Saturday, July 31, 2010
In The Red Records shall release it in October, and we'll play it at Gonerfest in September in Memphis, so watch out!
Friday, July 30, 2010
That dog Blondie we rescued? She's been renamed Tikanni and is at Williamson County Animal Control, the nicest shelter I've ever seen! She's all fixed up and ready to go! It's a drag she doesn't take better photos right now, she's really adorable and way more sweet and playful than her sad-face photos. Damnit girl, you have to SELL it in the photos! Sigh. Well! Anyway, go down there and meet her and you will see, she's such a good girl and has a lot of love to give!
Pass it on, y'all!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Here's what I would have done. I'd have seen the first band go out, God bless them, seen their plight and said to my tour manager Phil "RIGHT, Phil, here are the van keys, go to the nearest Home Depot and get four tarps and some twine, go now." And he'd go, come back, and between sets we'd rig those tarps to cover our general performance spaces. At LEAST our mics. And KOL have plenty of experienced, resourceful people on staff on the road to make that happen in about 12 minutes. Why didn't they do that? OR, if that wasn't possible, get four fuckin' red umbrellas and make the aforementioned staff stand fuckin' next to you so you don't get shit on. Turn it into performance art, I don't care. Just play your effing show.
The reason this story really skins my nose is because when we were on tour together in Spain, we hauled ass down to Barcelona and waited 6 hours in a dripping basement for them there headliners to arrive, and they never did. You know why? The singer had a scratchy throat. I had actual bronchitis. I was just thanking my lucky stars that Jem and Poni were able to wrangle this pharmacist into giving me azithromycin. But the REAL reason KOL canceled BOTH their Spain shows (there were riots in the streets, people REALLY wanted to see them, we couldn't even leave the building for several hours after we got the news) was because they were going on the televised Brit Awards in London in a few days, and wanted to look and feel ship shape. So what's a few Spain shows? Nada, apparently.
We live in the same town, so I'm sure I'll get shit for voicing this, but it's a fact, man. It's not about me being more punk rock than you, it's not about anyone choosing to eat bird shit for the sake of rock and roll; no one asked you to do that, no one expects it. It's about playing a fucking rock show to your fans because that is what you live to do. And I can't sit idly by. That was a WUSS move, and you guys better do something to make it right. That "Sex on Fire" video was gross and CREED enough. Don't do this to your fans. Don't do this to the people who actually liked your first two albums. I want to believe in you. Make it right. Don't send your disgusting manager out into the media (Perez is the one who sent this story to me) trying to justify it because of "germophobia", my GOD, don't you know how LAME that is? If you're going to hide behind him, give him a COOL lie, like your arm burst into flames and fell of, just nobody saw is all. Way cooler story. I personally like Bob Dylan's mysterious "motorcycle accident".
Here's a piece I posted on my Blurt blog last year, quite clearly delineating their dubious choice in management. Seriously y'all, I've dealt with a lot of misplaced and overblown egos up in this biz, but this guy -- undeserving and paranoid -- takes the cake.
I love you Kings of Leon. Get well soon. I hope your new record rocks and you fire all of the garbage around you and get back to sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I believe in you?
Kings Of Pain: Running afoul of der Golem and der Kings of Leon's psycho handlers, with your friendly, neighborhood Ettes. Whose frontwoman, of course, is actually... SATAN!
By Coco Hames
I have never had much luck with authority figures. Anyone can tell you. Whether it's my first grade teacher or the man checking my passport at the Swiss border: they just don't like my face. I'm aware of it going in, and I try to compose myself, but it's very frustrating, and sometimes I blow my stack. Once, at an airport in Berlin, the ticket agent didn't like my face. He looked at our previously-approved gear and said, casually, just because he felt like it, "That will be 300 Euros." It was really early in the morning and I was hungover, which works to my advantage sometimes, because I'm too tired and nauseous to fight. But it didn't cost 300 Euros and anyway, I didn't have 300 Euros. And I informed him of as much. Well, one thing led to another, which led to me kneeling on the concrete floor, tearing apart all of our luggage, screaming about fascism as police officers closed in on me.
The point is, I have a real, visceral problem with people who abuse their authority. I understand the need for order, I sympathize with the necessity of certain social constructs, I respect the people who help maintain the structure of our seemingly functional matrix, I wave at crossing guards, I do. What I cannot accept is the wicked impulse that invariably takes hold of a person in a position of authority. Whether it is a temporary glitch, corrected as soon as the person realizes their folly (like Boromir handing it over in Lord of the Rings) or a cognizant, ongoing, coked out desire to gain and abuse power... either way, it's bad news.
