Unwinding.

It's been one hell of an October. I get back from the East Coast tour and not three days later my sister is getting married. It was a beautiful wedding- short, classy, and optimistic. I was one of Blake's (the groom's) groomsmen. Hours of photographs, shoddy Men's Warehouse tuxedos, and frequent alcohol consumption.

At 10:15, Think Big! and the Bulletproof Brass took a break, the cake was cut, and The Frontier Brothers stepped on stage for a few moments of rock.


This was my gift for Alyson and Blake and I didn't want to let them down. Being in a rock band is the only thing I'm good at, so I felt like this was the perfect way to show how much I care for them.

But. . .

I don't think Think Big! and the Bulletproof Brass like sharing the stage. Our mix was ludicrous- no drums, no lead vocals- just keys and backups. In fact, the lead vocal mic didn't even function during Starry Globes and Stereos. We begged the sound-guy to fix our mix and received all the assistance of an icy glare. Brent, the band leader, even threatened to take us off the stage if we couldn't "get it together." Of course, we're professionals- we play over a hundred shows a year- I've NEVER dealt with a more difficult mix / stage setup. In other words, it wasn't really our fault. Thankfully- we got into the groove after the first 2 songs. I kept rhythm to the vibrations of Travis' kick drum and Marshall kept an eye on my hands. By the end of the set, we had the entire reception (300+) rocking out to Jump Blues. Even my grandmother, ladies and gentlemen. The post-show reviews revealed the fact that we actually sounded good to the crowd. In fact, I may go so far as to say we sounded fantastic. All this touring has gotten us in good shape and we are prepared to rock even in the rockiest of settings.

And what about that tour?
I'll be back with a post-tour round-up tomorrow. Stay tuned.

- Brett

ADDENDUM: I don't necessarily want to indite Brent's wedding band. They are VERY good at what they do. I just feel that they weren't even a little bit helpful when it came time to share the stage. I had a conversation with someone this morning who has worked with Think Big! in the past- he expressed a similar level of discomfort with the band (in terms of helpfulness).

Something I wrote about Burt, range attendant

You can never make ammunition for lever action rifles quite the same as regular ones. This is because all the bullets are lined up in the chamber, when you fire one round, the explosion and resulting shock cause all the other waiting rounds to discharge, and you blow your shit all to hell. Most lever action rounds have blunted, flat tips. That way they don't push against the center of the cartridge in front of them. But at the range today, Burt showed me these new rounds; they get the distance and the accuracy of point tip rounds because they are pointed. The point is rubber. Burt rubbed it across the table and I watched the little thing bend back and forth against the fiber glass. Burt said the round will hit about six inches higher than normal rounds at about 100 yards. I bought one case, and two cases of the regulars for simple target practice. The pointed types were for the straight killing of beasts.

Burt had a sticker and a picture of Obama. Instead of hope, it said nope. I thought that was funny and decided to play along. He said that as soon as that man gets in office you can kiss your guns goodbye. I held my 30-30 good and tight. Not mine, I said. I'd die before that. Me too, said Burt. And he meant it, for sure.

Burt was a hard, stupid son of a bitch. I hate everyone lately, besides him.

Returning, Short tour thoughts

Aww, I sincerely don't want to write anything but I guess I should. Maybe that will make me less nervous. In Fort Worth, I felt as if I were still moving somewhere. Things like doors and trees seemed too close, packed in, snug together and overly fragrant. I got drunk with my friend Tommy and we bowled; I did horribly and hit the inside of my ankle with my ball. Now, there is a large bruise there. It didn't hurt at the time. We played laser tag. The ref cheated, artificially boosting the other teams score because Tommy pushed him down during the game. Apparently, the referee was "all up in his shit." I understood. The ref was the type that would step into shit, be it yours or a random one on the sidewalk; the type of guy who's life was one big mistake, like he was stepping onto the sidewalk at the break of a beautiful morning and landed right in a huge pile and never got over it. I had the ruling overturned, citing the unusually high score that caused our loss. Besides the lying, dirty, cheating official, I scored the highest that game. The second game, my gun didn't work correctly, but we won anyway. 

I expected the pillows here in Austin to pull like magnets but no such comfort has greeted me. I ate a lot of food before I left, some pizza and a milkshake. I had trouble keeping awake on the drive down. I felt the true and lingering weight of the tour and all the girls on my face and all the accumulation swinging like a lead ball in my stomach. So, naturally I was in a terrible mood and was horrified when I returned home to a house full of people. I would be glad to see them regularly but I guess I'm just an old grouch. Still, I expect things, and by things I mean everything in the immediate vicinity, judging by time - to be fine. The tour was awesome. People ask for crazy things that happened and I tell them that if anything truly crazy had happened, I would most likely be in jail right now, not back in the dull heat of fat, normal life. 

There is a difference between a band and a touring band. One, I respect. The other, any collection of face and hands can muster. On our last stop, we serendipitously met with a band we will most likely play along side in L.A. in about a month or so. They'd been doing the exact same thing, the touring, the rough shit, for way longer than us. It was like coming across an old friend, but without any weirdness in adjusting to the new in them. Just sudden understanding. Good men, touring so long they looked like vampires. You could never imagine them playing tennis in shorts on a summer day. The toughness wasn't in the skin. 

You gotta realize that you are gonna be doing this for a long time. And that's a sweet thing. Because it's fucking fun, rough and sad. That's pretty much it. Worth it, worth it, worth it.  

Touring obama headquarters in Chicago.

Uploaded by www.cellspin.net

Memory from North Carolina - Dog