Reviewing a Record, Reviewing The Insidious Lie

You Have Nothing New to Say

(or, I can't believe an awesome guy like Ted is married to such a kook)

Dear Idiots and Smart People,

This is going to be my review of the brand new Craig's Brother album, The Insidious Lie. It's a review (actually worth reading) from an insider's perspective.  Now, before you get your panties in a twist and navigate away, I'd like to point out that I respect that you have a perspective.  A lot of my phrasing and flavor is my art form and is largely satire based on opinion.  The one thing I struggle with is being able to handle the effects my humor has on people.  I often find myself remorseful of ruffling someone's fur... or perhaps it's just surprising that people don't understand what I say is almost always exaggerated for humor's sake. 

So, that's your disclaimer.  Here we go.

To the reviewers thus far (the most recent ones in particular), I'm curious if you are aware that what you wrote in your painstaking commentary was pretty much exactly the same review as the last guy's?  Where's the research? More importantly, where's the passion?  You're writing a review because it's your job or your hobby but it's written as if you're bored to tears.  Why do you do it?  Do you want to show the world that you have an opinion on punk rock's whipping boy?  I mean, I get it.  The whole, wanting to throw your two cents out to the interweb.  I do it all the time via much more asinine means than your dumb blog (see: faceinhole.com).

 

But, you know? Ok? At least what I do is for pleasure. That much should be obvious.  Your blog just seems so, blasé-cause-I-have-to.  You're writing off something beautiful with absolutely no knowledge of the effort that went in to it, and how awesome it really is is totally lost on you.  If you are the head of or an associate of a professional organization that reviews music then you should, A) Write an original review not exactly like the last guy's, and B) Know what you're talking about.  Send someone to talk to the band about what happened during all stages of producing their record.  Inquire about the album art before you shit on it.  Ask what inspired it.  Why did the band choose these images out of all the other possibilities?  Don't you care?  You certainly have an opinion but what is it based on? 

When you write a professional review, don't just give a pre-formatted play by play of how cb's been "dead" (another completely ignorant statement) for ten years and now they're back and we're all just so suprised that they've improved with age - and for the love of our dear Lord and Savior, Jesus tap dancing Christ - don't go through the song list telling people what each song is about.  How belittling!! 

Ok, still with me?  I love you.  I think you're an asshole, but I love you.  I just want you to know I'm down with the brotherhood of humanity.  I just take exception to garbage writing - especially when it is tied to the absolute genius that is Craig's Brother.  When it comes to The Brutha, there is no bigger zealot than me,  I assure you.  Every aspect of Craig's Brother, from the music to the imperfections of each member and those who love them (mainly me) is utterly oozing pure, uncut awesomeness.  If you're not on board, you're missing out on something you can be part of.  As it is, you're just a part that's going to go away.  In this body - you are the dead skin cells.

Last night I made a statement that a lot of the insidious lie reviews were written by people who have no knowledge of music or music production and my friend Pete didn't like that.  He came to the defense of non-musician music reviewers, saying they have a legitimate opinion too. (btw, I'm not saying that the bloggers I was referring to above aren't musicians, I don't know about that).  I agree with Pete.  I am one of those people, kind of.  I can play a few instruments and know a bit about theory but I am clueless as to the knowledge and jargon pertaining to different kinds of distortion or recording terms or basically anything technical.  I'll revert to using adjectives like "chunky" or "smooth" or "orgasmic", wait.... So, the point is, I'm not saying you have to be a musician to write a review or even a good review. I'm saying it's good to be a musician or in music production if you're going to try and judge technical aspects or how something was planned when you don't even know what you're talking about.  It's like a pastor who never studied Greek or Hebrew trying to teach the Bible.  You never explored what when into making it, so how can you create a fair representation of what is says to people?  (ok, that's another conversation but a bad-fucking-ass analogy).

>>>>INTERMISSION<<<<

I do plan on writing a review, but I wanted to review the reviewers first and I think I'm done with that now. I'm gonna grab a bowl of Frosted Flakes and I'll be right back.

>>>>END INTERMISSION<<<<

Song writing for The Insidious Lie began as early as I can remember.  I have been married to Ted for about ten and a half years and I recall hearing him jam around the house on songs like "closure", "crutch", "the aaronic blessing" and "adaline" since nearly the beginning.  Listening to those songs evolve over the last decade has been a privilege I can't begin to describe, and only became aware of in the most recent years.  I was there for the songwriting process of Epidemic and I have this to say about that EP - some of you out there picked up on the fact that the songs on that EP were hastily written and recorded.  What I wish to submit is how incredibly they turned out given the amount of effort that went into them!  They are all high quality, interesting songs.  Whether or not those 5 songs speak to you in any way, they are very significant to us and to a number of Craig's Brother fans.  You don't know why someone got that lame tattoo and you laugh at it - but it was significant to them.  Maybe it was the last picture their child drew before passing away.  The fact is, that Craig's Brother songs - ALL Craig's Brother songs, every single one - have effected someone in an enormous way.  That in and of itself overrides how boring you thought the EP was.

Ok, the Grand Finale is here.  I have to finish this and go fold laundry, so here we go.

The Insidious Lie 2011 (I actually got my 12 track copy in 2010 so haha)

12 Tracks (11 if you're from anywhere besides Japan or Craig's Brother) of unadulterated effort, combined genius and personal funding.  It's the first record known to be almost completely produced on credit, with ALL parties involved excited about and engaged in the goal.  We, The Brutha, me and everyone involved, couldn't be more pleased with the result.

