THE THEM Blog

3 days, 3 shows, 0 arrests (Part 3)

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 09:17:00 +0000

I awake on the floor in Spokane. A welcome change after sleeping in our mini-van of doom. The house is filled with bands: Us, Lack of Respect, and The Contra. We have a show tonight at the Zombie Room. First order of business, take a dump at Safeway.

When you're in a band on the road, taking a dump is a special thing. Rest Areas are the most convenient, but the most disgusting. If you actually get a home to crash at, you feel kinda guilty taking a dump at their place. A musician's dump is monumental. Add fast food, a ton of alcohol, and a fear of rest areas, and you find yourself with a fecal drop-off that can contaminate a substantial radius. You don't want to offend your host, so you seek other options. Starbucks is usually my favorite. Clean bathrooms and horrible corporate music. Perfect. But no Starbucks in sight, we choose Safeway.

This Safeway is great. They put extra loud music in the bathroom, so noone can hear your movements. Also, an extremely effective aerosol that kills all odor. Safeway may be my new place to go for BMs.

Enough for anal splattage, we chill at LOR's place for the rest of the day. A BBQ is in progress, and we're all ready for a great night. LOR has advertised our show and got the best sound guy in the area to run sound. They put money into advertising and let everyone know there's some good music about to occur. What could go wrong?

Four hours before the show, the Zombie Room sends us an email that the show is cancelled. The reason they cite is that they "forgot" to renew their alcohol license.

Lesson 1: Check if your venue has a valid alchohol license.

Ray and Jean act quick and visit every bar in town to get a show. While they are doing this, THE THEM proceed to open every alcoholic beverage possible and start guzzling. 800 miles of driving, getting $500 in tickets, and having two bad shows in a row will compell the most righteous to take a drink.

Which is ironic. The last time THE THEM played with The Contra was in Bellingham, our most innebriated show ever. That show set guidelines for THE THEM drinking before playing. We were actually determined not to drink before the show just to prove ourselves to The Contra. Apparently, 1000 miles on the road can change anyone's resolve.

Ray and Jean return with an alternate venue for the bands to play: The Swamp Tavern. This place is a great place to drink, but out of the way, ie. no one knows about it. Karen puts up a sign at the Zombie Room that the show has changed to a new location. Day, kinda, saved.

Meanwhile, drinking and merriment continues. When things are fucked, you tend to not care about the outcome. The Contra introduced us to a new beer drinking game, Beer Darts. You throw darts at beer. If your dart pierces the beer, the opposing team shotguns it through the hole.

Fuck it, we buy hard alcohol. What could go wrong?

In addition to the alcohol, The Swamp gives all the band free beer all night long. Free micro-brews! I drink my fill of Manny's. I think we were going on before LOR, but I was wrong. We're going on last. Oops. Alcohol kicks in.

Sonic Death Ray puts on a great show. The Contra puts on awesome show. Lack of Respect put on a flawless show to the largest crowd. And, then, we go on

First note, no one there except a few band members. Second song, my bass is out of tune because it hit the mic stand. Third song, the batteries on my wireless go dead mid-song. Fourth song, I forgot I was still out of tune after replacing the batteries. About two people in our audience now. We finally get it together to finish our drunken set to a wonderful audience of only the other band members.

Lesson 2 (RELEARNED): Don't play drunk.

Afterwards, a giant woman shows up at LOR's place. She is now labeled "The Gunt". This woman ate everything in sight. She was acompanied by an over-medicated woman who just took an ambien. "The Gunt" ate all the remainder of the BBQ as well as her bag of chips. She was a human toilet bowl of hunger. I'm surprised any band member has their fingers left.

Yup, we leave the next day and arrive home. To our surprise, the police run in behind us as we're unloading our equipment in Seattle. I'm like "O' fuck, not again" but they are not after us.

"Have you seen a guy running around with a gun?"

"Oh shit no!" I said, and start ducking behind the van. The police shrug their shoulders and head into our rehearsal studio.

C0me to find out, Terry is drunk and brandishing a BB gun. He's terrorizing another band that's standing outside. A perfect welcome home.

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3 days, 3 shows, 0 arrests (Part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 23:44:00 +0000

Day two of our "tour-ette", we have a nice nine to ten hour drive to Coeur D'Alene, Idaho. We decide to get breakfast at Jack-In-The-Box. Mind you, we wanted to get food fast and be back on the road. No customers and no one in the drive-thru, it takes them 20-some minutes to get us our food. Damn you, Jack.

(Get off your fucking phone and serve us!)

So now we're a little behind on getting to the show, so we decide to speed it up. We get pulled over by a state trooper and stopped for an hour. Now we're an hour late and $500 poorer. Piss.

We arrive at The Grail at 8pm and told that we're playing at 8:30. Fuck! No time to decompress after the ten hour journey or change into our stage clothes. We haul ass and start playing. Hard to get into the right state of mind especially when we're playing before most of the audience arrives. But we kick ass anyways.

