Archive for February, 2003

  • Rob Spectre
  • 28
  • Feb
  • 03

“Unable to resist his charms, the female comes running. Formerly rough skin suddenly because sensitive as she caresses him gently with her side and nose. Aroused, the male seductively slides on top…”

Sound like porn? Well it wasn’t. The other night Lando and I watched the mating habits of crocodiles on the Discovery channel. Fortunately one of us was sober enough to change the channel before we actually saw the future pieces of luggage begin the act of fucking.

My project since last weekend was a database for all the tour dates, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t get it done. There isn’t all that drastic of a change visually, save for the new pages, but I assure you it considerably more advanced. Now all I have to is enter a show once and almost as if by magic everything on the site takes care of itself. The right bar will always display current dates coming up the soonest with no intervention required by yours truly. I’m really proud of it honestly. Plus, tons more information is on the shows page; important stuff like oh, say, cover charges and addresses and such.

Thanks a lot to MSU for asking me to play a couple songs tonight. Though I must admit, singing with this pleurisy shit is for the birds. I still hurt. Hopefully tonight I’ll be able to get some sleep.

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  • Rob Spectre
  • 26
  • Feb
  • 03

So I wake up at 4am last night with a huge stabbing pain in my chest. I mean huge. So huge that it actually woke me up. And man, it really fucked with my dream too. I was in the typical fantasy fighting a whole mess of orcs in a huge epic battle yelling victoriously over huge masses of heaping dead bodies when suddenly I get impaled by an enormous ballista Homer style.

But, no it wasn’t actually a huge arrow. I went to the doctor and found out it was pleurisy. You can imagine my disappointment.

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  • Rob Spectre
  • 23
  • Feb
  • 03

Went with Lando the Commando, Jill, and Sarah to see AnchondO over at the venerable if incomprehensibly smelly Knickerbockers, a regional mexicali ska four piece with no small amount of tightness. Though their website still seems to be able to crash my browser when I bring it up, I listened to some of their online stuff and wasn’t all that impressed. This changed rather suddenly when I was exposed to their live show. With a sound kinda similar to Sublime though definitely more hyperactive with more ska and less rap influence, Anchond0 will by appearing at South by Southwest and is one of the bigger names on the Nebraska music scene. Though I really don’t know much about the band, the singer/lead guitar player had some pretty decisive shredding in between more melodic intimate licks and the rhythm guitarist was a true pleasure to watch play. The pair consisted of most of the stage presence for the group, though musically the drummer kicked out some thick beats with several odd and unexpected (but memorable) breaks and the bass player’s harmonies, like the entire band’s sound, was quite tight.

Definitely two thumbs up for these fellas, I only had three complaints over the evening. 1) I spent my cash on beer instead of a CD. 2) No one was dancing. and 3) Their set was far shorter than I would have preferred. And, I think if you are going to have complaints about a show, these are pretty minor.

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  • Rob Spectre
  • 21
  • Feb
  • 03

So yeah, check this shit out.

In Hastings there is this place where you can go take stuff and they will take it somewhere else for you! You just show up, give them a couple dollars, and they use this enormous infrastructure to take your stuff to where it needs to go without you having to lift a goddamned finger. I guess it’s called a post office and – get this – is actually run by the United States Government. I wonder if anybody else knows about this place, because dude, it is a trip. I asked the lady there if they would take my stuff to these people’s houses and she was all, “Sure. No problem.” The times we live in, I swear.

In front of the post office was an old guy handing out flyers protesting the war. This is what I’m talking about. Credible, polite, and informed information distribution far outweighs fat chicks getting naked. Though, ultimately, handing out flyers doesn’t sway the decision-makers, it is far more credible than, say, telling people to pour concrete down a nuclear missile silo. I still believe the short-term battle is in Washington and not in the hearts and minds of the people, but it is good to see some quality education taking place. Americans have a nose for genuity.

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  • Rob Spectre
  • 20
  • Feb
  • 03

The trip to The Granada Theatre was indeed a long one, but me and Howie made it with little incident. We came to the venue after only a small amount of confusion and checked in to a sold out show full of a veritible menagerie of punk rock people in anticipation of a great show. That being said, I think OK Go set up the headliners like champs. With a meek, unassuming, and almost timid lead guitar player Andrew (“pardon me… might I shred?”) and the most intense tamborine player that I have *ever* seen, they had a truly energetic geek rock show that I imagine would have been duplicated if They Might Be Giants broke down and did garage rock in 1985. They had some tasty songs and rocked with hard ferocity, but were all-too-quickly shooed away for the headlining babe punk Donnas to come on.

Now, The Donnas happened to be two of my favorite girl punk rock bands ever, followed closely by Dance Hall Crashers. However, now that I’ve been to the show I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever had either of their records in my player for more than 15 minutes. Because, damn… 15 minutes is plenty for The Donnas. It is true that their drummer has a seemingly insatiable thirst for rock and the guitarist blazes with southern punk stylings similar to Lars Fredricksen of Rancid, but it is also true that they only actually have one song. It only *seems* as though the songs are different, however I don’t think even the tempo changed once during the night, much less the key. Donna A or B or U or whatever-the-fuck-they-call-themselves that is the frontwoman for the group has the charisma of a soapdish and a voice that Ben Stein might envy. Don’t get me wrong, they are a fun band and I do love their guitar… But, damn Gina. Calling the band “flat” is simply not enough, because that would imply two dimensions to work with. I can’t believe they have multiple records, let alone multiple songs.

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