“I’ve been to a lot of club nights. I’ve seen a lot of bands. I haven’t ever seen anything like this.
Sonen has created an amazing party called Laserbeam Kitty, hosted by the Highland Inn Ballroom. They’ve done something that we’ve talked about a lot, but haven’t ever actually had the time (or, frankly, the guts) to attempt: they’ve ripped a shindig out of the ether that’s so fun that you know all your friends will be there before you walk in the door. On top of that, it’s coalesced so quickly… it’s unbelievable.
I’ll damn sure be there. I hope you will too.
Head to the website, take a look at the photos, and stop by on July 30. We’ll be doing a set and mingling. The goal of the entire night is to get Chris in his underpants with full body paint, and I’m going to need some help.” – Jsh
7/12/10
Columbus is a hip town to play. Eighty Five (Attention System – 07/03/2010), the club we’ve hit most often, is wonderful: quick bartenders, beautiful crowd, awesome aesthetic… they have a huge picture of Klaus Nomi in full David-Bowie-backup-singer regalia at one end of the bar. The only problem? Batteries.
Let me explain.
When you’re a musician, you must have an endless supply of batteries if you use wireless gear of any sort. In my case, it’s nine-volts. I brought four with me, all bought from the same Quicktrip by my house, and all four were as dead as it gets; they were all apparently fashioned from wood by our ancient ancestors or some shit.
So I ask one of the bartenders in Columbus where the nearest place I could grab some extras. He told me there was a convenience store “three blocks” away, and pointed me in the right direction. I left the club at 10pm.
After walking what had to be five miles, I look up and see the bright pillars of the Circle K the bartender described sprawling before me. I look down and it’s 10:45 or something.
I ran in and requested batteries from the clerk. She looked at me like I was a goddam alien. She knows what batteries are… I don’t know a single woman in the country who doesn’t. She finds a musty old box of batteries; I threw down some plastic, and ended up having to hail a cab to get back to the club.
Let this be a lesson: order your batteries off the internet weeks in advance or face the wrath of convenience-store-free city zoning rules and clerk-tards.
