Zach “All Axis” Kuhn
The Catholics splashed holy water on the back of my neck, and I didn’t feel a thing. Not for many years, anyway.
Dudes. What could have been a great weekend is in the books as a supremely great weekend. Haven’t had that much fun in years. Thanks go out to (in order of appearance):
Ryan Gilles; Woman who pulled out of primo spot on Broadway just as we were about to give up looking for parking; Christine; Beth; Waitress at Salt & Pepper Restaurant;
Bob; doormen #’s 1,2, and 4 at Metro; Hey Mercedes and Crew; Amstel Light; Nymb and Crew for not beating me up when I snagged two waters from their dressing room (honestly dudes, I didn’t know nothing); Amstel Light; Cab Driver #1; Doorman at Schuba’s; Quinn Goodwille and Michelle (How am I going to forget a name like that? Plus his girl was smoking, saith Schuba doorman); Mark Kozelek; Cab Driver #2; Reckless Records; whoever invented the Futon; Portillo’s; family of four at Portillo’s who made the full hour it took for the L.F. to finish one large order of french fries and a medium chocolate shake way more fun than it should have been; and you.
Boos go out to: Doorman #3 at Metro for not only taking a friend’s I.D but for being on a supreme power-trip about it; Amstel Light; High-minded and inept employees of Reckless Records; Sign on I-55 South that said McDonald’s and then (only after we got off on the exit) informed us it was 3 miles away; and me.
Hey Mercedes, as always, were on point. I had a great spot to watch from, and the boys rocked the house. Surprisingly the place was fairly packed—Pedro the Lion must have lost some of the draw. “Our weekend starts on Wednesday” is the song in my head for the moment, and I can’t see it leaving any time soon. I drank way too many free Amstel Lights, but only because there were enough to go around. That’s a fine lager. I looked all over the crowd for a certain someone but to no avail. Is your boyfriend Asian? If yes, then I think I spotted ya.
After an encore and some highly entertaining conversation (stolen license plates, van problems, Semisonic’s new song, and eating grapes like princes) we headed over to Schuba’s. Oddly enough, Mr. Koz was sitting on the bench right next to the door and Bob got him to take a polaroid. Seemed a nice enough man, although Ryan thought he was an arrogant prick.
Mr. Koz was fantastic, if a little arrogant. He started and stopped a few times, but his voice is fucking unbelievable live. I think sitting down would have helped. Plus, I lost the three people I was with and didn’t find them until they turned the house lights on. The next two hours are a blur, but I do remember my heart almost coming up through my throat. And buying a StreetWise. And sleeping sound on a beautiful Futon next to a beautiful girl.
The next five things to fall off the face of the earth in a perfect world would be: Metro Doorman #3 (for Beth); whoever stole the license plate; Florida; Sammy Sosa for just flat out sucking ass; and Ghoulia Stiles.
In the stereo: my morning jacket and Annie Hayden, both of which are impossible to find anywhere else but Reckless Records, Broadway
The Catholics splashed holy water on the back of my neck, and I didn’t feel a thing. Not for many years, anyway.
Dudes. What could have been a great weekend is in the books as a supremely great weekend. Haven’t had that much fun in years. Thanks go out to (in order of appearance):
Ryan Gilles; Woman who pulled out of primo spot on Broadway just as we were about to give up looking for parking; Christine; Beth; Waitress at Salt & Pepper Restaurant;
Bob; doormen #’s 1,2, and 4 at Metro; Hey Mercedes and Crew; Amstel Light; Nymb and Crew for not beating me up when I snagged two waters from their dressing room (honestly dudes, I didn’t know nothing); Amstel Light; Cab Driver #1; Doorman at Schuba’s; Quinn Goodwille and Michelle (How am I going to forget a name like that? Plus his girl was smoking, saith Schuba doorman); Mark Kozelek; Cab Driver #2; Reckless Records; whoever invented the Futon; Portillo’s; family of four at Portillo’s who made the full hour it took for the L.F. to finish one large order of french fries and a medium chocolate shake way more fun than it should have been; and you.
Boos go out to: Doorman #3 at Metro for not only taking a friend’s I.D but for being on a supreme power-trip about it; Amstel Light; High-minded and inept employees of Reckless Records; Sign on I-55 South that said McDonald’s and then (only after we got off on the exit) informed us it was 3 miles away; and me.
Hey Mercedes, as always, were on point. I had a great spot to watch from, and the boys rocked the house. Surprisingly the place was fairly packed—Pedro the Lion must have lost some of the draw. “Our weekend starts on Wednesday” is the song in my head for the moment, and I can’t see it leaving any time soon. I drank way too many free Amstel Lights, but only because there were enough to go around. That’s a fine lager. I looked all over the crowd for a certain someone but to no avail. Is your boyfriend Asian? If yes, then I think I spotted ya.
After an encore and some highly entertaining conversation (stolen license plates, van problems, Semisonic’s new song, and eating grapes like princes) we headed over to Schuba’s. Oddly enough, Mr. Koz was sitting on the bench right next to the door and Bob got him to take a polaroid. Seemed a nice enough man, although Ryan thought he was an arrogant prick.
Mr. Koz was fantastic, if a little arrogant. He started and stopped a few times, but his voice is fucking unbelievable live. I think sitting down would have helped. Plus, I lost the three people I was with and didn’t find them until they turned the house lights on. The next two hours are a blur, but I do remember my heart almost coming up through my throat. And buying a StreetWise. And sleeping sound on a beautiful Futon next to a beautiful girl.
The next five things to fall off the face of the earth in a perfect world would be: Metro Doorman #3 (for Beth); whoever stole the license plate; Florida; Sammy Sosa for just flat out sucking ass; and Ghoulia Stiles.
In the stereo: my morning jacket and Annie Hayden, both of which are impossible to find anywhere else but Reckless Records, Broadway
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