On The Road Again: You Blew It!, Part Two

Orlando, Florida's YOU BLEW IT! (Topshelf Records) is currently touring the US with fellow Floridians DIRECT EFFECT (Get Outta Town Records) and will be sending us updates from the road whenever they can find Internet access. These updates are a collaboration between guitarist/vocalist Tanner Jones and drummer Tim Flynn. Check out the remaining tour dates here. The band's Topshelf debut Grow Up, Dude is due out Apr. 24.

“Yeah man, throw up the peace sign. You're going to look real hard.”

Day 4: Memphis, TN
Memphis, what the fuck is going on with you? Like, I don’t even mean that offensively. Seriously. If there’s something you want to talk about, just call me. We’ll hash this thing out. Man, I don’t know where you got your mosh grooves, why you think that homeless guy asking everyone to smell his nuts was alright (Dare I say normal? You guys seemed pretty comfortable with that guy being there), or why you saran wrapped our van, but dude, what the heck.

We pulled in and almost immediately went to Graceland. We stood outside and Andy did some Elvis dance moves and wrote, “THX 4 ROCKIN PEACE & LOVE – ANDY” on the ground. Then we left.

The house we played in was kind of small but I’m pretty sure that makes it more punk, and I like punk/appearing punk. We played second after one of the better bands we’ve been on a bill with thus far on tour. The crowd was pretty polite and attentive. Good set. Good people. Direct Effect killed it as usual. The last band did too, plenty of headbangin’ and flying V shreddin’. All that was fine and dandy, but then it got weird. We walked outside to load up, and some guy was just dragging his goddamned bleeding hand into funny shapes on the concrete (Metal?), this one girl got barefoot, another “gentleman” tried lighting the entire the porch on fire (Metal.), some guy stole two of our beers (I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO HAVE ONE), and our van had been saran wrapped like a vegan cinnamon roll. Except it wasn’t a cinnamon roll. It was our van. Ugh.

On top of all that Memphis Mayhem (sounds like a rad wrestling event), those long-haired mush mouths didn’t donate at all. Our guy Ryan Azada, may he be blessed, let us sleep at his place and pulled money out of his own pockets to make sure we had an all right time. Good, good guy. House show insanity aside, we had a great time and look forward to hanging with Ryan again.

We go by Direct Effect, teaching you suckers the value of internet respect. BUST IT.

Day 5: Urbana, IL
GUYS. BRAID IS FROM HERE. MIKE KINSELLA WENT TO SCHOOL HERE. We’re practically fan girls right now. You know, the kind that comment on bands’ facebooks with lessthanthrees (<3) and way too many stars and tildes. We ARE MySpace right now.

We played at a place called IMC (Independent Media Center). Large, cozy room, good sound, big stage, girls, lights, people in band shirts, girls. This place is the real deal, man.

The local bands were all that and a bag of Doritos (the taco flavored kind). Horrible Things opened, and a newer band called Enta closed. I could probably sit here and talk for pages about how great both of them were. Really nice guys too. As far as shows go, I really think this was a turning point for the tour. There were some guitar troubles, but not getting grilled by some hipster hardcore loser was a real morale booster.

Actually, can I take that morale thing back? We caught up on The Walking Dead tonight, and (spoiler alert I’m sorry) CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY FUCKING KILLED OFF DALE? No way. Dude. No. Way. Who’s going to keep Shane in line? Does this mean Andrea is going to start sucking even more? BLEGH. I’m hooked.

Nick playing with his wood. A recurring theme on tour.

Day 6: Chicago, IL
The van had been slipping gears since Nashville (probably a transmission leak or something patchable like that), and with the short drive to Chicago, we decided that the morning after the show was the perfect time to get it looked at. Andy and I (hi it’s Tanner) woke up at 7:30 (oof) and took Donna to this repair shop a couple of miles away. You know, AAA approved, family-owned, apple pie kind of stuff. They told us the van would be ready in an hour and a half, so Andy and I camped out in a McDonald’s FOR LIKE 5 HOURS. Way too many phone calls and a McGriddle later, and those people charged me $156 for something I told them I already knew. They didn’t have the part either. With our van no better off than when we brought it in, we stuffed our faces with tacos and hemorrhaged transmission fluid all the way to Chicago. Looks like we’re not going to be able to buy any more beers. NOT.

The show in Chicago ruled. The Clint Eastwood house is so rad, and those guys are reeeaaal nice. We finally got to play a show with Coping and Dowsing, and we met up with good guy Warren Franklin again. We got to see a ton of old friends too. The whole night was a huge morale booster. It was a great show to make up for a weird day.

