Federation News Archive
("News" is questionable. "Archive" seems pretty safe.)

06.23.10 In case you missed it (and we know you did), this past Saturday we made the trek to beautiful Chillicothe, MO to play the Freedom of Road Riders annual event. Actually, it was eight miles or so west of Chillicothe, so we can't really confirm that particular city's beauty. The site for the show was a muddy goddamn mess owing to a storm which blew through in early afternoon.

Check this timeline: load-in - 4 pm, show time - 9:45 pm. That sure is a lot of hours to fill outside next to a large metal shed. So we had some barbecue (I wish I were making this up: As we walked down the midway, so to speak, a local observed, "Oh, you guys got some of the 'black guy barbecue,' huh?" Yes, yes, I suppose we did.) and were introduced to a local magic potion called "Crick Water." This beverage was distributed from a small gasoline can directly into the mouth of the drinker. It apparently contained several clear liquors and some limeade mix. Not bad.

Of course, after several trips to that well, and some enjoyable conversation with Nigel Dupree and his gang, the time elapsed farily quickly. We played a serviceable set (how's that for an endoresement?) and made our way back to KC as another wave of storms approached from the west. Apparently it was quite the white knuckle ride home, but your narrator was dutifully passed out in the back seat of the van and can add nothing.

By the way, if you were looking for us at Low Life Choppers on June 12, that show was cancelled ... due to storms.

05.31.10 The following comments are not really being posted on 05.31.10, so don't think you're losing your mind ... over this anyway. We returned to Merriam's Aftershock to play with the Broken Teeth boys yet again, this time on a weekend though—a KC first for them. The crowd was good, the bands were on and the vibe was good. I felt the show was a top 10% type effort. Very cathartic. To honor the late Ronnie James Dio, we played Black Sabbath's "Mob Rules," fronted by Teeth main man Jason McMaster. Here's what that looked like:


If you listen to fools. Photo: Ryan Marchman.

04.06.10 We're working on a record, y'all. Which is to say an album, which is to say a collection of things, which are songs in this case. Later we'll provided detailed notes and ridiculous commentary. In the meantime, follow our progress over on the Twitter feed. And check this out:
05.26.10 This past weekend Federation took part in the inaugural "Kansas City Uncovered" show, an event wherein five KC bands drew from a hat (I hear it was at tophat emblazoned with a Social Distortion logo) to determine which other band on the bill they would cover. Get it? Ok.

Well, it was pretty damn fun. We drew The Bleach Bloodz, brothers in garage rock racket. Hey - it wasn't much of a stretch. We selected five of their songs, changed keys, tweaked arrangements, and ran them through the Zeke filter to come up with slightly pushier and more bullyesque versions of the originals. It should also be noted, perhaps, that since we were unable to decipher the lyrics to one of the numbers and could not obtain them from the band, Gregg proceeded to sing instead one verse each from "Colour My World" by Chicago, "Shambala" by Three Dog Night, "Road to Nowhere" by Talking Heads.

Perhaps the most entertaining set of the evening was presented by American Catastrophe, our town's premier peddlers of gloomy gothic Americana-cum-something. They pulled out all the stops. To wit: their set featured an arrangement of "Outlaws of Hollister" featuring 12-string acoustic guitar and banjo (truly spooky), a sort of loungy version of "Hot Rails" and "Stay Down" (a song we've never performed live) played on toy instruments. You've just never experienced FoHp music until you've heard it performed on a plastic Cookie Monster piano. Additionally, AmCat bassist Amy Farrand was dressed as Gregg. Want more? They had a sign language interpreter simulcast (wot?) the entire set - lyrics and banter - explaining that it was a service for those who've actually seen too many Federation shows. Ha. Kudos, AmCat.

I remarked to them afterwards that it felt like a celebrity roast.


Representin' James Pankow FoHp style. Photo: Paul Andrews.

03.02.10 Before all the crucial details are forgotten, let's review that Davey's show, shall we? Let's see ... oh, yeah - it was snowy and icy - big surprise, eh? Jeez. Brannock Device opened the evening in their beautifully off-kilter way. If you're around KC you should really check out their No Mean No + B-52s - Tompall Glaser type sound.

