THEE ROAD DAWGZ are:
BRUCEY
Brittanny—everyone’s favorite sad gyrl powerviolence singer and world-famous New Orleans archivist. Guitar/singer of this band as well as the main songwriter of Night Medicine.
Annie—think Flea meets Les Claypool but not anything like that, but namaste as fuck. Teaches biology at Delgado and Siberia community colleges. Also in Nite Medz etc.
Nick—plays axe and sings in BRUCEY. Married to his bassist mentioned above. Also a boss status recording engineer-sound man. Think a more Zen, less annoying version of Rick Rubin without the Santa beard. But matches Albini “don’t give a fuck” cred.
Rob—plays drums in half of the bands in town and professional oyster mothashucker! Has a tinge of cult leader entergy.
OH DANG
Harper—a gentle soul who is tight with George Lucas. Writer/singer of half the Oh Dang repertoire. Quarter rat and professional bar tinder and karaoke slayer.
Dylan—bassist and man about town. Frequenter of many local bars and dog parks. Doesn’t take off his cowboy boots for anything.
Eric (Me)—comic relief and meme lord of the tour, learning how to play drums.
Evil Eric—a reincarnation of the man formally known as Prince. Is able to play guitar solos with his teeth, behind the back, while kickflipping a skateboard or even on top of bar counters. Has never admitted to eating anything spicy in his life.
Tyler—the big dawg. And the other writing half of the band. Slings meals at Turkey until the Wolf crawls home. His mom knows many ‘90s rock stars and Sheryl Crow was his babysitter.
And last but not least—Beef. Our tour manager and security detail. Also Dylan’s four-legged soulmate who is pictured on the cover of our new record.
Beef
Day One—Nawlinz
Pulled up to our tour kick-off gig with my fresh empty U-Haul trailer at the Carrollton Station in the Riverbend. A bar I once got my heart broken at after witnessing my boss playing tongue twister with my crush from the guitar shop, resulting in me promptly Charlie-Browning out only to witness a man smashing the window of my truck in an attempt to crush my spirits even more. Well guess what, jerks? Thirty years later, it’s bout time to replace that memory with a more positive one! Tonight we are playing a show with two of the greatest bands in New Orleans! BRUCEY and Community!!! Upon entering the bar I see Kevin Comarda (of the famous Westbank punk band The Vendors! Also the bassist of Community) beat me there. I acknowledge his presence (trying to hide my starstruck fanboyness) and go to the stage and meet our soundman for the evening, Ellis, who later would get some shade on the mic by one of our band members. But don’t worry, we properly scolded him and he quickly apologized to Ellis.
After doing a check-in, I made my way back to the entrance and ran into the Riverbend-famous comedian Cassidy, tonight’s door man. While catching up with him, he informed me of some heavy shit going down with his dad. After recently going through similar stuff I felt his heartache but was impressed that here he was powering through, still cracking jokes with a smile while dealing with intense feelings. In hindsight, this was an omen of things to come. Anyway, if you see him around town, make sure to give him a hug, OK?
Munchie time. In the food department, Bertie’s Intergalactic Diner is the Carrollton Station’s popup. Thanks to the defunct Trap Kitchen for bringing Bertie’s to my attention. If you ever see their tuna melt on the menu do NOT sleep on it!
So after downing a musubi from the venue’s kitchen… oh, what’s musubi, you say? A tasty Hawaiian treat you can find throughout the islands’ corner stores. Similar to our gas station fried chicken, sitting under hot lamps for hours until a hungie passerby catches a glimpse of it while coming in to just buy a Coke or vape pen… but then succumbs to the belly eyes and snatches one or two… or three… But more specifically musubi is a slice of Spam cut about 3/8” thick and pan fried in a sauce containing:
- 1/3 cup dark brown sugar
- 3 tablespoons soy sauce
- 2 tablespoons mirin
- 1 teaspoon sesame oil
Simmer those ingredients down to make a dark brown sauce and set aside. Open up a can of Spam but don’t toss the container! After shooing your kitty away cuz he thinks you just cracked a can of cat food, cut the mystery meat into seven-ish equal slices in the the shape of the container you just took it out of. In a separate pan, fry the Spam in a little oil. Blacken it lightly and add the sauce. Grab a Rouses plastic bag and place it in the Spam can. In the baggy that’s now in the can, put a layer of precooked rice. Get the now-sticky Spam and smush it down on the rice. I like to also toss in a sprinkle of black sesame seeds and furikake. Maybe some chili oil or rooster sauce too. Then pull the bag out and it should hopefully stay in the shape of the Spam can. If not, try pushing the Spam a little harder into the rice or messing with the portions. Repeat for as many pieces of Spam that you cut. If all is well, wrap dat shit up in seaweed like a sushi roll and wallah! Musubi! Or, if you lazy… just go to the Carrollton Station and order one. Anyway, I’ll stop Ian McNultying and get back to the show.
