Ginseng Nights

I have never gotten a flat tire, run out of gas or consumed so many ginseng products in my life. C-man and I were able to almost do all three en route to Philly...

It was an OASTEIFIC day. Good sun. We crammed the car with as much gear as possible and loaded up on herbal teas and ginseng products. Making good time, we hit the city of brotherly love at 9 p.m. After finding the Franklin Glass Lounge, we went in to check the place out and make sure our Red Irish Rose rider had been honored. The owner came out and told us that the show had been moved, as he missed a few of his payments to the boys in blue...

One of the club's dancers got in the car with us and guided us to the new spot. She drank most of the Irish Rose on the way over. The directions were wonderful and it took us right there. We found a parking spot and... Ppsssssssss. In the process of wending our way thru the industrial district, I had managed to run over some scrap metal. Ouch. One flat tire. The tire could wait, but we had to hit the club to load in and sound check.

It was great. The original club was small, dark and uncomfortable. The new venue was magnificent. Great stage. Wonderful parking accommodations. There was also a winding line of patrons waiting to spend their hard-earned $$$ as they bided their time rolling their own.

The night started off with Beaten Pathetics (members of Bardo Pond) doing its magic in the front room. Unfortunately, we were out front changing a recently purchased, newly deflated back tire. Tho, from the street a generous blur of narcotics went kicking down the street. The on-duty cops didn't seem to mind.

We listened to Beaten Pathetics and changed the tire. The car was jacked up and the tire nearly off when the car rolled back for no good reason. A few hangers-on were there to help steady the car from falling off the jack completely and thereby snapping off the wheel mounts. You just can't fix wheel mounts quickly on any holiday weekend.

20 mins. later the tire was on and the stage awaited us. It was at this exact moment that paranoia set in: bad things only happen in threes. Two of them were bundled in the car fiasco, and third was lurking in the shadows.

Carl and I popped as much ginseng as our systems could handle and took to the stage. The guitar/drum mash and sax/drum mosh was more than ample reward for the day's perils. I don't know how the crowd withstood our 2-hour set. Urgh. God bless the Philly drinking water.

After us Temple of Bon Matin played. Whack. Sax freak outs and vintage synth suitcases. But the night was getting on and had to as well...

At 1:30 we hit up the manager for our cut of the door and kicked it on home. Things were going well, and then sleep set in. I have this theory about Delaware and sleep. There must be something in the air. Maybe it's the duty free shopping. I don't know. The only thing that was keeping me awake was endless stream of tool booths. At more than one point in time I was woken by the sound of the tires veering off the road.

Just when I thought I couldn't keep my eyes ajar any longer, I noticed there was about a mouthful of gas in the tank (which works out to about 5 miles.) Normally, you can find fuel at 4am outside of Maryland, but not tonight. It was an endless search. But as the fumes in my tank were running dry, we stumbled upon a clean Arco station and OASTEM!

The bulk of the journey was behind us. But only 2 bad things had happened. Was the COSMOS failing us? Nope. C-man had lost his watch. The trinity was complete. With this knowledge in had we rested easy and continued the drive home. C-man did continue to curse the night air about his watch, tho.

The VHF remote sound lab captured the aura of the night. Destined to be Loud Thud 23. Thanks, Rex.

[This was a write up about a show that C-n-V played in Philly that 'inspired' the cover art.]

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