Uncategorized - Part 2

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Tony Coke Blog #a

Sunday, September 5th, 2010

The Church of Scary Cherry – A band business model.

So I was at a funeral yesterday…… I’m sure that’s breaking some kind of rule about how to start a blog.

By the way, I’m tony coke bang bang and i’m sitting at my favorite coffee shop, Buon Giorno, in Grapevine Texas. I’m looking out at my jeep through the surprisingly clean window as a guy stops to look at my moped which is tactfully wedged between the tailgate and the front seat.

So I was at a funeral. Mr. Jay Taylor is a cool soul.
I started thinking about how priests, rabis, ministers, whatever, are always at funerals giving speeches and comforting. Do they get paid for this? Or they just rely on donations to the church?

I noticed similarities between the church business model and our band Scary Cherry and the Bang Bangs. Mostly, the fact that we rely on donations from our friends and comrades to buy merch, record music, and tour.

By the way bands, since Scary Cherry has started taking donations instead of charging set prices for merch, we have sold more and made about the same amount of money while reducing headaches significantly.

“So why do people go to church????” asked Tony Coke Bang Bang, “and how can Scary Cherry provide the comfort a church provides to our Bang Bang family?”

Being in a band is much the same as being a religious figure head.
I, reverend Tony Coke Bang Bang, have an absolute faith and belief in the church of Scary Cherry. I feel it is my destiny and my way to salvation and enlightenment. I intend to preach my believes to the whole world and show them Scary Cherry and the Bang Bangs are the complete and total way to musical heaven!

Wow, this really attractive woman just walked into the coffee shop! I wonder if she wants to ride my moped….
My concentration is blown.

Anyway,
Thou shalt not listen to crappy music.
If you don’t believe in Scary Cherry, you are destined to an eternity in musical hell. Become of of the Bang Bang family and you will be saved and loved forever. Think not for yourself, but trust in the word of the all knowing Scary Cherry.
Join our faith and spread the word world wide so that others may be saved by the joyous, divine music floating like the sounds of angels down from the heavens.
And don’t skimp when the collection plate comes your way.

If we could only get a tax break like churches do!

I hope I have offended someone.
Reverend Tony Coke Bang Bang

Posted in Lezlie Deane, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

Minx the Jinx’s Hangover Saturday Blog #1: STINKING DRUNK

Saturday, September 4th, 2010

Hey Gang,

The title of my blog is not exactly indicative of how I’m feeling at the moment, but we all know that Texans have a tendency to get STINKING DRUNK almost every Friday night, lay around and nurse their hangover all day Saturday (Bloody Mary anybody?) and then by Saturday evening they are ready to start the whole process of getting STINKING DRUNK again (“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” to quote Seinfeld).

So… here’s my Sat Hangover Blog – a tad bit late because Scary Cherry was busy hogging the computer for 4 hours (“You here 4 hours! You scare my wife!”). So, while I’m not nursing a hangover today, I am gearing up for a night of ‘light’ excess unlike the majority of my Texas brethren who will get STINKING DRUNK! No really, “y’all” get STINKING DRUNK!

I have no plans in particular, other than Indian food (I figure if I eat enough, the scent will seep out of my pores and I’ll never have to get on a jet again – I hate flying), but if I know my friends, which I do, the phone will start ringing like a bunch of high school kids looking for a party. Anytime now. Wait for it… BAM! There it is! Jesus! It’s like clockwork! I am now being informed of who is playing where and why I should go there and get (that’s right) STINKING DRUNK. Now, let me say that I don’t CONDONE this life style – in fact in runs counter to everything that one should be doing if one wishes to stay a productive member of society. But, I do, on occasion, get STINKING DRUNK. Maybe just not tonight. Maybe.