And I'm not sure which form took hold of the manager of the Kings of Leon while the Ettes were on tour with the band earlier this year in Copenhagen, but it Really. Was. Something.
Backstage at our first show together, everyone was very nice and spirits were high: the King boys had just won a Grammy, and were soon to attend the Brit Awards, for which they all (correctly) had great expectations. Everyone was in a good mood, everyone was nice. I'd noticed the red plastic football helmet fastened to the drummer's kit and asked, "Who's the Sooner?" They said they all were. Gulp, right? (I'm a Gator, the Florida Gators beat the Oklahoma Sooners last year in the National Championship, and the band had even attended the game, owitch!) But no, everyone was friendly and we got off to a great start. The show was sold out and we had a blast, and afterward, the boys invited us out for drinks.
This was all very pleasant; it was really fun to be at a posh hotel bar in Denmark chatting about pleasant things like where we go to drink in Nashville, where we all live. The juxtaposition of a 6,000 capacity sold out show and chit-chat about local traffic amuses me to no end, truly. It's what I love most about what I do, the absurdity, I just love the absurd. Roald Dahl, Hunter S. Thompson, Dali, politics, names of crayon colors, you name it.
Now, either we got too close too fast and their manager didn't like it, or they actually did think we stole that bottle of champagne, but something happened. Everything was fine, everyone was drinking and talking and having a nice time. Caleb asked if I wanted any champagne, since the label had sent over four bottles in congratulations to the four boys for their Grammy. I demurred, since I actually don't care for champagne, but he left the bottle all the same.
Presently, the boys departed, and by the time we were heading out of the bar, a British friend asked about the bottle. Oh, I said. That was theirs, from the label. I waved my hand dismissively, as if to say, take it if you want. Poni went to the restroom, I stepped outside with a couple friends to get them a taxi, and as I was headed back to the bar, I saw Poni in full run with fury on her face. I looked to where she was going, and there were Jem, our British friend, and a couple of guys I didn't know, in full brawl. One of the strangers threw my British friend up against the wall. Not okay.
I remember yelling, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" as I ran into the melee, prising bodies apart alongside Poni. The strangers were yelling, howling, at Jem, "You know what you did! Now you're going to get a kicking!" Jem looked bewildered, and Poni and I were foaming mad; as Poe says, no one insults me [or my band] with impunity. I can imagine, it must be really annoying to have two tiny girls fly up into your face, spitting and cursing, and this is in public, mind you, so I'm sure we weren't afraid of much. These guys looked at us imperious, slackjawed, like they could not believe we had the audacity to yell what we were yelling (which was remarkably colorful, to say the very least). One of them sneered derisively, "First night of tour, good job." Poni tossed them a final comment (she can be so inspired sometimes) and we gathered our friends and left the bar.
Once outside, we got the lowdown: Our British friend had taken the forsaken bottle of champagne and was walking out with it, when two guys blew raging into his face. Our friend said, oh, I didn't think it was a big deal, and put the bottle down. But these men said, no, he'd already taken it, the damage was already done. Our friend, being British (and did I mention, a rocker?) said with charm, "Okay, fuck off then." And I believe that began the rustle Poni and I fell upon a few minutes later.
"Who the hell were they, though? What did they care?" I asked, totally hassled. We were standing outside the hotel, smoking and waiting for a taxi. Jem said, "They said they were the Kings of Leon's management." I widened my eyes and laughed, "Yeah, right! What a bunch of psychos, no manager would behave like that, you'd get arrested with shit like that in the States, what a bunch of lying weirdos, God!" This incredulous laughter and bashing of the pugalistic lunatics we'd left upstairs continued until our taxi arrived and took us to our hotel.
The next day in the van, we had chalked it up as just another night and forgotten about it, when we got a phone call from our booking agent. He asked to speak to me. I said, oh hello! He said, "What is this about a bottle of champagne?" My jaw dropped. I started laughing, and asked "Why?" Our booker then proceeded to read me an e-mail the Kings of Leon's manager and tour manager had written to him, evidently just after the incident, which had occurred around 4am. The post-incident ranting (chock full of insults and interesting theories) against the dubious character of these strange men? Oh, that took place conveniently right under their hotel room window. Sound travels so clearly in the cold Copenhagen night air... Certainly I won't make any criminal accusations, but gosh, I wish I was able to stay up all night after an international flight and a very busy concert, you know, starting fistfights, spying on people and furiously typing scathing (and untrue) tattletales, you know, without having employed any egomaniacally rage-inducing powdery chemical enhancement...
(pictured above: Kings of Leon w/tour crew and management, circa 2009)
So. We were in big trouble. It is indeed a marvel that we weren't kicked off the tour right then and there, I suppose. It seems someone stood up for us, though I still don't know the magnanimous who. But as the wheel turns, neither were these men to be insulted with impunity, and it was time to take our medicine.
