What a slammin' weekend. It started, a rarity for me, right at 5PM on Friday. Imagine that.For once, also, I'm able to drive an hour and forty minutes to see an Atmosphere show. That's usually about five to six hours at a minimum. Am I there? Hell yeah, I am. After a huge burger at the Pour House with Tim, Mick, Cody, Mayhem, Tij, Danny and Lee, we booked toward the venue. Jake's is a crap bar. It really is. It's like 50,000 square-foot ashtray with $2 beer and a fry-o-later. To be there pains me, but whatever, it's Atmosphere. Next time, I want an outdoor show, though.
We show up at about 9PM and there's a line wrapping around the front of the building. I'm thinking there's no way that these kids are there to see Atmosphere. Then I see all the stoner kids in their skate gear and the teenage girls dressed in hardly nothing--yep, it's an Atmosphere show. Lucky for me, there were enough fratboys to balance out the crowd. Either way, Lubbock turned out like a muddah. Making me proud.
We bounce inside to enjoy a few beers. I'd be keeping my eyes on the TVs for baseball scores. Turns out that the Cubs won their division (clinching a playoff spot). About ten minutes later, the Sox won against the Twins and, only moments later, Angry Tim's Orioles beat the Spanks in the 10th inning to seal the AL East for the Red Sox. Manny's got the right idea...it's time to get the grill ready for the playoffs.
Need to email Mike to congratulate him on the Cubbies win. Whatever. Onward.
Anyhow, we're sitting there in Jake's. Marco shows up. David and Chrissy were there. Lee was hitting on some blonde girl who was absolutely trashed. She wanted to get backstage (yeah, a groupie) not knowing that Jake's has no backstage, but rather a line of pool tables where you can find Slug leaning and talking to a scattering of people--crew, fans, local rappers. He leans back cooly just taking in the scene. Ant walks by smoking cigarettes, taking bottles of beer to the crew three at a time. The place begins to swell full of people. Yeah, we got a party.
I missed most of Grayskul's set talking to Ryan Hicks...good to see him again. He let us know of the after party down in Tech Terrace where he'd be performing. Ryan, I genuinely wanted to go, but I wasn't in charge of travel. Spoke to Slug who let me know he had a new EP out and two more to come before releasing an all-new full length record. I commented, "Man, you're working your ass off."
"I'm just not lazy," he replied. Ha. Girls began to swarm Slug as he sat shyly to himself. A couple of them looked like bait for the new Chris Hansen special, "How to Catch an Underground Rapper."
Mac Lethal freaking killed it. Must listen to the advance again. He had that whole place rocking. Of course, Lubbock's a pretty green hip hop audience. They respond very loudly to "fast rapping," the f-word and any mention of cops. They'll grow with more practice. Either way, it was a nice night to be onstage because you were the newest thing in town that night. I heard the promoter talking to Slug. Slug asked him, "So, did you get Aesop?" Apparently, Danny was right about Aesop maybe playing Lubbock. We'll see.
After Mac Lethal, Tij and I made our way to the front. It was hotter than hell in there and the smelly college kids were shoulder to shoulder up in there. As uncomfortable as it was, my view of Atmosphere in Lubbock was not going to be obstructed by some drunk moron and his girlfriend. Tij just needed to get up there because he stands maybe five feet tall tops and he wouldn't have been able to see the stage lights from the back, much less Atmosphere themselves. Some powertripping punkass bouncer was pushing kids around up front during the freaking soundcheck because he was trying to keep the ramp to the stage clear for Atmosphere. He started maddogging me like I was about to bust. Whatta chump. Dude's been watching too much UFC and needs a girlfriend. Thanks for bumming everyone out, moron. It ain't like you're protecting DMX, dun.
Some girl right next to me was staring at Slug just on the other side of the doorway panting the words, "I can't believe he's right there." Wow. They do exist.
