03/14/2012 Rogue Bar, Scottsdale, AZ
This van does not run on hugs or high fives. I write this in the hopes that we will make some damned money tonight. Look: It’s a sad fact of nature that bands do not make money anymore, at least little bands. It’s not like “oh, it’s not a lot of money.” It’s laughable. The petroleum companies get paid for the gas, the fast food places get paid for their failure food, the bar staff gets paid (as well they should), the sound people, the door guys, but the bands getting paid? Nah man. Rock and roll is a pyramid scheme. So yes … money. Everything in life always revolves around it on some level, whether you want to or not. It’s something that’s weighing on me even as we drive through the pastoral open landscape of the American Southwest. It’s somehow never cool to talk about money when you are a band. You’re suddenly mercenary or careerist, instead of just trying to be able to keep doing what you want, or even arrive at your designation safely. Gauche, dude! How bougie of you.