My 25th Birthday

March 12th was on of my favorite days on tour. We had a blast the night before in PHX. Stayed up until 5 or 6 in the morning. Roman, Katie and the PHX crew showed us a great time. There were 5 cases of beer, 2 handles of vodka, one bitchin bonfire, and plenty of grass to go around. We were warned not travel down to Highway 8, and to avoid Yuma, Az at all cost. I guess ANS had some issues down there last year, which led to their singer being incarcerated. I had been through Yuma with VPR in 2006 and I found that town was full of tweekers and trailers. So we took 10 to 78. 78 was a stretch of road that connected 10 and 8, down the border of California and New Mexico. This was an incredible drive, I even got behind the wheel for a while, as you can see. Along 78 we discovered that our show with San Diego's the Widows had been canceled. For those of you that are unaware the Widows are San Diego's lone rock experience. Well we sorta lucked out cause we got thrown on another show. Unfortunately it was with some up tempo stooges, but a show is a show. We cruised down to Washington Street Skate Park after the show.



I was beat. I was on three hours of sleep. We arrived to WSVT and I curled up into a ball in the back of the bus. Everyone else with exception of Cory slept in the back bowl of Washington Street. It was kind of ironic that the Enterprise Car dealership that VPR rented from was across the street from the park. I had kinda been there before. Scully lived/ worked on Washington Street last year. It was really cool to be embed ed in something that meant alot to him. It meant alot to me to have the Rowdy Ones play Saturn Bar, and see the house I lived in down in New Orleans. Unfortunately my camera was dead the whole time we were at WSVT, but I lent Cory my extra SD card, so I grabed a few flicks with his camera.



Dan, Cory, and myself was to get BBQ supplies and went to town. There is a great grill set up at WSVT, lots of details like mosaic tiles and stone skulls. The whole place is a trip. Not that I know anything about skateparks, but this has to be the greatest one in the world. It is difficult to skate(I know, I tried) there is amazing art work adorning the walls and gates, and like I said, what grill set up. It reminded me of being in Florence and being in awe of the Duomo(the world largest free standing Dome). WSVT is certainly a must see from then most harden skater to anyone that appreciates independent art.

Like I said earlier my camera battery was dead, and as amazing that WSVT is, they have no electric. We shot down to Snatch Park, which was another independently built skate park. It is located behind the football stadium, underneath a highway. Not as developed at Washington street, no transitions. It's more of a street park with various quarters, boxes and rails. Alot more private than WSVT. It is important to note that our transmission was on it's last legs at this point. We had been pumping fluid into it as fast as it leaked out. We beat the shit outa that thing. By the time we made it through the desert our trany was begging for mercy. It sounded like we had a family of dolphins living below us. We really lucked out that we did not get stuck on 78 or something. The first night we got to San Diego the bus would not budge from in front of the club. It took a bunch of us pushing it until it found it's gear. We made it to the show that night with Tipper's Gore and Gross Negligence, two incredible bands. The venue was an old hotel, converted into an all in one music shop/ school and recording studio.



I had never seen a crowd reaction like this for the Rowdy Ones. Granted a dozen or so people at this show were skaters that were buddies with Scully, there were plenty of other kids who weren't that still went off. This circle pit lasted for two songs, and it was as intense as a pit could get. There were some real meat heads joking out.



Julio's(Gross Negligence) 1964 or 5 Mercury Comet.

Our bus did not want to leave the venue, but eventually we hit the road and headed straight to Ocean Beach, on the eve of my birthday. We made it(barley) to a service station, I grabbed my Mexican blanket and the crew went to the Pacific Ocean. I had some home grown stuff from PHX that I had saved for the ocean. I walked barefoot the the water and blessed my self with the sign of the cross, we fucking made it. That fucking bus made it to the Pacific Ocean. Scully decided that sleeping on the beach was not the way to go, so we walked to his friends house and knocked on the door at 2 in the morning. No was home. So we did the most logical thing, we slept in the backyard. I slept underneath a trampoline. If I knew we weren't gonna get fucked with, I would have slept on the trampoline. Again I am omitting some really funny details, I'll let Scully tell you all about it when he releases his tour journal.

After I did my laundry, and ate 5 rolled tacos for $3.75, I found out that the service station we stopped at refused to service our transmission. Said that their garage wasn't big enough to handle our bus. Keep in mind it took alot of convincing to get our van to drive at this point, and as we tried to move the bus we met this man. The most pissed off old man in San Diego.