The Brannock set was followed by Death Valley Wolf Riders, a relatively new group and kindred spirits in all things rock. The boys invited Gregg up to sing some Thin Lizzy with them. I was holding out for "The Sun Goes Down," but was nevertheless pleased by "Jailbreak." Very cool.

We hit it third and hit it hard. This was probably the best show in a while in terms of overall spirit and vibe. There's something about Davey's Uptown Ramblers Club that's like playing on your home field, or in your dad's basement. It's relaxed, you're familiar with the surroundings and there's always a Def Leppard poster on the wall. What? At any rate we rocked the tunes old and new and even threw in a rendition of the Mexican folk standard, "Volver, Volver" just to amuse our Houstonian pals, Ese. At one point, your tour guide nearly caused Gregg to take a header off the stage with a little shove during the breakdown in "Sugar." Ooops.

And speaking of Ese, they closed shit out right. The are a powerhouse trio and some hella cool guys. They drove all the damn way from southern Texas to play this show, a makeup date from 2009. A full night of the good stuff, people.



Onstage at Davey's: the Catfish Howl. Photo: Brandi Wilson

02.03.10 Regarding that last show and other things ...
If you read our ramblings here or there, you may be aware that some of our shows seem to be booked around proximity to Taco Cabana locations. While that may or may not (or may) be so, it may or may not also seem that the remainder of our shows are booked around inclement weather. I mean, jeezus, if there's a snow storm you can guess that we're booked in a precariously situated bar or, worse yet, in some obscure tin shed in a remote Kansas location. But, we live in the Midwest, so unless you don't play shows for a particular several months each year (precisely what John Evans of the Mendoza Lie said he has considered) you're going to deal with shit weather. Friday night 01.29.10 such was the case, though the location wasn't that treacherous, nor the weather that pitiful. Just enough to piss you off and make things difficult.

What an extraordinarily bitchy paragraph. Here's something good: the bill. It was really nice to play a show on which the bands had distinct sounds and were experienced enough to make the evening flow smoothly. We wouldn't point fingers, but some bands just don't get it, with respect to show playing etiquette. These guys do. Plus they're good and entertaining. You should check out the Replacementian goodness of the Mendoza Lie soon, along with the rock fury of the Architects, KC friends preparing to embark on a substantial tour with Flogging Molly.

We played a very Federation of Horsepower-like set ourselves, rocking the standards and dropping in an excessive version of Turbonegro's "Get It On." You thought I was going to say Kingdom Come's "Get It On," didn't you? Well, maybe next time. Anyway, we were joined on that tune by the Architects' Keenan Nichols who has the distinction of being a past president of the Dallas chapter of the Turbonegro Turbojugend (the international fan club). How's that for trivia? And how's this for more trivia: for soundcheck, yours truly play "Eighteen" by Alice Cooper due to the similarity of its chord progression with that of "Get It On." Oh, so coy.

Afterwards, there were varied reviews of the show's mix. One hardcore motherfucker situated mere feet from the stage thought it sounded good, as he was hearing the vocals out of our monitors. Others, sensibly located further back (near the sound board ... hmm) thought it was a horribly muddled pile of rubbish. Hey sound guy, what the fuck? A little help? So, apologies if you were in the latter group. We didn't know.

01.25.10: Representin' on the web. For the hell of it, here are some instances of Federation from around those internets. First, ever take a look at our allmusic.com entry? It's sort of comforting, in a way, to envision being mistakenly found in a search for Morning 40 Federation or the Russian Federation Academic Symphony Orchestra. Amusingly enough, if you click on the "Credits" tab, you'll find Paul Malinowski, who produced Stay Down and who was a member of Shiner and who rules along with Jason Livermore, who mastered the album and who was a member of Wretch Like Me etc., and you'll find our buddy Phil Peterson who took our photos for the release. No mention of the sad motherfuckers who made all the note-like sounds on the record. Oh well. Hell with those guys anyway.