Afterwards, the bartender had us laughing our ass off. He seemed to have a story for everyone who walked up...especially the ladies. We make a couple of friends and end up signing boobies. The Exit Zero guys were nice as hell, and it turns out we played with the other band, Boneyard Butchers, previously in Seattle.

End of show, we head to Spokane to crash at Lack of Respect's place and get ready for our next show. And, again, our bad luck kicks in. (To be continued.)

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3 days, 3 shows, 0 arrests (Part 1)

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 08:17:00 +0000

So, we have mini-tours, or "tour-ettes" if you will, and we went to the following places:

The Samurai Duck, Eugene, OR
The Grail, Coeur D'Alene, ID
and the last was in Spokane, but needs elaboration.

But first, the following picture sums up something beautiful that words cannot convey:

Look in that bottle. A fucking dead snake. This is Habu Sake provided by The Samurai Duck in Eugene, Oregon. You'd expect something extremely foul tasting, but it was the smoothest shot of sake EVER! And I hate sake, but loved this. It went down smooth, a second later a hint of the sake flavor, and another second later you felt the alcohol run through your entire body. Pure bliss.

In addition, the staff was extremely friendly. Jerry and I talked extensively about Babylon 5 (much to the boredom of my band mates), the bar tender hooked us up with some drinks, some person named Crystal apparently bought us another round, and then Masako (sp?) gave us some Habu Sake (sp?).

Though, not many people there, the ones who were really enjoyed it. They helped us out by buying some merch, and Neva(sp?) gave us a place to crash for the night. We were slightly scared by the neighborhood dog known for killing other dogs. I didn't see it, but Joseph described this scarred beast of a dog with a spiked leather harness...roaming free. I mean, roaming fucking free.

And another strange occurrance, Neva's roommate is a drunken clown. I was passed out at the time, but Joseph saw him. He had Xs tattooed on his eyes, so when he was asleep, he looked cartoon dead:

The next morning, Coeur D'Alene, Idaho. Nine hours of driving.

THE THEM vs Super Trooper: The 4th Amendment kicks ass!

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 04:54:00 +0000

What follows is yet another lesson for bands as well as a lesson in exercising your 4th Amendment rights: The right against illegal search and seizure. Also learned during this experience, in hindsight, is how to exercise your 5th Amendment rights against self-incrimination. Learn how quickly a speeding ticket can turn into a test of the Bill of Rights.

THE THEM were travelling from Eugene, Oregon to Coeur D'alene, Idaho. We realized that we were going to be late to the show because of the damn, slowest Jack In The Box in the known universe. So we decided to pick up the pace a little...

We were pulled over an hour outside of Portland by a State Trooper. We were doing 81 in a 65. Whoops. I'm in the passenger seat where the cop walks over. He's a little guy with that typical cop mustache and his State Trooper hat on. You can tell he's a corn-fed, good ol' boy who goes to church every Sunday.

"You were going 81 in a 65. You guys in a band or something?" He's eyeballing my mohawk.

"Yep, we're on our way to Idaho." I'm searching furiously for my current registration and insurance card which is buried in months of trash and expired cards and registrations. I'm having trouble finding the current ones, so I start getting nervous that I forgot them.

"Why so nervous there?" He's full focused on me, and it just makes me more nervous. I also realize one of the members of our band has weed on him. (Not much at all, actually, but I had no clue how much he had on him.) "Did you steal this car or something? Transporting drugs? Why so nervous?"

I finally find the registration and hand it to him. He goes back and checks it out. Comes back and questions me on my ID, and leaves again. Then, he comes back and asks me to step out of the car and come back with him.

In front of his car, he begins assailing me with drug questions. "I know you got something on you there. So what is it? C'mon, you can tell me." He smiles all friendly like.

"Nothing,", I say, getting more nervous, standing in my socks in the gravel.

"Do you have marijuana, amphetamines, crack, cocaine, meth, PCP..." I say "no" to all of them, but I'm getting more nervous. Just can't help it. "Do you agree that I can search your car then?"

"No, I do not agree," I said. He looks at me.

"Well, I'm going to go talk to your buddies and see what they have to tell me." He goes over and talks to them out of ear shot, and comes back a minute later.

"Your buddies over there say they're fine with me searching them. They seem like nice guys, but you seem all hopped up. I know whatever I find in that car is yours and not theirs. We can make this a lot easier and have you on your way if you just let me search the vehicle."

I again say "no, you can't search the vehicle."

"Well, I'm going to have to take the next route, then. I'm going to call in the K-9 unit to come sniff around your car."

"Do what you have to do, officer."

I go back to the car and tell everyone what's going on. I ask the stoner if he can eat his stash real quick. Unfortunately, he has it all packed into mini-cigars, spliffs if you will, and he has a glass pipe. No eating is going to occur. Also, I'm not sure if the officer can see what we're doing from his car. Time to wait for the dogs...