Produced by Kyle Black, Andy Snyder, Ted Bond and assistant Ryan, TIL was recorded, mixed and mastered at 3 different locations, two of which were used on credit.  The Compound was paid up front and no (b.h.), Joe Clements does not accept payment in the form of weed, but, uh, thanks for asking.

TIL begins strong with Ted's powerful vocals immediately capturing the attention of anyone in the immediate vicinity.  A fast paced song, Freedom opens that gates with a reminder that Craig's Brother plays punk music.  The album contains a variety of songs that fit into varying sub genres of punk but not one is lacking vision or a point.  The main emphasis of this record seems to focus on the short comings of a materialistic society, accustomed to instant gratification and unaware of the world devastation that their ignorant consumerism plays into. The last song on the record, The Aaronic Blessing, seems like a ballad -type deal and it totally ties in with the main theme of the record.  A cry to the world and perhaps to God, Peace on Earth (another name foe TAB) gripps the soul with mournful pleas for justice. 

About the cover art, Iain Anderson heard the music and understood exactly what this record was about.  Using a thoughtful, artistic perspective, he went out and shot pictures of industrial buildings and world flags because he knew that was a gripping representation of the records theme.  He and CB support staff member Jesse Wizinsky had to grapple with translating the images Iain captured to an album sleeve.  It was not weak.  It was deep and meaningful.  The cover of Homecoming was weak. The inner booklet was the only interesting part of that design.

My personal favorite song on the new CB record is Fallen.  I have a little more room to speculate on CB song meanings than the average asshole, so take it as an informed opinion when I say that this song contains no small amount of genuine disdain for the way Christian people - especially those we have encountered in the music scene - conduct themselves.  You are a pack of liars and judgmental hypocrites.  You, Pop-Culture Christians!  Wake the fuck up and change your ways.  See that Craig's Brother has been a better representation of beautiful, broken, genuine humanity than you could ever understand in your vain, so called walk with Christ.  You might as well say you don't need Christ or you wouldn't have judged so harshly.  Take your lame black rimmed glasses off and trade them for some rose colored shades cause what you see is what you get.

Now go listen to my band!!  (We just put the PV profile up a couple days ago - but don't review it, or else!!) 3 Cards Short

Loving Craig's Brother is like Masturbating with Soap

Do you remember the time you tried it? Masturbating with soap, that is. Come on, we've all done it and subsequently experienced the shocking truth that can only be discovered while attempting to use our lathery old friend as a lubricant. Male or female, it's pretty much the worst pain you can inflict on your genetailia... aside from stuff I've seen on the interweb.... but we won't go there *shiver*

Loving Craig's Brother, for me, is like using soap as a lubricant and forgetting the outcome over, and over, and over, and over... until infinity. (that is, over ten years and running which often seems like what infinity may feel like)

Being me in relation to Ted in the scheme of his band is maddening. At first it feels good and exciting. There are shows not in Santa Cruz and emails saying how CB changed someone's life. There's attention, adoration and fanaticalism from people we have never met before... but then the crushing truth slowly sets in and I begin to realize that something's rotten in the state of Denmark.

I don't know what people think. People get their panties in a twist too damn easily that it makes me want to puke.... but before I go there, let's think for a moment... in poetic analogy.

Imagine if you will, a bride. Beautiful and radiant on her wedding day. She's all aglow in her perfect moment. That's, perfectly planned moment. How did she get there, at the end of the isle, waiting to make her traditional journey for all to view in wonder? She planned it. Hours and months of painstaking planning goes into the Brides wedding... and it almost always is the "brides wedding". Only with infrequency does the groom take as much interest in what font to use and what type of paper said font should be printed on. What type and color of flowers, what material for the table cloths, party favors and meals, don't forget the vegetarian option! Live band or DJ? What about a bartender, the brides maids dresses, shoes... more details than I care to write and more than you care to read. I sensed your boredom at the beginning of the sentence prior to this one. (that would have been the penultimate sentence of this paragraph if I didn't write this sentence of explanation... which was unneeded in the obviousness of what I was explaining, but I like the word "penultimate" and I will use it when I fucking want to).

We've all seen commercials for shows like Bridezilla and likely know a few Bridezilla's in reality. The Bride is consumed with the way she wants her wedding to be and everyone around her is also rallying for her desires. It is her day.

My argument (analogy) is that the Wedding Day to the Bride is as the Show to the Rock Star.... only the Rock Star's big day happens over, and over, and over, until infinity. At least, that's the hope, right? Rock stars (as opposed to other types of musician) are in desperate need of major attention. They have to be in the center of it. (You might argue that Kurt Cobain really didn't want all the attention and I agree that he may not have wanted what he got, but as a performer, he most certainly DID want attention in some form).

So the support system for the Rock star (or Bride..heh) continuously revolves around him/her. In my case, it's a "him". The support system is encouraging and helpful... but is also human and only able to take so fucking much before getting a little snippy sometimes... and I don't god damned deserve to be "ripped to shreds" for my sense of humor. Just like all you other assholes out there, I have an armpit, and I intend to expose it once in a while. You might not like the way it smells but it is all me, baby, and the one person who LOVES the way my armpit smells is the demi god that you freaking worship so get off my case when I think the band has been represented gayly.... whoa... digression in completeness.

I have been in this thing and supporting the cause with all that is in me for nearly eleven years. There have been struggles and personality conflicts. There is one person in the band in particular who I still bump heads with, in spite of our mutual efforts at actually loving and accepting each other. I know this person would leave without me in a heart beat... and this person would prefer if I wasn't around to screw up all his plans... that knowledge really hurts me... and yes, I do resent this person, his behavior and what he does publicly with frequency. I guess my reaction to him is my bad, though.

