Sunday, February 27, 2011

Evangenitals NW Tour Diary Day 1

The Evangenitals recently went on our very first NW Tour! Our drummer, Kristy McInnis, captured the whole adventure on her awesome mini Flip camera and is editing daily video diaries for your viewing pleasure!

Enjoy Day One of our experience on the wild roads of the NW:

Thursday, February 17, 2011

NW Tour Update: Day 1 - No Scat Please

Six Evangenitals and all our gear got stuffed into a Cruise America RV yesterday morning, and we set off on our Pacific Northwest Tour! Rain and high winds made the trip rather adventurous, and driving a giant RV into San Francisco (North Beach) was friggin' INSANE! Luckily Kristy and Feldman have nerves of steel and managed to not only get us safely to the venue (Grant & Green) for load in, but we even found STREET PARKING for the dang thing that cost us a grand total of $3. Woot!

Big love to our superfan Chester, who was the first person to show up and submitted a request for "Purple Rain", Jeremiah who shuttled the Evangenitals to and fro the RV, Roxie who's new original Rockabilly band "The Rumble Strippers" opened for us, and everyone that came out and made last night a special send-off for our NW Tour.

The most ridiculous, epic moment of the evening award goes to the "rap battle" that ensued when birthday boy Zach got up on stage and started beat-boxing. We then proceed to improv a "remix" of Quee-Queg over his beats. When he requested that the band lay back so he could scat, the game was on. Crockett busted out the rhymes, calling him out for hijacking the mic. "This motherfucker has hijacked the stage! The band's in a rage!"

The Evangenitals have a strict no scat policy. It's a hard limit.

Onward to Oregon! Today we have to confront rains, high winds, and SNOW in the RV. Pray for us. We're taking it slow and steady and will see you on the other side.

Thursday, February 03, 2011

this is not a booty call...

Oh where have all my nighthawks gone? Where are you, artists of the wee hours, whose creative juices only start flowing when the crepuscule creeps in? Here I am, in the middle of the night, longing for dialogue. Here I am, once again, with that feeling I can't name, a concept that won't yield to definitions, an image that won't be described, an anxiety whose source I can't pinpoint. There are things to discuss, debates to be had, new manifestos to compose... yet all my loved ones and comrades are in bed, asleep, at work, engaged. The idea sits still with me, giving me the stink eye. Some nights you have to go it alone. Indeed.