Half an hour later, the officer comes back. "You guys are really going to wait it out aren't ya? Today's your lucky day guys. There's no K9 unit in the vicinity. Because of your 4th Amendment rights, I can't search the vehicle." A smile slowly grows across my face, and he points at me. "I know you have something on you in this car. Your buddies seem all right, but I know it's you. It's a good thing you're having somebody else drive, but you need to talk to your band mates. What you're doing is going to bring the band down. You need to think about this."

"But I don't do drugs..." He waves me off, not wanting to hear it. Seriously. I don't do drugs. I don't even jay walk! Never even been pulled over before. I'm actually the only law abiding citizen out of the group of us!

He hands us a $242 speeding ticket and 2 $97 seatbelt violation tickets (2 guys were sleeping in the back seat). And we were on our way.

Good thing, too. In addition to the weed, there was an empty beer can under the driver's seat that I had no clue about. That probably would have been even more trouble than the weed. I fucking love the 4th Amendment. So here's the band lessons:

Lesson 1: Don't speed and wear your seatbelts always.
Don't give them a reason to pull you over. You only made $20 at the show the night before, and you can't afford the tickets.

Lesson 2: Do not consent to a search.
Never. Even if we didn't have the weed, we would have got something because of that empty beer can that has probably been there for months. It could have been the cocaine laced panties of some groupie. Someone you didn't know may have threw something in there you don't know about. The singer could have a secret addiction he/she was hiding from the band. Just say no. When the officer is asking to search, he/she is out for blood.

And here's my hindsight lessons

Lesson 4: Use your right to remain silent.
If I hadn't answered the questions, the officer would not have been able to gauge that there was something in the car. They use these questions to trip you up psychologically. You are not obligated to answer any of them. If they start asking you about drugs, just recite your right to remain silent.

Lesson 5: Don't consent to be recorded.
When the trooper introduced himself, he stated we were being recorded. This law I'm not 100% sure about, but if you consent to being recorded (even nodding your head), they can use that against you in court. True or not, at least you can cover that base just in case.

Lesson 6: Keep your registration and insurance easily accessible.
I probably wouldn't have been near as nervous if I had that paperwork handy.

Lesson 7: You're in a band. They know you have drugs.
Even if you don't have drugs, the officer will assume you do. In their mind, they are going to get a drug bust.

And that's that. Live and learn. Remember, pretend to have a throat infection when the officer pulls you over. You can't talk, then.

Bend, Oregon: Players Bar & Grill KICKS ASS!

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Mon, 01 Sep 2008 01:27:00 +0000

Saturday, we played Player's Bar & Grill in Bend, Oregon. We basically drove 8 hours there, played a show, and immediately drove back to get Jimmy to work before noon. 16 hours of driving within 22 hours. The experience we had in Bend was worth every minute of the drive!

For the uninitiated, Bend is in the mountains surrounded by desert looking conditions. I never really expected to see a desert in the mountains, but that's what I get for never leaving Seattle. I had zero expectations but I was told it has a growing population and thriving art scene. Unverified information, but you can Google that shit for yourself.

We had a sinking feeling when we drove up to Players because there was a sign out front that had a big, glowing "Lottery" sign, and one of the bands that were supposed to play (but cancelled) had their name spelled wrong. It was spelled "Hands on Thorat" instead of "Hands on Throat". We speculated for a few minutes what a "thorat" could be before we realized the misspelling. Visions of "Spinal Tap" danced through our heads.

Walking in, we were hit with a wall of cigarette smoke. I forgot that Oregon still allows smoking in the bars. I'm usually happy with this at first because I'm a smoker. Then, after an hour, my throat feels like a tobacco monkey just shit stale ashes straight into my mouth.

Besides the smoke, we saw some old couches by the stage, pull tabs, lottery signs, and some veteran drinkers making cozy with the bar. Places like this can only go two ways for a band: nightmarish or wonderful. In Vallejo, CA, it was nightmarish as the entire bar ended up in a bar fight. Keep our heads low and grab a beer.

Things started looking up when we were greeted by the opening band, Makeshift. They were extremely helpful and told us where we could park and what to expect from the bar. They explained how it was a "late" bar that gets spill-over from other bars. People will end up there later in the night, so it's better to buy for time as long as possible before playing.

Also, this is Labor Day weekend and not many people in town. I completely forgot about Labor Day before booking this 8 hour journey and immediately started kicking my own ass. Ah well, better than staying home and counting my dick.

We're introduced to Buck who booked us here. Buck immediately makes us feel at home and gets us free drinks and food. We cuddle up to the bar with Buck and start adding our own voice-overs to the television where some dog nanny show is playing. All we get from it as that this dog nanny is a bitch that invades people's houses, tells them how their little piece of shit dogs suck, and then the women who live there get jealous of the nanny because she's hotter than they are.

Fuck the dogs, Makeshift gets up and plays. Good rock music and sexy singer. Still no one in the bar. Hmmm. 8 hours for a dead show.

We go on at midnight, and suddenly there are people up front at the stage! Where did these people come from? It wasn't a ton of people, but for the small bar, we felt it was a great crowd. We start rocking out and jumping all over the place, and EVERYONE GETS INTO IT! Joseph leaps up on the table, I jump off the stage, Jimmy goes apeshit, and Ricky pounds like a mad man. Cameras start flashing, shots get delivered to us while we're playing, and a pit forms. Holy fuck! I even see the people playing pool in the back of the bar getting into it.