I'll say something snappy in a public forum and people get pissed at me. Actually, I've made a few good friends in this manner. There are two old enemies from the Craig's Brother message board that I am now fond friends with. I think they had to realize that I'm not just some shit talking bitch (well, I am... but not in the way they think) and that I do a lot of really helpful things with the band and my intention is never sabotage. One guy in particular recently told me that I should create something huge and share it with people so he could rip apart the way I presented it. I really, really want to put the guys name in here but instead, I'll just hope he reads this. The guy is a Christian from CO (typical asshole) and has made it so no one outside of his friends can send him messages on FB... so I couldn't message him and say, "Hey, the fuck?" Coward. He may have bought the CB record, but now Ted thinks he's a douche. So ha ha on you, buddy.

I have put a lot of personal effort into the new record. I have helped in many aspects. Sure, my efforts were small in comparison to say, Andy's, but they were significant to me.

It's difficult to support the bride over and over and over, while standing in her shadow, getting a little resentful of everyone thinking I'm in the way.

But... I forget the pain when I make awesome new friends from intelligent CB fans, or when I listen to CB music and realize why we all loved them in the first place.... or when I see Ted's face upon receipt of an email that his band has been invited to play on the main stage of the biggest punk festival in the entire world. I get excited when Ted asks if I want to sing on his record and then even lets me pick which songs I want to sing on.... or when I'm sitting around the studio and Andy asks me to sing because he likes my voice. I still get butterflies when I realize that Ted is watching me from the stage. Ted wants to include me in his project, and also in the victories and celebrations... and in those moments, I'm so happy that I forget the pain I feel when I am hated by that one person in the band or by a Craig's Brother fan...

So I lather, rinse and repeat... never totally achieving climax due to intense, biting pain... but loving the process over, and over, and over again, until infinity.

We're Talking Fuckin' Lee

Who of you is into Tenacious D? That's kind of a rhetorical question I guess, since I know not very many people read this (yet) but if you've a mind to answer in a more literal way, that would be acceptable.



I love the old Tenacious D special they had on Showtime or HBO or whatever channel it was. I have never really had cable so I just purchased the Complete Masterworks, of which there is apparently a part deux now.

There is one episode that frequently pops into my mind about when The D discovers they have an actual fan. They think the guy is a weirdo at first, but when they get home they look him up on the internet and kind of get obsessed. They are stoked to find that Lee knows a lot about them as people and as a band and they start learning all they can about Lee and actually start kind of stalking him.

I am reminded of that episode often when we come across new and particularly awesome Craig's Brother fan. I'll look the person (almost always male) up in facebook and try to get any info on them that I can - and it's in those moments that I feel like The D and Lee... *chuckle* I always wonder what they think when I approach them.

Some people I've gotten to know through the old message board, and those relationships have been pretty long-lasting. We have met many of the boardies. A number of them have even come to stay with us and we have done fun stuff like hikes and trips to San Francisco, tours of Santa Cruz and jamming with Craig's Brother.

Yes, because we have crossed the fan-band relationship and have become friends (obviously they were never my fans, some were quite the opposite) we've gotten a unique opportunity to meet some pretty awesome people. I think it's partly because CB members soak up the attention they get in places like FB and the old message board, and because they are accessible to and relate to their fans. I think the internet kind of does away with "fans" in a certain sense. I think a lot of band people go on their own message boards and that makes them more like the people you and I are and less like the unknowable beings they seem to be when viewed from an audience, tv or heard on the radio.

So that's it, I guess. I don't have to post all of my blogs, but they're more fun to write when I'm writing them to someone. So, if you have gotten an email from me, if I have posted on your blog or contacted you on facebook for the sake of or because of Craig's Brother, you are not alone or singled out, but you are totally rad.... unless my email to you indicated otherwise.

Craig's Brother Sucks!

I'm sure you've heard that before, from people who either don't like Ted's voice or who don't like Craig's Brother, or who do like Craig's Brother and were disappointed by a drunken show or a crappy show. I've been realizing lately that bad press is better than no press, though. This Article by David Segal of the New York Times, kind of memorialized that idea. It was one of the most entertaining articles I've read in a while, and has kind of let me see through a cracked door of internet possibility.

I created this blog in 2004 but at that point I was activley blogging on myspace.com/snowflake79/blog and getting a tremendous amount of views... so this place was left on the back burner. (I think I still have less than 400 views accumulated over the past 7 years.)

Since I hardly ever log onto myspace anymore, and there's nowhere to blog on facebook, I'm attempting to resurrect this blog site and get some more traffic through here. I wish I could switch up my blog a bit. I wish I could consolidate my posts without loosing the dates they were posted on... the dates are kind of significant to me, but it's clear that I had no idea how to use this site when I first created my profile.

I've had some stuff to say about Craig's Brother lately, which is good because it gets me writing.

I'm listening to The Insidious Lie right now and considering how awesome it is that the band, as it is, is able pull off a lot more complex guitar work than before and have a tighter live set. I don't know if it's because they're older now or what... but Craig's Brother has occasionally had difficulty living up to their own musical standard live, and I think that situation has vastly improved in the last few years.

I think it's because Ted and Glade are now the longest standing guitar players, both having been actively playing guitar in Craig's Brother for over 5 years, I don't think any other guitar player has been with the band as long.... well, Steven... but he's a special exception and has his own thing going.... but having consistency in band members has been an important ingredient in pulling off an awesome live show. Who'd have known?

