bicycle touring Uncategorized



Originally, our cross-country bicycling tour did not include a trip down to New Orleans, but after learning that one of our friends from Rochester was going to be in town, Gabrielle and I decided that it might be a mistake to pass up an opportunity to visit the Crescent City. We made our way from Natchez, MS down to Baton Rouge, LA where a member of the Warmshowers community was generous enough to let us store our bikes and gear for a few days. On Saturday morning we picked up our rental car from Enterprise ($16 a day (!) from Saturday through Tuesday) and drove down, arriving just in time for lunch. We had resolved to do as many tourist activities as we could in our first day, so here goes. . .


We made a beeline for Central Grocery in the French Quarter to get our hands on the famous Muffuletta. There was indeed a line out the door of this awesome italian specialty grocer, the majority in line for the same thing we were. A lady behind us asked “Is this the place I’m ‘sposed to get the sandwich?” We reassured her that she was in the right place. The sandwich consists of a 10″ round loaf of bread filled with a marinated olive salad, layers of capicola, salami, mortadella, emmentaler, and provolone. We ordered a whole one for $12.95 and each ate half, and ate it at the counter across from an elderly women washing hers down with a cold beer, telling us she only drinks one a week. . . when she comes for a Muffuletta! Someday, when we’re settled again, I’ll have to make my own version of this for inclusion in “My Favorite Sandwiches.”


Next, we worked our way down Decatur Street. We stopped at a local artists gallery and met an artist named Dan Fuller, who turned out to have spent a great deal of time in Rochester. We really liked his tree house paintings, so we bought a few postcard-sized prints, and he told us some scandalous mob stories from his days in the ROC. From one of his stories we gathered that Cafe Du Monde was up the block, so we went down and took a seat over-looking Jackson Square, and ordered some beignet’s and a couple café au lait’s to set on top of our giant sandwiches. That’s all they sell there, and the place is wicked sticky, but the doughnuts were pretty slammin’.


After that, we walked around for a bit before finding The India House Hostel to quickly check into our room, before heading off to the Metairie Cemetary, which we later learned is like the Rolls Royce of New Orleans cemeteries, an assertion that seemed true enough after seeing a few of the others around town.


There were many beautiful statues in the cemetery, but this one is probably my favorite. It is only about 18″ tall, and was actually on one of the grave sites where the dead had been buried, as opposed to the traditional New Orleans method of the above-ground tombs, which are shared by many family members. In these tombs, there are 2 or 3, and sometimes 4 levels or vaults, in which the remains of an entire family share the enclosed space. The bodies of the deceased are interred in one of the vaults, usually in a casket designed to facilitate a faster decomposition of the body, as opposed to the kind of casket many of us are familiar with; one designed to prolong the decomposition. When the time comes for a new internment, the vault is opened, and if the previous internment has decomposed enough, it is moved into a sack, and placed on the side of the vault in order to make room for the new body.


Leaving Metairie, we realized it was almost dinner time, so we drove down to Dick & Jenny’s, a restaurant that I admittedly found in the 36 Hours in New Orleans article at the NYTimes. Dinner went well, but the dish that drew me to the place, the Crawfish and Andouille Sausage Cheesecake, was truly a hit. Afterwards, we attempted to attend a house show over on the west side of town near Tulane University for a band called The Pharmacy, but the place just a fucking dump, trash every where, so we had to leave. Avoid show’s at Py’s Makeout Club, unless you’re a skeezed-out junky artist–in that case you should go. Instead, we went to Bourbon Street!


We spent most of our time there at a place called Fritzel’s, which was a small jazz club that had a 5 piece band playing that night. We sat and chatted with a few other tourist over a few beers while the music played before doing a quick walking tour of the length of Bourbon. We (um. . . thankfully) narrowly missed seeing a 40 year old woman flash her titties in exchange for a shower of beads, saw what could have been John Kennedy Toole’s hotdog vendor, pattyoshurricane1and rounded everything off with a Hurricane from Pat O’Brian’s (save yourself a trip–it’s basically Hawaiian Punch in a shit bar.) Catching a cab back to the hostel, our cabbie told us we left just at the right time (1:15AM.) When we asked why, he told us that it was about the time all the New Orleans thugs came down to Bourbon in order to roll as many tourists for their cash and camera’s as they could, and the cops didn’t do much about it because they left with the drunks. True? Not True? We can’t say, but we’re glad we left all the same. We were tired from a long day anyway.