For those of you who don’t know me too well, I am still considered a recent newcomer to Texas. OK, I’ve been here close to 7 years now but I have been informed that one must have lived here at least 10 years before one gets official ‘Republic of Texas’ status (which also entitles you to become a redneck, should you so choose to go the extra mile). I have tried to fit in though – going so far as to having purchased a used pickup truck (that I drove for 6 1/2 years until it finally shit the bed – something one could theoretically do in a truck – well, it’s true!) and learning to eat catfish, hushpuppies, BBQ and also to drink from gallon sized cups. Mind you, none of the aforementioned are really a staple where I originate from. I guess I should explain that I’m from L.A. I was raised in the San Fernando Valley so I am real honest-to-goodnesss Valley Dude (the male counterpart to a Valley Girl). I still have some Valley Dude drawl – which is hard on the ‘R’s’ and long on U’s (as in “Duuuuuuuuuuuuude!”) but I do try to use my adopted Texan dialect whenever I call friends and family in L.A. (it may be thoroughly affected but it’s gobs of fun). Anyways, when I arrived in Texas my hair was platinum blond and I looked like somebody who had been doing heroin for, let’s see… at least 5 years (non-stop ) which, well, was the truth (so I claim the prize of the only ex-junkie in The Bang Bangs – not a title that I am necessarily proud of - but I embrace my survivor role these days). My point being that when I arrived in Texas I had only clean for about 2 months. That night, some of Scary’s friends decided to take us out and get me (yep) STINKING DRUNK (which is quite contrary to what one should be doing if one is supposed to be in recovery – just for the record – in case any Narcotics Anonymous snobs are reading this). I got so hammered (that would be STINKING DRUNK) that I apparently ran across a highway (I think my intention was to go home – to California!) – immediately attracting the attention of Texas State Troopers – four in all – whom I found myself taking swings at (mind you, these guys were obviously not at all intimidated by my huge stature or amazing ninja fighting skills) and poor Scary comes up yelling “He’s from California – he’s got culture shock!” This was true! I mean, I had just seen a COWBOY sing “Life on Mars” (by David Bowie) at a karaoke bar – that alone would be enough to scar anybody for life! Needless to say, had I been in L.A. I would have been tasered, cuffed and thrown in jail (and nobody there would think I’d have deserved less). However, these good old boys had a heart on this poor, pathetic, alien creature. The oldest State Trooper (who had a beautiful cowboy hat – very impressive looking to a guy from L.A.) said to me, “Hell, boy! It ain’t all that bad here! Why don’t you just go home with this pretty lady and sleep it off! You’ll like us a whole lot better tomorrow!” And I did. I liked “y’all” a whole lot better by Saturday. It was a Friday night that we went out – and I got STINKING DRUNK. I nursed my hangover on Saturday and went back out Saturday night with a fresh outlook on Texas and the crazy but wonderful people that live in this great State. OK, I might not always get drunk on a Friday, but I know that there will be people there to look out for me if I do. Thank you, Texas.

One last note (in case anybody’s wondering): This September 15 will be 7 years since the last time I touched heroin. – MtJBB

Drinking? Don’t drive! Call a cab!

Posted in Minx the Jinx, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

Hello? Echo. Fuckin’AyoFridayBlog #1: JOBS.

Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

So, I had my first FAF blog all written…its about my recent obsession with grilled cheeses.

Tune in next Friday for that. First, I have to clear this rather wordy china cabinet off my chest.

You see, ever since we set foot back in DFW on August 7th (for that matter, also long before we left to go on the road), all Ive been doing is working. Seriously.

Just work. Work.

Every day. Sometimes on 4, 5 hours of sleep..always with a back that resembled Forrest Gump’s before he got his magic legs. (That came from 2 weeks in a band van, and it was worth every fucking goddamn minute of it.)

From one job, to the next job, squeezing in winks here and there, and yes, a quick rehearsal and an AWESOME homecoming show with the Bang Bangs,mind you, but the next morning?? Yep. Wipe off the makeup, power down some mud, light up a square, flip on KKXT, and set off down the road to another workday. Sigh.

I have three jobs.

Four if you count single-parenthood, FIVE if you count this band. (I count neither…theyre a labor of family love.)

Job one’s field: I used to have my heart in it years ago. Now, I do it because, well, I know how, and it pays decently, considering I have a lot of experience at it, because there was a time when I was immersed in job one‘s field completely. Now I just do it on the side, for about 16-18 hours every weekend. The people are nice, and they give me lots of opportunity and praise. But, that whole field of work feels desperate, pathetic, and in a state of financial panic. Its a career field that feels like its controlled by paranoid, micromanaging bottom-liners; not there on site, mind you, but operating from 40,000 feet. My heart’s not in it anymore. Hasnt been for a few years. There was a time when this career field was glorious…SO glorious, that it actually managed to distract me from my life goal of being a successful music artist, from about the age of 18, until, well, for a damn long time.

Job two’s field feels just the opposite, but I still dont know if my heart is in it. It IS, but indirectly. Job two‘s field is directly tied to musicians, and because of that lifeline, I do have a passion, and a talent, for it….and unlike job one, this field points directly into the future. Im entering the field, and the company, at the ground level..which is exciting. Its a very mom & pop operation, and its slingshottted towards the future business model. Which is way exciting. Especially considering where Ive spent my paying career since I was 18. (See Job one.) My boss there is a great musician, a good friend, a true peer, and he’s infinitely supportive of my music endeavours. Is he perfect? Fuck no! Is any boss? All 5 of us (thats the whole company) wanna strangle him a few times every week. But, he buys us groceries (coffee, stuff for kickass sammiches, FREEZYPOPS!! which Im now hooked on again), and lets us bring our puppies to work. He takes us all out to do something fun every month if we hit our goals, which we always do, because morale is over the moon…because the place isnt run like places in job one‘s field are. As a bonus, part of my job at job two‘s field is job three‘s field…and that makes me happy.