I'm really proud of Ted. He was an amazing front man without having to play guitar. He moved around and climbed up on top of things... but anything he lost in mobility was gained in shreddingness of his guitar playing. Plus, he can still move around a little with his guitar and do like, windmill's on the strings and stuff.

I'm also really proud of Craig's Brother. I have long appreciated the quality of fan they attract - not that they don't attract loons too... CB fans are, for the most part, really intelligent and introspective people. There are the ones who have been known to us since the message board days, and more that we've only just discovered. It's really encouraging. I think we get confused as to what the goal of Craig's brother is. The goal might be something different in the view the actual band members, and not the "honorary" members or "support staff" - as I've taken to calling myself lately, but here it is from my perspective; impacting lives.

They've done it. If the last week has shown me anything, It's that. I know people will read this, but I don't know if everyone will... I want to say thank you for sending in letters of support and thank you even for just talking about Craig's Brother in your personal lives, blogs and message boards. They would make music even if there was no one to listen to it, but since there is, they make it for you and knowing that it has touched you is so significant.

My trip to Spain with Craig's Brother

Maybe assholes can move mountains but you just can't live with them.

I guess this story starts with the promoter. He emailed us. He's a Craig's Brother fan who also books shows and promotes bands (why, I don't know). He's the kind of guy who you can't help but like because of his earnestness and utter geekyness (not the cool, tech, video game geek, but actually a lame geek)... but who simultaneously you can't stand because he is such a fucking bitch, and I use that phrase with total exhaustion and voice-dragging emphasis on the vowels of each word. He likes Craig's Brother and wanted to see them in his town. Since he was in the promotions racket I suppose it seemed like a good idea for him to use his "skills" to bring The Brutha 6 thousand miles to stay a total of 5 days, for the sake of touring Spain. He would get to see CB and we would get to see a little piece of Europe. And eat tapas. Win win. He did just that.

But what happens when the dream, as inevitably it will, becomes reality? What happens when a starry eyed fan, who finally gets to see a favorite band of his, turns into a snot-nosed little bitch because he has the planning skills of an 80 year old dead guy and took it up the ass financially? End of story, read no more... seriously, though, ALL promoters take it up the ass sometimes.... but it's a special breed who plans poorly then takes no responsibility for the outcome. or is it? There are a lot of asshole promoters out there.

(I changed the names of the promoter and the company... but only slightly)

"Ragu", of "funkorspandex", wasn't ready to plan such a detailed trip... either that, or he is some sort of psycho who pulls crazy shit on all his bands, or a retard... The following is the story as I experienced it. I was there, after all.

It all started super nicey nice in the email messages. This promoter named Ragu in Spain wanted to fly Craig's Brother over for 5 days and 4 nights. All we had to pay for were plane tickes for myself and Glade's wife. Fair deal.

We were shitting our collective pants. Spain! At last, a band trip off the continent! So excited! We've been all over the US and Canada but have never had the weight backing us to pull off a paid trip to Europe - and finally a trip, albeit a short one, was planned. We were fucking going. I wasn't getting left behind. we prepared and became more and more anxious to go. I got my first passport, Ted renewed his. A box of sugar-skull Craig's Brother shirts showed up, courtesy of Ragu. Neato! There would be another box of shirts waiting for us in Spain to sell on the trip there.

The day finally came to leave. We arose at oh-dark thirty and conglomerated at the air port. I, being terrified of flying and even more so because my government might at any moment decide to dispatch a crew of crazy militant Allah Jihadist's on my cross-country to international flight, was armed with a prescription of Valium, some Tylenol PM and Dramamine, all topped off with cocktails on the flight, to form a splendid, liver killing wonder cocktail. For whatever reason the Lord loves fucking with me and completely disregarded the fact that I was trying to knock myself out by keeping me on the edge of my cramped, stuffy, elbow bumping seat the whole 9 hours. 9 hours... I tried to tell myself that it was just like a shift at work only better because I got to watch movies, eat food and drink alcohol, all while flying as comfortably as possible to Europe. For the first time ever.

It was ok. I would do it again... only with stronger drugs next time. I'm not trying to complain. There were uncomfortable moments, but I went to Spain virtually for free. I'm seriously not bitching, just painting my picture in bitch-speak... which is my language. Go with what you know... ho

So we completed our flight with little to no terrorist activity to report the whole time. Some children were possibly working for the terrorists... but nothing "dangerous" happened. We're exhausted but it was morning time in Spain. Time to get up! I was a little woozy from light motion sickness but I dealt with it and our greeter, an awesome dude named Jaume (Jow-muh), picked us up and took us to his flat (or do they call it an apartment in Spain?) in Barcelona. Holy fucking shit we were there. Castles and centuries old buildings surrounded us. There were more people riding scooters than we had ever seen in one place live. There were tiny, little alley ways that we thought were just alley ways... but it turned out that cars and mopeds go down them too! Watch out! We go to Jaume's flat and are all kind of fatigued, so we collapsed against his couch and our luggage, and waited for a couple hours. (This probably would have been a good time to go rent a van... just sayin'). After a while Jaume pops out from someplace and asks if we want to go out and get something to eat.

It's about that time I realized I didn't bring enough socks for Ted or myself (unless we found a laundromat) and worse, that I had remembered to pack a total count of zero extra underwear for myself. Well, shit balls. We'd have to visit a store and buy some drawers now too.... I maybe could have gone a week without changing my undies but 1. This is Craig's Brother music we're talking about, here - change of pants required, (note * CB music is so good they shit their own pants - ask Ted!) and 2. I think I started my period and required a fresh change of pants... so you understand the situation. Girls go through it. Let's be honest. It's not as easy for us as it is for men to go on the road. I'm not bitching, I just want you to know.