We planned to do a number of things on Sunday, but nothing came to fruition due to a combination of over-sleeping, and a LONG breakfast at Betsy’s Pancake House. We had originally intended to attend Mass at St. Louis Cathedral, and then try and follow a jazz funeral around the French Quarter, but instead we ended up meandering around aimlessly, which I think might actually be one of NOLA’s biggest pastimes. While wandering, we were bamboozled into a Ghost Tour. Brie and I were awed by the Tourist Info kiosk lady’s selling skillz. We had a late lunch at Bennachin (1212 Royal St.), an African restaurant specializing in cuisine from Gambia and Cameroon. Everything was delicious and cheap! Follow that, we began boozing in preparation for our Ghost Tour. stpetertrumpet2We discovered that the bar next to the meeting place offered 2 for 1 drink specials for those going on a tour. In other words, two Guinness for $4.00. (That’s a a real steal when you consider that to have a beer in a bar costs $6.00, or to get one “to go” from the same bar generally costs $3.00.) The ghost tour was fun, mainly because the guide was a good story-teller, but alas, no ghosts. He did give us a few restaurant recommendations afterward, which ended up being worth the ticket price alone. After the tour, we bounced back and forth between the aforementioned cheap Guinness, and the Preservation Hall, which was right across the street. The St. Peter Street All-stars, a band led by a very heavy trumpet player. The bands at PH play mostly jazz standards in a classic style that is neither smooth or cheesy. The highlight for me was the St. Louis Blues. After we left the show, we bought some chips and salsa from store across the street, went back to the hostel, and that was Sunday.


And now for something truly gluttonous. . .


Gabrielle and I hung out at the hostel for a while on Monday before heading out to lunch at “The Joint”, a barbecue bunker on the east side of town in the Bywater neighborhood, just before you cross the bridge over to the Lower 9th Ward. We learned about this place from our Ghost Tour Guide, who, after we told him of our affection for the pig, boasted that it had some of the best barbecue in the country. Naturally, we couldn’t resist. rib We ordered a Full Rack with two sides, baked macaroni & cheese and potato salad, with 2 Diet Cokes for $22. This has to be one of the best deals in town, and the steady stream of costumers testified to that fact. The ribs were totally awesome!—-everything you could hope in a good BBQ, and more, thick juicy, succulent, tender, all that. You should check it out, bar-B-que fan.

So. There was that, and as I’ve mentioned before, We Bad!, so it shouldn’t surprise you that we headed over to Cochon Butcher to catch a Pork Belly Sandwich an hour later. cochonbutcher Cochon was one of the restaurants that we really wanted to make it to their off-shoot, but were never able to work it in to the schedule, so it was awesome to be able to make this stop. Cochon does an incredible array of dishes featuring the mighty pig, as well as a number of other specialties, but the butcher shop mainly sells charcuterie, and specialty meats, as well as a number of sandwiches. We went for the Pork Belly Sandwich, because when I hear the words “pork belly”, I’m sold. It was prepared with slices of pork belly confit, mint, cuccumber, and aioli, on fresh homemade white bread, and was well worth the trip. However, the true surprise was the Bacon Praline. I bought this on a whim because they were selling it for a song—-cheaper than regular praline. We intended to save it for later, but couldn’t resist and broke off a couple pieces in the car. What over-took us is nearly indescribable! It was basically an explosion of bacon, like if you ate a whole pound of bacon in one bite, with sweet, brown sugary undertones. It took us to the Bacon-Dimension or some shit. We both sat back, and waited for the rest of the world to catch up.