Atmosphere came on with a full band. I knew this was going to be a treat. They launch right into the new material and, to my surprise, the whole front fifteen feet were almost lyric for lyric the whole time. In Lubbock, TX, no less. I guess these kids have supported. The band was pretty tightly wrapped. They replaced breakbeats with rock riffs and DJ scratches with guitar solos. Part of me really enjoyed it, but I'm a dat/emcee kinda guy at times. I wouldn't mind just watching Slug and Ant bring it down with a mic, a dat and two turntables. The crowd reacted well to the combination. Last I heard Atmosphere with a live band (in Denton) it was less rock and more "live band playing breakbeats." This was much more of a rock set. Refreshing.
Of course, Slug takes off his sweatshirt and the place goes up in flames. I don't know why a rapper taking off his sweatshirt to reveal a t-shirt underneath gets such a rise from audiences, but it never fails. It's funny because you knew that Slug wasn't going to finish his set in that sweatshirt. I mean, he only made it one song into his set and it was coming off. You wear it so you can take it off. Emceeing 101.
After hitting off with about thirty minutes of new material, Slug launches into some lesser-known stuff to kinda test the crowd including one of my personal favorites, "Summer Song." I began bouncing around after coming up for air (and bathroom). Saw Sam out by the merch table. Talked briefly. Again, Sam, sorry I missed the after party. It just wasn't happening. Altogether Atmosphere brought it down. A few members fell back and Slug remained for the encore which was really just, "We're gonna stay out here and do just a little extra for you." Nice we didn't have to plead for an encore. I always thought that was so retahded.
Apparently, Lee almost got in a fight with some dude who was accusing him of trying to pick up his woman. I can't lie, I did want to see some fighting. Not necessarily someone from our crew, but you know, it's like Elton John said, "Saturday night's alright for fighting." Just sometimes it's a Friday instead. Jiujitsu Danny was always ready for action.
Cody was doing the running man out by the merch table. Mayhem claimed he got bounced, but I never found out why. Everyone had a story, but I just went to an Atmosphere show.
Woke up the next morning next to Danny watching cartoons. Felt awesome. Needed some mexican to kickstart the morning. We went to Joel's for eggs, salsa, beans and hashbrowns. That did it. Drove home and slept for about three hours. Woke up feeling even awesomer. Sorry I didn't post yesterday, but I wasn't worth much.
Woke up this morning at 5AM to make the haul down to Midland for Brobro's first sermon as a preacherman. He spoke of the blind man Bartamaeus. Homie, you wrecked it today. Had more mexican. The sauce was hot. My insides are now gelatin and I crap water. Sorry. You can't fight fire with gasoline.
Gotta get ready for the work week. Holla atch boy.
There are a few names that are synonomous with the words "hype man." First is the obvious Flavor Flav of Public Enemy. Certainly, you're familiar with him and his exploits. And then, one that can never be overlooked is the great Sen Dog of Cypress Hill. He's the perfect compliment to B-Real's flow. What you'll see in the following video is Cypress setting up their superhit, "Hits from the Bong." At this point in the program, they invite a patron from the audience to come up and do just that with Cypress Hill. They're in Amsterdam so to suggest that anyone needs any additional mind-altering drugs is a little silly, but regardless, it's ritual at a Cypress Hill show. They invite up a kid named "Ryan"--obviously American because of his coarse language, his baggy drawers and his swagger--making us proud overseas. Thanks, Ryan. An interesting occurance happens when Eric Bobo, son to the great percussionist Willie Bobo, brings out "King Arthur," and B-Real brings out Ryan. Ryan begins bouncing around the stage acting like a stoned-out moron and, after making his very suitable and appropriate introduction, Sen Dog puts him in his place. You'll hear Sen Dog say very audibly, "Yo, buttcheeks!" Sen is remembering the very important rule of never letting anyone upstage yo boy on stage. So he resorts to insultive and abusive behavior to degrade the guest and then you'll later see Sen toss the kid back into the crowd--discarding him like a piece of garbage. And Sen rocks a chorus like no one else. Dude is a beast of a hype man and not a guy you want to mess with.