When we get off stage, we're assaulted for t-shirts, CDs, and autographs. Fuck, we felt like we were a famous band or something! Wow, Bend, Oregon knows how to make a band feel good!

We are definitely coming back here. Unlike some places, Players knows how to treat their entertainment. Now, I just need to learn how to sleep sitting straight up in the passenger seat without a pillow.

Good times.

Kirkland, WA: How to make enemies and win impotence

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Mon, 01 Sep 2008 00:20:00 +0000

On Friday, THE THEM played Waldo's in Kirkland, Washington. We got to play with our friends and great musicians: Boot Liquor and "God Made Me The Raven". In addition, good friends and wonderful fans showed up all the way from Mukilteo and Mt Vernon. Great show, with a minor hiccup, and a couple of lessons for aspiring bands.

Lesson 1:
If you use fake blood or any other liquid for your stage show, use your own equipment and cover up anything owned by the club. Joseph, our singer, used some fake blood for his performance and it got on two of the microphones, the stage, and some of the cables. Though not really damaging anything, you can get some pissed off staff. If you break anything, you'll have to pay for it. And you risk not playing that venue again.
Just wrap the monitors in some plastic, use your own mics, cords, etc, and clean up your mess afterwards. No mess, no damage, no complaints. Joseph did, however, clean the stage as we promised we would.

Lesson 2:
For any claimed damages, get an itemized receipt for said damages. The claim for our show was that we ruined two microphones. The sound guy said they cost $100 each, and asked if we had $200 (very angrily). I got $200 dollars, and he refused the money. I insisted he take at least $100 for any damages or trouble (real or percieved) which he takes. Later, he tells the staff the microphones were worth $150 each, and we only gave him $100 dollars and no one should give THE THEM any money from the door.
A few mistakes I made here. First, I didn't verify the microphones were actually broken. They probably just had some fake blood on them which could be wiped off. They stopped working on stage probably because of a cheap mic cable shorting out. (Happens alot).
Second, I didn't verify the make and model of the microphones. They were probably only worth $30 each, and the sound guy just made a $30 profit. I have no clue because I didn't verify and get an itemized receipt.
Basically, I'm out $100 for something could have been fixed with 5 minutes and a bottle of Windex. Lesson learned

From Pope:
"If they want you to pay for gear...ok. ....But you get to keep what you supposedly broke. Otherwise it's handing over money for something supposedly broken.If they want you to pay for gear...ok. ....But you get to keep what you supposedly broke. Otherwise it's handing over money for something supposedly broken."

Lesson 3:
If the sound guy's pissed, there's nothing you can do about it. Just work on getting your own sound guy for shows. Preferably one that knows how to mix guitars for punk shows. The sound guy for this show was mad before we even hit the stage. Not sure who shit in his latte or why he was taking it out on the bands.
But I can see why he was mad with fake blood on his equipment afterwards. Mia culpa. (See Lesson 1).

Lesson 4:
Fuck Waldo's. They should kiss our ass for bringing people there on a Labor Day weekend after a Seahawks game. Have fun with your Blues cover bands and hip-hop Wednesdays. Fuckers couldn't even update their own website to show that a band was playing. They printed 3 TINY versions of our flier that they said they would take out of our door charge. (Again not itemized.) No comped drinks for the bands. This is why the Eastside sucks ass. Have fun with your hip hop yuppy jocks.
I spent 3 hours on the Internet trying to get people within 5 miles to come out. I contacted all the bands to get them to play. I sent emails to Microsoft people to get them to come out and bring friends. I listed the event in the Stranger.
Without us, you would not have made any bar sales that night. Thanks for the appreciation. Don't contact us when we start selling out venues of your size, and your cheesy Led Zepplin cover band cancels.

Lesson 5:
Don't worry about it because a better show will happen the next day! Which it did, the next blog will be about our Bend, Oregon show. It kicked ass, the staff and sound guy were nice, helpful, and appreciative. Magically, the environment was relaxed, happy, and people were having fun. Go figure.

Rogue Hero

noreply@blogger.com (Jimmy) — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 22:20:00 +0000