Lafayette Cemetery 2

When we thought that reality had sufficiently returned, we drove down to Lafayette Cemetery #1 where we treated to an impromptu tour by ex-marine Sean Perry. He was funny because he kept calling the group “Kids” even though 80% of us were 30 years older than him. We’re actually not sure if he was an accredited tour guide, but he was definitely knowledgeable, despite smelling like bourbon.

Brie and I spent the remainder of our time in New Orleans hanging with our friend Kim and her boyfriend Gilbert. It was his birthday and we spent a large majority of the time either drinking or recovering from drinking. We spent some time at the Spotted Cat, an un-amplified live music bar (one of my favorite places in the city), and d.b.a., which boasted a huge drink selection, probably the finest in New Orleans. Both of these places are on Frenchman Street, which, IMO, is a far better area to spend the evening than anywhere even remotely close to Bourbon.

We thought that we were going to see more of the devastation that Hurricane Katrina had wrought, but it was hard to come by without taking an expensive tour, and we weren’t sure exactly where to go. We caught glimpses here and there, but for the most part, New Orleans proper was in pretty good shape. The 9th Ward was pretty tore down still, and there were garbage piles all over a lot of the neighborhoods, but the city is making a lot of progress. I would say approximately 1 out of 8 houses are still empty all over the city, with little chance of being filled—-most of them need to be out-right rebuilt. It was good staying with Gilbert, and being able to hear the inside story from a long-time resident. Not surprisingly, everyone you meet has a Katrina story, but I don’t think that New Orleans is a city that can be defined by that tragedy alone any more. I believe that Crescent City is on its way to returning to its former glory.


bicycle touring

How We Made it From Alabama to Louisiana


The cold weather finally broke and it is beautiful and warm now in the deep south. Since we started riding again back on January 3rd it has been either freezing or raining, or a combination of both. The weather made things very stressful. This post is to acknowledge and thank the people who helped us along the way from Alabama to Louisiana.


Courtland and Willamina hosted Brie and I while we were in Birmingham. On the first day in town, Willamina drove us all over the place so we could buy new tubes, and do the wash. She also was very knowledgeable about the history of Birmingham, and we had a wonderful time talking with her. The next day Courtland brought us to The Original Pancake House where we had an awesome breakfast, and then showed us around the city. We are very grateful for their kindness and generosity.

We are thankful that Hugh and Lona Plylar put us up in their extra house in Parrish, AL. It was freezing that night and they saved us from spending the night in the post office.

Also while in Parrish, we met a group of gentlemen at Smokin’ Joe’s who helped us a great deal, but specifically, it was Terry Barnes who helped us find our way through Alabama that day.

After finally making it to Mississippi, we stayed a night with Ryan Storment in Starkville. He is a student at MSU, and was a very interesting fellow, with a fresh perspective on life. He also escorted us on our way the next day, and gave us flawless direction to the Natchez Trace.


Donna and Gary Holdiness were the consummate hosts. While we were there, the temperature fell into the single digits. They put up with us for longer than they should have because we were too fearful of riding in the cold. Donna put some wedding ideas in Brie’s head which has really stirred the pot, and created a lot of trouble for me, but I can forgive her for that. If you are ever touring down the Natchez Trace and a women driving a white Suburban accosts you, just go with it–you won’t be sorry you did!



The last family we stayed with in Mississippi was Don and Becky Potts, and their daughter Cedar. As you can see in the picture, they have a mini horse. This is significant for two reasons: 1. They lived right in the middle of Jackson, MS, and, 2. Look at how cute she is! The horse’s name is Little River, and Brie fell in love with her at first sight. It was definitely cool seeing a mini horse walking around the yard of this neighborhood. Don took us to the Rainbow Co-op, which he helped found like 30 years ago, and now it’s a flourishing alternative grocery store. We ate dinner and then they proceeded to pour endless glasses of wine for us, before we moved on to Irish Cream and Caramel shots, talking and laughing all the while! We had a great time with them, and are thankful for their hospitality.