After the show we moseyed into a bar called Ravens literally right next door to where we were staying. It was like three doors down from a Five Guys and Caribou Coffee too. It might has well have been a midwestern emo punk rock resort. I don’t know what kind of sad guy stuff we were thinking about when we walked in, but we totally missed the gigantic Jenga in the MIDDLE OF THE ROOM. After drink two or three we finally worked up the liquid courage to play it. Apparently greasy guys fucking around with small two-by-fours is grade A party rat entertainment. We can’t get girls to like us by being in a band, but once we start getting way too into Jenga, we’re irresistible to not only girls looking to rage, but guys looking to share their totally brilliant Jenga strategies. I mean, they were treating it as seriously as UFC.

Sponsor us already.

Day 7: Milwaukee, WI. Wait, no, Chicago again.
We came up with a joke in the morning and I’m pretty sure it went something like this: What’s big and purple and won’t start? Our fucking van. It wasn’t that funny. The mechanics said they knew what they were doing, and they had pretty good ratings online, so that was good enough for us.

Since the van was still getting worked on and we didn’t have a key to the apartment, most of the rest of the day was spent taking shifts going a couple doors down to Urban Outfitters (how adventurous and bourgeoisie of us). Before long we realized we were idiots and Milana (our host) had to come back from class at some point. We coordinated with her like any other reasonable human beings would have done in the first place, and went and saw the bean with Kristin Jones, Ryan from Dikembe, his gal, and Lee from Wavelets (oops, I just dropped something). Tim was staunchly unimpressed. I think he said something along the lines of: “It’s just a big reflective piece of fucking aluminum.” What a guy.

By now it was really late, and still no word about the van. Andy had me hand him the phone when I called the mechanic because I’m really bad at being hard. Turns out they had barely touched the van. It was 4 already. We had to be in Milwaukee by 7. Fuck. Andy and Tim went to the repair place and I’m pretty sure they posted up on the guy because he offered us a really sweet deal on a rental van. We took it. Then we took it back. Halfway back to the apartment, the rental van started flashing check engine lights like a goddamn fireworks show (Like, the explosives. Not the band. I’m not sure what their live show looks like). With the rental returned, we begrudgingly called Milwaukee and told them we weren’t going to make it.
Defeated and emo as ever, we sulked to great guy Marko Kurtovic’s place with plans to pity drink the rest of the night. We showed up with a 30 pack (YEAH YOU HEARD ME) only to sit down and watch probably the most depressing documentary ever. 15 beers and three or four “I’m not crying”s later, we’re on the way to a bar. Dollar well drinks. Uh oh.

Three dollars later (You feel me?), Tim disappears. Before long, the dude shows up with $30 dollars worth of Taco Bell (YEAH YOU HEARD ME) and 24 Dorito shell tacos. I’m not even kidding. The place turned into a Taco Bell commercial. I got lettuce everywhere. Then it rained and we met a girl named Cooler Ranch. That night was great.

This isn't a good look for me.

Day 8: Rockford, IL
I woke up this morning in possibly the darkest room I’ve ever had the displeasure of passing out drunk in. After shouting “Hello?” several times to find my absent comrades, the sound of running water in the bathroom helped to guide me outside. Tanner and Marko greeted me with tears and laughter as I realized I had been wearing a sweater upside-down as pants. Sweatshirtpants. Great. Nick and Tim woke up a short while later and we all agreed it was time for some deep dish pizza. Pequods. Holy smokes, seriously some of the best pizza any of us have ever tasted. Naturally, we gorged ourselves. After saying good-bye to Marko (or so we thought) we made the drive to Rockford. It was really nice meeting up with the Direct Effect dudes and Warren Franklin again. A few familiar faces from the Chicago show also came out and many high-fives were exchanged. Marco Polo, Brian Franklin’s band, opened up the show and kicked serious ass. Loved that set. Jeff from Direct Effect made the mistake of letting me do some guest vocals on one of their songs. After embarrassing myself with some “hxc tough guy” antics, we got to play. Our set went smooth and I left the stage with the feeling that Illinois had really treated us great over the last few days. Empire! Empire! (i was a lonely estate) played after and Keith proceeded to make really bad jokes at our expense. Whatever, that dude can’t punk jump. Just kidding, they were awesome as usual. Warren played another great set… I like that dude’s music more and more every day. I’ll wrap up with a few hilarious moments following the show: posing with a dude who had a Slayer tattoo; Tim dragging Andrew from DE through the hallways in his sleeping bag; and one party-goer urinating in the middle of the room. Rock N Roll will never die.

Drunk Punx

Day 9: Bloomington, IN
We broke our promise to wake up early and drive to Bloomington. We mostly just stood around taking jabs (physically and verbally) from Keith in Empire Empire. He called me Stephanie a bunch. The drive was pretty miserable. Andy was complaining (again) about the bumpy roads. Don’t lie down on the floor of the van if you’re driving through Indiana. Seriously.

