Rock Report - October 26th 2012

Joel claims to be a sucker for basic marketing. Any place that advertises "best whatever in wherever" (eg. lobster, Maine) gets his hard earned dollar. This, despite the invariable let-down when such heady claims are not only missed, but not even approached. The kebab place in Cerdanyola should now be added to this list of lying liars who lie. Their sign proudly proclaimed to be the king of fast food. Already, this is a diminished proposition. Everybody knows that for sheer hegemony and bloodshed, McDonalds is the undisputed monarch. And it's a shitty kingdom anyway, populated by disgruntled serfs and stomach aches. To lay claim to such damned territory displays a tragic lack on regal ambition.
Nevertheless, this pretender to the throne is where Les Fat Jones chose to eat before our show in Cerdanyola last night. Don't ever make that mistake.
Cerdanyola is a suburb of Barcelona, and is surprisingly suburban. Most suburbs around the city are older villages which were absorbed by the capital's expansion and they tend to be grids of older row houses stacked together behind walls that come up to the sidewalk. This one, however, was a collection of tree-lined streets with gardens and so many teenagers. Not that many of them actually came to the gig, but they roamed the streets like the pubescent living dead, smoking, driving and going to the king of fast food.
The show itself was fun. The sound was great and we had a record low number of fuck-ups. (The starring one was when I forgot the piano-only opening riff to Other Cities. Thanks, brain!)
The club was nice, and clearly progressive minded, as it seems they hired a hearing-impaired bartender who told me I sang like David Bowie. That's going on my resume.

(Photo by Alba Mora)

Free Fallin

Hell yeah!

Go to your room, David Blaine.

In other exciting news, Les Fat Jones will be opening for the Gaslight Anthem in Barcelona on November 8th.

Long Weekend!

There was an impressive storm in Barcelona last night. As I watched the lightning flash through my window, I remembered that David Blaine did that thing in New York this week. You know, with the electricity. He stood in a something something a million volts (watts?) something days. Google it. Does anybody even care about this guy? I was going to say anymore, but did anybody ever care? I mean, he was kind of cool when he wandered around the streets doing card tricks, but his daredevil shit? He sat somewhere once for a while, he stood somewhere once for a bit. Has the whole profession really devolved from the insane spectacle of Evel Knievel to the winner of Celebrity Survivor: Boringest Challenge? (Survivor jokes in 2012. #current #relevant #keepingupwiththekids)
It's a long weekend here. Tomorrow is national Spanish day. Living in a secessionist region dampens the festivities somewhat, as does the general state of the country. The Red Cross held an annual drive yesterday that in past years has gone to help Haiti, but this year is being channeled to the 2 million citizens here with no income. Being sat next to the third-world earthquake-ravaged orphans is not helping anybody's mood. But whatever, man. Day off! I'll be out of town, hoping to sneak in another beach day before winter (or the Spanish equivalent thereof) arrives.
Great news for Les Fat Jones. I can't tell you yet, but some awesomeness in the near future was confirmed today. Watch this space.

Rock Report - October 9th 2012

A second rock report in the same week?! Crazy times.
Last night, Les Fat Jones played at La [2], the best stage we've graced thus far.

Our name in lights!

Drawback to part time rocking: a 4pm load-in conflicts with jobs. Not mine, as my current self employment affords me some flexibility. Only half the band was able to make it, so we faked our way through sound check with an assist on bass from the guitarist of Esponja, one of the bands we were playing with. This led to a mercifully short sound check. The downside was an improvised stage sound when we started the set. Oh well.
Show notes: I'm still not a great singer. (understatement?) Some painfully out of tune screaming at the end of a new song led me to think am I really doing this in front of people?
A decent size stage meant I could move more, so I'm back to deluge-levels of sweating. (Too sexy?)
Pacing - Needs improvement.
Rocking - achieved.
Overall grade - B
Thanks to everybody who came, especially the row of screaming ladies in front. (They were all friends, but it made us look cool.)
We've got some cool news potentially getting confirmed this week. I'll let you know as soon as it is.

Rock Report - October 6th, 2012

Last week brought an old friend to Barcelona. Sid, the drummer from Me Mom & Morgentaler, the band I joined the first time I dropped out of university, was in town with his family. It was great to catch up. I hadn't seen him since a rather drunken New Year's Eve party several years ago. We went from terrace to bar, from beer to mojitos, and chatted about a range of things. One particularly interesting story was that of the sandpaper handjob his most recent band got from the music industry. Only the details differ in yet another "major label expresses interest in your group, throws money at you, wastes your time, kills your career" narrative that I and others I know have lived through. It's a sad reality that what is perceived to be the peak of your music trajectory is often just the last foothold next to a sharp cliff.
And yet, we persevere.
This weekend was Les Fat Jones' first out of town gig. And by out of town, I mean outside any town.

The venue

Next to the venue

The show was nominally in Torrello, a collection of houses about 80km north of Barcelona. Situated on the outskirts of town meant in one direction lay a church and some buildings, and in the other, trees. We played with 2 other bands: Twisted Nails, a heavy groove and riff band (think Queens of the Stone Age) and Zero Absolu, a solo guy with keyboards, guitars and pedals who built really intricate soundscapes and then screamed over them.
The people at the venue and the other musician were all friendly and helpful. Thank God, because right before our set, the bass amp crapped out and we needed to borrow one.

Not something you want to see five minutes before set time

During the third song, the PA died, leaving me with no amplification for my keyboard or vocals. After some desperate scrambling by the board, sound returned in a weakened state. Yet despite these setbacks, we played well and I had a good time. Driving to the middle of nowhere and playing for a couple dozen people still seems like a decent way to spend a Saturday evening. Especially when you have no career depending on it. Part time rocker is turning out to be as much fun as full time rocker, without the stress.
Tomorrow, we play in Barcelona. If you're in town, come on down.