Tonight I got to unveil the surprise tour T-shirts I screened at the Community Print Shop. On the backs was a design that our pal Maggie drew up with our tour dates and locations in a space cowboy theme. So bonito! I noticed while pulling the first shirt that the Mississippi date was abbreviated as “Jackson, MI” and thought about fixing it, but then realized how the AG editors are gonna leave tonz of my f*8$ upz in this tour journal, then thought… let it ryde. The front of the shirt had a drawing that Dr. Molly Berzker drew up of a gator riding a ‘70s grocery store coin-operated horse named Greenlight, referencing the autobiography of Matthew McConaughey, which we listened to on last year’s tour. I had a goal of finding Matt in Austin to kiss him on the lips and give him a shirt. That unfortunately didn’t happen. Don’t forget to bongo naked.
Oh Dang opened up the show, BRUCEY followed, and Community closed out the send-off. I assume the regulars of ANTIGRAVITY are most likely familiar with these folks, but here’s a rundown if not. Fellow Westbank comrades that started off playing poppy punk Mr. Bungle/KISS-like ska toonz in the ‘90s, and eventually through a series of incestual line-ups splintered into many bands of various punk and indie sounds. Whatever the latest Tower Records purchase was at the time would influence the new direction each project would mimic. And eventually this has matured to Community. I’ve looked up to these guys for a while now. We were all extremely thrilled to play the inaugural show with them. Community’s set was mostly all new tracks they recently tracked with Nick Pope (BRUCEY). He recently got a new location for the studio, just off Downman Rd. near the lake, conveniently named Downman Sounds. If you’re looking to record, I highly recommend calling him before he turns into Butch Vig and becomes too famous for our little punk bands. Anyway, the entire night was a killer kick-off for the short tour we were about to embark on. Ended with us playing Tetris with our gear in the mini U-Haul and we all got one last siesta in our beds before take off.
Day Two—Houston, We Have a Problem
I jumped outta bed around 7 a.m. and drove to my local coffee shop (WELCOME TO PONTILLY COFFEE! IYKYK). Gassed up the van and waited in the Harbor Freight parking lot for them to open so I could purchase some lights and a lock for the trailer. Rushed home to pack and by 10 a.m. Oh Dang was on the road to Texass! Brooz Cruz had a slightly later start, but since we had their location marked on the cell phones we felt comfortable knowing they weren’t ditching us on tour. Made the usual stops on that I-10 drive: Billy’s (exit 97 in Scott) for boudin and cracklin, Buc-ee’s for beaver nuggets and jerky. And after a long drive we arrived at the venue for the night. Bohemeo’s! A charming cafe with a paved-over patio area. It had a sorta tiny amphitheater feel. Opened up the U-Haul and was pleased to see that the gear was all intact and not upheaved by the trailer gremlins during travel. After staging our gear, I went back to the van to find Harper in tears talking to Tyler. Turns out she got some bad messages as we were pulling into the venue. She got word that her uncle in Cali was dying. It’s never convenient getting death news. The Grim Reaper often has poor timing. Whether you’re at work painting a house, at a sushi restaurant celebrating a birthday party, on the toilet… Or touring with your band. It just comes. RIP Harper’s Uncle.
After chatting with Harper for a bit we had some time to kill. Got some snacks and drinks and waited around for the show to start. The sound dude for the evening was Wolf. He was very cool. Thanks to Chris for booking the show! Maybe you saw his band Jumprope at No Dice last month sharing a bill with BRUCEY?