Well, after suffering for the last two weeks with my contacts and no glasses, I finally decided to go out to the (you're not going to believe this) the mall to find me a new pair of glasses. My contacts work fine, it's just that in order to get new prescription glasses, you need a prescription from under a year old. So, first things first, my lovely wife books me at the optometrist's office right next door to a glasses store. I won't disclose the name of the establishment, but let's just say it rhymes with "Mine's Faster." The name of the doctor was Dr. "Goldstick." I'm not kidding. Of course, he spelled it without apostrophes.
Tourism is just hard to work with fashionably. As if I don't have a hard enough time with standing out in crowds with tall, balding and bearded, you hang cameras around my neck and it just screams, "Shank me, take everything on me and then dump me in the Charles River." That's Boston in the background. The above picture was taken on our whale watching expedition. More on that later.
We arrive at our hotel, the Sheraton, right in the middle of the heart of Boston--the Back Bay. That is, after stumbling around for a while with our mouths open and our heads turned to the sky like the tourists we were. We're really lucky we didn't get pick-pocketed. Really lucky. After checking in, we head up to the 21st floor because, well, we're pimps. Well, I'm a pimp and my lovely wife is the payables department. No, seriously, we had the best seat in the house. 21st floor at the Back Bay Sheraton will get you this view. Click on it to get a better idea. This is a little manual panoramic so take it easy. You get the idea.
Everything was close. Including the Summer Shack which my lovely wife really wanted to get some grub at. Seafood. I'm not a huge fan, but it's Boston and it seemed rather obligatory. First I had to take out my contacts because, from all the traveling, my eyes were on "fiyah." I open up my toiletries (really, who calls it that anymore?) case to find this.
How awesome. Okay, first major setback of the trip. I mean, I rely on those glasses. It's not like I only use them for the morning paper and the evening news. Crap. I desperately try to see what kinda magic I can work with them in this state, but to no avail.
I mean, the look I'm actually fond of. It's kinda a Slick Rick thing. The only problem is when I would run like either from the cops or for a train nearing departure, the stupid things, uh, thing wouldn't even stay on my face. Plan B time. I'll just wear contacts the whole time. I mean, what was I to do at this point?
Later, I'd pay a visit to the wonderful folks at Undergroundhiphop.com. Dude, I was in heaven. I'd pick up the following here:
If I lived in this town, this is probably where'd I'd be every game night. They had televisions for every stall in the pissah and for every sink where hopefully patrons and cooks alike would wash. They had about twenty viewable televisions from my vantage point--a table where I'd order a Reuben and a couple of cool ones.
My lovely wife would also partake. Refreshing to share a cold one with my lovely wife over a Sox game. I know that sounds really white trash, but let me tell you, I'm thankful I have a wife that's not too good to enjoy a room temp beer and some of the best baseball the league has to offer.
Afterwards, I'd stumble into the street and get closer to Fenway Park than I ever have before. I mean, it was right there and so was I. Incredible. Surreal almost.
This is what you do when you're around Fenway Park. You just kinda become a zombie and question what it is you're suppose to do when you're actually there. It's hard to put into words except maybe, "I peed my pants a dark yellow." I don't even know what that means. In a few days, I'd actually breach the gates and experience the inside.