Two days later we rode over the Mississippi River and into Louisiana. Since then, the weather has turned for the better and we are looking at endless days of 70º weather, and sunshine. This weekend we are headed into New Orleans for some jazz, cajun food, and booze. We can’t help but think we wouldn’t be here in such good spirits and health with out all the people we met through Alabama and Mississippi.


bicycle touring Uncategorized

Two Rooms: Part I

On our last day in Birmingham, AL, Gabrielle and I stayed at the Sloss Furnaces too long, and ended up having to find a place for the night. We stopped and had an early dinner at The Bottle Tree, a cool place on the east side of town that has a decent menu and books some pretty good bands [full disclosure: we stole one of their Los Campesinos! posters from the ladies room–sorry guys! but we really loved it.] So anyway, we were hanging out for a while and drinking a few beers, and before we realized it, it was dark outside. We had to find a room for the night, and a close one. We did a little online research and found the closest motel was a mere .4 miles away: The Star Motel. So we rolled down there, and paid a visit to the office. Many of the low budget motels in the US are run by Indian family’s, and so was this one. We did did business through the money slot, bending down to talk so our voices would carry through the tiny opening, the rich pungent smell of curry punching us in the face. The women said: You pay rent first, 42 dollars, an expression which perplexed Brie to no end. We paid and were passed the room key and remote.

Opening the door to the room was akin to being slapped in the face with a giant pack of Double Mint Chewing Gum. As we ventured in, and our eyes adjusted, it was confirmed that we had indeed booked our night of rest in a flophouse, but it started to pour outside, and we generally sleep in a stank-ass tent, so whatever. As I do every time we get a room, I immediately turned on the television (a bad habit), and there before my weary eyes: The Playboy Channel!

Dildo TV

Brie thought it was hilarious that I was initially reluctant to change the channel for fear we may lose it, but in the end SHE was the one who kept turning back to it. Pornography’ll take a hold of you! So we watched that and the Weather Channel, while we waited for a pizza that never showed up. Later, after we had gone to sleep, a couple came in the room next door, and either the walls were paper-thin, or they were loud, or both, and she was excited to watch TV Land, but I think he was more interested in the PBC, because something prompted him to declare that he would “kick yer head in like a soccer ball if you keep messing with my station!”


Two Rooms: Part II


We got an early start out of the flophouse because we had to stop at Walgreen’s to pick up my maps. One of the things we discovered was that ain’t nobody out doing anything on Sunday in Birmingham. The place was a ghost town. Riding our way to the west-side with ease, we shortly found ourselves at the pharmacy, but we also found that just about every business around was closed. That’s why we ended up having breakfast at McDonald’s, which was regrettable at best. In any case, I ended up getting my map pics for free for some reason, which was a boon to my spirit, but it was still in the 30’s that day, and the will to get moving was hard to muster.

Pedaling for about six hours in the cold, we worked our way up Rte. 269 into Parrish, AL, all on a couple of bacon egg & cheese biscuits, snack crackers, and Pucker Powder.1024x768 wallpapers Needless to say, when we got there we were starving. It was almost dark, we were all out of food we didn’t have to cook (it was too cold to get all that going anyway), and the only restaurant in town was a Jack’s, a restaurant that reminds me of McDowell’s from Coming to America, in that the only real difference between it, and Micky D’s, is that their buns have no seeds. We both got 2 double cheeseburgers with fries, ate and then sat and had an argument about where we were going to sleep in between Brie running to the bathroom to put her clothes under the hand dryer. Not for the first time, it dawned on me that we could probably spend the night in the post office. The last time in was in extreme heat, in South Carolina. They left the AC on there, why wouldn’t they leave the heat on here? That was Plan A.

