You’ve chosen a name, registered the domain, gotten your hands on a copy of Fruity Loops, and now you want to play shows. How do you get that first gig — and, more importantly, how do you continue to get gigs, make good contacts, and rise to the top like cream? Read on.
splinters
if they don’t come out, it festers
Browsing the archives for the shows category
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=3474
We are thrilled to announce we’re playing a great show in May! We’ll be opening for Faith and the Muse on their : ankoku butoh : tour!
Faith and the Muse
with special guests Reliquary and Bella Lune
plus DJ Scary Lady Sarah
Thursday, May 13
@ Mardi Gras in Scottsdale
8040 E McDowell Rd., Scottsdale, AZ 85257 [map]
8pm : doors
9ish: first band on
$15 / 21+
We’ll have some lovely flyers soon; let us know if you can give us a hand distributing them.
Also, we’ve got a lovely video trailer. Pass it around!
Hope to see you there!
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=3531
Because I keep getting tagged on Facebook, but I hate posting there (that’s what WordPress plugins are for).
Please do not die laughing over the first half-dozen or so. Continue Reading »
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=3355
I almost want to go back to work just so things will be less crazed, I tell you.
So Friday, I came home to shower & change before heading off to the Low Men show. I got showered and I was starting to look for my cache of earplugs when it sounded like an earthquake is happening in the kitchen — either that, or Agnes had knocked my big stainless steel bowls off the top cabinets. Except … the crashing keept on happening. I trotted downstairs to find …
![cat-food box [click to embiggen]](http://splinters.suriel.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/20090719_cat-food-box_3230.JPG "cat-food box [click to embiggen]")
So we built this box to put the cats’ food and water in, to stop Fenris eating their food and slobbering in their water, and also to give them a safe place to eat, where he couldn’t bug them. We used nice, heavy birch plywood, supported by 2x2s and capped with quarter-round moulding to soften the top edges, with mesh for the sides so they could keep an eye on things while they eat, and cut out a nice archway for an entrance. (Our jigsaw skillz were not equal to a spiffy gothic arch or that box’d look a lot cooler.) (Eventually it’ll be painted or stained and it’ll look even better. Also, I need to sweep the floor.)
Anyway, I came downstairs to find … Fenris’ head stuck in the cats’ food box … bucking like a horse … stainless-steel bowls banging against the mesh … and he’d dragged the whole lot into the living room. There was cat food and water everywhere but I couldn’t stop laughing, poor dog.
I got him untangled, wet-vac’d the water, scooped up the food, righted the box and finished getting ready for the show.
![Doug Motherfuckin' Preston [click to embiggen]](http://splinters.suriel.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/20090717_low-men_3219.JPG "Doug Motherfuckin' Preston [click to embiggen]")
And the show was pretty awesome. The space was better for sound than you’d expect for a room with that much brick, and despite the strange decorations, was a fairly cool place to see a show. I did my usual band-girlfriend/photographer thing, although looking at the results, I again find myself wanting a better camera, something of the nice & chunky DSLR variety. (Although I’m addicted to my S5 IS‘s flip-out LCD and I’m boycotting DSLRs until someone realizes what a kickass thing that is and adds it to a camera with interchangeable lenses. Ahem.)
After many drinks and a band I didn’t especially want to hear, Loki & I bolted for the Waffle House, where he tried to soak up all the alcohol with an omelette and a waffle (naturally) and I filled in the cracks left by a too-long-ago lunch with a cheese and egg biscuit (a little falling-apart-ish but tasty nonetheless. A++, would nom again).
When we got home, though, it was muggy and warm in the house, and a check of the thermostat told the sorry tale: it was 86 degrees upstairs, and only a couple degrees cooler downstairs. Loki and I both got only a few hours’ sweaty sleep, and I called our home-warranty place at 9:30 Saturday morning, begging them to send someone to sort out our air conditioning.
An hour later, the a/c company called & said they’d have someone out between noon and two. I thanked them and went back to sitting on the library couch, reading and drinking diet Dr Pepper and trying not to move too much. Around one, I took Fenris to the vet to get a bordatella vaccine blown up his nose (which he promptly sneezed back all over the vet tech, heh), and came home to find … that there was still no a/c guy there fixing our shit.