It was one of my first punk rock shows out of town. I was 19 and a half at the time. We were playing alongside our partners in grime, the Rain City Schwillers. Our destination: Bellingham, Washington. A small college town, just south of the Canadian border. The bar in which we were set to rock, was called the Rogue Hero. Silly name for a bar if you ask me. The Reverend Pope, drummer for the Schwillers, had arranged for a friend of his to drive us the two hours from North Seattle to Bellingham on his bus, which he occasionally lived in with his wife at the time.
Morale was high when we left Seattle. Joseph and our former drummer Barry were having some sort of contest with each other: to see who could spew out the most grotesque, derogatory comments about women the fastest. It was a close match. Aside from Joseph, Seth, Barry and I, there were several others along for the ride. The Rain City Schwillers which included the Rev. Pope, guitarists HaHa and Johnny Heartbreaker, as well as bassist Andy aka “Mic Jameson.” The Schwillers brought along several of their friends to share in the festivities. Joining us from our crew was our faithful Jew roadie Devon. Devon brought along his good friend from Kentucky. He went by the name of cheap whiskey (I can’t even remember what kind, just that it tasted awful, even for whiskey!).
One thing I should probably mention, is that in Washington state at least, it is perfectly legal to drink alcohol in a privately owned bus, as long as you don’t get too close to the front seat with your booze.(The booze bus!) So you had 2 of Seattle’s most alcoholic bands along with their comrades in an enclosed space, with 3 fifths of liquor and a seemingly endless supply of beer. And we were on our way to a bar!!! Needless to say, it was a very interesting night.
Now to be fair, not everyone of the bus got completely shit-faced drunk. Just two key people who happened to be in The Them. Jimmy Hall and Joseph Christ. Everyone else apparently had the foresight to pace themselves with the alcohol, but not me. Not Joseph. I started taking shots of whiskey and chasing them with Pabst Blue Ribbon almost immediately after we left Seattle. I wasn’t really watching Joseph so much, but his jokes kept getting dirtier and dirtier, and his voice kept getting louder and louder. Starting to slur too. The Schwillers, who looked as if they were enjoying everything at the beginning of the trip began to look a little apprehensive. The looks on their faces said: “Ok, seriously? Are you guys done yet?” But of course we weren’t done.
By the time we reach the club, I’m ripped, not blacked out drunk or anything like that, but by no means in any position to do anything that requires hand eye coordination. Like playing guitar. Or walking in a straight line. As the time to kick off our set drew closer, I began to get nervous, and how do I deal with nervousness and stress? Drink some water and noodle around on my guitar? Nah, not really my style that night. Instead, I continued to drink and smoke pot. By the time I actually started warming up, my hands felt as if they were made of rubber, clumsily moving up and down the fret board of my guitar.
While I’m hanging out in the bus by myself (because I’m underage at the time) Joseph comes in and joins me for yet another drink. His eyes are already as red as a fire truck, but what the hell, it’s a plush road gig right? And we’re rock stars, right? We assure each other that we’re both cool to play, and that its going to be a great show, when Joseph breaks a glass he happens to be drinking vodka from. Joseph thinks nothing of it, and continues to be belligerent. It’s only after I explain to him that we’re guests in some guys bus, and that the guy is nice enough to drive us, so maybe we shouldn’t leave a heap of broken glass strewn about his bus. Then he gets it and starts to help pick up the glass. He promptly informs our bus driver/host for the evening, that his wife happens to be the kind of woman that Joseph is attracted to. Oh Joseph, have you no shame?
The stage at Rogue hero was tiny, leaving only enough room for the drums and our amplifiers. Joseph begins by setting at least 15 open water bottles on the floor, next to the stage right beside him. I figured he must be dehydrated somewhat from all the booze, but come on. By this time, a sizeable crowd has assembled at the bar. It’s a Friday night, and the place is packed with potential fans.
Now begins one of the most shambolic performances in my, as well as the whole bands short career. Aside from being sloppy drunk….Well, there is no aside from being sloppy, shit faced drunk…Bad things usually happen when you reach the drunken stupor that half of our band succumbed to. At this point my memory gets a little hazy, but I’ll point out the highlights, or “lowlights” if you will.
Because I am so full of liquid courage, I think I’m going to compensate by giving a blistering performance; one with intense energy to make up for my lack of musical precision. That might have happened, had I not pulled my cord out from my amp. Now I know what you’re saying. You’re saying, so what, a guitarist pulls out his cord from his amp, what’s the big deal? Worse things have happened.” You’re probably right, but I pulled my cord out from my amplifier at least 7-15 times that night. One moment I would have full tone, then all of the sudden, absolutely nothing. And it would take at least 30 seconds to plug my cord back in and find the groove of the song again. When you consider half of our songs are only a minute and a half long, you begin to realize the severity of the situation. So imagine me, drunken and sweaty, with my metal face on in all my youthful glory. I take a few steps and BAM…No sound. ALL fucking night. And our set was just beginning…