We sat, killing time in Jack’s, not wanting to nestle into the post office too early, when a large church group came in. We struck up conversations with a number of them, and then sat back and let the wheels turn, hoping to be invited to someone’s house. The minutes passed slowly, and by 7:00 the group had just about all up and left. Our hopes had been dashed. As Brie went to the bathroom to dry some more stuff, I began getting our things together, when a gentleman came to the table and asked what our plans were for the evening. I told him, and then he told me, that while it’s true the Post Office would be heated, he had a whole extra house he could put us up in for the night, that was also heated. His name was Hugh Plylar, the local Constable. We quickly and graciously accepted the offer. He, and his wife Lona, then brought us up to the house, got the heat going, chatted with us for a few minutes, and bid us a goodnight.

I showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes, and putzed around for a bit, then I decided to take a few pictures of the house. dsc_1000That’s when I discovered we were sharing our bedroom with a ghost. This blue orb was floating around the room, and only this room. Here it is hovering around Brie while she was writing in her journal. I took a few pics in every room in the house and it would only show up in the bedroom we were in, while the picture of the couple on the wall was in the frame. I have a number of these. Once I was struck with the reality of sharing the room with a ghost I got into the bed, and clutched onto Brie’s arm, who told the ghost we meant it no harm, and speculated that it was probably a friendly ghost. I was too scared to get up and brush my teeth. We remembered that Hugh had told us his mother had died in the house, and we wondered if it was her. . . it had to be.

We both woke up in the morning alive and well. I snapped a few pics and the orb was till in there, floating all over the place. We got packed up and going fairly early, and rode down around the bend to bid farewell to Hugh before continuing on. He gave us a copy of Peter Jenkins book A Walk Across America, which Brie is reading now. The whole landscape was covered in a thick layer of frost. I didn’t mention the ghost.




abandoned bicycle touring

The Sloss Furnaces


We couldn’t leave Birmingham, AL without visiting one of the main reasons for its growth and early years of prosperity: Sloss Furnaces. Located on the east side of the city, after producing much of the country’s steel for nearly 90 years, this monument to industrialism was nearly lost in 1971, when it was argued that maintaining the facility would not be feasable, and therefore it was recommended the furnaces be dismantled. Luckily, a dedicated group of citizens known as the Sloss Furnace Association fought for its preservation with the help of a number of other organizations, and 12 years later, on Labor day in 1983 the site was dedicated as a National Historic Landmark.


Making iron requires three components that are found in abundance in the Birmingham area: iron ore, limestone, and coke, a derivative of coal. The process of making iron goes something like this: the aforementioned raw materials are brought to the furnace by rail car, where they are unloaded into a stock bin located close to the blast furnace (the structure in the first photo that looks like it has a platform on top). Next a skip car, attached to a conveyor hoist, is loaded from the stock bins and and the raw materials are transported up and into the mouth of the furnace. Upon entering the furnace, the raw materials are blasted with extremely hot air that is blasted from the bottom of the furnace. The hot air blasts burns the coke which produces a chemical reaction with the iron ore, and the limestone acts as a cleansing agent which removes impurities from the ore. This reaction creates molten iron which would collect at the bottom of the furnace, along with the impurities, a stony waste matter known as slag. The slag was lighter than the iron, and would sit on top of it in molten form, where it would then be drawn off the top at the bottom of the furnace through a higher notch, while the iron would be drawn out through a lower one.


The remainder of the facility was dedicated to producing the hot air, which needed to reach 1400ºF in order to be effective. Among the essential components of this network is the Boilers, the Blower Building, and the Hot Blast Stoves. Water was boiled in the Boilers, which run alongside the Blower House, in order to create steam which was probably the most important element in the running of the furnaces. Steam produced the power to run the skip car hoist, the generator producing electricity for the furnace, and the steam engines/turboblowers which produced the air that ran to the Hot Blast Stoves. The Blower Building housed the enormous engines that produce the air. Eight engines standing at more than thirty feet each turned flywheels (giant cogs) at speeds of 70MPH. One of the more gruesome sounding deaths at Sloss (of which there were 20) was of a man that was eating lunch in the Blower House with a co-worker. He was leaning close to one of the flywheels, and the story goes his co-worker looked at him, looked away for a second, and looked back and he was gone, sucked into the flywheel. By the time they could stopped the engine, nothing remained of him. It’s stories like this that lead many to believe that Sloss is haunted.