Dorlana kicked off the night. Very adorable tweeny pop band. Had a song touching on issues with friends/fam that have slightly differing political views. Super cute set. Their sweet groupies stood up front in their homemade band T-shirts and danced in a line. Then BRUCEY rocked the sunset in this canopied outdoor stage, which was just the slab floor. Hashtag fuck stages. Oh Dang banged. It was quite a shocking sight seeing a lengthy line of show-watchers file in to purchase merch after our sets. I feel I haven’t seen that in a very long time and it made me feel very humbled. A Million Ways… capped the night with their Radiohead-meets-Death Cab sounds. Played very emotional voicemails over the PA between each song. Tyler is booking them at Okay Bar for a show for their June tour, so look out, emo nerds!
Rob, a seasoned road dog, had the skinny on a late-night taco truck after the show. There, in butchered Spanish, we slurred our food order to the angel in the brightly-lit food truck. Annie threw a curveball and ordered a hot dog torta because she likes to ride close to the sun. Just feet away on the stoops of a closed florist we hangraly inhaled the grub into our tacoholes. They were an easy 10 outta 10 on the food scale. Give the Queens over at Taqueria El Rey Del Tacorriendo (3100 Telephone Road) a Michelin fuckin star and 10 James Beardz. Each order came with a pile of grilled onions, jalapeno, and a little plastic baggie of HOT sauce tied off like a 8-ball boogersugar. Harper was so excited that she squeezed the bag so hard it burst and sprayed all over my shirt, covering my back with the neon green salsa. The night ended with us checking into the Scottish Inn Motel where we wrapped up Beef in a blanket like a lil burrito of cuteness and sneaked her into the room while getting very suspicious eyes from the not-so-jazzed motel owner. We successfully smuggled in the Beef. The final song Oh Dang performed that evening was “A Symphony of Snores, Part 1” for our dearest Harper.
Artwork by Maggie Bard
Day Tres—Austin… is Weird.
I woke up first cause I’ve entered the geriatric phase of my life, realizing I don’t have much time left on Earth, so I panic awake daily to get as much YOLO out of my system before the inescapable dirt nap that is encroaching closer by the second. So after walking to a Starbucks and destroying their bathroom with the previous day’s sins of cracklins and muy spicy tacos, I sat in the van and attempted to journal a little until the crew rose from their rock’n’roll comas. After scarfing down some breakfast tacos at Pacific Coast Tacos (6329 Washington Ave. I recommend the ceviche!) it was back to I-10. A friend of Annie’s drove over from across town to brunch with us, so we left the BRUCEYmobile at the taco place to let them catch up.
Tyler took over driving on this trek, which gave me the freedom of generating a load of tour-themed memes that would start a trend of back-and-forth texts in the band group chat, which lasted the entirety of the trip. The Oh Dang van stopped at a box store for beach towels and bathing suits cause we were headed toward San Marcos in search of swinging holes!!!
However, in the short three-hour drive the weather turned from Texas butt hot to a desert brisk with rain. So with the sudden drop in temp we decided to sans the beach bumming and just book it to Austin for our hotel. On the way there, Dylan informed us of a cemetery on the way containing the remains of Blaze Foley. So we detoured there to pay our respects to the bad-ass folk hero. Didn’t take long to spot his plot in the lawn of grave stones. Could it be the one that is covered in Lone Star cans and cigarette packs? We tipped our hats to the fallen cowboy, donated some guitar picks from our pockets, and continued on, eventually meeting BRUCEY who were patiently waiting in the hotel lobby.
After a brief chillax, we headed out to make our way to the Slack House for tonight’s gig. But first, a few stops. One being the local Guitar Center, where music goes to die. Then across the street, we hit up a thrift store to acquire some desperately needed warm clothes to acclimate to our new unanticipated climate. I of course got a sick flannel to go along with the one or two I have in my closet at home. Even though I brought along some swimming shorts, I couldn’t pass up the pair I found that was completely covered in cat faces.