So while I am repeatedly struggling to keep my cord in my amp, Joseph knocks over every single open bottle of water he so carefully placed in front of the stage. So not only are we drunk, the fucking floors are slippery! The set is not going so well at this point and people are beginning to walk outside to smoke, anything to escape the drunken excuse for a rock and roll band that is onstage. Joseph decides he’s going to fire up the crowd
(or make himself feel taller) by standing on a pool table and smashing a beer bottle on the ground. The Rogue hero staff does not like this one bit. They place one of the bouncers in front of the pool table for the duration of our set, just so Joseph will be discouraged to jump up on it again.
When that fails to rev up the crowd, Joseph then decides to pick up a small nearby trash can, and dump the contents on our formidable bassist, Sethalicious. To no avail. The crowd is not moved by the sight of Joseph dumping half eaten chicken wings and barbeque sauce on Seth.
Always the pessimistic realist, sensible Seth was begging Joseph to cut the set short that night, the damage had been done. He should have known better than to argue with a stubborn drunk. We continued playing our songs through the very end of our scheduled set, which was probably forty five minutes at the time. I don’t even want to imagine what that must have sounded like. I cringe when I start to think back to that night. They must not have even been decipherable as actual songs! Maybe it’s a good thing I can’t remember most of it…
To top it all off, during one of our slower numbers, “Demon Dance,” Joseph decided to strangle Seth with his microphone cord during one of the songs more complicated bass lines. Strangled him. With the FUCKING MIC CORD! The only thing I could ask myself later was, “how did he think that would make it a better show? How could that improve the quality of anything?” With that, Joseph slipped and fell flat on his back from the water that he himself spilled onto the floor, and our set was finally over.
Somebody who was filming both bands sets that night came over to us after we were done and explained that she stopped filming after our third song or so. We were that incoherent. In the parking lot, after we unloaded our stuff, Joseph was near hysterics.
“We sucked!” he yelled. Kicking the plastic Virgin Mary statue that we used to include as part of our stage props as he shouted. His speech dissolved into nothing but slurs and angry muttering, as he stormed off to be by himself. Seth just shook his head and smiled the way a loving wife does when her husband is being irrational, and she knows that any effort to calm him down would be futile.
Joseph is off trying to convince the promoter to let back into the Rogue hero, from which he was just barred. Barry our drummer took in a huff back to Seattle, opting not to stay the night in Bellingham with his then band mates and friends. They eventually let Joseph back into the bar, provided he sweep and mop up the mess he made.
Then came the only high point of the evening. Musically that is. The Rain City Schwillers probably played a typical frenzied set that won back what was remaining of the crowd. I say probably because none of us were present for the Schwillers performance. Seth and I were too busy dealing with drunken Joseph, who was busy kicking plastic statues of the Virgin Mary and trying to get un-banned from the club. So if any of the former Schwillers are reading this, thank guys!
The rest of the evening was fairly uneventful. After we packed all our gear back on the bus, The Them and The Rain City Schwillers headed back to our bus divers place for couches and floor spaces to crash on. I fell asleep on the bus and woke up next to the Jew. I heard Joseph drank a shitload of absinth and spent the rest of the night talking to a dog.
\ The next morning we all had breakfast at one of the greasy local diners. Everyone was red eyed and hung over. Me especially. I stuck to only water at the table and didn’t order anything when it was my turn, because my stomach felt queasy. Seth took the liberty of ordering a side of butter drenched hash browns on my behalf. Going against my better judgment, I ate some of the hash browns, then puked it up about 10 minutes later in bathroom of the diner. How many punk rock points do I get for that?
The mood on the ride back was a 180 degree turn from the ride up. No howling, drunken laughter, and smiling faces, but almost dead silence and hangovers for the lot of us. Gradually, the mood lifted, with Pope sharing an amusing anecdote about the time he went down on a chick and she miscarried on him. By the time we made it back to Seattle, most of us felt like somewhat normal humans again. Or as close to normal as people like us can feel.
We can look back on that show now and laugh, but it took awhile to get to that point. Every once and awhile, we’ll still run into someone who was at that show, or heard about that show. They are usually amazed that we’re still a band that makes music. They’re usually amazed we’re still alive. Sometimes I’m amazed.