We couldn't find any drug stores like Walgreens and Juame sure as hell wasn't helpful with that, but there were boutiques like Victoria's Secret (only nicer) on pretty much every block. I went into one and opened a drawer. A man immediately popped out of some place near by and almost slapped my hands, obviously completely offended that I had lay my soiled hands on his beautiful lingerie. I didn't know what to think so I muttered a shocked and feeble, "sorry" and back out of the shop. Yeah, I'm hella punk. Damn the man!

I finally hooked up new chonies and we were free to enjoy a mini tour of Barcelona which ended up at a Tapas bar where we enjoyed little wieners swimming in a lovely grease pool amidst other hors d'oeuvres type food, and real Sangria from the place it was invented. It was pretty awesome. Nearby to where we ate were 2 thousand year old Roman tombs. I'll have to link the photo album of our trip, if I can figure out how to do it.

Evening finally came and it was time to head over to the Venue. There was a bathroom including a shower there. Yay! Only... no toilet seat on the toilet... and a harsh metal grating on the shower floor but... fuck it! We were in Spain! Woo! It all chalked up to an adventure.. and though it was already the day after we left on our journey back at home, it was still only Day 1 where we presently were... and the show hadn't even started yet! We were a little bit tired, but the excitement was much stronger than the fatigue. We got to meet some friends who showed up from Sweden but I was too stupid to remember to take a picture with them! Damn it! It was Kaysow from our message board and his brother. The took a train. It was so fun to get to meet them and best of all (for me) was when Kaysow revealed that he thought I was a very nice person! Everyone from the message board thinks I'm a bitch. I swear, it's just my writing. I love animals and children and peace and justice. *clears throat* So, we got to meet the lovely and talented Kaysow. It was awesome.

The first show in a foreign country wasn't all we had hoped. The venue wasn't packed. CB was headlining but the other bands drew almost no support. Craig's Brother, as we all know, isn't *huge*... but the fact that the fans can all get together online shows us that there are thousands of them out there... they're just spread around... so... people love Craig's Brother... just from a distance. Anyways, the numbers weren't what we hoped but there were probably around 75 people there. It was enough to have a good time but was it enough to recoup the cost? All I have to say is toilet seats. There weren't any so the venue better not have been super expensive. Shit. The crowed loved Craig's Brother but didn't laugh at any of their jokes, except for awesome Kaysow and his awesome brother. Ted's really funny so, I know it wasn't his lame jokes.

After the show was over we began to feel the fatigue a little. Apparently the city of Barcelona wasn't close enough to the next destination, Madrid, so Ragu planned for us to head out a little ways that night. So we set out and traveled and hour - In the WRONG direction - as planned by Ragu - to the hostel we stayed at. Let me clarify - he booked our hostel in the least direct route from Barcelona to Madrid as possible - adding a total of 2 extra hours to our travels.

So after having been up for almost a day, traveling to a different to continent, playing a show, eating tapas, and driving an hour in the wrong direction to the hostel of our promoters choosing, we were very ready to sleep... but did we get to sleep? No. Of course not! At least, not with ease. That would be WAY too convenient. We arrived to find the door locked and we were left to bang away frantically make phone calls in the rapidly cooling weather. It was the middle of the night, but we finally got in and found our rooms and slept for a couple hours. It was clean and quiet and we were tired. We all enjoyed a shower the next morning, and a shit on a toilet complete with seat! WoW! I love me a decent hostel.

The next day our wake up call arrived via a boy named Farting. We got up and had to head back to Barcelona to rent a van... so... why we didn't just stay the night there when there are plenty of places to stay is beyond me. That nonsense aside and forgotten about, a conversation started about sending a guide in our vehicle. Ted and Heath were asking Ragu to send a national with us to drive or at least navigate. For reasons to this day totally unknown, Ragu made the executive decision to leave us on our own, in a foreign country we had never been to. We would be following behind their car, though, and everything would be fine. After much ado we were packed into our van and began the journey to Madrid for show number 2.

For a while everything was going fine. We had navigated unfamiliar roads all over the US and Canada, after all, so we were obvious pro's, and many of us had braved rocky, high altitude "roads" in Mexico, though, not on a band trip, and one thing we definitely don't deal with on a regular basis is the God forsaken, accursed "round about". We hate the round about. We followed our "guide" vehicle into a complex, multi-lane roundabout and got separated. Did Ragu and his companions bother to pull over and wait for us? Are you kidding? Our illustrious, learned leader, our caretaker, promoter, road manager, Ragu, decided we could figure it out on our own and split. Fucking fine, guy.

It wasn't all piss and dribbles, though. We saw some awesome ruins and shepherds on the way. That was pretty cool. We didn't have time to stop and look at anything, though, because the drive took us all day and a nail-biting long cut into the night. By the time we finally got to Madrid it was a full hour after the time Craig's Brother was supposed to PLAY... never mind load-in (well, we were borrowing the tour-mate's equipment so load in wasn't really an issue) but the tour mate's, the Stupidfacientes, had to play for an hour just to keep the crowd there (Thanks, guys!) but holy fucking shit (excited emphasis on each vowel) it was so worth it. Hands down the best, most fun show of the trip, the cute n' cozy little bar called The Wurlitzer Ballroom, was packed to the gills and a promoter for one of my favorite bands, Screeching Weasel, was there and I got to shake his hand. The crowd was insane. They sang every song and demonstrated the love I feel in my heart not only for Craig's Brother, but for all my favorite bands. Fist pumping, face-vein straining love of insanely incredible rock n roll music amassed into a sweaty joy fest of the loyal troops, bonded in brother and sisterhood during those foul smelling moments of frantic exuberance. We all felt the love and the love had united us... until the end of the show... when the real face of Ragu appeared and the face was ugly.

