13-Jan-2006

The Kick Back, Manitowoc, Wisconsin

Holy shit. To summarize this show, all I have to say is this—when we took our first set break (after playing 2 hours again), when I got back on stage I had three beers sitting on my bass rig from appreciative fans, and the owner of the place, the venerable Hot Rod, gave us shots of his most-prized single malt. What a reception. The place was packed to the rafters before we began, and we fed off everybody’s energy like this was a playoff game and the Packers were down by 6 against the Lions in Detroit and Sterling Sharpe was wide open in the end zone and a young Brett Favre had the ball but was on the 40 and the opposite side of the field. What happens when the energy in the room is like that, you may ask? The answer: you uncork an 80-yard touchdown pass across the field while evading three or four Detroit Lion linemen. Everybody rocks in Detroit, rock city—actually, fuck Detroit, everybody rocks in Manitowoc, carp city.

Highlights: Hot Rod, helluva guy, he says he takes his motorcycles into the bar and burns out on the tile floor until there’s so much smoke in the place it’s impossible to see a foot in front of ya. In fact, he and his buddies were doing this one night last summer, and Manitowoc’s finest fireman and policeman came to see if the place was burning down, because of the amount of smoke billowing out of the place. Hell, when a guy’s telling stories like this, you stay awake until 8 in the morning getting shitty with him.

More highlights: After the bout, me and Dan are talking next to the exit door, taking gravy bombs and crack pipes (specialty drinks, from the insane minds of Dan and Goat in one case, Hot Rod in the other) when a drunk blonde lady mutters some gibberish at us as she’s leaving. Well, in her alcohol-hazed eyes she may’ve been pointed toward the door, but reality disagreed. She walked headfirst into the wall, shook the building, then looked at me and Dan with her blinking eyes open as wide as saucers. But, I don’t mean to sound harsh, we’ve all been there before.

Doug—nice to see ya again buddy, thanks for sitting in and pounding those skins. Vic—singing along with Stone Moses, fuck yeah. Willy—the bass never sounded better.

Great show.

Yoda, Shorelunch, Vitamin C.

Atilla.