The Terry story...

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 21:24:00 +0000

It was a hot, sunny day one summer ago, when Seattle’s finest punk/metal band The Them were taking a break between sets at their Queen Anne rehearsal studio. It was about 4 pm and after practicing their intense live set, it was time for a smoke.

Joseph, Seth, Jimmy, and their former drummer Barry were meandering around, shooting the usual shit, when somebody spied an approaching figure. Oh, it’s only Terry; the ex-con, uber hippie maintenance guy that lives at the rehearsal studio. He’s walking in the direction opposite of one of the many Shell stations located in lower Queen Anne. Terry is carrying a large plastic sack. Beer most likely.It turns out to be Milwaukee’s Beast, known for being one of the cheapest beers around. Even more inexpensive than Pabst Blue Ribbon.

He stumbles as he approaches the group. Terry gazes upon the group with red, stupid eyes. It’s 4 in the afternoon. Jimmy: “He just sort of came over, joined our circle, and started a conversation with us. He had a real problem staying on topic. Seemed a little less lucid than usual. Terry claimed that he just came from a moving Vietnam War memorial or something, and somehow that got him on the subject of tattoos. His eyes were SO red. If they were any more red, he would be crying blood.

Then, he glanced around at some of the bands various tattoos.”He said: “You guys, you guys are really crazy. You know what, I’m fuckin’ crazy.” (We don’t doubt you Terry) (He peers around and acknowledges the bands various tattoos.) “You know if I was gonna get a tattoo…”At this point, everything happened so fast, its impossible to recall every minute detail. Terry puts down his sack of cheap beer, and puts his hands to his pants, and proceeds to very slowly pull them down. We all thought he must be going somewhere with this, and oh boy did he ever. Once his pants reached his ankles, Terry proceeded to ever so slowly pull down his tight white underwear. Once his sizeable beer gut is lifted, it gives way to a dirty, repugnant, circumcised member. A foul odor that is slightly reminiscent of cheese and onions, wafts up from his not so personal area. “If I was gonna get a tattoo, I’d get it RIGHT…THERE!!!” (He points as he says)

Hilarity ensues at this point, Seth is busting a gut laughing while trying to make distance between himself and the offending cock. Joseph is planted where he has been the whole time, and pointing no less. Jimmy on the other hand is apparently trying to melt into the wall to escape this madness, his face contorting in a combination of disgust and delight. Terry pulls up his pants at somewhere along the way and appears quite pleased with himself.

That is when the band decided enough was enough, and it was time to ditch this sausage fest (quite literally I’m afraid) and return to practice. Once inside the studio someone asked: “What the fuck just happened? Do you think he planned that?” Then we were comforted by the fact that this guy who just exposed his dirty, old hippie cock to us, has a key to every studio in the warehouse, including ours. That’s piece of mind for $400 a month.

New shirt available!

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 07:21:00 +0000

We've updated our merchandise section so you can order safely with PayPal. Visit our Merch section and check it out!

A whole bunch of nothing in Washington...

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 02:44:00 +0000

Wow. I've been trying to find venues across the state of Washington. Seems to be quite a few up I-5, but almost nothing along I-90. A whole bunch of NOTHING! North Bend, Ellensburg, Moses Lake: don't even have a small, piece of shit bar where local bands can play.

This amazes me. How can people live without live music? I have an easier time believing in Scientology than the concept a city doesn't have a live music venue within 50 MILES!!!

Then again, I remember there is not much except corn fields across the middle of Washington.

The reason behind this revelation, I'm trying to find venues close enough to do "mini-tours" across Washington state. It takes 20+ hours to get to Sacramento, CA. It takes 30 minutes to get to Mukilteo, then another 30 minutes to Burlington, then maybe an hour to Bellingham. It may not be as spectacular as having "San Francisco" on your tour schedule, but it's way easier to follow up a couple months later with another show. Plus, gas money is saved. And, I'm finding places many bands are ignoring (ie. people desperate for entertainment).

What's the point in playing a show in San Francisco when you're from Washington, if you can't follow it up whenever you need to. Other than fun, of course! But you can't build a following that way. Not many musicians can take off work for 3 or 4 days to travel 23 hours for a piece of crap show that only has 3 people that will listen to you. And what's the point when people in your home state still don't know who you are?

Meh, enough rambling. If you fucks have some place you'd like THE THEM to play, comment here. I'll be sure to get our asses out there. Look out for the Minivan of DOOM!

Good times ahead

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 22:16:00 +0000

So we just ordered some new shirts. We'll make them available both online and at our August 4th show in Seattle. We're going through a new local screen printer, Independence Printage. Check them out for your screen printing needs!

We've been rehearsing our asses off for the show, and basically hurting ourselves during practice. I got a nasty blood blister on my finger and nearly sprained my ankle jumping off of my bass cabinet. All for you, adoring fans.

If you are so inclined, here's a set of mini-fliers you can print and hand out to people you think might like our show. We'd love you for life if you handed some out!

http://img401.imageshack.us/img401/5872/august4thshowtb8.jpg

That's it for now. Take it cheesy.

- Sethalicious

Download "They Rise"....FREE!

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 05:49:00 +0000

Check the music section to download our EP "They Rise". It's a zip file containing 5 mp3 files at 320kbps.

If you enjoy it, share it! We don't care if you upload it to Bittorrent or LimeWire.

Freshly updated website!

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 01:51:00 +0000

Now that we're done celebrating everything American, I finally decided to tackle this here dusty website. It didn't have our music, it didn't have a way to update, shows were'nt easy to see...

Anyways, I now added a blog and some nifty widgets from www.reverbnation.com. I'm going to be touching up the site a bit more to make it easier to contact us.

Enjoy, bitches.

Sethalicious

Sunday, Oct 6th, at The Central Saloon

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Sat, 06 Oct 2007 00:51:00 +0000

2007_Oct07_Central, originally uploaded by THE THEM.

Start your Monday off with a hangover!

9.14 @ Ironhead Saloon.

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Sat, 08 Sep 2007 10:37:00 +0000

goatthrone, originally uploaded by THE THEM.

GOAT THRONE! (Featuring members of Zeke, Plasters, and CamaroSmith)

THE THEM

Sat, Sept 14th, 2007
$5 at the Ironhead Saloon, Bremerton, WA

Upcoming shows!!!

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Wed, 15 Aug 2007 15:30:00 +0000

August
8.18.07	Jimmy Z's	Everette, WA
8.24.07	Café Un-American	Seattle, WA
8.25.07	Ironhead Saloon	Bremerton, WA
8.30.07	Funhouse	Seattle, WA

Aug 18th 2007, Jimmy Z's

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Tue, 14 Aug 2007 13:10:00 +0000

Aug 11th 2007, Jimmy Z's, originally uploaded by THE THEM.