Funny how someone can look like they're having the time of their life one moment, and the the next be a hideous beast toward those he purports to love. Apparently there was some problem with how the management reacted to Craig's Brother being so late. I don't know if it had an effect on the money, but the crowd stayed and was stoked... so I think there weren't refunds. I can't remember what exactly happened but all of a sudden Ted was pissed off and arguing with Ragu. The fucker didn't want to pay Craig's Brother (or wanted to cut the payment) and was blaming us for being late. BLAMING US??? He abandoned us! Abandoned! After not renting the van when we actually had hours to kill and sending us an hour in the wrong direction the previous night - which was the same night CB played a show immediately following our arrival to the country. The same day we got there. Rank: Amateur. The promoter who had worked with Screeching Weasel was shaking his head and commented on the lack of professionalism of Ragu. It was a ridiculous scene.

Oh... funny little footnote about that show... Heath asked someone to bring him a towel to dry himself while he was drumming, and when the person came back, they had brought a roll of single-ply toilet paper. Luckily I was wearing two shirts so I spared my outer shell for the sake of the brutha... and actually, there's now a picture of me wearing my awesome NOFX is for Kids shirt at the Madrid show instead of whatever other shirt I was covering it up with. So, that's cool.... I have giggled ever since at the idea of Heath trying to dry his sweaty face on a roll of single ply toilet paper and the mess that would cause... hahaha!

Somehow Ted and Ragu worked out an agreement and finally toward the next accommodation our journey continued. After the argument with Ragu was over we felt the need to argue with our lame GPS a bit - and soon we found ourselves lost in a desolate area. There were fenced-in chunks of property that could have been waste yards or scrap yards or some type of fenced-in yard, on either side of the wide, paved road, and there was an over-pass and maybe a river or something. It was dark, the middle of the night, and we had gone the wrong way down a dead end street. There were some ominous, shady characters huddled together in the shadows of that lonely street and we tried to ask for directions. They told us to leave the area and threatened us or warned us of a threat.. it was hard to tell if they meant to harm us or were warning us that someone else would harm us, but we returned down the wrong way road the way we came in. You betcha.

We were turned around and a little hell erupted amongst our party. We were arguing about whether to find our way to the inexplicably secret, distant and expertly hidden rest accommodation Ragu had put so much thought into booking for us, or to just drive the 6 hours to the next town (Avilés, I believe) and find someplace to stay on our own. I was crying and arguing with Ted, Heath was mildly flipping out, Scott was crying, and Glade and Heather kept cool and just smoked cigarettes whilst patiently waiting and observing us freak out until we finally decided to drive to the next town. 6 hours and it was already nearing 3 in the morning. Great. Just great.

After the decision was made and an actual plan was established, we all settled down a little bit. I slept for most of the drive, I think, but when I roused, we were pulling over on a snowy hillside and took some really nice pictures. We drove for a couple more hours after that and finally came to the next town. Searching for a hostel or a hotel or a manger, we eventually came to a bed and breakfast and the nicest people we were to meet in all of Spain. It was about 9 in the morning when we entered the still, silent little (actually big) house. A kind abuela showed us to our rooms. We rented three rooms and Ted and I got stoked on the honeymoon sweet. We worked out a deal with that blessed hotel staff that enabled us to pay only slightly more than a day's rate, and we would get to stay past noon the following day. Then we went to bed and slept until it was dark outside and time to rock with a fresh perspective. When we awoke, Abuela made us the best coffee that I have ever tasted. We were a little more rested, and sane... until the show that night when something exploded.

Before the show we checked into the venu and wandered around the surrounding neighborhood for a bit, checking out local cafes, discovering the "tortilla" which isn't a tortilla as we know it, but a baguette filled with potato and eggs and sometimes other things. Sitting in the car outside of the venue, I notice a fellow in his car next to us, looking in at us. I guess he had met Ted earlier in the evening and we began to talk a bit about bands that we liked. He spoke next to no English and our Spanish is limited as well, so the convo was rough... but he showed me what has become one of my favorite bands, Not Available from Germany. They're not amazing, but their music is awesome and rocking and their lyrics are fun. (I wanna fuck you!) That dude was one of the only sane people there.

There were at least a hundred people in the crowd but not many more than that. What was significant about them was the fact that they were out to freaking lunch. I wonder if the particular craziness of the people who came to see Craig's Brother in Avilés, had to do with the factories across the river from where we were... huge exhaust pipes blowing yellow, noxious smoke into the atmosphere and choking us half to death... but really, I think their behavior was typical of Black Panthy's Party fans. They were on ecstasy, many of them. They were smoking drugs (not marijuana) openly in the venue. Merch Bitches had created a maze of standing racks and tables full of the usual fodder and stood by to guarding it, daring me to try and buy something... not looking like they actually wanted to sell me the t-shirts I purchased.