So let me condense the next 7 hours of hell for you: every couple of hours, someone would call saying the guy had been held up, and would be there in the next couple of hours. What this really means is we were tethered to the fucking house — the roasting, muggy, awful house — watching the thermostat climb to 96° with 55% humidity (downstairs. upstairs it was closer to 100) and not being able to leave because of the expected imminent arrival of Mr A/C Guy.
Around 8:00 we sent Fenris for a sleepover at his daycamp place, just in case the a/c wasn’t actually going to get fixed that night, because the only hotel I could find that allowed dogs had a 25lb. weight limit, and as we discovered earlier at the vet, Fenris is now weighing in at a svelte 67.8 pounds.
Finally, at 9, the A/C guy called to say he was on his way. Rejoice! There was also a monsoon blowing in, and I was just praying he’d get there before the skies opened up. (He did.) Anyway, about fifteen minutes later, he’d swapped out the broken thingamajig (what? I was delirious at that point) and there was cold air pouring out the vents, ohmahgaaaah.
So we thanked A/C Guy (with a check) and decided to order a pizza, so as not to fill the house with heat from cooking while it was still over 90. An hour later, I got a call from the pizza place — one of our drivers has broken down, your pizza will be late, and here’s some free future pizza and some soda please don’t kill me. (I didn’t have the energy to kill anyone, lucky him.)
Anyway. Once it dropped below 90 upstairs I went to bed. I even got a few hours’ sleep, yay!
And today is Fenris’ graduation from Beginner Dog Training (they take their final exam, walk around the store to great acclaim, then get ice cream), preceded by his first day of Intermediate Dog Training (because that was the only time available), and then Shadowrun. And my friends will just have to deal with our messy house, because I will only have the energy to clear off the gaming table, and to hell with everything else.
Right. Can I go back to work now?
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=3339
Let’s start with the good, shall we?
- Hanging out with Dot, Jared, Jill, D.M-F.P. et famille, and assorted be-costumed friends at the Faerie Festival.
- Finding my favorite sunglasses in the truck Sunday morning, after having thought them lost and gone forever.
- Getting paid to play the Faerie Festival. We seem to get paid for about one in three shows, so this was a nice novelty. Sadly, while that was a good thing for several hours, it ended badly.
Sadly, the good things were far outweighed by the bad.
- The sound at our show. Holy crap, y’all. No bass for two songs, no guitars for quite a bit of the set, no drums whatsoever for the entire set. Either the audience thought that we were really lame, or that we’ve got excellent rhythm. (On the plus side, the songs in which there was no bass were the songs I screwed up badly, so everything’s relative.)
- Losing my wallet at the club after. And it’s not just that I have to cancel all my cards, or that I have to hunt down all our auto-debited bills, order a new driver’s license, and try to remember what else was in there, but that it was the one time I had more than $6 in my wallet. So much for my part of the aforementioned performance fee.
- The excruciating headache I’ve had since Sunday midafternoon. Nothing’s helping.
Oh, and I missed posting on Saturday, and there was brouhaha at the club. JOY.
However! I’m hoping that, having vented, things will start looking up soon.
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=3106
… and they’re braided to my scalp, y’all. I got home and it was hanging forlornly from its rubber band at the end of a chunk of hair.
Seriously, last night’s show was a blast, despite — and because of — everything. And oh, was there everything.
First, the lineup got changed on us all last-minutey. We don’t mind going on first — we’re happy to play any slot we’re given, and in our minds, no particular shame or glory attaches to any timeslot — but it was a bit strange for Esper Machine, going on 2nd, when they’re the touring band.
(Although I do hear that L.A. clubs are doing that more often: the “headliner” goes on in the penultimate slot, and the lesser-known band closes the night. Presumably this allows the headliner to hang out later and schmooze, or to go over their alloted set time without bumping up against closing time, so I can see the appeal.)
There were some ruffled feathers over the lineup change, but I think everyone ended up happy. Also, everyone got a soundcheck! The sound guy, a fellow who normally does sound for the Marquis, got us dialed in so fast we barely needed to run through a song. It was gratifying and astounding. Clearly the Mardi Gras folks are still feeling the effects of the July 4 show, poor them.