THE THEM at Jimmy Z's in Everette, WA

Galway Arms and nasty, sweaty punks!

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Sun, 05 Aug 2007 02:14:00 +0000

All photos here:
Flickr
Myspace

Our first time out to The Galway Arms, and we established ourselves in very typical THE THEM fashion.

We got fucked up.

And then we watched KGB Suspect kick some ass!

And then the Dingbatz...

And of course, our freakin' awesome friends....

After we caused devestation, raped unsuspecting patrons, and fell all over the damn bar, we slid our way into a nice afterhours party hosted by Miss MexiLove Marcella!

And that's it fuckers! See you at Jimmy Z's on August 18th!!!

070803_THE_THEM_GalwayArms

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Tue, 31 Jul 2007 21:55:00 +0000

070803_THE_THEM_GalwayArms
Originally uploaded by THE THEM

THE THEM
Dingbatz
KGB Suspect

Fri, Aug 3, 2007
Galway Arms
Seattle, WA
$5, 9pm, 21+

070726_The_Them_HellsKitchen_12

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 22:46:00 +0000

070726_The_Them_HellsKitchen_12
Originally uploaded by THE THEM

Hell's Kitchen fun.

Bremerton nights

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Sun, 29 Jul 2007 20:15:00 +0000

Last night at Winterland in Bremerton was a blast! Great venue...great friends....and lots of booze! It had to be one of the more comical shows we've played. Seth tripped over Jimmy; Joseph tripped over cords; Guitars broke; People were knocked over. Definitely not rock-god arena moments, but moments that make me grin like a pedophile at Disneyland.

Many thanks to Tony, Robs, Novafreak, and Shamrock. You guys, alone, make the drive worth it!

And props to the bands we played with: Jack Trippers, The Extinct, and Y.I.A. They ripped it up!

Fun in Tacoma

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Sat, 28 Jul 2007 00:02:00 +0000

So we played Hell's Kitchen in Tacoma, WA for the first time, last night. We had a blast! We were even more amazed to find out a few people came from Gig Harbor just to see us! So a special thanks goes out to Daniel, Stephanie, and Leprachaun for going out of their way to see four, drunk idiots on a Thursday night!
(Even though Leprachaun will never see this. His response to "Do you have a myspace?" was "Fuck no!" His response to "Do you have an email address?" was "Fuck no!" This guy is fully into Web 0.0. We love him in the full Mennonite sense.)
And another shout to Rob from Bremerton! I think she got some pictures!
And a "Yarrr!" to Against and Triple Forte for sharing in the experience of the fully packed Hell's Kitchen. Yeah....they were turning people away at the doors...

Oak Harbor...You rock!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Sethalicious) — Wed, 13 Jun 2007 18:03:00 +0000

We woke up, groggy and hung over, from our pile of beer cans and body parts. "Oh shit, we have to go to Oak Harbor." With some ibuprofen, vitawater, and sunglasses, we set off for the two hour journey.

Our expectations? Shit was our expectation. We were hoping for the bridge to Deception Pass to give out so we could either watch massive amounts of death and mayhem or, at least, turn back around and grab a margarita. Anything but playing at some bar in the middle of nowhere. Our experience with this is two people show up to the show, we don't get paid, and some old guy wants to tell us about his experience with Credence Clearwater Revival.

But, we were wrong.

Oak Harbor Tavern kicked ass! The place was packed with people that really loved listening to the bands. Everyone was friendly as hell (a few of you were a little too friendly... you know who you are...). The staff at the bar were extraordinarily nice and generous with their PBR tallboys.

Beer is always an expedient way to a musician's heart.

And the other bands kicked ass, as well. I don't know how we fit that many bands into one night. Many thanks to the following:

Potbelly. (These guys really brought the crowd and went the extra mile to set up the show.)
Absence of Faith
Cocky
Stagger Lee

Now here's the best part. Pictures of you crazy fucks! I'm going to compile all the pictures and post them here in this blog. Feel free to comment with pictures you have.

Cheers and Destruction!
Sethalicious

Drunk, stupid punk rock takes lots of work

noreply@blogger.com (THE THEM) — Thu, 07 Jun 2007 20:40:00 +0000

Sethalicious here. What the hell is THE THEM doing? We've finished our freakin' recording and are now in the process of mixing our CD. We've got a few un-mastered songs we've been handing out at shows. To get one of these, you need to show up to a show!

What songs?

"We Killed Bettie Page" Finally got a version that doesn't suck!
"Bury the Hatchet" A kick ass tune that Joseph insists is metaphorical.
"Drag You Down" A better version than we have up on Myspace.

That's it for the demo for now. We should be finished with this in the next couple of months. It takes a while when you're doing it yourself!

Thanks for hanging in there with us. When we're done, we're going to have some cool, FREE stuff to give away on our main web site, http://the-them.com. Stay tuned!