Today we told the promoter about how we were on our way and how we were going to be there when he asked us to be. We also implied that we knew how to navigate between Central Standard Time and Eastern Standard Time. We didn’t. Oops. We showed up to the house, and the first band had already started. Marital Roles, Caelume, Fly Painted Feathers, PESSOA. Such a stacked show. We spent most of it making real cheesy “I’m into this, man” rock ‘n’ roll faces at each other, almost like your parents do when you tell them you got an A in Statistics.

Direct Effect went on third, and I don’t know if people were drunk by then or what, but this shit was bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. People were head banging and moshing and generally just getting whacky. We went on, and man, I haven’t felt that great since we played a warehouse show at Fest 10. Nick played in a speedo too. People were into it I think. This was the first time I’d ever seen anyone push mosh to “Hope It’s Not A Deposit Bottle.” We found out how to do some really sweet punk rock stage moves on the spot too. IT WAS FUN. Definite top three shows we’ve ever had the privilege of playing.
I just want to take this time to push Pessoa, too. Pessoa, Pessoa, Pessoa. Listen to Pessoa. Some guy ripped his pants during their set. Rocking and rolling.

Day 10: Bowling Green, KY
We started out today with a last meal and a million pictures with Direct Effect. We’re going to really miss those guys. Half of us had Indian food, and the other dudes had turkey sandwiches or something like that. I was part of the group that had Indian food. Everyone called me Curry Boy for the rest of the day. They’re not a very creative bunch.

Four hours later, and we’re lighting off fireworks (again, not the band) at the house we’re playing. I’m going to be honest with you right now, and I hope you KY dudes don’t take this the wrong way, but we didn’t think it would be a great show at first. I mean, I guess it was because we were all tired and a bit moody from seeing Direct Effect off. Or maybe it was just a bad Kentucky stereotype. Either way, I’m trying to say that we were proven wrong. Sixteen, Smallhouse, Buffalo Rodeo, Mahtulu were all rad. I feel like at this point we’re just saying all the bands were great, but they really really were. I felt like a real idiot for being at all cynical about to begin with.

Afterwards I went outside and started putzing around on my phone. A lot of the guys stayed inside and started hitting each other with one of those bouncing balls rated at 50ft or whatever. Some kind of old American past time I guess.

“Hi mom, no, yeah. School's going great. No, I'm not on tour.”

Day 11: St. Louis, MO (HAPPY BIRTHDAY KRISTIN)
Have you guys ever played Mario Kart 64? Of course you have. Remember Sherbet Land? You know, the frozen one? Yeah. We slept there last night. Well, I’m using the word “sleep” very loosely. I guess they don’t teach you how to deal with anything less than 65 degrees in Florida.
We started driving after some breakfast with the KY dudes, and man, we had the whole Central Standard Time thing down to a T. No we didn’t. Apparently we didn’t account for Daylight Savings Time. Does anyone really have this time zone thing down? No. No one does because it’s impossible. This time it kind of worked out for the better though. We got to St. Louis with so much time to spare. For us that’s so rare. You don’t care. Pulling these rhymes right out of the air.
Ten dollars and a “Andy, come on, it’s not THAT high,” and we’re in the Gateway Arch in what has to be the smallest Star Wars escape pod replica ever created. Go there. You’ll know what I’m talking about. Also, if some guy tells you that all the rib places are open on a Sunday afternoon, DON’T GIVE HIM TWO DOLLARS. He’s also going to make you feel reeeeeal bad that you didn’t give him three. What a dick. ALSO, if you don’t have any more ribs left in your restaurant, don’t let us buy a beer before you tell us about it. We might as well have just gone to Taco Bell.

So we left Taco Bell and went straight to the house we were playing. Rad place. We didn’t really expect it, but we had a really great time.
Tomorrow we have a day off, and then the day after that, we’re supposed to be in Austin, TX for a SXSW showcase, so we figured it would be a good idea to knock a good portion of the 15 hour drive out. SXSW here we come. Not. 50 miles later, and the van broke down again. Surprise.  We’re standing on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Missouri, waiting for AAA (our BFFLS by now), and a broken down pick up truck pulls over in front of us. Weird. Sketchy. Not a fan. Stephen Hawkings (NOT EVEN KIDDING) and his pal Austin jump out and start diagnosing our van. Nice guys. Sketchy guys too. Nice though. An hour later, and half of us are in the tow truck, and the other half is in a cop car (no joke) as passengers though (IT’S OKAY MOM).

Right now we’re all in a hotel room. Tomorrow we find out how much it’s going to cost us to get back on the road again. Nick is trying to stay up until 5 for the continental breakfast by chatrouletting. Ugh, go to sleep Nick. alt