allow people in the business of entertainment to shape our view of the world.

Buenos Aires Indie Rock Explosion

Dear humans,

In case you haven't been stalking me as intently as everyone else, I've been in Buenos Aires, soaking in the scene. There's a sweet record store down the street and they have been hooking me up with whats cool in Buenos Aires and greater Argentina. This is a country of indie rock and dance music. Well, the Taxis all seem to play bad 80s pop songs, but isn't that just an international taxi phenomenon?

Here's a crash course in what's cool:
Bicicletas - 11 Y 20
Download MP3
Banda de Turistas - Todo mío el otoño
Download MP3
and check out these bands on their myspaces- i couldn't find mp3s
http://www.myspace.com/lesmentettes
http://www.myspace.com/ondavaga
http://www.myspace.com/interama


Ciao,

B

The Sublime and the Tacky

From Shakespeare's Henry V,

For these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favours, they do always reason themselves out again...A speaker is but a prater, a rhyme is but a ballad; a good led will fail, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a curled pate will grow bald, a fair face will whither, a full eye will become hollow, but a good heart, Kate, is the and the moon, for it shines bright and never changes, but keeps his course truly.

Isn't that nice? Beautiful. I teard up a bit when I read this. But then again I was behind on my med schedule.

Now for something crass and tacky. I was supposed to write a piece for this magazine, for a story called 10 Worst Band Experiences of all Time. I could have been truthful, outlined the all too frequent scenarios: bad sound, asshole door guy, skimpy pay. Instead I chose to expound on another aspect of the band experience. I apologive, especially to Peter, who took the time to post a nice comment on my last entry and who no doubt has some sensitivities when it comes to sexism. I also apologive for how shitty the thing really is. I even missed the dead line.

Well, I have a big problem with clubs; they don't have a system for keeping out ex-girlfriends. In the music world, we have a unique lexicon. When you know a girl is attractive and she's really excited to come the show, she might be what we call a "prospect." Propects and ex-girlfriends should never be allowed to identify each other. If that happens, the whole thing is blasted to hell. Even a casual comment. "Who do you know in the band?" (Disastrous) Oh yes, those past and maybe all too present flames with definitely brag about your shared past together. The two will inevitably form a bond, thus excluding you and elminitating the prospect. This all sounds sexist. It is. It's tragic. But let's be practical.

A few remedies, maybe a "no" list with names and physical descriptions. The dialogue would go like this.

Door Guy "Are you Mary Kabob?"
Ex "Yes"
DG "The Frontier Brothers are not playing tonight."
Ex "Are you sure? They are still on the list."
DG "Nope, they cancelled."
Ex "You're kidding." (really dry delivery )
She pokes her head in the door.
Ex "Wait, that's them setting up!"
DG "No, it's not. Show's cancelled."
Ex "LOVE MEEEE!"
DG "You're making a scene."

Anti-Female Bus Songs

So I was on the bus (again), and there were a few, maybe six other females of varying age and ethnicity there too. Otherwise, the space was emptied. Everyone rocked back and forth in a near trance, as usual. The radio flipped on, and that Eagles song Peaceful, Easy Feeling flipped on. One particular lyric piqued my interest. "I found out what a woman can do to the soul..." I don't know exactly the line, I don't care enough to look it up. But the point is this - everyday women are attacked for being soul sucking monsters. In the bus, the lyric rang out clearly. None of them registered a reaction. Do they not care? How can they simply ignore this obvious indictment? Standing accused, do they feel a need to defend themselves? It strikes me as peculiar that women can enjoy a popular class of media that lashes out at them so frequently.

Perhaps they concede guilt. They know they are guilty and the reproach is endured gracefully, an act of penitence. In another way, scorn is caring soured. Scorn reveals a soft underbelly. Women may enjoy being the object of scorn, for it allows them to agitate that tender belly with the sharpened twigs of their mind's eye. Secretly, of course.

