Band On The Run: Oh Snap!!

Day 9

Tour is a series of coincidences, luck, (good and bad), mishaps, a mess of constant confusion. It's seven weeks of never really being grounded. You're always on the go and every time you don't take the time to do a thorough "dummy check"and something gets left behind.

For example. back on Day 1 we were practicing in Denver in the basement of our friend, Corey from Hello Kavita. My bass head (in it's bright purple JC Penney suitcase) was left in a mess of laundry. Corey is shipping it to Chattanooga TN.

Then on Day 5, we were playing in Austin TX at The Mohawk, and while setting up our gear my bass stand was crooked and Thunderbird toppled over! The head snapped from it's neck. There was blood everywere. My stomach turned in knots, my eyes jumped from my head like a cartoon, and a quick loud "FUCK!!!" filled all of downtown Austin.

I'm now out a bass head, and my bass.

After my show at The Mohawk we walk down to Emo's where our friend Matt Bauer was playing. Matt gave us some more Lonestar drink tickets and I clichely (is this a word?) tell bartender Jacob how my heart was broken.

"I just snapped the headstock of my Thunderbird, it's hanging by a thread."
"Bummer man," he says, and pauses. "Man, I got this Squire you can have if you ship it back to me. I've had it forever and just trying to get rid of it." This is when my opinion of Austin changes.
"Holy shit, that'd be awesome, can I just buy it off you or like $50?"
"You know what man? You can just have it."

So he gave me his number and address and I was supposed to pick it up. We sleep at a friend's house, who has a bass head that I can buy for $100 which I quickly borrow from our drummer Charlie.

I call Jacob, and he never answers, so we drive to his house. He lives in a small house, with what it looks like a couple roommates, a bar bottle ashtray on the front porch and a beat up Passat in the driveway. I knock loudly on the door. A few seconds go by. I hear fumbling and loud hungover footsteps walking towards me. He swings open the door in a T-shirt and boxers and in his left hand hands me a very free, black, Squire, telecaster GUITAR. Not a bass. I graciously and very awkwardly take it to the van. (I just didn't have the heart to tell him it was a bass that I needed, I can still use it as leverage towards a bass I thought.)

I'm up a Squire guitar, and down a bass.

This story is getting ridiculous. Basically, I end up getting a bass from our friend in Little Rock AK, who agrees to let me borrow it if I ship it back to Little Rock from NY. I have an appointment to get my bass fixed in NY. Then I'll sell one of the bass heads to pay for all the shipping I'm doing along with my bass repairs.

The scary part is this story is only about half way through. This has been the roughest vacation yet.
(Trever Hadley, Band of Annuals. Blogging for six more weeks!)