One of his bumper stickers proclaims that he "Loves his bad ass attitude". He was pissed because our bus was partially blocking the sidewalk, not that he couldn't get around, he just wanted someone to yell at. We called him an asshole, then he said that he was a bigger asshole than the four of us standing there. When I went to take a picture of him wagging his finger at us, he busted outta there like he had a 426 Hemi in his motorized wheelchair. Everyone in California is a speed freak, even the handicapped.



Roll job next door to the Snatch Park



Getting up in San Diego(Editorial note, my birthday was cool. I may not have gotten laid, I may have been filthy, I didn't even make it to Oki Dogs in LA, but so far I was at a beach, slept outside, saw some cool cars, skated, tagged a wall, saw a killer show, sold some merch, I hope every other birthday can be as cool)



We went to the famous Tower Bar for .25 cent wings. I drank an Olympia for the first time, it was great. The wings were being deep fried on the tail gate of a pickup truck. The bartender had a hard time cooking them or something, we spent a while there and only two orders of wings came out, at this point it was time to go, or we were gonna be really late. Long story short we could not find the venue. At this point we could barley reach 20 mph, Scully puts me in the navigator chair and says "Mattitude, you're in charge". I decide that we should go to Oki Dogs then maybe rest up at my friends apartment in Burbank. No such luck. At 10:20 pm March 14th 2009 the bus died on the 5. Alex(Scully's buddy from S.D. who joined the tour)called AAA but we were too big for a tow. Some California Highway Patrol cops had mercy on us and pushed us off the highway to a gas station. It was scary as shit, hitting that ramp at 40 mph, the whole time the cops are on the PA telling us to stay off the wall. As we started to push the van into a parking space I noticed Pickle Buckets(Dan) had a following. He found some hippies smoking weed at the gas station. We proceeded to party down with them, and we planned a mission to Huntington Beach for the. Figured it would be a great opportunity to sell merch.



We partied into the wee hours at the gas station. The guy behind the register was real cool with us hanging out. Dan, Jimmy and myself slept behind a pickup truck. It took a little convincing Dan, he thought some some would drive off in the middle of the night and crush our legs. The tires were kinda flat, so I figured we were cool.



This is where I slept the night of my birthday.



In the morning our surfer hippie buddies returned. We pushed the bus to the transmission shop. After wards we took of to HB and panhandled/ sold merch. I made plans to get picked up by my buddy Jimmy. He came at the end of the day we took Logan to the airport and I rested in a "comfy" apartment that night. I spent the last week building a website for my friends girl, the Rowdy Ones have been busy raising money for a rental van. So at the moment the tour hangs in the balance.

"Whatever happens, happens" Two Man Advantage

"Texas Trouble" Part II

I awoke to the sounds of Jimmy Russel removing the air box from the engine bay. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and began wrenching, barefoot! Fucking redneck shit man. The next 8-10 hours looked like this photograph. We wrestled the alternator out of the bus, Jimmy skated off to snag a replacement. Well after several hours, the alternator clearly was not going back in, Jimmy and Scully merked back to the auto store to find one that fit. Keep in mind I am simplified several tense hours of sweat, scraped skin and oil stains. Our sound track to this horrifying experience was Homeless John.



John was a local who was described to us at a little paranoid, amongst other things. He got blackout drunk the night before, woke up covered in marker and almost got his ass kicked by a recently released prisoner. His breakfast was Kentucky Gentleman, his brunch was a 40oz of Old English, and his lunch was another bottle of OE. He spouted facts that were false, opinions that were confusing and convictions that were down right terrifying. The worst part was that he would not stop. Nothing was held back, religion, politics, conspiracy and even a little car talk. "Cars suck cause you don't know whats wrong with them, bikes are great because you can look at them and know exactly what is wrong". No that he was wrong but in the 6th hour of rtying put and engine bolt through a alternator bracket his voice became quite fustrating. Instead of beating the shit out of him, which alot of broken down bands might do to relive tension, I put a tape recorder by hi feet and got it on tape. Later that night we got high and laughed our ass off at how ridulous he was. TST 002, coming soon.



Scully stenciled "Killer Rock Box" TST 001 while the other Rowdy Dudes worked on the bus. Needles to say we eventually departed from Awful House, with the alternator properly(kind of) installed, we took off to Tuscon. We made it about two block and the power died. A cop car even got on the mic and told us to "Get that vehicle off the road". We pulled into a parking lot across the street from a service station, filled up on terrible grocery store sandwiches and crashed out in the van. The next day we replaced the alternator with a properly functioning one. We also needed tow new batteries. We lost the El Paso show the previous night, so we were in a real hurry to get to Tuscon. And there we were bracing ourselves for a 15 hour drive.