Oh, and here's a Federation page on iLike.com wherein we have 43 fans. Huh? How the hell does this happen? Where did this profile come from? Well, at least it lists Motorhead and Supersuckers as "influencers." Fair enough. Also, it appears we're a favorite of user Bill A, who has recently added a bunch of Tommy Bolin to his library. Well, good call, Bill A. And thanks.

Ok, this is awesome: you can go to beemp3.com to find some version of "Queen of Rosedale" from 2006. Huh? You can even send it to your cellphone. For extra good times. Can't vouch for the legitimacy of that one.

Also, you can find an entry featuring Gregg on the Gretsch website. Gregg doesn't have that particular instrument any longer. He has an even cooler Gretsch. It's just how he rolls, see. That picture was taken at Lemmon's in St. Louis by ... Phil Peterson. Hey Phil - you wanna step off, man?!

Come out and see a show soon, ok?

01.22.10: And ... hello. We've just come away from our first show in this year called 2010, a blowout at Independence, MO's Damage Control. Thanks to Dave & Tish and the DC staff and everyone who came out (long lost associates, new friends, Superfans® et al) along with the fellas in Isaac James, Everybody's X and 9 Volt Junkie—we had an excellent time, bum accidents and chick fights notwithstanding. It seems that by taking a few weeks off we managed to avoid some colossal ice and snow events. This is unusual as Federation would normally have a show in some obscure shed accessible only by gravel roads scheduled during that type of weather.

Hey, here are some updates: There are new videos on the Media page from the November Aftershock show. The first two posted are Tijuana Upholstery Job and Legba, songs you'll recognize if you've seen us live recently, but which are yet to be recorded in the studio. The clips were shot and edited by ... Gregg's landlord's brother. I'm going to continue to call him that until I figure out his actual name, I guess. Anyway, thanks to him for bringing his gear out and going through the post-production work. The results are good. Also, you may wonder, panicked, where did the info that previously appeared in this column get off to?! Don't worry: we've started a (loosely labeled) News Archive page. Previous updates and other things will be stored there forever and ever. We're also in the process of collecting and reformatting some older blogs from that ghost town known as Myspace. They're still over there too, but in the interest of making our real site your FoHp one stop we're hording them here.

12.29.09: So, most of 2009 just happened. Whoa. What did we do with that set of days? Here's something of a synopsis. Mind you, none of the below is meant to seem boastful: hell, we have friends who tore up the US in a van on tour or who played a couple hundred shows around town. This little stroll down memory lane/statistical survey is but a reminder of a fun year.

So, Federation played 20 shows in 2009, 25% of which were in Texas. Weird. Around town, We stared out '09 in February at Davey's, where we've played many times, and wrapped it up in November at Aftershock, a new Federation-friendly establishment. We threw down all we had in front of 20 people in Houston and in front of 20,000 at Rockfest. (I counted, goddamnit.) We sold t-shirts in Ottawa, KS and Joplin, MO, shared the stage with metal bands (Canobliss?) and a circus organ roller skating trio (Wylde Chipmunk), played legendary venues (Midland Theater) and shitholes that should be burned to the ground (names withheld). We also got this here .com back up and functioning just like a real organization of some sort. And we cranked out/fine tuned a batch of killer new songs that we're anxious to record. Whaddayou been up to?


Johnny Catfish onstage at Aftershock. Photo: Slimm Adkins.

11.30.09: A big thanks to all the made it out to Aftershock Saturday night. The show was a perfect end to—and microcosm of—the extended holiday weekend. What the hell does that mean, you might wonder? Well, just as Thanksgiving dinner at your Uncle Marvin's featured chaos, people passed out from over consumption and healthy does of loud entertainment, so did the proceedings at Merriam's premier rock club.

As with any Buddy-Lush-Phenomenon-kicked-off event, things started out amusing and, for the most part, stayed that way. Those who've not seen the BLP almost always react the same way: Songs one through three - startled confusion; songs four through seven - beginning to get it; songs eight through whatever - "oh, hey look, Gregg is playing with them, I must like it!" One side event of the BLP set was a little game called, "Holy shit, where is Black Gasoline, they're supposed to play next!"