Oh Dang at Slack House
Photo by Tom Egan
Then it was dinner time. Tacos again! We went to a spot near the house show in north Austin, Carnitas El Guero (8624 North Lamar Blvd.). I recommend the pozole!!!! One last liquor store run and then off to the party. There awaited some of my very much-loved ATX family. New Orleans expat Dr. Marie Butcher and other fellow Krewe d’Queseaux royalties came out to tell my bandmates embarrassing stories of my past. In case you don’t know, Kd’Q is an Austin-born cheese-themed Mardi Gras krewe that marches in the East Side during Carnival season, usually on Barkus Sunday. But they are trying to gapekeep that shit so the first rule of Queseaux is there is no Queseaux… But call me next year and maybe I’ll squeeze you in my van to Austin. My fellow bandmate Tyler (of Sharks’ Teeth not Oh Dang) also made it out to the haus show. It was mucho joyest hangin with all the homies.
Port of Monks kicked it off. Very Los Angeles ‘80s punk vibes. Got the crowd rawled up. Then we played and sweated out all of our Mexican food. BRUCEY played to a sadly empty room but don’t fear—it was well documented by the 1,000 photos and videos. Speaking of, Tyler recently bought an early 2000s-era camcorder and taped all the BRUCEY sets on tour. He is editing it for an upcoming music video! Keep an eye out for BRUCEY’s “Lucky Escape” premiere on MTV’s Buzz Bin. Albuterol Baby closed the night with some good ol’ fashion grunge!
By the time we finished loading up the gear, we were all in post-show lil drunky lil sleepy mode but got held up leaving the punk house looking for a lost cell phone. Definitely dragged down on the sober peeps with some intoxicated shenanigans. (So so sorry!) After multiple thorough and fruitless search attempts in the rain, we decided to try again in the daylight under better weather and mental conditions. Marriott hotel-bound, we went to dry off and dry out.
BRUCEY at Slack House
Photo by Dylan Grove
Day Four Loko—Arlington Tayjahz
Again, my Grandpa ass was first up and off to the continental breakfast bar! Where shortly Brittanny and a few Dangs came down all sleepy-eyed. We formed a plan to go and do a search for Harper’s lost phone before it got too late in the morning. We drove to the previous night’s crime scene, and as we were looking in the grass out front a dude from inside walked out holding the cellular device (containing mostly naked selfies) and handed it to us. Success! Thank you Slack House! So now back to the hotel to gather the rest of the sleepyheads.
But I had something I needed to do first… a side mission I was sent on by my fam over at J&J’s Sports Lounge. And that was: Operation Bring Back Over 400 Freshly Made H-E-B Tortillas And Many Dozens of Assorted Tamales! While in the checkout line the bagging man informed us that he was the tortilla maker and seemed very pleased that we were buying an entire grocery store cart of his artwork. After filling two ice chests I brought from home in prep for this mission, it was back to the Marriott to gather the posse and hit the road.
When we passed through Waco I got to show off my Branch Davidians knowledge and yack on about what a tool David Koresh was. Tyler found a podcast about the cult’s compound raid and we listened to it while driving through Waco. Since it wasn’t a crazy drive to the Dallas/Fort Worth area I meekly begged my road dogs if we could please make a stop to fulfill a longtime destination obsession of mine. And thankfully they obliged. This day I finally got to visit Dealey Plaza—the site where JFK was assassinated by the CIA and Lee Harvey Oswald was framed for murder… j/k… I’m not really a conspiracy theorist. Anyway, I was very grateful to my pals for catering to this sidequest. I was engrossed in awe standing on the very footsteps of where 62 years ago Abraham Zapruder shot with his Super 8mm Bell + Howell camera the final moments of the president’s life. Thank you BRUCEY/Dangz for indulging my history fascination bucket list. Next to check off is Elephant Island, Antarctica, one of the sights of the infamous Endurance expedition. But that’s an article for another ANTIGRAVITY issue. Maybe your subscription can fund me to go sail the South Pole so I can do a research article?
So back to the tour grind. Hotel stop for freshening up and then the night’s venue, which was GROWL Records in Arlington. A sort of four-businesses-in-one-stop-shop. Record shop, venue, pizza restaurant, and a brewery all under one owner with a shared backyard. Basically my heaven. After chillin with some free pizza and beers, it was show time.