When Craig's Brother played it was normal at first, but people started, like, feeling the music or something, and not in the awesome way I described feeling it in Madrid... this was, different... it was... wrong. These dudes started shouting weird things and Ted and touching him in an almost sexual way. At first I thought maybe they were super turned on by him, but then I realized that they were just really, really high. That whole scene must have been very distracting, that, and I don't think Heath had monitors or something because when CB played Insult to Injury - their single most played song of all time - Heath stopped not once, but twice, several bars in, bringing the band to a screeching halt both times. It was then that the phrase we oft return to was born. "Something Exploded!" Heath cried, as jeers from the crowd rose and the band was looking at him as if he had two heads... or none. It's all on tape. I was right there, standing directly to the right of Heath, on stage with a video camera recording. It's there... but we've never been allowed to see it because it was Glade's camera and he never released the full footage. I was so glad to have been taping something so bizarre... and Heath was insisting that something exploded... omglol. I want to see that tape.

Here, I'll break to throw in a side note. When Craig's Brother had ascended rank in our local battle of the bands about a year later, we were at the finals, the BIG show, THE battle royale as it were, when Ted and I got into one of our infamous arguments and both of us forceably removed from venue, literally moments before they were to go on stage and play for their chance at a title and some awesome prize. It was one of the worst nights of my life. When asked about the incident, someone, I think maybe Heath simply explained, "Something exploded". Gotta love that guy.

The Avilés show ended, we located some tortillas to go and drug ourselves back to the lovely little inn we had grown so fond of. It was the proverbial ray of sunshine in our dark and stormy, but exciting and super awesome, virtually free trip to Spain.

We slept, arose and packed into the van to head to the 4th and final show in Bilbao. It was several uneventful hours away. Longing for familiarity, and a menu in English, we stopped at one point and got some McDonalds... but seriously, there are some things that should stay in the US and McDonalds is one of those things. Europeans just don't get how to make it taste really, really bad for you, and that's probably because Europeans couldn't make it as bad for you as we make it here if it killed them. Canada can't even get it totally right... and I think that's a good thing.

The trip to the final show was pretty much uneventful. No fights, no breakdowns, no terrorist attacks. We made it just fine and in plenty of time. The surrounding area seemed like it could have been cut from a nice part of San Francisco. We went to a coffee vendor and there was a lovely cobblestone patio area and walkway where children played and mothers watched. Heather and I both missed our children but were glad that they were at home, safe.

Soon it was time for the highly anticipated final show of the trip. We were near the town of our tour mates, the Stupidfacientes, and we were looking forward to their local fan base.

The venue was in the basement of a building. It was dark and had concrete walls and at least one large mirror. As time drew near and the line started forming, we were dismayed to realize that the line didn't really form at all. I think there were about 50 people at that show. No one wanted to come to a rock show on that night in that town, I guess. Not even for the Stupidfacientes... not even for Craig's Brother.

After that the trip was pretty much over. We said a long goodbye to the Stupidfacientes, which was an indication to me that we had enjoyed traveling and playing together. They left and we booked ourselves into a nice hotel, on our dime, of course.

We traveled several hours back to Barcelona the next day. There was another incident where we were separated from our sister vehicle but this time, Ragu being absent, the vehicle pulled over and waited for us. We were reunited and returned to Barcelona together.

All that was left was some shopping and, of course, La Rambla. La Rambla is the Spanish version of Champs-Élysées avenue in Paris, only kicked down a couple notches. Just a little dirtier and with more middle-eastern refugees who let go of the love of Islam enough to try to make money selling beer on the street. We bought a couple 6-ers from them... and Ted made a spectacle of himself by getting drunk and singing "I'm on a cognitive reconnaissance mission for you, baby! Trying to sort out your feminine pretzel logic" to the tune of "Submission" by the Sex Pistols. When it started getting late a guy popped out from the shadows, told us to shut up, then invited us to his house to party it up. I was like, no fucking way. Sorry. Can we say, "Missing Americans?" No, thank you. Heath also enjoyed his sauce that night and at one point wandered away for a while, which scared the shit out of me. I was even more scared when Ted went looking for him.

In the morning we had to meet up with Ragu for a last minute meeting, in which he planned to discuss the success or failure of the trip with Ted and Heath - Craig's Brother's main representatives. It was then that Ragu informed us that, in spite of his earlier assurance that he would take his payment from ticket sales and we would owe him nothing, we actually did owe him money and he wanted it right away... but... we didn't make any money from the trip and had spent what measly funds we had budgeted on a few souvenirs for our families. Basically, we had a financial agreement with Ragu but he decided that wasn't ok, and wanted us to pay him. I don't know what we owed him for, since we ate next to nothing and paid for 2 of 3 of our lodgings ourselves... but there it was.

We left and made it to the airport on time. We only lost a couple items of clothing, and that was at the airport, not at a show... so that's some improvement. I haven't said much about the others... Scott was sick (as usual for band traveling) but he always rocks at the show in spite of his ailment, and the Wilson's were just really even keel and mellow during the whole thing. They don't drink or anything... they just smoke cigarettes like crazy. They took the experience in and were kind of the stable ones. Heath is mainly stable in a traveling situation... but he has his crazy moments (or hours) too. As for Ted and I... forget about it. We make up for our insanity in awesomeness... at least, Ted does... and he loves me so everyone else has to accept (or pretend to accept) me.

We made it back home. Thanks, Ragu.

So... if this happened almost 4 years ago... why am I bringing it up now?

Well, I love to write and talk about myself (and Ted's band) for one thing, but as you may know Craig's Brother recently finished self-recording a new album. This is *huge*. This isn't some low-fi, sonar-in-your-bedroom recording (which is rad in it's own regard, but not really used for professional purposes). This is the stuff dreams are made of. Using 3 professional studios during borrowed time, manpower on credit, and dollops of invested personal income along with monetary support from a troop of dedicated fans, Craig's Brother has achieved a feet that in all it's current pomp and grandeur, will soon be the norm. A professional quality recording was achieved without the help of a major label. We and the fans paid for it. And by "we" I mean SPECIFICALLY, Heath, Ted, Scott, Glade, Heather, me, and the fans/"fams". All that is left is still a pretty huge job. It's powered by faith and it, too, will be successful.

