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Saturday, October 23, 2010

The Intelligence Tour Journal: Entry One

Posted by on Sat, Oct 23, 2010 at 9:07 AM

The Intelligence is on a six-week tour of the U.S. This is our tour journal. A clarification: If I sound like a crank, it's only because this journal will lean towards showcasing the LOWS of the trip, as I don't find much entertainment value in the "we made it there in record time/wow gas is cheap here/they gave us FOUR drink tickets/the place was packed/I found a dollar on the ground/turns out crabs actually "FEEL GOOD" good luck stories, I wanna hear about the horrors. Unless you get to do blow back at Grace Jones's hotel room or urinate into some evil band's merch tub, positive highlights are just kinda boring, okay? All right, lets DO this:

The Intelligence
  • All Photos Megan Lunz
  • The Intelligence

While loading merch into the van at home, (an easy task, since only HALF of the merch order arrived) we get a text message saying "Spokane is worried about the turnout tonight and wants to cancel the show and pay you 100 bucks." Apparently, there is a Coheed and Cambria show that has absorbed our potential crowd. We drive and pick up our cash (which at that point has transformed into $75), and are offered shots of "Fireball" (cinnamon whiskey). We go to kill time at a pizza place/karaoke joint until our host gets off work at 1 am. Time has stopped in this place, and it is 1997 like a motherfucker. Karaoke versions of New Radicals, Folk Implosion, Soul Coughing, Soul Asylum, and it's an entertaining waterfall of other two-word named bands until it isn't anymore, and we move on to MOOTSY'S for DOLLAR PINT NIGHT. As the ladies are deciding on a drink at the bar, a giant and hilarious dude drunkenly leans in between them and asks "WHAT TIME THIS PLACE CLOSE?" and he remains there very close and for an awkwardly long time waiting for an answer. I suggest that he maybe give the cringing girls a little space, and when he turns to me each eye is looking in a different direction. He says "I AIN'T TRYING TO HOLLA AT NOBODY'S LADY" and is immediately kicked out. I feel bad for some reason. Our host shows up, and we go to his place where Susanna and I sleep in the under-construction basement (freshly cut sheet rock and exposed wire and cloudy white dust) and wake up with sore lungs.


Tonight we are playing a house party organized by a very nice 'commune'/Food Not Bombs house (When Susanna is informed this means they might dumpster dive for their food, she says "Then I won't eat the food as a political protest because the food should be left for the ACTUAL BUMS." We are fed spaghetti and offered bong hits by five different people in the first five minutes. (We pass). Six bands play, including Whiskey Whore (sample lyric: "When I die I wanna got to hell 'cause I'm a piece of shit,"), Fag Rag, and Bad Naked—one solitary guy in a Zorro mask and underwear playing an acoustic bass and screaming "Push out the babies and push 'em in the factories!/Push out the babies and push 'em in the factories!/Make the shit we like!/Weld it good!/Sew it good!" Another favorite: "See that old man with his cane/now it's my walking stick/now it's my BEATING STICK." It is a blast. Later our air mattress deflates as soon as we lay down, and I fall asleep with my feet above my head.


It's a 14-hour-plus drive to Fargo (basically 20 after my bathroom stops). We've learned to do this at the beginning of the tour as it can be so depressingly boring that all you can do is listen to Erik Satie and stare into the void. We finally stop around 2 am in Dickenson, North Dakota, and every hotel is booked for hunting season. I thought that the whole point of hunting was to drink the deer's blood and sleep under the stars in its carcass. It doesn't seem right to bag a deer and have a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity breakfast and watch Becker in a warm bed at the Comfort Inn, so we drive on. Wait, there's a vacany sign—a true dump glowing like a beacon! "One room left," the clerk says. Highlights include two towels for five people (I am answered with a blank stare followed by a shrug when I ask if we can get more), a hornet in the room, and a shower curtain that emits such a powerful cigarette smell that I want to steal it to impress others.


Comments (12) RSS

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cosby 1
I love this post and look forward to more. It makes me scared of ever thinking about being in a touring band.
Posted by cosby on October 23, 2010 at 9:14 AM · Report this
I think you captured the essence of North Dakota really well here.

Fantastic post, Lars.
Posted by Dave Segal on October 23, 2010 at 4:05 PM · Report this
i love The Intelligence. but passing up bong rips??? this is confusing.
Posted by legacy builder on October 23, 2010 at 4:06 PM · Report this
keep 'em coming, lars! yer best work yet!
(oh, and have lots of fun!)
Posted by laceyswain on October 23, 2010 at 10:54 PM · Report this
when I first started reading this, I thought it was gonna be like when that dude from head like a kite bored everybody with his stories about trying to decide if he missed his old girlfriends on tour or whatever.

pleasantly surprised. more, please.
Posted by talose on October 24, 2010 at 8:25 AM · Report this
Good to see indie-booked tours haven't changed in the last 25 years. The only difference here is the blog documentation. Keep that ironic sense of humor, without it you guys are done for.
Posted by Old as FUCK. on October 24, 2010 at 5:31 PM · Report this
brocaine 7
Yeah, waiting at Mootsy's for Pat Smick to get off work is a drag.
Posted by brocaine on October 25, 2010 at 9:39 AM · Report this
townies talk with such amazing accents in Fargo. wish you'd bring back one of those, plus that shower curtain, back to Seattle
Posted by Kelly O on October 25, 2010 at 11:07 AM · Report this
Hey Lars. I hope you guys are doing well. I also hope you had a burger at the Taco Treat. The "tacos" there are neither a taco or a treat. Shiny side up.
Posted by AChurch on October 25, 2010 at 12:18 PM · Report this
This is great. I love the image of a touring rock band crammed in a van listening to Erik Satie (hopefully Vexations, 840 times in a row).
Posted by Levislade on October 26, 2010 at 2:54 PM · Report this
you missed out on playing the Dickinson S(tudents).A(gainst).D(estructive).D(ecissions). clubhouse in the basement of the music store. According to the signage spray painted above the stage there was to be 'No Profanty'
Posted by Chris Jury on October 27, 2010 at 10:54 AM · Report this
tunanator 12
Oh man, you were in Dickinson and didn't stop into Prairie Outpost Park? to see the Petrified Wood dug up by the Dickinson Coal Company? Fascinating.

And don't just breeze past Beach either. There's some codgers there that'll tell you some eye-popping stories....
Posted by tunanator on December 30, 2010 at 10:52 AM · Report this

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