But women must grow tired of the constant assault. Each time the radio comes on, they receive a swift ruler to the knuckle. No way to live, if you ask me.

I Need a Bike!

Yes, I need a bike. And I'm a cheap son of a bitch, so it has to be used and priced to sell. I rode a fixed gear bicycle yesterday. Jesus, the things people go through to be cool. It was a tough ride. I'd much rather have a geared bike. But the fixed gears are cheaper. That's a perk.

(Laugh it up, kids)

I need a bike so badly. I really don't look forward to the bus. The atmosphere is so crushing. It is the saddest place that I know. People with stone faces eating cereal with no milk. Often I have to fight off the urge to scream my ass off. I have a feeling people would shit themselves. The shock would scare the very shit out of their bodies. Owwww! The bus is a peopled graveyard. And we have agreed to be deceased and silent. There must be better places beyond this place of wrath and tears! Rawr! I need a bike, sons of bitches. (Leave a comment if you have any relevant information)

Rumors, News, and Upcoming Events

Rumor (unsubstantiated) - The Frontier Brothers might be playing with Kepi Ghoulie and Friends in the Dallas/Fort Worth area in Mid July. Kepi the Band or The Groovie Ghoulies (his old band) Till Death Do Us Party!

Rumor #2 (substantiated) The Frontier Brothers will be returning to the studio at the end of the summer to record 2 to 3 new songs for an EP Release. Where? Probably at Cacophony Studios in Austin, Tx.




FACT: Our esteemed colleague John Marzola is setting up a lake party. The Bright Light Social Hour, The Frontier Brothers, and Kevin Jack will perform on a massive house boat to a horde of drunken revelers on two adjoining house boats. Rumors of wake board contests and charities abound. Tickets will be available soon.

R.I.P. Jay Bennett

For those who don't know of Jay Bennett, he was a guitarist and instrumentalist, a former member of Wilco. He died about a week ago, I think.

"He was in the middle of recording another solo album in Champaign when he died over the weekend at age 45....A cause of death was not immediately available, nor was information on survivors. The Champaign County coroner's office did not return messages, according to The Associated Press."
-Chicago Tribune



This really saddened me. Jay had an unfortunate run. What most people don't know is that Jay was responsible for the change in Wilco, the style and aesthetic changes that led to their masterpiece, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. I say his run was unfortunate because he was kicked out of the band shortly after they finished the album. Also, Jay was a great songwriter. If you haven't heard "Venus Stop the Train," you must hear it. It's a Jay Bennett track that never made it to the album. I recommend the version with Jeff Tweedy on vocals. That's the thing. Jay had gargantuan talent, but he wasn't a front man. To be successful, he needed to work through someone with that indefinable quality. It's a shame. You are truly born a singer and front man. It cannot be taught. The origin of it, the aura and inflection of a good singers delivery, is truly a weird mystery. When Wilco dropped him (probably due to power struggles between he and Tweedy) Jay had no place to go. He really was forced to start over again, playing the songs he wrote with Wilco and making solo albums, which in my opinion he was not fit to deliver correctly. It's a great loss.

Male and Female

I had a dark, dark dream last night, the kind of dream where you wake more tired than before, being forced to exert yourself all through the night. It reminded me a little of H.R. Geiger's work, particularly his version of the Book of the Dead.

A male and female, two halved parts of my whole, sat at the top of the floor of this elaborate dark home. I had a woman with me, but she could not visit them there. And to me, the two things were beautiful. They were human forms but moved through the air. And watching them was like viewing film slowed down, frame by frame. The male and female moved like poured oil and then froze up all the sudden, halted in the shell of black wax figures. Like that, back and forth like film. The creatures turned more hostile when I led her up to the top floor. They chased us around. I tried to hop over the balcony to get away, but turned back suddenly. I remember thinking I'd be able to will them to desist. The dream ended then. I understand that most dream accounts are vague. I hope I was able to convey the visceral quality of it all, how powerful it was.