Pictured above is a couple of the Hot Blast Stoves which were responsible for heating the air before it was sent into the furnace. Constructed of steel shells, lined with a layer of heat-resistant bricks, and a lattice of bricks called checkers. The waste gases from the furnace were burned in order to heat the checkers, which in turn heated the air before it was carried to the furnace through a series of large pipes.


One of the coolest things that I learned about Sloss Furnaces is that they turn it into a Haunted House for Halloween. This place is perfect for it. While the self-guided tour is a lot of fun, be sure and try to make time for the guided tour, which is led by a Sloss historian who clearly loves the place, and has many interesting stories to relate. I encourage everyone to visit if they ever happen to be in Alabama, especially around October 31st!


bicycle touring Uncategorized

Almost to Birmingham, AL


Thunderstorms: 1 — Brie & Phil: Doughnut. Ultimately, it was the rain that kept us at the University Inn for a second night. With reports of flash-flooding and dangerous wind/tornado warnings, we thought it best to let all of that pass before venturing any further westward. One of the benefits of this extended stay was the joy of cooking dinner in the tub for the first time (via a camp stove) despite Gabrielle’s protests. It was either that, cook in the rain, or order Papa John’s, and we’re supposed to be on a budget, so logic prevailed. In any case, after eating all that we couldn’t carry, we woke up the next morning to relatively blue skies, so we anxiously packed up and left Jacksonville, AL for the last time.

This day of riding beat the shit out of us, basically. We were reminded just how out of shape we are, and it wasn’t pleasant. The whole day consisted of riding into 20-30 mph headwinds, and many, many climbs. On the brighter side of things, we could have been stupid enough to leave the day before, and had the same ride, coupled with torrential down pours. And, the reports of flooding were not false. Here is one example of an athletic complex we passed early on in the day:


As you can see, the one building there is flooded up to the roof. Alabama has been going through an extended drought, along with a large portion of the rest of the south, and this is what happens when you get days and days of rain, on hard, dry ground that is not ready to absorb that much precipitation. We rode past a number of properties that had flooded up to the doorsteps of many homes, and the funny thing is that the people outside would always smile and wave as we passed by. I have to think that I’d be pretty pissed at that moment, but maybe it’s a case of ‘you can get used to anything’.

We pushed through about 45 miles of Alabama on that day, and it truly was a fight the whole way against the weather, and against the dogs! So many dogs!! We are getting used to being barked at, but still it always feels like THIS will be the dog to bite me, and honestly you never know. If anyone out there plans to ride their bike through Alabama, be prepared for many, many dogs, especially pit bulls–try to guess which ones are friendly!


At the end of the day, we were in the middle of nowhere, and out of water, with no foreseeable chance of getting anymore, so we stopped and pitched camp for the night atop this cluster of property for sale. There were the remnants of former homes in about 4 or 5 spots, a great deal of tires and beer cans. We chose the highest and driest spot, that still had its electricity meter, and a clothesline: it felt the homiest. The sun goes down about 5pm in Alabama this time of year, so shortly after that is bedtime. We’ve been getting to sleep about 7. It makes you feel like Ben Franklin or somebody.


On the Road Again


Welp, once again Brie and I have decided to forego the comfort of a warm bed, and other modern technologies, like the “shower”, for the inviting tenderness of a cold slab of cement beneath a pavilion in places like Rockmart, Georgia. Having completely let ourselves go physically during our hiatus in dadgum Gainesville, GA, neither of us was at all ready to start riding again, but, we had set a date for January 3rd, and we stuck with it, despite the threat of heavy rain, dense fog, and no concrete lodging plans. That’s right, we bad! Our plan was to ride out via the Silver Comet Trail, that runs from Smyrna, just outside of Atlanta, all the way to the Alabama state line, about 60 miles, where it meets up with the Chief Ladiga Trail, which runs for an additional 33. Both trails were absolutely beautiful, and our first day riding through the fog really enhanced the scenery. The fog in northern Georgia is one thing I’ll definitely miss.