Tar & Feather, local ‘90s worship, kicked off the evening. BRUCEY followed. Oh Dang a-lang-a-ding-donged. DarClow closed the night. They were a clown band. Besides those band members and the store owner, the only people who attended this show were a really intoxicated man and his adorable old golden retriever and Annie’s out-of-control family who urinated outside. Wildtimes. I finally got to play pool for a couple games at a bar across the street. Evil Eric bought us a round of Jäger shots. After loading the trailer, the Dangs drove to an In-N-Out Burger that apparently the entire population of Dallass was at. The line of folks waiting for late night burgers was longer than a post-hurricane FEMA line and filled with all walks of intoxicated life. The lady standing behind us was enjoying Harper’s big burger energy. Several hours later, we got to the hotel and I stuffed a cold cheeseburger in a sleeping Brittanny’s face. Crashtown.
V Day—Jackson, MI
The lengthy drive to the next show didn’t leave us much time for dilly-dallying, so Evil Eric and I jumped in the long-awaited indoor pool for a quick dip. I was crestfallen to discover that the cat-covered swim trunks I purchased from the Austin Goodwill were way too small for my tig’ ol ass. So if anyone reading this is on the hunt for a pair of kittycat swimwear, gimmie a shout, I got you.
Before we could get dry it was back to the road. We, unfortunately, didn’t even have enough time to pull over and stop at the Bonnie & Clyde Ambush Museum near Ruston, not far from their fatal ambush by the law. Next time! The most exciting thing that happened on the 6-hour drive to Mississippi was Harper’s face when she ordered a Happy Meal at a gas station McDonald’s. Due to us taking a wrong turn on the interstate, BRUCEY beat us to the gig. Since we were hauling all the gear, the only thing the BRUCEY folks had to do was eat their weight in sushi at the Japanese spot next to the venue, which was a record store named The End of All Music. Highly recommend checking this place out if you’re passing through Jackson.
As we pulled into the back alley of the shop, the Dangs recognised a familiar face from previous Mississippi shows whose name I can’t recall. The youngster seemed a bit wide-eyed and deadpan… And we soon learned that he just got the horrible news of a friend’s passing. We didn’t know details but we were sympathetically bummed he was going through that. We unloaded the gear and puttered around the record store until the show got going.
There Goes Tokyo kicked it off with their debut show and finished with a sick cover of Gary Numan’s “Cars.” Oh Dang played to a very receptive crowd, as did BRUCEY. The last song was joined by Tyler and Harper on the mic, screaming, “Didn’t we have so much Fuuuun!!” Die With Nature finished up the tour. They were prolly my favoirt band we played with on the whole trip. (Besides Community, of course). They had a fun, loud Thou-ish sound but more goofy. Similar to the Melvins or moreso KARP. <3
This show was big time fun. Had many excited patrients ready to party. A couple peeps seemed to be high on molly, hugging us with their sweaty bodies and trippy minds. This one lady professed her love to Brittanny and Harper and said she must make out with both of them! I can’t blame her. We took our time packing up the gear that night, really milking the end of our shows. Hung out in the back alley of the record store drinking beerz with the other bands and trying to fire off the remaining shots of the disposable cameras Tyler passed out to us at the beginning of tour.
After this final show it was finally time for the Dangs to get their mega-anticipated official tour meal: Cook Out, nostalgia fast food that seems like it hasn’t changed a bit since the ‘80s. This meal consisted of sloppy burgers, Frito pies, and chicken wraps with some other wild card stoner additions. On route to our hotel for the night, Dylan silenced the van with a startling “Oh shit!” He then informed us of an Instagram post by The Narrows (Memphis rockers) announcing the death of Chris, their 21-year-old drummer. At that point we realized who our friend from the show earlier was mourning. It was absolutely crushing hearing this. The Narrows are such an inspirational presence in the Memphis rock scene and in such a short time have shown that they have endless potential. Chris was a very talented drummer and such a positive force in the band. It was a very sobering drive to the hotel.
We get to the beautiful Hilton Garden Inn and get to have one last hotel band hang, partying and playing a game Harper taught us called Big Family! At the end we couldn’t tell if Annie or Tyler won the two rounds, but if you happen to be around Harper out-and-about, make sure she learns you. The Dangs shuffle back to their room across the hall and start to whine down, but moments before bedtime Evil Eric gets up and announces that he is gonna go search for ghosts in the super old creepy Stanley Kurbrick hotel. He later comes back possessed as fuck and scares the shit out of us all with his new demon-like persona. But we sleep.