A cropping of an H.R. Geiger piece:

New Calculator Watch

Here at TFB...

We are behaving like a sleeper cell. Actually, I've just blocked YOU'RE ability to read all my blog posts. But really, we are resting for a bit. After the tours and all that great stuff, we're cooling down. I can't tell you what I'm doing, but I guarantee it's relaxing.

You ever meet people with unfortunate last names? I know a few. I recently met this girl named Mary Sinister. That was unfortunate. Mary sounds like Very, Very sinister.

This girl beside me is the most boring person in the world. Her aura sweats it, boredom and being boring. Her drink has been almost empty for fifteen minutes. I had to swivel my computer to get this shot. It bothers me when people nurse the final small sip of liquid. Just drink it; get it over with. Such people are weak.

Interview: zap! bang! Magazine

The Frontier Brothers
People interviewed: Marshall Galactic
2009-05-19



The Frontier Brothers have landed. Nobody can deny this fact, but from where it is exactly they originate is still a mystery. Their debut album Space Punk Starlet is proof that there is far more to them than any other American Indie Rock band out there at the moment. In fact, upon hearing the 14 gems on what is an album with no fillers, it is hard to confine them to the indie box. Could this trio really be from a different planet? I spoke to Marshall Galactic to find out a little bit more about what we can expect from this latest space invasion.

First off, tell us a little about your background…
My name is Marshall Galactic. I am from Texas, I live in Texas. All of my life I have lived here. But my spirit animal is from outer-space. Travis and Brett are the same.

How did the group come together?
Brett and I wrote “T.E.S.S.” together. That was our first song. We also did a Meat Loaf cover and a song called “Face Up At The Funeral”. We went with the lighter theme. Travis joined a few months later. He is my real brother.

What first got you into making music?
My brother started playing guitar. I got one, too. I don’t remember why I started writing songs. Must have been too young. I was 14 or 13. At that age, we can think and solve problems and believe we are people. But I was not sentient then. I was not a real person, not yet. I hadn’t seen death. So that is why I don’t know the precise reason why I wanted to make music. I guess the whole thing seemed natural. I never listened to a lot of music. I just liked guitar.

Read the rest of the interview at zapbangmagazine.com

Spiritual Activity, Heightened

On top of that odd thing, the house has been acting strangely. I believe there might be some heightened spiritual activity here. I don't believe in ghosts. But I have spotted some strange, bright green marks in rooms that were shut before I opened them - like something holding a glowing rock, moving it about quickly and every few seconds opening their fingers so that a bit of the light could leave a streak across the dark space surrounding it. I don't acknowledge a being. I only recognize the possibility that the space I live in is more alive than I thought. Trees especially. I tend to see trees as a big living thing, when in fact they are crawling with creatures themselves. Always critters are scurrying around and behind you, all manner of insects are running up and down trees and over the ground and even inside your engine compartment when you are not driving around. I think if we saw every insects as a point of light, the world around us would be pocka dotted mess, the ground and walls would look the same as the night sky.
Just a bit ago I scanned the trees with my flashlight. I found the two white points of a cat staring back. Any night, a cat might be perched outside, high in a tree. Shining a light into darkness is typically frightening. I am more frightened in a bright kitchen at night with two large windows. I can be watched, examined by the critters outside. The window becomes a two way mirror. I cannot see into the dark. Our lives are spared by someone everyday and everyday you are secretly watched as you walk the dog.

Sleep Drinking

Earlier this week I woke up and I was pouring out the water from my big drinking cup, I really woke up then. In the middle of the night, I picked up the cup and just poured it all over myself. It was so cold. That's never happened to me before. It made me wonder whether or not I've been sleep drinking, in which case I should move the degreaser with weedeater part in it.

Mapping a Song #1: Space Punk Starlet

Hey earthlings,

Since folks are always asking about the stories behind our songs, and most of the time I just make up an answer like "it's a call for peace on earth" or "Marshall and I were fighting over the same girl- she was 6'5" I thought I'd shine some official light on our songs & their narratives.