Naturally, riding and sleeping in the rain had to make one of us sick, and it happened to be me. So, on our third day, we find ourselves spending the night at the University Inn in Jacksonville, AL. Meanwhile, it’s pouring outside, and we don’t feel too bad about breaking down and getting a room. After a day spent in bed sweating out a fever, and watching shitty t.v. (with the exception of the 2 hour Cosby marathon) I, for one, am already restless to go, and Brie has fallen into an A&E Intervention K-hole. Tomorrow’s forecast calls for more thunderstorms, but it’s going to be real warm, so we’re going to make a break for Birmingham.


Of Montréal Will Play Your Wedding


I haven’t been to see a cover band since I was about ten, so it came as a bit of a surprise to me that at the New Year’s Eve Of Montreal show in Athens, GA, the band kept rolling out the hits! I know it’s almost the 3rd over here, and usually reviews are best ASAP after seeing or hearing things, but I just regained consciousness, so cut me some slack this time. Everything was all whirlwind and heat on hot, sweaty bodies, so with a couple of stand-out exceptions–when the crowd went ¡((absolutely bananas))!–honestly, I didn’t remember most of the show until I looked up all the video’s down below, and in retrospect, I have to say it was pretty awesome. It went something like this: These two hair metal dudes strutted out and amped-up, dsc_0842and delved into a 20 minute sludge meltdown, and first things second these crazy gold dudes came out and that part was really too bizarre to relate, before a bunch of beach bums came out and started bopping around a beach ball in bikinis and speedoes and lusting after one another. Then the lusting took a turn and all out the wind a satanist or something started to banging on a nun (who loved it) and from there the scene progressed into a downright orgy with all kinds a different beasts and biblical persons getting down all over the place.mouthful1 At some point the sex wasn’t enough, and blood and sacrifice began. There was at least a giraffe, a swine, a tiger, and possibly more animals, it was all so chaotic and bestial. The giraffe was decapitated with a machete, and the head and neck was drained of its blood by these red witches before it all was flung into some abyss or another, then the witches brought the pig up onto this alter and slathered all this blood onto the pigs body while it basked and luxuriated in this vital marinade like a pig in shit. And during this sequence is when my mind hit infinity, and all the rest was a blur before a Rolling Stones tune brought me back to reality.



As for the actual set, the tunes flowed seamlessly from what I could tell, with tons of people partying on stage, and the crowd having a real blast. The highlight for me was the segue from the Lennon tune Instant Karma which (almost) put me to sleep, into Smells Like Teen Spirit, which was the bananas part I mentioned above. The only disappointment was that they didn’t play The Past is a Grotesque Animal, which I think is one of the songs of the decade, but that’s cool, you know, I’ll live. A bunch of other funny stuff happened after the show ended, but the GF would probably have a meltdown if I related the story of her ‘missed connection’ here, so I’ll let that go. So, I’ll end here with a pic of the beautiful and darling Kevin Barnes, and wish everyone a Happy New Year!

Here’s the set list, with links to video’s for most of the tunes:

Spend the night together – Rolling Stones
Sweet emotion – Aerosmith
Immigrant song – Led Zeppelin
Head on – The Jesus and Mary Chain
American Girl – Tom Petty
New Years Day – U2
Walking on sunshine – Katrina and the Waves (Hilarious Techno Ver.)
Kids in America – Kim Wilde
Melody Day – Caribou
Hang on to yourself – David Bowie
Love to love u – Donna Summer
Judy is a punk – The Ramones
Take me out – Franz Ferdinand
Ever fallen in love – Buzzcocks
Instant karma – John Lennon
Smells like teen spirit – Nirvana

Elegant caste
So Begins our Alabee
Id engager
She’s Rejector

Music Uncategorized

Tiger Style New Year