Animals: Great-Tailed Grackle
Quotes: “This pop is like it’s been sitting on the stove. I hate this place.”
SIARPC: Wayne Coyne Purse
Heading from San Clemente to Phoenix means it’s desert time. We stopped at the exact same oasis we did last time. You know, the one with the General George S. Patton Museum. And as soon as we opened the doors the heat hit us like a wooden spoon at a school for wayward boys. I was thirsty for the next two days. The desert is beautiful for a little while and fortunately we didn’t have West Texas to dread forward to this time. We saw several accidents where people must have fallen asleep or just started staring at their phone because they were all single car crashes and there’s just nothing to run into out there.
Civilization, somewhat depressingly began to reassemble itself like scattered wood blocks. And then greater Phoenix was just there. It was so fucking hot and we hadn’t really eaten all day which lent a surreal air to the whole place that may or may not be present always. The light, the flatness, the low buildings made us feel as if we were in a foreign land. We pulled up to the club, which was really an art space called the Trunk Space, and all the people hanging around were wearing jeans and leather boots and not sweating at all. Acclimation is real.
I was feeling kind of shaky and Lisa had developed a thousand yard stare and started mumbling things like, “Oh look, I’m not hungry or thirsty any more. How wonderful.” We found a little place called Jobot, which was pretty damn good and we revived enough to play an OK show.
Except for a few old timers like ourselves who had driven from LA to see the show, most of the crowd were kids. I think this was our only all ages show of the tour. There were 4 or 5 bands and they were all arty or punk. The place had DIY books, 45’s etc. and everyone was obviously invested in building their scene. After we played a band of kids still in high school just set up on the floor in front of the stage and started playing. They played punk that sounded sometimes like early Meat Puppets and sometimes just shouty 40 second guitar songs. The drummer had cinder blocks in front of his kick drum to keep it from sliding and the lead singer played with his shirt off. So rocknroll is going to be just fine.
And now it gets awesome for us and not for you. John, as a treat for his own birthday had booked two rooms at a super cool, posh hotel called Valley Ho. It was built in 1956 and had a Hollywood cache’ for a time. After a bunch of boring history some company spent 80 million dollars to update the place while keeping all the great ‘50’s architecture. I mean every detail was a pleasure to look at. Let’s see if I have the ability to describe it. Lots of burnt umber and green with white accents. When you walked in the room there was a low counter that ran along the length of the painted brick wall, and it was covered in that white speckled plastic stuff that used to cover every kitchen counter in the country. The bathroom had a bathtub and a light switch marked mood lighting. The soap was a super-ball sized ball and smelled like a French wet nurse. The pool was salt water, circular and ringed by misting tents with waitresses who were angelic and clothed in some sort of miracle, space-age diaphanous material. The place had the layout where there were no inside hallways. Every door opened to face the courtyard/pool. Each floor had it’s own pattern of colored square tiles and the balconies had these weird slightly Aztec looking molded concrete forms attached. Go in the off season it's actually affordable.
This day kind of kicked our asses but a good show and great accommodations mean we can’t complain.
Tomorrow is a travel day.