For space punk starlet, I had a show-tunes sing along melody stuck in my head. That ooh-eeh-ooh part that you hear throughout the song and prominently during the outro. I also had a little ditty- something like "Going through life is a minuscule man who sleeps in his hands. . . dogs are barking out on the street everywhere and nobody cares."

Now lets get one thing straight. I may have a moment or two when it comes to words, but Marshall is the poet. So I played him what I had and he went to work on a new concept: She's daughter of an intergalactic warlord. He's in a band. He teaches her guitar to keep her father happy and saves the world in the process. It's a love story.. sort of like most of our songs.

Now the outro is another story. Dusty Rhodes is this writer for the Houston Chronicle who gave us a crappy review. Oh, it wasn't TOO bad, but she was gruff and we were young and green and the whole thing was funny as hell. What a name! Dusty Rhodes- if ever there were a girl destined for porn-stardom. "Dusty why aren't you ever coming through? You wrote a bad review." Thing is, I don't know if Dusty has ever heard the song. We should play it for her.


And that, folks, is the story behind Space Punk Starlet. It was one of the last songs we wrote for the album and it was one of the first songs we mastered. Obviously we liked it enough to name the album after it.

-B

more to come

Tomahawk found, Sad encounter with stranger

I think my last post was really funny. I can't stop chuckling about it. Have you ever seen your ex in public and have that person look completely horrified to see you. That happened tonight. I just gave a meek wave. What I got back was her patented weird face. It's a basic facial expression - she's either shocked, depressed, angry, or confused. I got that one.

Speaking of meekness, I really don't like Jimmy Kimmel. I want to know how he got that job. I don't have tv, so I don't ever stumble across his show, but I do see advertisements. He's got this meek, puppy dog smile spread across a billboard. I want to choke him with his tie.

Look at this tomahawk I found in my yard yesterday. It's covered in tar. I think it's tar. Could be dried blood now that I think of it. I've got an alibi. I spent that afternoon trying to find a cholula hot sauce.

Gruesome Scene, Sandwiches Brutally Murdered

The perpetrator then took his own life.

Weekly Press Roundup: The Two Week Late Edition

Spent the week battling my scrabble addiction. Couldn't find time to cook up a weekly press roundup until now. Hey, did you hear that I played the word "frenetic" in a Travis v. Moses scrabblethon? Yeah, I kicked that guys @$$ (that's internet lingo for ass).

And now for the press:

The Berkeley Place brands itself as "A little bit of BK in VA" and features a striking logo borrowed straight from Microsoft Paint. Logo mishaps aside, I can tell this blogger has his head screwed on straight because describes our album as the answer to a musical question: "What if Neil Young had been the frontman for the Spiders From Mars?" (Just like jeopardy)

I guess I shouldn't show Marshall this review. I'm worried that the Neil Young / Steve Malkamus / Robert Smith comparisons are going to his head. Besides, he's way uglier than those guys and those guys are pretty ugly.

Anyway, Ekko and his Berkley Place Blog seem to really dig the album so you know what?- I really dig them back. Check it out.
Found this picture at Berkeley Place. What's not to like?

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The UK's Zap Bang Magazine is like SO trendy. Totally brillz if you know what I mean. In the name of retaining street cred, reviewer Jeremy Williams praises our music, but with a caveat. The album reads like the Texas 2 step. A compliment. A critique. 1,2,1,2.

Compliment: While the album is easy to listen to..
Critique: it doesn’t offer anything new.

Compliment: it is a genuinely rounded and enjoyable album
Critique: dressing in spandex is not the most flattering of looks

Compliment: A strong vocalist and an ability to break genre barriers makes this an extremely easy to listen to and thoroughly enjoyable debut from a band who show great promise.
Critique: Sadly, Space Punk Starlet does not fully deliver on the out-of-this-world level promised.