Before we'd even make it out to our destination, about an hour and a half out at sea, the waters would get way rough on my ass. I mean, the whole ship was rocking like crazy. I have a seat somewhere where the movement was, at least, perceptively minimalized. Or so I thought. I really started to feel like I was going to projectile vomit and I'm not too proud to vomit all over the place. I mean, when I vomit I roar like a lion. I advertise it. It's just my genetic makeup really. But I really didn't feel like soiling this experience by chunking so I sat as my tongue began to salivitate, sitting nervously. My lovely wife would check on me periodically, "Are you doin' alright?" I would just nod my head. That was until the kid next to me, who was sitting in his mother's lap, would began heaving little handfuls of vomit literally into his mother's hand. I turned to catch a glimpse of this act. Then I darted. I stumbled. I was ready to let loose now. I dash down to the lower level barely clearing the steps and then leglock it to the back bathrooms both of which were locked. I nervously sit down on nearby table and then basically fall backwards on my back just hoping that my nausea would pass. My lovely wife would come to my side. The boat continued to move like crazy underneath me. It wasn't going to stop.
Then there's George Washington in the Boston Common area.
The Old State House--situated right in the downtown area.
My lovely wife and a passing cargo ship going out to see.
And a large, wall-sized photo of the 2004 World Series ball that was held hostage by our, then, first baseman. My lovely wife found it quite peculiar the resemblance between it and my balding head and captured this shot.
We'd then climb to the top of the Green Monstah. These seats are by lottery only and, if you're selected, your minimum and maximum purchase is four seats. The seats are $150 each. Best view in the house and rated Hardest Ticket to Get in All of Professional Sports. I enjoyed the view for only $12. Suckas.
It's an incredible ballpark. Like the city, it's just crawling with the ghosts of the past. From the old scoreboard, to the red seat in right field, to Pesky Pole. It really is amazing.
The seats you see above are almost 90 years old and, believe me, they're made for a human about five feet tall max and constructed of just wood and metal. They're absolutely punishing on the body. I mean, my ass was too wide to fit in with out wiggling into it. I've never had to complain about that.
Our tour guide was this rad old man named Steve. I think he said he had been doing the tours for thirty years now. I think he has been telling some of those jokes for thirty years now, but they still got a few chuckles. My lovely wife wanted him to sit next to us during the game. I wanted to take him home with us and keep him as a pet.
The dude even had a championship ring from the 2004 series. Ownership had given rings to various members of the organization and this dude had one. The thing made it hard for him to even lift his freaking hand it was so big.
After the tour would conclude, we'd dump out into the Back Bay and begin our search for breakfast. Look, in Boston, just for future reference, everyone except the Sox take off Labor Day. No restaurant is open. And, just in case you're not totally convinced, call ahead and see before walking to these destinations.
And, in front of us, was the sober and mean fan. He had a thing for JD Drew and just let the Sox right fielder have it any chance he could. Dude was just downright mean.
I kept score the old fashion way just to make sure I still had it.
We'd end up cheering the Sox to victory and, more importantly, as all fans in Fenway were well aware of, the Yankees lost which means that we gained a game on them climbing our lead back up to six games. Of course, the guys who ran the JumboTron couldn't avoid running highlights of the Yankee game which included a home run sailing over an out-stretched glove of Johnny Damon over the outfield fence. Miss you, Johnny. Wait, no we don't.
See the above picture, middle of the frame at the lowest frame of the first row of scores. Yep, Yankees lost. Ah, the delight as "Dirty Water" echoed throughout the stadium as we did our victory dances. In fact, one of the two Red Sox actually came by and we gave each other a hearty handshake of victory.
Made the long trip home which included a TSA alert on the runway to check every bag that had already been loaded. Awesome. That was a 45 minute setback, but nothing that couldn't be cured by a Boston Kreme donut from Dunkin Donuts. Oh, how glorious.
Sox won and Yankees lost and, more importantly, cash hound Roger Clemens went out with elbow issues and will miss another start and Mike Mussina got roughed up as he came into relieve Roger. Man, two birds with one stone. Sox lead is up to seven now. Not impossible, but now the Yanks are clinging with all they have to the Wild Card. It'll be nice for them to feel what's it like for once. I'm glad to see that Roger's working out for them. Much in the way that Johnny Damon, Alan Embree, Mike Myers and Doug Minwhatever have. Yankee Stadium, where Red Sox players go to end their careers.