Desert half pipe, and free hot dogs.



Getting up in El Paso.(Alot of stupid shit happened in El Paso, but I'm not getting into it, wait for Scully's tour journal for all that)



Hitlers Death Car(The Thing, NM)



11 year old thrasher from Tuscon, AZ. I forget his name, but he plays in a band called Retard Riot(not to be confused with the one and only RETARD RIOT artist from New York. This kid skates pools, play drums really well, and was sent to the principals office for listening to CFL's "Party Time".



Retard Riot covering CFL's "Party Time"



Roman's 1967 Ford Mustang. He threw a killer party for us in Pheonix.



The Crew in PHX.

The next post will wrap up the epic conclusion of the Rowdy Ones US tour, or will it? We'll find out in a few days.

The Rowdy Ones In... "Texas Trouble"

The Rowdy Ones charged into the southwestern part of the country on March 7th. The previous night had been a mixture of both positive and negative events. First off we played with some killer bands at the Broken Neck in Austin(Texas' answer to the Wheelchair). The bus' batteries had stopped charging, so our vehicle was dead in front of the venue. I was given apartment keys to a vacant spot across town from my old friend Little Adam. When Scully, Dan and myself arrived we were unsure of trying to open the wrong apartment, lots of tension. We eventually entered the right spot, took showers and slept nicely on a clean plush carpet. The bus' batteries were charged and we met up with the other dudes and took off to San Antonio. It was on this ride I first heard the transmission chirping slightly. When we arrived to San Antonio and the sun began to set we realized our lights were dim and CD player did not work. OH SHIT! No electric. We made it to the Awful House and began to drink, heavily. Tempted to start pulling to alternator out in preparation for a alt. swap the next day, we decided that we would be better off putting it off until the next morning.



The show had a higher energy level than the previous nights. We were broke and needed money for an alternator and that long trip to Tucson. I think the nights the Rowdy Ones felt a little desperate, a better show was had. Rowdy Ones wanted to prove to these towns that they were worth the money that was needed to repair the van and keep touring. More often than not on this tour Rowdy Ones were on point, and unleashed their own brand of New England frustration.



All the shirts were on display in San Antonio, we needed the duckets. Pardon the interruption, but photobucket is performing sight maintenance right now, so that puts a hold on this post. Will the Rowdy Ones make it to San Diego? What of the transmission that started to whine in Texas? These and a bunch of other questions will be addressed tomorrow. Stay Tuned.

NOLA/ AUSTIN

Cold and tired, ready to goto New Orleans


Warm and happy, beer and girls on bikes, NOLA

Proper NOLA Dirt Rider

Hand Painted Who scooter

Hollis of Fat Stupid Ugly People

Shred Head, thrashed harder than everyone

Gotta Run to San Antonio. NO time for details. Thanks Baile, Saturn Bar, K, Adam, Marty, Brian, Shred Head, FSUP, and the venue last night. 

Come On! Get Rowdy!

Since my last post I have relocated to Philadelphia, and jumped on tour with the Rowdy Ones. Great shows in New Brunswick and Philly so far, driving south today, head up New Orleans, Saturn Bar show Thursday night! Many Thanks to Killin It, Hard Chillers, Know Your Role, Matt Bones, Acid Reflux and Model Home.

We need tires.


Killin It right before someone head-butted the light bulb during a Beastie Boys cover.

Fat Sandwiches.

God Bless America, screening tour shirts.

Know Your Role, power-violenced everyone's face off.

Fall Review

No excuses for the lack of activity on this blog over the last two months. However, no lack of cool shit going down, here are a few events that I was proud to be a part of over the course of the fall.

This is a tee shirt I helped the Mugs put together for a recent reunion show. For those of you who are ignorant to the Mugs, they are New York Hard Core's best kept secret. Based out of Maspeth Queens, they have played since 2000 with a rotating line-up to mixed reviews. In 2002 they recruited New York Hard Core legend Jay Rogan(Eyes of Hate, No Self Pride, and currently Caught In A Trap)on drums to solidify their line-up.

