The Grunge Years, Revisited

How the fuck are we supposed to make peace?

Talking about the way things were

A Case of Mistaken Identity

Indignity is built into rock and roll’s price of admission. When you pick up that guitar you should know that you’ll spend more time standing around pissed soaked alleys than playing on stage. With that said fast-forward to last night, my band, The Fruiting Bodies, were playing a poorly attended mid-week gig at an extremely professional rock club and I was working the door. (While horrible smells and two drink tickets are guaranteed by every club, having someone there to collect money to pay the touring band is not.)


As I was stamping hands a wolf pack of Cialis fiends entered the building. I asked the Business Casual Crew if they knew someone in the bands. The replied no, but stated they were familiar with the last band. This was very strange as I play in the last band and we don’t have (m)any fans, let alone fans who voted when Gerald Ford was on the ballot.

The pack was out of their element and the sounds of Terminal Fuzz Terror were clearly making them uncomfortable. It quickly became apparent that they were not there to see The Fruiting Bodies but Fruiting Bodies, the female folk group from Montreal. I did not offer them a refund and they did not buy a t-shirt.

11.7.12

Friday, October 12, 2012

Friday, October 12 at The Record Room in Portland (8 NE Killingsworth at corner of Williams), The Fruiting Bodies, Mollusk, and Painted Debris will perform songs for your listening pleasure.


Show starts at 8:30

Full release.

EP release show July 19th at the Comet Tavern.  You can listen to Wilderness Pill and the B-side, Battle Stag online, but you have to be present to win.

Wilderness Pill

Wilderness Pill

As a child, I always assumed I would make an excellent fur trapper. Despite having only gone canoeing a handful of times, I was totally confident that I could traverse the Great Lakes in a birch bark boat surviving on a diet of squirrel and perch. For political reasons, I have mostly given up on my 18h century agrarian dreams. Still, I feel one of the great things about being an American is the ability to say fuck it, pull up stakes, and head Up North (or to the hills or out in the desert) and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

Seriously, I love Ed Abbey and Dave Foreman and I truly believe that the one inalienable right endowed upon us by the creator is the right to live life as a recluse. Recently a friend exercised this right. He said fuck it and swallowed the wilderness pill. He quit his job at a major university, sold or gave away most of his possessions, and moved to the Eastern Sierra. Today, he lives in a tiny town surrounded by massive mountains.

As he was leaving town, my friend gave me his acoustic guitar. The strings are rusty from lack of use and they rub your fingers raw when you play it. Still, every time I pick it up I imagine my friend wandering the High Sierra, hiking up to the crest and looking west, and wondering how different it is from what John Muir saw.
 
Order the Wilderness Pill EP from Suburban Sprawl Music.