With said supposedly second act nowhere in sight, Branded Fate jumped ahead to fill the slot, assembling loads of gear with an engineer's precision. They proceeded to energize their ample fans with a long set of moody numbers. And at some point in there Black Gasoline showed up.

What the fuck, you may say, were those boys tryin' to big-time us? Nope. Get this: they just bought an old airport shuttle bus which has been converted to run on vegetable oil and on the way from Wichita they had some trouble with their fuel filtration system precipitating a delayed arrival. Black Gasoline has gone green, my friends. Oh yeah - their set kicked ASS. In a way, they really remind me of Federation. "That's just some rock & roll," it appears on the surface. But if you look close there's a lot of secret, detailed stuff going on.

If you've ever been in a band, you might be aware of this phenomenon: if the last rehearsal before a gig is lights out, off the charts amazing, often the show is mediocre or worse. Conversely, if the practice sesh is so-so, scattered, or altogether shitty, the gig is often phenomenal. So imagine our delight when our Friday practice was "pretty OK." Well, just to show that FoHp doesn't bow to the laws of superstition and conventions of fate, we went straight out and played a "eh, pretty decent" set. Hrrmff. The evening's earlier confusion led to a harried pace for the rest of the night translating to us not really getting a soundcheck. Alas. What the show lacked in precision it made up for in energy and recklessness. And that's a fair trade off for a rock show. Our portion of the show was recorded on video for use in a) an upcoming full-length DVD or b) a couple of good clips for the web. Time will tell.

As we loaded out gear into the inky night, the air was filled with the scent of ... a Wendy's drive thru? Ahh ... Black Gasoline's bus.

10.27.09:The morning report: So, we played our umpteenth show with Broken Teeth last night and here's something that stands out: those guys are professional rockers. That might seem faint praise on par with, "nice guys ... great merch," but I mean it with utmost admiration. A Monday night show seems suspect enough, but on this particular evening Kansas City also hosted performances by Dinosaur Jr. and Bruce Springsteen, though the Boss's show was ultimately canceled at the last minute. (Believe it or not, there is a certain amount of crossover among those crowds.) Anyway, the Teeth came out before a light turnout and delivered the goods. The band is tight. They just don't fuck up. And Jason McMaster is the consumate front man. To watch him work a room is a thing of beauty. They reeled off new and old material with ease. At one point Jason made some remark which caused Dave Beeson to play the riff from Midnite Maniac by Krokus. How could things have been any better? Great job, guys.

So many good and nourishing things often happen before a show. Like what? Like during our soundcheck Gregg launched into the riff from Black Sabbath's "Mob Rules," causing us all to join in (it is physically impossible NOT to jump in once the introduction is played). The result of our playing this was Jason McMaster doing a rather tortured impression of the diminutive and ancient Ronnie James Dio by writhing around on the Aftershock floor on his knees while singing the tune. I thought this might turn out to be my favorite moment of the evening. Actually that distinction went to Gregg's manhandling of a high top table in the process of mimicking Jon Lord's Hammond solo on "Highway Star." Aren't you sorry you missed all that?

Our set contained moments of beauty and a couple moments that felt like a Monday. We debuted a new song, "Ego Override," and McMaster reprised his guest role on AC/DC's "Rock 'n' Roll Damnation." So that was fun.

09.19.09: We played a rather bitchen set at Wicked Sister's in downtown Ottawa. Hey - they really do have a downtown. It has traffic lights and multiple bars - that's a downtown, goddamnit. The crowd, many of whom were holdovers from an earlier car show, were ... rowdy. Girls were fighting in the street, as I recall.


Photo: Aaron DeMent.

08.23.09: Austin, round 2
Texas had such a good time with us this spring that they (the state) invited us back for another round of rocking. Wasn't that nice of them? What follows is a post-mortem reconstruction of what actually may have happened. Some names (like "Gregg Todt") have been removed, stricken and otherwise redacted to protect ... something.