Job three’s field is…. (okay, ill TELL you what THIS one is, at least: it’s what Im doing right now. Its journalism.) Essentially, it’s what I want to do when Im someday too old to crush a drum set anymore (that will be a very, very hard day for me to face, and Ill need something to turn to, in a big fucking way). My heart IS in this…in a future-sense of building a foundation for the golden years, when I plan on it still being my reason-for-living at a ripe old age. Right now, its something Im learning, and its what I HAVE to do in my (HA) spare time in order to get all the expression out of my system that playing drums (instead of a melodic instrument) leaves me shortfallen on, on the subject of blowing off expressive steam (a must for an odd bird like me). You see, drummers cant write songs, nor can they compose melody. At least THIS one can’t.

JOKEBREAK:

Q:Did you hear the one about the drummer that got fired for what he said at practice?

A:He said “Lets do one of MY songs!!!”. : D

Okay, where was I? (anyone still reading this bloated windbagging? i KNOW the band isnt… hello? echo.)

Job three’s field..con’d… Writing is an extension of expression for me right now…and, as you can see, Im not exactly saavy at it yet. Hell, ask my editor. He sees me coming , and its like the kid on the playground that always pissed his pants just before he came running up to you and your friends. Yea, Im a bane to real journalists. But, he shows me the ropes, tough love style, and he fakes courtesy well…haha…and, Im actually published and paid. Wow. So, someday, when everyone is gone, and it’s just me and the dog (and hopefully some tropical water that I can see from my breakfast table), I’ll just write. Ill try to get all my life and thoughts out, before my mind goes soft, and my toes curl up and go cold. I promise, it’ll be damn enertaining..whatever it is that I write.

The “BIG BUT”: None of these three jobs really bring me true happiness!

So, why do I do them?

I do it for my home…which is essentially my child’s future. See, I purchased way too large of a house back when I was immersed in the field of job one. I cant afford it anymore, but Im stuck with it. So I love it, and I fight exhaustively for it. Its my retreat, my repose, my sanctuary. My solace, my shelter. It’s beautiful! Ive never owned a home before. Someday, when the market bounces back, Im gonna flip it, and put my child through college (or whatever he wants to do), and live hermit-style, on the cheap. Like Obi-Wan. Sleep next to my drums. But until then, its everything I have for my child’s future, and I have to work at LEAST seven days a week to keep it.

Not everyone in the band can relate to all this. Some are totally on the same page. Some have started to subconsciously treat me a little bit differently since Ive had to fire up so many canvasses at once, in the name of fighting the good fight.

But, everyone in the band gives me unconditional love and support regardless of how they feel about it, or whether they understand or relate. For that, Im thankful. In a perfect world, Id just be a dad and a drummer…all day, every day…and Id drive my bandmates batshit crazy over-thinking every little thing about the Bang Bangs.

As far as happiness goes?

Theres only two things remaining in my life that bring me true happiness, and that my heart is wrapped around.

(The rest I fucked up and basically ran off back in my dumber days.)

-My music family.

-My blood family.

Mind you, both are also occasionally apt to me fantasizing about conking them all with a rubber mallet, repeatedly, but Im –positive– they all feel the same way about me. And thats okay. If we didnt all love each other so, we wouldnt be motivated towards such occasional violence. (It keeps the chemistry spicy…benefitting you, the consumer!)

Playing music with this bunch of people is my organic zoloft.

It shoots me full of an over-the-moon natural high.

It gets me that high because my families and friends tell me they really enjoy what I do, and what we do together as a band.

So, thank you. Im so fucking glad to be here, I could just punch myself in the maw.

NOW that weve gotten all that corny bullshit out the way (and off my chest), i want to dedicate the FAFBlog to my families, and my friends. I promise there will be a shitload of fun, creative nonsense here for the music/food/art/love/movies lover…and that you will get a glimpse of that creaky old man that will actually be a really good writer someday.

That is, if I dont go completely cracker-ass bonkers first, working three to five jobs.

Love you guys. Talk to you next Friday.

Be good to each other, for fucks sake. Were all full up on assholes here in the big city.

Ayo Bang Bang

Posted in Ayo, Uncategorized | 2 Comments »