TUESDAY – 5.18.2010
“OPEN MIC OFF NIGHT” – PHILADELPHIA, PA

Apparently there had been a bomb threat in New Jersey and we weren’t even aware of such things when we were there last night.  We did notice some strange things being closed off when in Manhattan though.  Once again, Steve left for work somewhere around 9AM and we were out of his place at 10.  He had gotten a chance to burn us a disc of the audio from our show at Union Pool and we all listened to a bit of it before leaving.  It sounded pretty dandy and I can’t wait to see the final product when he puts it to film.  We also talked with his roommate a bit while taking turns in the shower.  He definitely was easy to chat with and had interesting things to say, complimenting the quality.  At one point he compared fixing the economy to having a kid on junk.  “At some point you’re going to have to chain him to the radiator.  Let him dry out,” he said.  And so some stimulating conversation got us rolling and on our way to Philadelphia.

On a more sour note, the van was parked fairly far away and it was nearly pouring rain outside.  With towels on our heads we trudged our way, block after block, carrying multiple bags to where we had left the van.  My blanket and pillow were soaked and our shoes and socks were definitely damp at this point.  Of sorts, it was a bad start to the day, but we had at least figured out how to make the GPS avoid tolls after we paid a fortune to get to New Jersey.  As a result, it swung us through Manhattan and the tunnel and into the woods and mountains of Pennsylvania.  The drive was boring but it goes more quickly now that we are expecting and accepting them.  We rolled into town to find Mike Stacey, Kehoe’s friend, at his girlfriend’s house.  We picked him up and then rolled over to his dorm at Temple where we’d be staying for the night.  The front desk took our licenses when we check in and we brought our bags up to the tiny room.  Next priority was finding some Internet, which we located in the computer lab.  Almost as it had become second nature, we were looking up record stores in Philly and making a route to deliver.  In addition, this was one of the nights on which we had not secured a show for the band.  So, we were also looking up all the open mics downtown to see how many we could hit in one night.  To add yet another layer to this mess, I’ll mention that it was the eve of Mike’s 21st birthday.

We made our way Henry Street, the “hip part of Philly,” but passed an incredible amount of murals.  I must say that some were horrendous and we later learned that it was sort of the city’s “thing.”  At any rate, the four of us decided to split up in order to cover more ground in less time.  It was still drizzling and even a bit cold outside, but we were pounding through it in the name of Valentiger.  I first met a band that was very helpful, telling me the best open mics to play and even made a phone call in attempt of getting us a radio gig that night.  After that I met another band from out of town and a number of friendly people who were excited to accept new, free music.  I stumbled across another record store on the way to my destination, finding it to have a lot of obscure, new vinyl.  However, I just couldn’t justify spending a lot of money on the road and moved on to Philadelphia Record Exchange, which had an incredible amount of used vinyl, but I just didn’t have the time to look through it all.  The owner was genuinely interested in the band and provided some insight into the current state of music in the city.  He explained most bookers for clubs had been “on strike” in a way and that more people would probably be out to see and play open mics due to the poor quality of shows.  It made us feel a lot better about our trip to the city and explained why we couldn’t quite land a show in time for the visit.

Mike met up with us after we finished the promotional aspect of the day.  We passed several doors, looking for the perfect place to dine.  Rider had been specifying all day that he needed a salad, a beer and cheesesteak.  We finally found all these things in our price range at a completely bad-ass place titled Tatooed Mom.  The inside was very vintage with awesome, beige, faux-leather bar stools with a giant back and couches strewn everywhere.  The prices were great and there were trinkets on every table including things like fake tattoos, flippy-frogs and foam gliders.  16oz cans of PBR were only $3 and we all got cheesesteaks – even Eric who dared try a veggie version.  From there, we made our way back toward Tritone where we’d play our first open mic of the night.  However, it was still early so Rider and I head across the street to Bob and Barbara’s.  I mean, how could we resist a place with a name like that.  We open the door to this place and find the walls completely covered with vintage Pabst advertisements and a huge, round and padded bar to the left.  Now, these PBR ads and signs were things that I’ve never seen before, including a whole bunch from the era where “At Popular Prices” was their slogan.  So the two of us mosey up to the bar and order the “everyday special,” which is a shot of whisky and a PBR for $5.  We met a couple of cool dudes at the bar and gave them singles while generally enjoying the slightly dirty atmosphere.

Back at Tritone, we were signed up in pairs.  Rider and I were to perform as Smith and Jones, while Kehoe and Joe were deemed Special Taste Expos.  After the house band laid down some extremely funky jams, Smith and Jones were up to play Nillson’s “Everybody’s Talkin’” and The Shins’ “Gone For Good,” featuring Rider on lead vocal.  Then we filled a little bit of time with a couple Bob Dylan songs before Kehoe and Joe came back with my electric guitar at which point they were on.  Kehoe thumped some drums while Joe sang a few songs by Spoon and Black Keys.  It was a nice change of pace from all the Valentiger material and by this time we had all bought a round of beers and we had gotten Mike started in the right direction for when he turned 21 at midnight.  However, what happened after us was one of the most intense things I have ever seen at an open mic.  A very tall man wearing a bandana, sunglasses and a trench coat cinched with a belt came up to sing with the funk band from before.  He spoke half jive, half French and then he jumped directly into riffing vocally over Sly’s “I Want To Thank You” for a good 10 minutes.  At some point in the middle I asked Joe, “Why would you even play a second song after this?  There is absolutely no way to top it.”  And boy was I wrong.  About three solos later, they ended the first jam and went almost immediately into some other popular funk song, which somehow turned into “Sex Machine” in the middle.  Things almost got boring until they went into the bridge at the singer’s request and this went on for almost 20 minutes before coming to a climatic ending.  We were singing along and may have even given him a standing ovation.  The bass players name was Cat-head.

It was time to move on to Lickety Split on the other end of Henry Street, where we’d play another opcn mic and celebrate at midnight.  Joe, Mike and Kehoe stopped at the van to share a Del Monte (vodka in a fruitcup) while Rider and I head over there to sign up.  Eventually the boys met up with us and Mike drank three out of five shots at midnight before finding his way to the bathroom.  Kehoe and I sang terrible versions of “Picture Book” and “In The City” as Smith and Jones before saving ourselves with a decent “Oh To Know” and “Leaving Town,” claiming we were covering our heroes in Michigan, Valentiger.  We did see a guy play a type of 1951 Gibson I had never seen in person before.  It was something like a J-180 and I definitely want to look it up when we get back to Grand Rapids.  By the time it was all said and done, Rider and I had challenged a very tall guy to a basketball game.  He had played Division II basketball somewhere and claimed he could murder us at 2-on-1.  We had five dollars on the line, but he somehow made his way up to play guitar and we needed to get Mike back to his dorm room and it fell through.

There really wasn’t enough room for all of us to even crash on the floor back at Temple, so we ended up in different places.  Rider and I parked the van and he decided to sleep in it.  Eric landed the roommate’s bed, who was gone, while Joe and I opted for the couches in the brightly-lit computer lab.  On the upside, there was a great view of Philly from the huge wall of windows and the two of us arranged the couches to face away from the hallway, as to avoid alarming anyone thinking there were hobos in the lab.  It had been a strange and busy day but I think Joe put it best saying, “We made the most of this city.”  And we had – especially for a Tuesday.