08.12 - Wednesday
I wheeled into a truckstop in Texas a little place called Hamburger Dan's,
I heard that jukebox a playin' song about a truck drivin' man

I think Dave Dudley might've been singing about Gregg in that song. I mean, Jeezus, if we had to get from Vancouver to Tallahassee (and don't think that we wouldn't schedule something like that) in one fell swoop, Gregg would be just the man to drive us there non-stop. Now, we didn't stop anywhere called "Hamburger Dan's" (goddamnit), but with a van full of gear and people in drastic sunglasses we did roll all through the night from KC through Oklahoma, straight to Austin.

When we went this direction in April we made a stop in Joplin, MO for some Hackett Hot Wings, LLC. Oh, and also for a show, but that was kind of secondary to Hackett. This time with no show booked, we still had some Hackett in mind. Calling to inquire how late they were open while rolling down US71, we received an answer of, "9:00?" Yes - there was a question mark on the end. Perhaps they sensed that there was no way in hell we'd make that deadline and were open to a counter offer. Anyway, we had Hardee's or some shit. Not the best way to set the food tone for the trip. At any rate, like some pissed off rock and roll Anthony Bourdains, we headed on south.

We passed through Oklahoma. It was dark. You know the drill: Big Cabin, Pryor, Muskogee, Atoka etc. Are we in Texas yet?

By my calculations, we crossed the border sometime after later-than-shit. All I can be sure about is that we were in fact at the Czech Stop in West, TX at 3:12 a.m. Good time for a kolache, yes? Yes.

08.13 - Thursday
Yeah, I know, Thursday actually took place earlier in the time line, technically. Deal. So ... we hit Austin sometime after 8:00 a.m. (Seems like a good time to go to bed, Gregg.) We set up home base in a funky little house at about 51st & Airport. How funky was it? The answer: LAVA LAMP FUNKY.

And, funky chair ... funky.

PLUS - it was right around the corner from Tamale House.


Helluva place to go for breakfast.


After catching some sleep we arose to learn that Les Paul had died. Shitty. Last year when we went to Dallas Isaac Hayes died. Hey, music legends - stop keeling over when we're out of town, eh?

Our plan was to head out radially to our gigs from the Austin house. The first show was Thursday night in Houston. In mid-afternoon that's where we headed. From the scalding heart of Texas we set out toward (but not quite to, damn it) the Gulf Coast. Houston welcomed us with a badass thunderstorm. Hello, Houston.

After locating and checking out the venue, Fitzgerald's, we went in search of beer. Damn, this is something like paragraph ten and we're just now getting a drink? We were directed to a fine establishment called Alice's Tall Texan. Only beer, only cash. Pretty much our type of joint.

I think we got all of this for about $6. Alice's Tall Texan, will you marry us?


Kriss Ward contemplates a cold one and a Mexi-mullet.


Neither especially tall nor Texan, Gregg outside the bar doing important shit on his iPhone,
such as looking up directions, checking funds or searching for Freddy Fender's real name.

So, Fitzgerald's is a pretty cool place. Decent stage, decent P.A., easy load in. Too bad our show was such a shit-fest. There exists a soundboard recording of this gig. You will likely never hear it, but it confirms that we didn't play our best show, to put it one way. Actually, our rhythm section of Kriss Ward and Johnny Catfish were pretty well kicking, but Gregg and I sounded like we were trying out for a Pere Ubu tribute or something. But we had fun, sold some stuff and got to listen to our bros, Ese.


Mr. Horsepower striking "Love Gun" from all set lists.



Our van. Parked next to a palm tree. I'm pretty sure this has never happened before.

We found out later that there had been a noise complaint about our set from a couple blocks away. Hello, Houston. Exhausted, we loaded up and pointed the van back to Austin. But not without getting some Whataburger. Goodbye, Houston.

08.14 - Friday
A good portion of Friday would be spent traveling the 223 miles from Austin to San Angelo, TX, the site of the next show. Between the two cities we saw the following: an establishment called "Fudge Pump" in Valera, TX, a restaurant called "El Jimador" in Bangs, TX and 3,343,052 cacti. Oh, we also saw ... never mind - that's all there was.