The album isn't available for sale yet but it was streamed from the Craig's Brother myspace page on Christmas day, and have been giving it to people who donated and to people who will review it and post their review somewhere online for us to see. The album was ripped and is now available for download on Spanish servers, and here's where this part of the blog becomes relevant;

Heath contacted Ragu to ask him about the website that's providing the new cb tunes, and to let him know that we're gonna be back in Europe soon and haven't forgotten about his 200 Euros.

Ragu was a total dick about it! He responded with a horrible email telling Heath he was shocked that we were asking him for help after ripping him off and he cc'd a bunch of other people - some of whom weren't even involved prior to this emailing but have chosen to send unprofessional, derogatory emails in reply... Ted said I can't include any of those messages in my blog but I am going to bend his rule slightly to share a particularly mean snippet the third party, uninvolved person, who was in another country at the time we planned and went to Spain, said to Ted.

"I don't know why I spend time writing to people with IQ under 70.

Eric.

PS: you are the main character of jokes talking about stupid people in bands here in Spain. It's better for you not to come back."

Sooo... I left his name in there because you'll never know which Eric in the world he is... but I know and now... he is the subject of a forgiveness campaign on my part... but first, I'd like to puke on his face. Just sayin'.

Thanks, Ragu, funkorspandex, and Eric After-due-date. You inspired a long-assed blog by your blundering, shit talking, infuriating personalities... Ragu booked pretty much the least thought-out trip I've ever been on - but he did bring us to Spain.... so I'm grateful for that... but... what gets me is that he was such a rude asshole over 200 Euros. What's that, like, 300 dollars?

blog review

-or-

I Think I May be the Biggest Craig's Brother Fan

Someone wrote a blog mentioning Dave Bazan and Ted (somewhat in comparison) yesterday. It's weird/freaky that people know who Ted is and know, to a certain extent, what he's like or what he does.

Before I write any more, you may as well know what provoked this little sojourn into self-indulgent, slop writing. Check out: The Problem Of Evil

It's funny that a blog in which the author discusses judging Ted would make me judge the author. *heh* I feel like I know exactly what kind of guy he is. (He's a kind of guy I generally stay away from). We've been judged by Christians before.

I have such disdain for smiling Christians. I probably wouldn't go to church if there wasn't a direct reason for me being there. I love my handful of true friends and family that go to the same church as I do but as for the rest of them... I have a lot of confusion as to how I should relate to them. I can't force myself to think of them as family when I know they don't think of me that way... even after 3 years together. Maybe I never wanted to relate to them at all. Maybe their hesitance/unwillingness to truly love me was merely a convenience for me.

But I digress.

I hate holier-than-thou Christians. They scare me. They are the cause of more than a few of history's major blemishes. Perhaps this is what our author was like before he mixed Dave B and Ted B in with his personal musings. Perhaps I'm a holier-than-thou in my own way... by thinking I'm holier than those who think they are holier. "The star bellied sneetches were the best on the beaches". The moral of that story? No one was better or worse than his neighbor.

Craig's Brother never tried to make anyone think that they were good Christians. I thought that was the point that was made... the line that was drawn... when Adam and Andy decided to quit several years ago. After those two left I don't think anyone else in the band ever cared what kind of people others thought they were. I guess that was evident. It's almost painful to see effects today of actions taken 4, 5 or 6 years ago.

Good. I say good, though. I agree with the theme of the blog I linked to above. I'm glad the guy could see that the guys in CB never tried to hide who they were. We have always loved to party pretty hard... but all of us have paid variable prices for our indulgences, our own "Pleasure Islands". Maybe the fact that CB was more accessible to the author of the blog made it easier to judge them than it was to judge someone like Dave B. Craig's Brother, however, has always been a willing spectacle.

People judge CB because they started out on Tooth and Nail and because they had lyrics that discussed Christian ideals. That categorized them to fit certain judgment criteria. For them it's a real catch 22. Either they're too sinful for the Christians or too Christian for everyone else. I know people around town who knew about CB but intentionally didn't listen to them just because they were thought of as a "Christian" band.

I have a wake up call for you. It's THE NEW, people. A different breed has been born. I'm not talking about a new breed of drunken, misbehaved Christians but rather I speak of the Christian who is real and alive in their day-to-day wanderings. Ever searching for the answer and striving for personal greatness... even if sometimes the striving is put on hold for a little bit of enjoyment. I speak of God loving Christians NOT imposing fascist, hate-filled beliefs on others and simultaneously not giving a fuck what other people think. This is what we're looking for. This is what I have always believed Ted and his band mates were like (except for the ones who aren't Christians).

The Ones who Love Them (from 2/15/07)

A Work of Romantic Fancy


(Think of the movie Sky High as your metaphor reference)

We're like the side-kicks. (Myself and those like me). We got their back... but we can never be them. We wait for, care for, and sometimes, exact small forms of (mostly-benign) revenge on them.

We can't live without them. We can't be happy without them. We can't be totally happy with them either. We feel blessed by their love for us. Whatever form that love may take, we accept it, often greedily.

They take us with them, even if only in spirit. They are selfish, and so are we, even though we fancy ourselves self-less. Inspite of our selfishness, we would die for them... maybe even die to see them succeed.

We are the ones who love them.