They took away our rider. They took away our guest list. They took away our sound check. No one was allowed to speak to us, and no one did. Gone was the cajoling, open and energetic atmosphere of the first night, replaced by drone-solemn performance of duties and many tightly closed doors. It was of course a bit embarrassing, and a bit of a hassle, but what could we do? We stood by what we did, and we'd do it again. All Poni and I saw were guys going after our friend and bass player. Any such action would spur us to the same equal and opposite reaction, anytime, anywhere, no matter who you think you are, or who you work for.
If they didn't know then, they know now, that we are a punk band; as used to smuggling booze as a bootlegger; as accustomed to solitude as monks; as comfortable as, well, a punk band, to not having sound check. Infuriatingly to the management, of course, their punishments made no impact. And it was of course only our pleasure to display it. We played by all the rules, kicked ass at every show, and got the crowds crazy amped. The management avoided us like the plague, and we saw neither hide nor hair of them for most of the tour. Our punishment was finally lifted in Paris, where it was clearly in the air what had happened, but everyone was kind of over it. We played ping pong with the boys (don't let Jem's long pants fool you, bit of trivia: he went to the Junior Olympics for table tennis) and talked about Michael Pollan, dismemberment, the Beatles. We walked into the tour manager's office and he so generously welcomed us: "Hello, sober people!" and we hugged and laughed. Oh you silly, we are never sober...
Thus far, nothing has been mentioned of this incident, and I've wondered whether I should put it out there. Should it just go undocumented? Should I just keep quiet and resume lurking in the shadows, pretending it didn't happen? Should I keep my head down, yes sir, no sir, what do I do, sir, where do I go sir, what do I say? It would be par for the course with my polite southern upbringing, not wanting to cause a fuss. It is expected that I would keep quiet.
Because, you know, the greatest trick I ever pulled was convincing the world I didn't exist.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
NOW. The Friday night lights I speak of of course refer to the fantastic light show that Nashville's 12th and Porter venue puts on. It's like a stadium in a little club. And after having done stadiums with Kings of Leon (thankfully no bird poop, sheesh, I mean, can't you DIE from that?? Pssh...) I am looking forward to the lighting masterpiece. Oh yeah, and we'll be playing a bunch of new songs y'ain't never heard, so if you're in town, I'd make it down.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Adoption is open from 10:00-6:00 Monday through Friday and 10:00-2:00 on Saturdays.
Blondie is here, but she's not in the clear! She's getting spayed and receiving all her medications to make her adoptable as HELL. Like I told y'all in previous posts, she is the SWEETEST thing and will make the best dog friend you could ever ask for.
So spread the word and let's find this adorable pup a loving home!
Their info is listed here: http://www.williamsoncounty-tn.gov/index.aspx?nid=16
And their adoptable pets are listed here: http://www.petfinder.com/pet-search?animal=&breed=&age=&size=&specialNeeds=&declawedPets=&children=&status=&id=&internal=&contact=&name=&shelterid=TN75&sort=&preview=1
More on the Ettes soon, duh, but we leave tomorrow for New York and I gotta let you know, I GOTTA LET YOU KNOW... you're one a my kind.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
She's snuggly, clean, and healthy (there Colbert, you got your Oxford comma) and if they don't have room for her Tuesday at the foster place, I hope y'all will tell your friends in Nashville that there's a snuggly little lady who'd sure love a new home.
I gotta take care of this shit because we head up to New York this week to play the Knitting Factory in Brooklyn (right near my old favorite joint, Black Betty)so save a puppy, why don't ya?
In the wrong job for bleeding heart dog rescuing,
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
THIS JUST IN! For those of you who remember when my stupid idiot neighbor didn't take care of her puppy Blondie -- who then HERSELF got knocked up with puppies -- and then I snatched those puppies in the middle of the night and took them to the lovely people at Love At First Sight (a Nashville pet rescue center) where they got their shots and were swiftly off to happy homes... well, when we went away on tour a few months ago, I hadn't seen Blondie in AGES and assumed the worst, but just this week, I saw her running around the neighborhood! I'm glad she's alive, but it's not a pretty sight.
Blondie seems to have had another litter of puppies (God help them, wherever they are) and she looks very ill. Her sparkly, playful eyes are dull and sad, and her smiling puppy face looks like it has seen the worst and aged 10 years. This dedicated dog rescuer suspects mange, heartworm, fleas, malnutrition and dehydration are some of the issues afflicting our heroine presently.
She's in quarantine in my spare room, eating and drinking and being so grateful for some loving care. In the morning I'm taking her over to animal services to surrender her so that she can get all of the medication and treatment she needs in order to be healthy and fosterable/adoptable. When that time comes, she will need a safe home. She deserves it, y'all.