However, when we finally pulled in to San Angelo and located the Dead Horse, we knew things were going to get awesome. If I tell you that EZO and Krokus were playing on the house P.A. will that help you understand the awesomeness of the Dead Horse? Perhaps not. But it was a great club owned and operated by musicians.

After some fish tacos and steak fingers (that's two separate dishes) we got on with the rock, sharing the bill with our old friends Thunderosa and San Angelo's own Butcherwhite. To obliterate the previous night's effort, we hit that shit hard. The crowd was enthusiastic and made us feel great. After our set we discovered that The Rocky Horror Picture Show was being projected in a parking lot adjacent to the back of the Horse. Whoda thunk?

On the way back to Austin we got pulled over by a TX state trooper (or ranger, or local cop - not sure) who appeared to be all of 20. He was wowed that we were an unknown rock band from Missouri and let us go with a warning. Thank you, officer - you made the night a complete success.

08.15 - Saturday
Finally a day not to be consumed by the van. The evening's gig would be at the Dirty Dog and there was nothing pressing in the meantime. The full effect of brilliantly booking a run of shows in Texas in August showed itself this day. By the time we were wandering around town in various splintered groups, the temperature approached 102.


The view from South Congress.

Some of us eventually made the pilgrimage back to the Continental Club to catch Redd Volkaert's matinee again. Redd's set and a couple Lone Star's was just the thing for a scorching afternoon.

At some point we became aware of a show happening down the street from ours: punk legends D.I., Agent Orange and FEAR were playing at Emo's. Through a quick call to some mysterious person called "Bristow's brother," Gregg got himself plus six on the guest list. It was going to be a fun night.

The Dirty Dog is a cool venue on Austin's famed 6th Street. Apparently they usually have a house drum kit and bass rig. This is why you can see Kriss Ward on a Pearl set. Word is that the bass rig was stolen recently, so every other band played through Cathfish's gear (including Meatwood's bass player who inexplicably didn't even bring a fucking bass to the gig and also borrowed John's instrument). The show had no cover charge - not a bad ploy considering the ridiculous number of things to do in Austin on a Saturday night. (Aside from the aforementioned show, there was reportedly a special screening of Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious [sic] Basterds [sic] featuring a talk by the director.) With the 6th Street-facing windows and doors wide open, we blasted our set out into the night. And people came in to listen.

We were told later by various sources that we blew everyone off the stage. Thank you. That is usually the plan and it's nice when it works out.

We snuck out to the punk show after our set (apologies to Bexar County Bastards and Thunderosa). There were a helluva lot of people in Emo's, a helluva lot of people in the streets. What an atmosphere. We stuck around there until we absolutely had to get back to the Dog to load out. When it was all said and done, our group had variously shopped, eaten Mexican and Japanese, witnessed country and punk legends, toured hangars containing solar power arrays, received a new tattoo and played a killer show. Pretty good Saturday.

08.16 - Sunday
And then we drove home. Our most accurate records indicate 62 tacos consumed, 51 beers dispatched, 22 ridiculous jokes started or revived, three shows in the books and about 40 hours in the van. Wanna come along next time?
05.20.09: Joplin/Austin - The annotated tweets

Before it's no longer relevant (too late) I thought I'd put some meat on the bones formed by our road trip Twitters/Tweets/Twhatevers. (Follow at twitter.com/fohp) We generated the following microblogs during our trip to Joplin, MO and Austin, TX during late April/early May.

Catfish has sounded the battle cry: "Paranoid schizosaladbar aka 24 inches of lemon!" 4:46 PM Apr 30th
He almost always says that when we're about to head out to Austin via Joplin.

"Rhinestone Cowboy." And someone said, "we ride." 6:21 PM Apr 30th
Listening to a Glen Campbell compilation pulling out of Belton, MO. Hey - you would too.

Hackett Hot Wings, LLC: "Sweeeeet teeeea!" 8:55 PM Apr 30th
Hackett has become a Joplin ritual. The joint is a stone's throw from the venues (make that 'bars') at which we've played. And they have a breaded porkchop sandwich. That shit comes on some Texas toast.