After recording the classic "Sex, Mugs and Rock n' Roll" in 2003 with some guy named Don Furry, they played a few memorable gigs around the Lower East Side, including an epic St. Patricks day show with Murphy's Law. Mugs shows often ended abruptly, sometimes in violence, sometimes due to legal infractions. One thing is for sure the Mugs have always been impulsive and exciting. You never know what will happen. Well you kinda have an idea something is gonna result in them getting shut down or kicked out, but how will it happen?

The show was held at an anonymous Spanish cuisine restaurant near the Financial district in NYC. There was a great alley next to the place where I found Sammy(bass) and a few stray Budweisers. As you can tell Sammy already had his share. Inside the restaurant I found Metal Thrashing Matt(Guitar) and Legendary clothing designer/ hardcore impresario Rat Bones hawking their ware's.

Rat Bones did good at that show. He sold some shirts to yuppies who thought they went out for a night of fine dinning. Little did they know what they were getting into. Phil Mugs(Vocals) even got in on the fun.

Olde York open up the show, and from the first notes it was clear that the management did not realize what they had in store for themselves. The owner came out with some sort of Noiseometer, to measure the disciple level of the speakers. Look closely it is in the left hand of the Lou Pinella looking motherfucker.

Well this guy busted Olde York's balls through out the entire set, and it was clear that the Mugs should get on and try to play as many songd as possible before the club owner shuts it down.

The place went off immediately. It was an all ages show, filled with people who were too young for the Mugs the first time around.

Such Mugs hits included "Sack Attack", "How Much Do The Lions Cost?" and "I Get What I Want". Someone ripped open a bag of flour after Phil made a crack about coke. The energy was great, but it put the management on their toes. They responded by taking the microphones away. No worries, the crowd helped Reverend Phil spread the word.

After a couple of songs without a mic the set was over, so was the show. There was a big rush to the door to get a refund, which I think some people were granted. There was alot of under aged kids left outside the club and in the alley, drinking, loitering, pissing off(and on) the restaurant. There was a rumor cops on horses and riot gear showed up, but I was long gone by then. All in all, another Mugs show. The following weekend after that Mugs show I went to Vermont with Chris Balrtus to pick up Caitlin's 1964 Plymouth Valiant. Chris purchased this car from "Dr. Valiant" Andy Whittenbourne of New Jersey. Story goes after he evacuated New Orleans in his 1965 Valiant, he picked this one up out of Hemmings Motor News, and he's still getting his $500 out of it.

I love this car. Lot's of good memories associated with it. My senior year of college we drove it to New Orleans. Visited a few times after that. Cruising the Crescent City streets at night was always a treat in that '64. It has a 225 cu in. slant six engine. Not as economical as the 170, but it has good pep by comparison.

This is a 1962 Dodge Polara that is located near Chris' parent's house. Wonder whats under the hood. Maybe a Max Wedge, maybe.

This is Chris' other 1964 Valiant. It's a two door with a shitty flame job. We built a fire and picked the thing apart. We took apart the interior, lifted the dog dishes, snatched the carb, anything that was worth money or would deteriorate while the car is waiting to get refurbished.

Back in Sea Cliff we see here is a 1922 Dodge Brothers Series I Touring car. Brand new it cost $985, it had 5 seats and a 114 in. wheelbase. It has a 4 cylinder engine and is quiet as a Nun on Sunday. This particular car is owned by Glen Head resident Tom Malloy, who is a sculpture artist and lawn mower mechanic.

Contrary to popular belief the Dodge brothers were not Jewish as one might think due to the star of David being on their hood emblem. The six pointed star stood for Dodge's six points of excellence, what ever those were. I think he said that the car was original, and never restored. Whatever the case maybe, the last time it was inspected was 1963-64. I want this sticker for my car.

Finally one of my favorite nights of the fall was the "Cathy"(you know, that awful comic strip) inspired art show that my buddy Pete threw at the Chief Magazine gallery space in Bushwick. I had just moved out of my apartment in Brooklyn, back to my parents house, so it was nice to get down with some Brooklyn folks for the first time since I had moved. Here are a couple of people who made the art show/party possible...

Pete, he threw the shin dig.

Erica, she got the party pumping, and submitted a cool photograph.

Glen, the wheel man, he owns a versatile van, part utility, part party machine.


Chirs Riggs, I don't know this guy, he was not involved in the show per say, he showed up with a marker and got busy, good work.

This is what I submitted, I would have included pictures of other peoples submissions, but this post is getting crowded.
I've got some good posts planned for December, including a look at the "new" ABC NO RIO! and a long over due tribute to Yankee Stadium.