It took 27 years, but Bruce has finally laid his eyes on a moose in real life. Thanks to the moose for staying within a proper line of sight and not venturing into the front end of our rented impala (we did have insurance but neither of us like airbags). In mentioning a ‘rented’ car, you must be assuming that something terrible has happened to Bruce’s car/band vehicle (The BURGDOG!) and yes, your assumptions are correct. The BURGDOG! recently had some tough times at inspection and came out on the bottom end (failed). For every gig it took us to, time we slept in it, sat in parking lots drinking whiskey and apple juice because bars wouldn’t give us free drinks, and pretended we were undercover cops and pulled over Norwegian astronomers to write them out handwritten warnings from CSIS... we salute you, The BURGDOG! May you rest eternally in the vast junkyard high in the sky, filled with small, cute Volkswagen Beatles and Mini Coopers who think your rusty frame, dents and the fact that you drove a band around for 2 years, makes you, ‘ruggedly handsome’ and decidedly worthy of spending a few hours in ‘the garage’ with. Thanks The BURGDOG!, we won’t forget you. In other news, we just played a couple gigs back home in Cape Breton (Hoff, Governors) that were a slew of fun. Thanks to everyone who came out, and we’ll be back later in the summer.
After starting to sing lead in a band for the first time two years ago, I’ve noticed a few things that I think most lead singers can probably relate to (this never happened to me when I used to sing harmonies in other bands). Here’s an excerpt from my thoughts (yup... I just said that) explaining one of them:
Man... there’s nothin’ much better than when ya got a crew of people out on the dance floor just givin’ ‘er... ya know? Movin’ ta yer sounds, havin’ a good time, shakin’ the moneymakers and alla that. But... ya know it’s gonna happen sooner or later... and ya know there’s not much ya can do... ya just wait. Wait for the stumble, the hit, the blood in yer mouth. Ya've figured out a way ta cup your lips around yer teeth while yer singin' so ya don’t get any damage ta the ol’ chompers. Who f$&*in’ has a dental plan these day anyway? And for that matter... who’s even been ta the dentist in the last 5 years? Not this guy... don’t need ‘em. The teeth are as strong as ox’s. The secret is ta go periods of a few days without brushin’ ‘em at all... build up some resistence, some grit and balls in the teeth. If ya brush ‘em every day, they just become a bunch of pansies. Anyways... where was I? Oh yeah... if someone is gonna fall on the dance floor... some limb, some extremity, maybe their face or entire back... even from an unfathomable distance away from where I am... will somehow hit the f$&*in’ mic stand and knock it inta my face. Everyone falls into the mic stand... it’s a reality. There’s always some bonehead... eyes crooked, mouth open wide and drooling, staggerin’ like a lobotomized donkey on ether ... or some girl in a little skirt who’s so drunk she doesn’t even remember she’s human any more, dancin’ like a lunatic... forgiven because she’s pretty ..... And ya know who’s gonna do it much before it actually happens. Ya seem them walkin’ around the bar, stumblin’... might as well have a sign over their heads ta let ya know. And ya can’t avoid it, ya just wait... wait ‘er out and hope ya don’t have ta figure out what a guy without a dental plan has ta do when they lose a tooth.
So that’s that... I’ve come to conclude that getting a bloody lip every couple of shows is just something a singer has to suck up and take for the team. If we’re lucky enough to have people on the dance floor, there’s never anything we should complain about.
That’s all for now. Check back in a week for some more fun and updates. Our next shows are in Sussex and Fredericton on the 24th and 25th. Can’t wait to rock NB. Peace
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