Dixie Witch Chronicles – Part XI
And that’s fucking it!
least until I leave with Dixie Witch and Austin’s own
Honky again October 15th.
/ July 8th – Day 16
Got up feeling like total asshole again…none of us having
slept well. I thought the room at the Bramble Inn in Sheridan,
Wyoming was just too bright, but Trini was convinced that
it was inhabited by spirits. Well we took off across the Great
Plains (and I mean Great Plains and nothing fucking else).
I didn’t see anything at fucking all…no people,
no buffalo, no fucking signs of civilization at all…just
a wasteland of grass and scorching fucking heat. I felt like
we were back in Arizona…the only things we were missing
was the desert itself, and all the hot boys who inhabit it.
I slept through most of the hell, and re-awoke smack dab
in the middle of it…in the guise of 100 degree weather
in Denver, home to my most hated football team, with the exception
of Neil Smith (ex-Kansas City Chief motherfucker). The venue
was the 15th Street Tavern, and it took us approximately four
never-ending block revolutions in the scorching heat to park
in the spot we should have parked in initially. All I know
is that it’s the end of two months, of both the most
fun I’ve had in a while, combined with a literal hell
on earth at other times.
I’m greeted by no other than the dude I made out with
in Lawrence, KS, within 4 days of the east coast leg’s
beginnings, along with my buddy, Jarvis the Slob (this fucker’s
haunting me!), before I discover that Jumbo’s Killcrane
goes on right before the Witch, and right after local stoner
rock hodgepodges Black Lamb. Jumbo’s was actually pretty
fucking badass (reminiscent of Graves at Sea) but way faster…although
they still had the morphine drip going on pretty strong. They
had a lot more off-beat heavy-ass discordant shit, while Graves
was more consistent doom and gloom. The crowd was sparse,
the poor attendance blamed on the sell-out (or near) High
on Fire show the previous night. Well, after two months on
the road with these guys I can’t say I blame them…if
forced to choose between the two. The ideal situation would
be to go to both rock shows.
I was already worried by the crazed look in Trini’s
eyes as he bellowed, “Shit’s getting broke tonight”
(please Paiste…give this fool an endorsement). I don’t
want to say I can predict the future, but I have a sick feeling
about what might transpire this hotass evening in Denver.
Plus there’s this really freaky-burn-out-crazed –quasi-light-guy
that kept hovering over my table and talking total fucking
nonsense. He looked like he’d lived his entire bizarre
life in Denver on way too many hallucinogens. Hover hover
The Witch blew everyone, sparse as it was, the fuck away.
They have grown leaps and bounds since I first encountered
them at Room 710 on my birthday a couple of years ago. They
have definitely paid their dues as well. Although they managed
to dig themselves out of the hole they were entrenched in
for merch and van investments on the east coast, their fourth
stint on the west coast still has them (and therefore yours
truly) returning to Texas with way way less than working a
minimum paying job would have reflected bank account wise
had I stayed in Austin the past two months (but who the fuck
would have rather done that?). Of course, Trini had to attempt
to bust out some John Bonham on everyone’s collective
asses. What’s really funny is the affect On the Hunt
by Lynyrd Skynyrd and Ronnie van Zant seems to have on people
in totally diverse parts of America. As a whole, they all
seem to want to rock out to it. I haven’t determined
if it’s the delivery, or the fact that the Witch is
from Texas, or if it’s the fact that everyone inherently
really likes Skynyrd (whether they’ll admit to it or
not). Regardless, the crowds fucking dig it. I have an excuse
that I will continue to blame on being employed by Harley-Davidson
for the last two years (you guys can figure out your own excuses).
/ July 9th – Day 17
I ended up doing bad things at the Black Lamb warehouse until
8:00AM. I remember wondering where the bathroom was in this
place when this Alice in Wonderland cat appeared, looked at
me as if I should follow, then went bouncing away. Well I
followed the White-Rabbit-Cheshire-Cat up some stairs and
through what looked to be a bedroom, then through a door to
the elusive bathroom. It was fucking surreal. I also remember
the Black Lamb dudes getting pissed off because I was bitching
about the never-ending stoner rock accompaniment and made
them bust out some Slayer. Then I slept for two hours, woke
up, then did more bad things …and got back in the van
for the super-long-ass-boring-ride-to-motherfucking-Kansas-City-MO,
with absolutely nothing to look at until about 10:00 PM, an
hour away from the gig and totally late. It rained most of
the way there, making us dread the load in. Luckily the club,
and the club owner, were cool as shit…although the crowd
left a lot to be desired. The opening band left a lot to be
desired too. They sucked so bad I never even asked their name…of
anyone. We lucked out that night, as ??? formerly of the Wichita
band Archie Bunker now of Helvis, who was a friend of the
Witch, had just finished the Oz Fest Tour and needed a ride
back to his place in Wichita. Since we had nowhere to stay,
and his place was 3 hours closer to the final gig in Oklahoma
City, we gladly drove him there.
/ July 10th – Day 18
Already in Wichita, I woke up hot as fuck and feeling absolutely
terrible. I was dreading these last two days…and ready
to go home. At least we were halfway to OKC for the gig at
the Green Door. We cruised around town, hitting the music
store on the way out. We arrived in OKC and went straight
to Jim’s place, Size Records. I had to buy the new Meatjack
CD, Trust, because I remembered it totally rocking ass, when
I heard it at the Stinking Lizaveta headquarters in Philly.
The show was fun, as our OKC friends like to get us super-fucking-loaded
every time we come through and they’re super-cool-as-well.
/ July 11th – Day 19
Woke up ready to be back the fuck in Austin. We took off after
only 2 ½ hours of sleep as we had to drop Claytallica
off at a friend’s funeral in Wichita Falls en route.
What a fucked up way to end a tour! Afterwards we suffered
the entire hot ass ride home. Then the rock-n-roll party started
up all over again when I remembered I had booked the Red Eyed
Fly that night to the tune of Spoils, Blood Burnin’
and the Punkaroos, discovered that the Spiders were playing
that night at Room 710, and realized that all my bitches were
going to be out on the town.
rather than unpack, I went to the fucking rock show. I mean…
What Would Ace Do?