Of course, we’re using our ear monitors, so that’s half the soundguy’s job simplified, but once again, technology proved fallible: my right earpiece went out halfway through the second song & made me blow the opening on the third song, whose count-in is on the earpieces only, argh. Got that swapped for the other earpiece in time for a song whose drums in the bridge are only in our earpieces, which would have been disastrous if I’d not had the backup. Yay for preparedness!
The main disappointment of the night was the turnout, and I feel dreadfully about that. I spent a good part of the night beating myself up for not doing more promotion. There were probably no more than 30 or so people there the entire evening, which super-sucked for Esper Machine, on a tour of less-than-stellar shows. (Among other things, they lost their merch in Omaha, and are hoping desperately that it’s on the Crüxshadows’ van.)
They still put on a fantastic show, though, the Esper Machine boys. I hope to have video for you in the fullness of time. And the people who had showed up seemed quite appreciative, so that’s good. I think all in all they were pleased.
We were all pretty tired, but we stayed through Politik89′s energetic set, then broke down, loaded out & drove home. I wish I could’ve stayed up babbling with James & 13 and making friends with their cat, but I had to be at work for a 9am meeting. It’s no life, rocking at night and conference calling in the morning.
Anyway. Our set at the Faerie Festival will be slightly prettier, slightly less with the rocking, and you should totally come out and hear songs about fate and nightmares and mummy-love. It’s going to be fabulous.
MyBaPlaMo update: played my bass for about 50 minutes last night, heh. Aside from losing my mind on the first verse of Love Songs (note to self: it’s a G, not an F, there), and nearly falling over during Shadows Cast (from the rocking), I played reasonably well. So that’s good.
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=3087
Just a reminder about tonight’s show! A few more details have been confirmed (cost is $6, and we’re on first, at 9pm) :
Wednesday 12 November
@ Mardi Gras
8040 E McDowell Rd., Scottsdale 85257 (map)
featuring Esper Machine, Reliquary and Politik 89
21+ / doors at 8pm / $6
9:00 : Reliquary
10:30 : EsperMachine
12:00 Politik 89
You’re coming, right?
MyBaPlaMo: Played my bass for about half an hour last night, running through a dozen or so songs with my sweetie. Feeling a bit better about things now, thanks =)
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=3081
In case you’ve been jonesing for some hot, hot Reliquary action.
Wednesday 12 November
@ Mardi Gras
8040 E McDowell Rd., Scottsdale 85257 (map)
featuring Esper Machine, Reliquary and special guests
21+ / doors at 8pm / $6
Saturday 15 November
Phoenix Faerie Festival
@ Estrella Mountain Regional Park
14805 West Vineyard Avenue, Goodyear, AZ 85338 (map)
Festival Gates Open at 10AM, Unseelie Masquerade Ball begins at Sunset
Ticket Sales Close at 6pm / No Admittance after 7pm
Our set: 8pm on the main stage
Hope to see you there!
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=3016
So right, totally played a show in Springfield, Missouri last weekend. The show itself, the town, the people involved and the evening were all completely fabulous. Most everything else? Not so much.
It started badly with a 5am flight to Dallas and then Kansas City. Do you know what time you have to get up to make a 5am flight? Practically yesterday, that’s when. Kara, Jeremy & I got about 3 hours’ sleep, which was entirely insufficient. Then I spent a couple hours sitting next to a dreadlocked chatterbox who was apparently hitting on me (I never notice these things), and who then, once in Dallas, was spotted strolling past me four times. Creepy.
The drive from Kansas City to Springfield was gorgeous. I’m a sucker for rolling hills, farms and horses in fields. There was also tons of silliness and crazy jokes.
The rest of the evening was interesting, what with the pig-riding and all — oh, and our waitress praying for us — and then I crashed hard, to be woken up Friday morning with the news that there’d been a contretemps at the club the night before, and Loki had fired Jay.
Yeah. Awkward.
Well, we’d got his lines on the HD24 (actually, all of our lines are on there, so while it might be strange, literally one of us could do an entire Reliquary show. Ah, technology, how I love you.) so we could still do the show, but I felt strange and unsettled all day.
We found ourselves, in the fullness of time, in the club and having a proper soundcheck (YAY!). It sounded heavy on the drums in the house to me, but I was at a weird angle to the house speakers, so I didn’t think anything of it.
We hung out while people trickled in, chatting with the Dharmata101 guys, the club owner, and various DJs, and in my case, getting seriously buzzed on vodka-cranberries. For a dollar! Sometimes it’s nice to be in a band.
