
The
Camaro Witch Tour Chronicles – Part II
Sunday
November 9th – Day 25
As we depart from the nuclear-bomb-building-toxic-waste-dump
city of Richland en route to Portland, Oregon, I shift in
my seat when I realize I’m sitting on a book. It’s
Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions, written by a co-founder
of Alcoholics Anonymous, and I realize a little history of
the Camarosmith boys might be in order. The band is comprised
of Ben Rew (vox), Chris Johnsen (guitar), Matt Fox (guitar
playing replacement for Pat “Fucking” Brown),
Jeff Matz (bass player for Zeke), and Donny Paycheck (drummer
for Zeke). For the record Zeke was definitely top three of
the most ass-kicking-in-your-face-relentless-fucking-rock-bands
in the nineties. They were also a bunch of drug addicts, however,
which may have contributed to the band’s demise in 2001.
In any case, Donny Paycheck has been clean and sober for a
number of years, and the other members as well (with the exception
of Jeff, who was never that fucked up to begin with). For
whatever reason, Ben and Chris from Camarosmith (maybe it
has something to do with the heroin scene in Seattle…maybe
not) are sober too, leaving only Matt and Jeff as my party
buds (quite a change from the Witch van). Donny justified
his sober position to the equally sober Ben with, “When
you’re sober you’re going to have time to get
more work done, save more money, get better cars, better jobs,
meet women who actually like your personality.” Whatever
dude. Like your fucking personality? Are you fucking kidding
me?
As we drive to Portland, I am thoroughly impressed by the
awesomeness of the scenery. There are mountains everywhere
and assloads of water. We drove alongside the Columbia River
which, as Matt informs me, comes down from the base of the
Cascades (up by Alberta or somewhere in Canada) then goes
along the Washington / Oregon border, all the way to the ocean.
Matt added, “I think this river carries more water (volume
wise) than any river in the world, with the exception of the
Amazon.” What up trivia whiz? “I’m not a
trivia whiz,” Matt explains, “Just an overeducated
shithead.” We made our way past The Dalles and Hood
River (one of the biggest wind surfing places on the west
coast), still following the Columbia. Donny quipped, “Say
Noah, how about building me an ark? Fuck no, God. Well how
long can you tread water? Well, I guess I’ll start building
that ark.”
Chris laughed, “Donny’s Bible stories.”
I settled back in my own full-length seat for once (Camarosmith
has a 15 passenger van), without having to share a seat with
furball Trinidad, and noted that rock journalism definitely
has its benefits. Matt observed, “You’re moving
up in the world.” Post-Zeke, we rocked the fuck out
to Blue Oyster Cult, which is where the Houston-based-Carson-led-now-obsolete
band, Transmaniacon MC got their name. Regardless, Jeff opted
to rock out with his headphones on, oblivious to the rest
of us as he played air bass. Then I became privy to all sorts
of wacky conversation, how-the-fuck-this-started-I-have-no-idea.
Ben - “He said he was twelve but he had the body of
a nine year old.”
Donny - “Stuff their mouths with peanut butter and slap
some duct tape over it. Nice and quiet.” Jeff - “Mr.
Hill, step away from the swing set and put down the candy.”
Donny – “I smell sulfur.”
Ben – “That’s the exhaust.”
Donny – “Sulfur is not exhaust.”
The moon rose up over the mountains looking like a huge badass
orange ball. Matt observed, “I see a bad moon rising,
and I just know werewolves are going to come out and eat us.”
Jeff added, “Bad things are going to happen.”
We arrive at the Portland venue late with Chris commenting,
“That’s why Dixie Witch always gets to the gig
before us. We always have to stop at a lot of playgrounds.”
In the Dixie Witch van it seems that all they talk about is
shit, and their shits, and the act of shitting, whereas in
the Camarosmith van, there seems to be a lot of pedophiliac
jokes going on. I can’t figure out which one is worse.
Insert jeff.jpg – “Jeff tunes us out and rocks
out on his own”
The club that night was the Twilight Café & Bar,
where I found myself ordering my third French dip in just
as many days (it seems they’re more prevalent in this
neck of the woods than they are down in Texas). The tiny place
was fucking packed…chock full of motherfuckers for a
Sunday night, including Mark from stonerrock.com. I told him
about my blackout incident at CBGB’s and, believe it
or not, he not only didn’t sound surprised but said,
“That sounds like the first night I met you.”
Insert wwadstoner.jpg “WWAD & Mark Stonerrock.com”
Insert camarowitch.jpg “Claytallica, Ben & Trinidad
goofing at the Twilite”
I have decided (this is show number three with the boys now)
that Camarosmith fucking rocks ass. Ben, the consummate showman,
likes to talk a lot of shit in between songs, with comments
like, “So I guess you like that rock-n-roll, huh? It
reminds you of when you could sit down with a 6 pack in some
older man’s Camaro, and suck a dick…like Donny
used to do.” And Matt Fox seems to be a good addition
to Camarosmith (although Pat “Motherfucking” Brown
was motherfucking hot). You can tell Matt’s a rocker-metalhead-lifer
from way the fuck back. And Ben Rew has got the boogie-woogie
going on, especially when he’s jamming on the tambourine.
Maybe it has something to do with the tambourine (the boogie-woogie
that is) since Bad Wizard is cursed / blessed with the same
affliction.
Insert jeffdonny.jpg “Camaro – Zeke rockers Jeff
& Donny”
The Witch started off their set with Get Busy. They sounded
great this particular night, not fucking up like they did
in Seattle. Ronia-Teargas-Red-Ruffle-Ass-Out kept buying me
white Russians so, by the night’s end, I was pretty
tore up. I noticed that there’s definitely a lot of
fucking freaks in Portland, and a super-fucking-high guy to
chick ratio. The last band pretty much rocked ass. They were
called Bast and had these shirts (unfortunately I didn’t
learn this until the next day when it was too late to acquire
one) that said Bast Blue Ribbon with the Pabst logo.
Insert bast.jpg “Bast Blue Ribbon”
During the Bast set, Chris from Camarosmith wandered over
to hang out with me and I couldn’t help but ask him
why he started sporting a mustache. Chris responded, “I’m
entering a psychedelic phase of my development and I don’t
want girls to talk to me.” Hmmm…After loading
up the gear and saying goodbye to the Witch, I dove in the
back of the Camarosmith van and went to some dude’s
house (I have no fucking idea whose house it was) where we
sat up and partied in the basement with a bunch of people
whose names I can’t remember at all, until I passed
out down there.
Insert Camaro.jpg “Matt, Ben & Chris-with-the-new-mustache”
Monday November 10th – Day 26
Woke
up feeling pretty fucking hungover, and intercepted the shower
before anyone else could (except for Matt), and checked out
the new Tony Hawk video game which features a ton of bands
on the soundtrack including: Camarosmith, and the likes of
KISS, Bad Religion, and Queens of the Stone Age. One funny
thing that I discovered was that Matt is also in a band called
Gene’s Addiction (ode to the corporate and ugly as fuck
mastermind behind KISS’s capitalism). There’s
a link to it either off Gene’s web site or the KISS
fan club website. He’s also in a Thin Lizzy tribute
band called Tin Lizzy (“Just so we could steal their
logo”, Matt explains). We went to get gas (it’s
full service everywhere in Oregon because some douchebag blew
up a gas station back in the 50’s or something so the
state passed a law that doesn’t allow citizens to pump
their own) and talked to the gas station attendant about Arcata
(our destination). It seems that the old dude used to live
there so we had a conversation about that good old Humboldt
county weed. Then he directed us to this joint called Katie
O’Brien’s for coffee coffee coffee and some “breffast”.
I’ve already got these Camarosmith cats figured out.
I guess if you used to party and you go straight edge, coffee
and food become your replacement drugs so, the second I sat
down, I ordered six coffees and six waters…and all present
were happy.
So far I’ve discovered that Ben is all about the Buddhism,
commenting that he’s trying to focus on affecting people
in a positive way when he plays. Ben is reading Thich Nhat
Hanh, Creating True Peace (more Buddhist propaganda…I
mean literature). I guess Buddha is his higher power in the
12 Step program. Although Ben started singing when he was
three, he noted that he wasn’t in any important bands
prior to Camarosmith and added, “I was singing in bands
during the whole grunge explosion thing but it was so depressing,
and I was really into ‘seventies rock, rather than the
grunge.” According to Rew, “Camarosmith came about
because Pat Brown and I wanted to do some music together.
So we wrote a few songs, and then we brought Jeff in because
we were friends and couldn’t find a bass player. Then
Chris came in. We had already gone through a couple of really
crappy drummers and, although I worked with Donny, I didn’t
really think about asking him originally because I thought
he was only into punk rock. When he acted like he might be
into it we got together and jammed. It started out as a joke
really.” Obviously the joke has become a reality, as
Ben and Donny are business partners in Red Devil Management,
and also own Dead Teenager records (which, among Speedealer,
have these killer bands from Seattle like Flamethrower, Load
Levelers and the Angry Amputees).
En route to Arcata, I decided Oregon is absolutely beautemous,
with the most magnificent pine trees ever, scattered with
periodic rain spells as we passed through Eugene. Having known
Zeke and Camarosmith since their first appearances in Austin,
I’ve decided that Jeff Matz is one of those dudes who
is genuine “gold”…so to speak. He’s
one of those guys who doesn’t have a mean bone in his
body, and he has this huge hilarious laugh. It’s fucking
awesome. As we go through Grant’s Pass Ben asks if anyone
has any fruit on them. Of course, the one item of food-stuff
I actually have on me is an apple. “Get rid of it,”
Ben warns, “They don’t let you bring any fruit
into California. They’ve got a quarantine on Washington
apples, and they’re going to bring out the apple sniffing
burros. They’re going to bring a donkey in the van.”
Then Donny quips, “I don’t need no goddamn fruit.
What am I going to do with that?” And the stupidity
continues…
Ben – “I’ve got syphilis and a fat colon.
I just want to sell shirts, but you’ve got to have a
shirt that’s a bargain. You need to have one shirt that
costs less than the others.”
Jeff – “Just grab a shirt, wipe your ass with
it, and sell it for 12 bucks.”
Donny – “We better not be eating pizza tonight,
because pizza’s not conducive to the rock. I mean I
love pizza; it’s just not good for rocking.”
This ride was excruciatingly quiet, as the tape to CD adaptor
was fucked (a-new-and-very-uncool-development), and the only
tapes along were Thin Lizzy and Megadeth…courtesy of
Matt.
Ben – “I hate fucking Megadeth.”
Ben – “I had to take care of Crispin Glover for
three days when he was doing these shows up in Seattle and
he drove me fucking crazy. We would go into places and he
would cause such a fucking disturbance it was ridiculous.
It was like, “Hello, I’m fucking insane!”
To be continued…
Rock-n-Roll
Q & A with Lee Ving from motherfucking Fear
Who
are your favorite bands / greatest influences?
Lee – My favorite bands are Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock,
Wayne Shorter, and Ron Carter. My greatest influences are
John Coltrane, Charles Coltrane, Miles Davis, Wes Montgomery,
Otis Redding, Sam & Dave, George Jones, Conway Twitty,
and Elvis Presley.
What
is your definition of success in rock-n-roll?
Lee – Fulfillment.
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