Good set at Champ's in Joplin. Wasted ass beer drinkers and hell raisers on a Thursday. 1:20 AM May 1st
That was the first time we've played at Champ's, a vaguely 1981-looking kind of room. As with the last time we played across the street at The (Fucking) Keystone, the house playlist featured "White Punks on Dope" by the Tubes. Is this meant to be a comment on Joplin Youth? I don't know, but it always gets me in a rocking mood. We debuted the song "Fried Chicken for Breakfast" in Joplin a few months back. This night I think it really came into its own, the arrangement breathing and exhaling decades old dust from the Champ's booths. Small crowd, but they drank the booze of a big crowd.

Oklahoma is achieved. 1:41 AM May 1st
Note 1:41 AM. We piled in the van after the show and headed south. Did not pass go, sure as hell did not collect $200.

5:21 a.m. - the legendary Atoka truckstop. 5:22 AM May 1st
Read more about that here. Actually, that was posted from somewhere other than the Atoka truckstop. Mis-tweet. Gregg still driving.

6:09 a.m. - just entered Tejas. 6:11 AM May 1st
Gregg still drving.

... and finally Kriss Ward has entered TX. (It's a very long van.) 6:13 AM May 1st
Oh, that's just ridiculous.

Further evidence of good morning: "Wizard Fight" by Weedeater. 6:14 AM May 1st
Some folks listen to NPR in the morning. We listen to Weedeater.

Cabana sightings. 7:08 AM May 1st
If you know anything about our trips, you must know that they focus heavily on the eats. Taco Cabana is an indicator that we're in the vicinity of deliciousness.

West, Texas is not in west Texas. 8:54 AM May 1st
The city of West, TX is southwest of Dallas. We paused at the Czech Stop, a veritable travelers' magnet. They have these things, the Czechs, called kolaches. And it's food, so we liked it. You can apparently get these filling-vehicles stuffed with anything from blueberries to sausage and jalapenos. Mmm.

We hit Austin around 11:00 AM. Gregg is a fucking beast behind the wheel (and elsewhere). There is a gap in crucial internet information dissemination as we located and inhabited our lodging for the next couple hours. And crashed. The cottage, our personal Brom-Yr-Aur, was a house behind a house just a few blocks from the musical hub of town.

Rumors of tacos and beer. 2:11 PM May 1st
"Good morning."

Guero's Taco Bar. See that? TACO AND BAR. 3:05 PM May 1st
Not really much to add to that, is there? Except that it was awesome. We wandered around Congress Street for a while taking in the Austinness.

Cold Lone Stars. It feels like summer here. 9:05 PM May 1st
Drinks on 6th Street. Beautiful, beautiful night.

Taking the stage in a few minutes. Prepare for sweaty deafness. Hey, that's kinda gross. 10:20 PM May 1st
Well, what else would you expect? We played at Room 710 Friday night and had a blast. "Outlaws of Hollister" has taken on a seriously sinister and scuzzy bent of late, especially during the nasty grinding verses. Fabulously enjoyable. Kriss had family in attendance - always nice.



Bespectacled southpaw stoner bassist. Split Hoof is on. 1:01 AM May 2nd
Austin stoner heroes and super cool dudes, Split Hoof closed the evening with aplomb. That's what they did, alright.

Goodnight Twittersphere, wherever you are ... 2:47 AM May 2nd
That right there is a little reference to the Zappa/Beefheart album Bongo Fury. Listen to "Muffin Man" if you really give a shit.

S'gweet. Mungry. 10:30 AM May 2nd
May 2: right back at the food. Dined at the famous Juan in a Million where they have mounted plastic bags full of water "to keep the flies away." Ever heard that? The two flies at my plate hadn't either.

"Convoy" is on 95.5 FM. Whuh? 12:30 PM May 2nd
Chip Davis jokes were made. Fucking FUNNY Chip Davis jokes. Seeing numerous street corners on which Bacon Shoe has left an imprint ...

