What bands listen to on tour is a good indication of whether I’ll like them or not.

Talk Demonic is listening to 90s hip hop while they barrel down the road and Ben from Suuns was so engrossed by Willow Smith’s “Whip my hair” video that it looked like he was learning something. The man will certainly need extensions to bust them moves but he looks willing. And our own personal confession is that we danced in the shade of a Chevron gas station for most of the duration of Beyonce’s new album though we had hours of driving ahead of us. I will likely like you if you aren’t afraid to say things like, “Pop music is really awesome” and you mean it. If, when we pass you on the highway en route to the next show, you don’t notice our horn honking because you are blasting bad radio hits, I know you are good people. I have this conviction. If your record collection is uncool, you are probably pretty awesome. So in Boise our collected mass of bandfolk is able to keep in high spirits despite strange conditions. When we arrive to Neurolux there is no sound technician, no promoter, no back stage…. Well there’s nothing at all despite a handful of afternoon drinkers with stained teeth and heart-shaped asses and ball caps and the ugly sort of tattoos I like best. Plus there’s a ping pong table directly in front of the stage. For the first hour of utter confusion we’re uncertain that the show will actually be able to be made to happen. But we grind our teeth and sweat it out and listen to bad radio hits - not of our own choosing but to our great delight. We wait while the wheels start to spin and slowly things take shape. Perhaps having low expectations in Idaho’s capital was a windfall because everything turned out surprisingly rad. People clustering to the front forced the club to move the ping pong table and the sound tech eventually showed up and even became happily more energetic as the night went on. Even though the bartender eyed me up and down as if I was a convict every single time I asked for a drink, I changed her tune with a ten dollar tip. Talk Demonic and Suuns played their “pop hits” as if there were three hundred thousand kids in attendance in an enormous stadium before them. And our unique blend of “taste-making” influenced by “bad music” made the night a wondrous success. I watched strangers link arms at the show. I watched heads bop then bob then thrash.
Despite the fact that the Butthole Surfers were playing a sold-out show down the road, I am certain we had the better turn out of folks. And hopefully the fans who bought our records will happily shelve them alongside their Rihanna and Rush cds, next to their Digital Underground and Flock of Seagulls vinyl. You don’t have to be cool to rule my world… you just have to admit to your guilty pleasures.