I can't even tell you how good and sweet this dog is, and she's still quite young, definitely not over two years old. Considering I live in a van with 3-4 other people 9 months out of the year, I'm not in much of a position to adopt another precious rescue (I've got my Maxine Jellybean, then huge Lenore the mysterious dopey genius, capped my limit) but if you or someone you know ARE interested in adopting or fostering this sweet, darling dog, she's affectionate and playful, great with other animals, and if Johnny doesn't adopt her, I hope you will.
I'll be posting updates here, as well as e-mail and phone numbers you can call for further updates and information.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
The Parting Gifts are Greg Cartwright and Coco Hames, plus a bevvy of guest stars such as Patrick Keeler, Dan Auerbach, Dave Amels, and Poni and Jem from the Ettes.
Their debut album Strychnine Dandelion comes out fall 2010 on In The Red Records (www.intheredrecords.com) and they are performing live at this year's Gonerfest 7 in Memphis, Tennessee.
They even gots a Facebook, y'alls: http://www.facebook.com/thepartinggifts?ref=mf
Oh what, you don't know Toe Rag? Well let me introduce you! From their website: "ToeRag is a predominately analogue based recording studio and has been up and running since 1992. ToeRag Studios have been acoustically designed and custom built throughout." Possibly you like yourself some Billy B. Childish, Holly Golightly, Headcoats and Headcoatees, Dan Sartain, Fabienne Delsol, Pete Molinari, the Datsuns, Madness, the Kills, Peter Berry and the Shake Set, the White Stripes? How about the White Stripes' Elephant? Hm? How about the first two Ettes' albums, hm?
Sonic-skills unparalleled, creatively unstoppable, gear-a-liciously endowed, the undeniably talented and certainly eccentric Mr. Liam Watson created his Toe Rag Studios and produces and conducts recording sessions with a zeal and command that only a TRUE crazy can control. Words cannot express our fondness and respect for Liam, but words CAN express our excitement about recording again with him: we're excited.
That's in August, chaps, after Lollapalooza and some fab Euro touring (dates below!)we'll be buckling down at Toe Rag for Ettes album #4. It's our best yet, and I really can't wait to share it with you.
|Knitting Factory Brooklyn||Brooklyn, New York||Find Tickets|
|12th and Porter||Nashville, Tn||Find Tickets|
|Lollapalooza 2010||Chicago, IL|| |
|TBD ||Milwaukee, WI|| |
|Razzmatazz Club||Barcelona, SPAIN|| |
|SONORAMA||Ribera del Duero, Spain, US|| |
|Paradiso||Amsterdam, NETHERLANDS|| |
|Hamburg Summerfest||Hamburg, GERMANY|| |
|Festival La Plage De Glaz Art||Paris, FRANCE|| |
|Gonerfest 7 w/ The Parting Gifts @ The HI-TONE||Memphis, TN|| |
|Austin City Limits||Austin, TX|| |
|Jazz Pulsations Festival||Nancy, FRANCE|| |
|Jallieu Les Abattoirs||Bourgoin, FRANCE|| |
|La Boule Noire||Paris, FRANCE|| |
|La Laiterie||Strasbourg, FRANCE|| |
|Atelier des Moles||Montbeliard, FRANCE|| |
|Festival Just Rock @ Lyon Le Transbordeur||Lyon, FRANCE|| |
|La Vapeur||Dijon, FRANCE|| |
|Le Toques||Perigueux, FRANCE|| |
|West Rock||Cognac, FRANCE|| |
|Yon Fuzz Yon||La Roche-Sur, FRANCE|
Monday, July 5, 2010
... like that rapping spider from Aqua Teen, EVEN THOUGH Adult Swim hates the Florida Gators. I mean, it's easy to hate the Florida Gators, I know. It's just that I grew up Gator, but really I'm not arrogant and evil like a lot of Gators are, I understand why we're not very likable but, you know, it's hard for me to say "we", with every passing year, I don't know... I hated going to school there, which is why I dropped out, doikes, so I don't know what my lasting interest in Gator football means. I get it from my dad. It's sentimental, I guess.
This helped me out yesterday:
Luckily that's the only site I needed to consult, considering Charles and Erick from Hans Condor put cherry bombs in pint glasses in the parking lot. Blood was drawn. Charles' blood.
Is today a bank holiday? But I need stamps!
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Saturday, July 3, 2010
The Ettes' official website has begun its updation and overhaulation, check it and see at www.theettes.com. Thanks, Kurtz! OMG you can link from that site to this site... If those sites link to each other... does that mean I'll never be born???