Day 6—And I’m Walkin’ to New Orleans
Team BRUCEY took off bright and early cause they were scared Morris Bart gave all their pets the botox virus while outta town. So we missed their send off in the morning. Harper and
I wandered on foot in search of coffayfay and breaky. While exploring downtown Jackson in the morning sun, we took note of how beautiful all the architecture was.
We passed by so many historic Art Deco storefronts and bombed-out buildings and cafes. At one point we followed a momma cat and her tiny kitten in an empty courtyard of a church til they scuffled off into some bushes. For a Monday morning in a downtown city, it was eerily quiet for a work day. You could almost hear Johnny Cash whispering all around you, walking these silent, abandoned streets. Over biscuits and gravy we talk about whether or not we should find a priest to perform an exorcism on Eric. But by the time we got back to the room he seemed to be back to normal. We think.
Eventually we pile back in the Beef-mobile and make the final trek home. Nick later would tell me he slept for 24 hours after arriving back to the Big Eazy. The night ended in me divvying hundreds of tortillas and tamales at J&J’s over pints of IPAs.
Dylan (left) and Tyler at the grave of Blaze Foley at the Live Oak Cemetery in Manchaca, Texas (Photo by Harper Browman)
Eppylog
One time, a regular at the bar I work at pulled me aside and quietly said, “Eric, mind if I ask you a personal question?” I was like: Oh boy, here comes an uncomfortable question about my sex life or wondering why my body odor is so bad… But then he asked, “How much money do you make a year from your bands? Is it over $25,000? Again, if you don’t wanna answer, don’t worry about it…”
I laughed out loud. “What the fuck are you talking about?!” It’s funny cause normally, I forget that the mass of people out there most likely think of band life as a glamorous money-making, fame-acquiring venture. But the answer, Mr. Joe, is zero dorniro. In fact, we pay to be in these punk bands. There’s no end-of-the-year profit earnings. We fork over cash for dingy practice spaces and gear repairs (heart you Paul Webb <3). It ain’t cheap fronting dough for recordings and T-shirt screenings and record pressings, just so at the end of the day someone (me) gives away all their merch to all their friends at shows. We work on our shitty cars so they can be road worthy and pray that a flat tire is the most that occurs on route to the next high-paying house show. All that shit. Just to hopefully not be too far in the hole at the end of each month in order to afford rent. The only reason we got hotels every night of this tour was cause of one of the band member’s ultimatums to go on this trip. Which at first I admit I thought was a little petty, but now in hindsight I’m like, Fuck yeah. That was sick! I’ve normalized playing music being such a task sometimes. It was a treat to be set up for each night, rather than begging strangers after each show to crash their floor, or sleeping in the van.
So why do it? For me, I love traveling and sightseeing and taking photos of interesting places, trying all the local food that is unique to that town. But most of all, I love being with my friends. Making memories… funny stories… stoopid memes… listening to each other’s playlist on long drives and discovering new bands. There’s no experience like touring in a band. I’m turning 46 this year and have been doing this since my teens. Sometimes I feel like an old fart. But this trip gave me some fountain of youth vibes, a “You still got it” attitude and a sense of accomplishment toward something that isn’t always easy.
That said, touring isn’t always that great, riding high-times, either. It’s all real human shit. Pissing off a band member cause you got too drunk after a show, or farting in the van. Being kranky after a bad show with nine people (and one sweet doggo) on the road traveling as a unit. Living off gas station coffee and stuffing in a crowded car, hungover for days on end. Of course, things are bound to get tense. And at times it certainly did on this trip. I’m purposely leaving that drama out of this long barfing of words cause… there’s no need to put it in here. I’m treating this like my Google restaurant reviews—5 stars only! I can’t wait to get back on the road again with my friends and make more mayhem with what little time we have on this special little planet.
Oh Dang will perform as part of the 22 Year Anniversary Benefit show for ANTIGRAVITY on June 6 at Saturn Bar. For more info, check out ohdang.bandcamp.com and @ohdangtheband on Instagram. For more info on BRUCEY, check out strictlybrucey.bandcamp.com and @strictlybrucey on Instagram.
Top photo: Clockwise from left: Rob Landry, Eric Anduha, Tyler Ryan, Nick Pope, Annie Cespedes, Eric Martinez, Brittany Silva, Harper Browman, Dylan Grove, at the end of tour in Jackson