In the end, Zap Bang Magazine gives us 4 out of 5 stars so... I'm a little confused. Are we totally brillz or are we like so totz lame?
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Last but not least! Let's talk about the venerable Josh Shepherd and his Backline Show. We first met Josh at ME TV, Austin's not-quite-MTV caliber music station. Well, he left ME TV (ME TV was a victim of the recession actually, I think it's a ghost network now) and started a blog. He interviews bands. Like us! The interview almost didn't happen. Marshall and I slept through our interview not one but TWO times. And it wasn't like some phone interview. Josh CAME to our house and KNOCKED on my door and we slept right through the racket.

Needless to say, I was surprised when saintly Josh Shepherd agreed to meet us AGAIN. The review went really well. We've been following the advise of our rad new publicist, Romina. Romina, Romina, yeah yeah, Romina. She's cool! She's hot! She's everything we're not! Romina!

Check out the interview with Marshalla and IHERE.


- B

Friday Visuals (Opening for Afroman at Ace's Lounge)

The T(FB)-Shirt Store

A few facts about The Frontier Brothers T-Shirt Store.
1. No sales tax!
2. Free shipping (USA only so far, email us -thefrontierbrothers@gmail.com- if you want your shirt shipped anywhere else)
3. No middle man! This is a great way to support the band. Not only do you help spread the word, dressed in our ultra-soft style tees, you help us pay for studio fees, touring expenses, etc.
4. All sales are done through PayPal's secure & encrypted ordering system. We take Mastercard / Visa / American Express / Paypal.

Hungry Whale T (design by Addie Oscher)

Size

Small Medium Large

Very Tall Hatman on Green (design by Addie Oscher)

Size

Small Medium Large

Moon Men T

Size

Small Medium Large

Color Scheme

Purple on Yellow Black on White

ENDLESS SHOOOWWWSSSS pt. 2 (Our publicist told us to up the sex appeal but the Bright Light Social Hour beat us to the punch)

We returned to Austin via night drive. Matt had his coffee. He went from song to song in a pure, decisive rhythm, like he knew what song to cue in thirty songs from the present one. Meanwhile, Brett and I flipped in and out of consciousness. We had to get back that night to do an interview. We've named our home the Parrot House and we did the Q&A on the front porch.

That Friday night we had an Austin show at the Mohawk. That was a good time. Big crowd. Tons of babes. Free beer? Great. That only get's you so far. I don't think we have any pictures from that.


South By Southwestern was Saturday night. The stage was a bit bumpy and the room was a deadened space for sound, but The Bright Light Social Hour, The Brood, and yours truly did the alma mater proud. No one reading this should miss The Bright Light Social Hour cd release on the 13th.

Brett made some comment to Jack (bassist vocalist of Bright Light) about "What if there were a Newman sister?"Of course, he didn't use proper grammar. He probably used was instead of were. Got him! Jack said she'd probably be really hot. Is it safe for me to take that as a compliment. Even though I don't have a sister, if I were to have one, Jack would be interested in sleeping with her. I took it as one. Hell yeah, my hypothetical sister would smokin'. Or maybe she'd look like me, in which case her only option would be day labor.

Then again, what would Jack not have sex with? Just kidding, he isn't like that. But really, watch out girls. The Bright Light Social Hour is a sexed up mess. They beat us to the punch.

Oh yeah, don't miss that show. It's Wednesday, May 13th @ The Parish

The Bright Light Social Hour, "Back and Forth" video. (Should be up soon)

ENDLESS SHOOOWWWSSSSS pt. 1

This last weekend was the weekend of the endless show. It reminded me of Light Years; time an endless loop of destruction and creation - show, no show, show. First we played a benefit in Fort Worth @ The Moon. Music is medicine. That's the group, check it out. Here are some pictures from that.

J Mack and some of the TFB unit:



Getting Rowdy during Stella Rose set:



Me as Marshall Galactic w/ HAL 9000 from Space Odyssey



Travis fiddling with Bass Guitar of questionable quality: