Friday, Oct 21, 2005

Hello, and welcome. The time is now (for what else could it possibly be?), and the year is 2009. We think! It's difficult to keep up when you've been handed a road sentence, a sentence to spend life on the road doing god knows what for god knows what wages in pursuit of god knows what kind of food ideally for lunch, as we have. We've just returned from the verdant island nation of Great Britain-Scotland-Wales, just three days ago, and it's good to be home. Though really we're not at home: We flew directly into Orlando to jump on tour with the gentleman-musicians of Ambulance Ltd. and are now making our way north with them. Boy is it great to be back in our sweet silver van logging some miles!

Yeah! Great to be back in a/the van! We even recorded you a little audio commentary from the road: click here.

The album's out in the U.K., doing pretty well. Word is that the House of Lords is thinking of giving us fiefdoms, which apparently has never been done before on the strength of a first album, so we're very excited/anxious about that.

The performances last tour were naturally very hot, due in no small part to our new sound expert, Matt Webster, who is a little bit boring, a little bit shy, a little bit buttoned up, but only because he's a total pro:

More soon when we know further things about ourselves!

Wednesday, Oct 12, 2005

One of the best things about touring with a band is meeting so many nice, interesting people. The other day, in Peterborough, at a Sainsbury's, we got to meet the UK's Prime Minister, Tony Blair. He turned out to be the weirdest guy! He didn't speak a word of politics or economics or stuff about the war; he just told us this:

You know the oddest thing emerged just this weekend from the behaviour [sic] of my cat, whom I call Smallsley, Smallsley the Grey. Espying a finch a'perch a bough in the rear-lawn cherry grove, Smallsley fixed his little stare, angled his head just so, giving him rather a mischievous air, and began chattering his teeth against one another, clapping his two rows of ivory nibs together like a set of wind-up dentures. Smallsley went on about this for probably ten minutes before wandering off to topple his milk dish or perform some similar minor tyranny. I counted his teeth clicks, and it was two hundred ninety-seven. Enjoy your stay in Britain.