Back at the Continental Club listening to Red Volkaert. Sumbitch. What a day. 6:13 PM May 2nd
We'd stopped in here the previous day for a look and a beer. Saturdays, however, guitar legend Red Volkaert plays a matinee show. His playing made me want to shout, cry, jump up and down, and swear. I actually did a few of those things.

We have arrived at Headhunters. Please - no Herbie Hancock or Krokus jokes. 8:05 PM May 2nd
Gawd, I crack myself up.

The head of McMaster.

Strange: Billy Milano (S.O.D/M.O.D) is running sound at the bar where we're playing tonight. 8:22 PM May 2nd
Milano is apparently a fixture and jack of all trades at Headhunters. How fucked is that? Very strange for a bunch of dudes who grew up in reverence to the ludicrous metal of Stormtroopers of Death.

Jason McMaster just told us a story about Roy Thomas Baker and Billy Milano just ate a banana. I have twittered. 10:18 PM May 2nd
The very essence of the situations which take place my weird ass life.

Scarlett lost a fuse; borrowing an Orange rig from some Broken Teeth d00d. Kriss Ward has a very fine Ese shirt. 11:29 PM May 2nd
Yeah, my amp lost a fuse in the van. Jason McMaster, whose Motorhead tribute band Capricorn USA were headlining that night, loaned me an amp belonging to David Beeson of Broken Teeth for the evening. Thanks Dave - it kicked ass, as did our set. More on that in a minute.

We know the bartender. The bartender knows us. This is an elegant symbiosis. 11:30 PM May 2nd
It just so happened that the drummer from our buddies Thunderosa was tending bar Saturday night. He took good care of us - some moreso than the others. More on that soon too.

btw - McMaster joined us for "Rock and Roll Damnation." Nice. 1:46 AM May 3rd
(placed out of sequence for narrative flow) Yeah, it was nice. In fact, it was a total blast. Jason McMaster is a truly cool and down to earth guy. If you don't know of his work, check it out. But ... you don't understand. See, aside from his more famous claims to fame, Jason was the original singer of WATCHTOWER. When I was (more) heavily into progressive metal they were the be all end all, the pinnacle. And here was their singer - singing with us. It's like if you grew up in Baltimore and ... and ... Brooks Robinson got up and sang AC/DC with your band. Ok, it's not quite like that.

"Shit - I'm 'shit-towned!'" - K. Ward. 1:10 AM May 3rd
(back in sequence) Like I said, we knew the bartender. We soaked Kriss Ward up in a mop and poured him out at the van after loading up (Kriss would ask us the next morning if he broke down his hardware ... heh). While standing there, totally altered and in the dark he managed to FIND MY FUSE. Geez. The super powers of Tuaca.

Coffee, cigarettes obtained. Rollin'. 10:05 AM May 3rd
Must be Sunday morning.

"Bimbuneulosm" 1:02 PM May 3rd

Gregg is the Exploratory Snack Master®. 1:04 PM May 3rd

Those two go together. The previous is a mistyping of "bimbuneulos" which came out instead as the name of some sort of Mexican junk food religion. I don't know what obscure shelves he plunders, but Gregg finds the most obtuse food items ever. They're mostly pretty good, shitty pineapple chocolate things from Austin notwithstanding.

West of Dallas and listening to Andrew Loog Oldham on the satellite. 1:43 PM May 3rd
As if in a dream.

Atoka Diner: a token diner. 4:11 PM May 3rd
Buffet dinner. Considerable damage done.

"Burly ass rednecks in coveralls." 5:19 PM May 3rd
We didn't think the oilfield workers would want to look at our brand of burly and so went to another spot to fuel up.

Drove. Slept. Showz waz good. 9:56 PM May 3rd
About an hour outside of KC, the last Tweet. Guess I could've just posted that one and skipped all the rest of this ...

KANSAS CITY, MO, 03.29.09: Our buddy Ryan took some rather moody pics of our set at Crosstown Station that he forgot about. He's posted these as Federation of Horsepower: The Lost Set. Click right on Kriss Ward's crash cymbal to go to the full set. Photo: Ryan Marchman.