The whole night was pretty well a standard show. I didn’t have stage fright, which was unexpected and very nice, and our show seemed to be pretty well-received. People danced & clapped & the grin on the face of James from Esper Machine at the opening bars of Killing Moon was exceptionally cool.
We had a few interesting moments — it was just drums & Kara for the first two songs, a sub blew two notes into Destroy, and I totally didn’t know what to do with myself during the Loki-and-Kara-only version of Coriolis, but aside from that, it was a great show.
I felt really badly for the club owner who, in the face of the Masque and Veil meltdown, pulled 3 days’-worth of bands and DJs together in 10 days’ time, only to see some really low turnout. He raked in a ton of karma, but that won’t pay the bills. We flat-out refused a performance fee; I couldn’t, in all conscience, accept it.
We ended up going to Steak & Shake with the Dharmata101 guys, who were hilarious and snarky just like us. Loki and I also decided that, while we really really really wanted to see Esper Machine, we were also worn out & facing a 20-hour drive home, so we got a few hours’ sleep, then headed home.
Not much to say about the drive, except for discovering that McLean, Texas, is scary in a Deliverance kinda way (and also completely devoid of the gas station the sign promised), and that it’s possible to entertain oneself for a good hundred miles by planning out the sort of tour bus we’d get for Reliquary* if we’d bought the winning Powerball ticket the day before in Oklahoma.
It was a great experience all in all, and I’d play Springfield again in a heartbeat. Such fantastic people, doing everything they can to make a scene for a great town. Well done them!
* It’d be huge and black, with a big purple Reliquary symbol on the side; 9 bunks for band/roadies/merch person; a full bathroom plus a dressing room; running on biodiesel, with solar panels on the roof for everything electrical, which would probably include a couple big LCDs, gaming consoles, internets, a well-equipped mini kitchen, etc.; plus a trailer to tow the two plug-in-electric Mini Coopers we’d use for driving around once we got to the towns we’d play in. Sounds excellent, doesn’t it? We’ll let you know when we start taking applications for roadies =)
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=2969
(I wrote this ages ago, before we left for Portland, but never posted it. It kinda sums up how I’m feeling today.)
I shiver as my body temperature drops in response to an anxiety attack. My fingers go icy cold, my wrists go numb, my stomach churns. I wish I had some immodium with me, as this feels like a bad one. My heart pounds, heavy, rapid. I feel dizzy and my vision blurs slightly. Focusing on anything is impossible.
I try to breathe deeply, eyes closed. I think “peace” while inhaling, “calm” while exhaling. It doesn’t help. I clench my muscles, starting with my toes and working my way up, waiting for the release of stress as I release the tension in my muscles. It doesn’t happen. Nothing helps. I have no coping mechanism.
My entire body shakes as the fear, anxiety and tension get into their stride.
Will I throw up this time? I don’t know. Maybe.
Will I run to the bathroom with, ahem, intestinal distress? I don’t know. Probably.
Multiply this by five or ten or fifty and this is one day.
Multiply that by several days or even weeks, for bigger shows. This is how I am before every show. Every. Single. Show.
And all of this is just the “I’m totally going to fuck up onstage” anxiety.
If there are any strange or unusual circumstances — it’s farther away than a regular local show, or I can’t get off work in time for a leisurely load-in, or we won’t get a soundcheck, or it’s a big or important show, or or or — then the anxiety ramps up accordingly.
I’m so totally not a rockstar.
It is a colossal understatement to say that I don’t enjoy doing live shows.
Apparently, I’m not supposed to be feeling any of this. After all, the only reason anyone is ever in a band, ever in the history of the world, is because they feed off adulation, need to be famous, need to feel special. Some shit like that.
But I picked up a bass one day, to play simple lines while my sweetheart noodled on a Fender Strat as the music played out in his head. And then it snowballed, slowly at first, into something bigger and scarier than I ever thought it might be.
So if you’re ever at a show and I can’t speak in coherent sentences before our set, or stare glassily into space, or smoke too much, or pace back and forth shaking the numbness out of my wrists, this is why: not because my head’s too big, but because it might be too small to hold everything that a live performer’s meant to be.
http://splinters.suriel.net/?p=2946
