You're Not Hardcore Unless You Live Hardcore

So Ryan and I conquered the show at The Hawthorne Theater.

We rocked hard and sang our hearts out for an enthusiastic crowd consisting mostly of people from my commune. When everything was over, we both kinda felt like superstars. But in the hours leading up to the show, it seemed like the entire universe was against us and our crazy trash rock.

I was freaking out because I had a terrible headache and sore throat the day of the show. Fortunately, I got those things under control in time to get all glammed up. But then I discovered I was without hot water yet again. I quickly took a cold shower and tried to pretend I wasn't grumpy when Ryan came over to load up equipment.

We took separate cars because we can't fit all of our stuff in one vehicle. I was still working on my rock and roll make-up, so I sent Ryan over to the venue and told him I would be right behind him. I spent a few moments debating over whether or not I should wear the sparkly strapless dress I've been dying to wear onstage. As I mentioned in my last post, strapless dresses terrify me, but I decided to overcome my fear and wear it. I threw my high heels and a hair brush into a bag, covered up my strapless ensemble with a coat, nervously glanced in the mirror one last time, and went out the door.

I was running low on gas in my little truck, so my first stop was the gas station around the corner. Buying gas went alright (it usually does), but my car died when I attempted to pull out of the gas station.

So there I am, on the way to a rock show, stuck at a gas station in a sequined strapless mini-dress. Not to mention I'm on 82nd Avenue, which is a street that's infamous for hookers. The gas station attendants are laughing at me and Ryan is at the venue wondering what the hell happened to me.

Luckily, I was only a few blocks away from where I live. So I made a quick phone call and declared that I was in a state of rock and roll emergency. It wasn't long before The Poet came to my rescue.

He had a bit of smirk on his face as he dinked around under the hood of my car. "Okay kid, this is such a rock and roll moment. You better remember this story when you get on 'Ellen,'" he said, poking something with a screw driver.

It wasn't long before he fixed the car and had it running. The Poet saves the day yet again! He left the screwdriver with me and gave me instructions on what to do in case I had another problem. I drove him back to the commune and set off towards the venue. This time, I actually made it there.

Since we were the last band of the night, we had a couple of hours to kill after we set up our equipment. We walked to the grocery store across the street and bought trail mix to munch on. Yes, I was still in the dress.

When we got back to the venue, my friends Purple Hair and Mr. Syracuse were at the bar. I hung out with them for a bit, trying hard not to think about how nervous I was. The song "Missed Me" by The Dresden Dolls randomly came on in the bar and it gave me a strange boost of confidence. That is not really a song I hear being played from sources other than my stereo and it seemed like an omen of sorts.

Anyway, the bands that played before us didn't draw much of a crowd. The first act was a DJ and a trumpet making weird trip-hop. The second act was a lesbian punk band. There were about two people in the audience for both of these bands. "No one comes to shows on Wednesday" was the common excuse for the empty room.

But all of my friends are currently unemployed and have no problem staying out all night. So at 9:45, three jam-packed carloads of my hippy/hipster friends showed up ready to cheer. The once-empty room now had about 25 people in it (including all the favorites such as The Poet, The Fonz, The Chef, Mr. Merry Christmas Forever, etc.). We took the stage and delivered an imperfect yet incredibly fun set.

I always have a hard time remembering what happens onstage during shows. I think it's because I sort of turn into a different person. But I do remember that people were dancing right in front of the stage. People were clapping and yelling in between songs. Some people knew the words and sang along. Honestly, it was one of the best audiences I have ever played for.

And then there was the part where Ryan cut his finger on a guitar string halfway through the set and spent several songs bleeding all over everything. That was so rock and roll.

But I think it's time to stop rambling and bust out some more pictures.

We're into the music

I have a hard time believing that's me. It is.

Keytar!

Ryan's finger after the battle. So hardcore.

Despite all of the chaos, it turned out to be a good night. I felt so on-top. The other night, people in my kitchen were telling me I'm built to do this sort of thing. I think they're right.

Anyway, that's all I've got for now. I wound up with some audio recordings from the show, perhaps I'll post them tomorrow...

Trash Rock and Twinkies.

Ryan and I have a show tomorrow night.

Naturally, I'm already nervous.

It's ridiculous. It's getting to the point where people laugh when I mention being nervous. "Lauren, haven't you done this a million times?" they say.

Yes, I've done the performing thing a few times and usually everything feels natural and under control when I'm on stage. But there's always that weird 48 hour period beforehand where I don't know what to do with myself. I freak out about my outfit for a couple of hours. I worry about the set list. I'm even infamous for coming down with a terrible sore throat before shows. It must be psychosomatic because it happens almost every time.

We've done a lot of practicing in the past few days. We know the songs inside and out. We're ready. And I am fairly confident that we will rock it. But there is still this freaky cloud of nervousness lurking around my brain. What if our music goes horribly wrong somehow?

Then there's my own little wardrobe issue. I'm going out on a limb and wearing a strapless dress. It's the kind of dress I tried on for fun and knew immediately that it was made for me. I'm really excited about it, but I don't typically wear strapless dresses and am paranoid about having some sort of wardrobe malfunction onstage.

I'm so paranoid that I've been practicing in the dress. That's probably not the type of thing you should admit on a public blog, but it's true. I've been putting on my dress and heels before band practice these days. I've also spent way too much time practicing my keytar stance in front of my mirror when I'm alone. Don't judge.

But aside from being awkwardly nervous, I'm just plain excited. It's been way too long since Ryan and I have done a show at a decent venue. I know we're going to have a blast.

I also know that the crowd will be full of my friends and neighbors from the commune. The Poet is organizing a massive field trip. Nobody here drives, so it sounds like there's going to be twenty people taking a Trimet bus across town to cheer me on as I pretend to be a rock star.

I know I've probably said it before, but I'll say it again: The people I live with are absolutely wonderful.

Sometimes I feel like we're the brats that have refused to grow up and that's why we all get along so well. If you don't believe me, check out these pictures from Sunday night's art installation:

Yes, those are Twinkies. Yes, they are wearing loin cloths/thongs and hanging from the ceiling.

It all started on the kitchen whiteboard with a weird cartoon war between The Fonz and The Chef. It escalated to The Poet buying two boxes of Twinkies at the store and handing them to The Fonz, Purple Hair, and myself to decorate. We hung them all from the ceiling in the middle of the night. It was glorious.

I think we all missed the memo that we aren't in college anymore. But right now, that's okay. I'm having more fun than I ever did in college anyway. I'm definitely making a lot more music, which is what I need to be doing.

And with that, I'm off to go make more tea. I've got to make this stupid sore throat go away by tomorrow night, even if it is just psychosomatic.

Peace out, amigos.

Holy Wardrobe Malfunction, Batman!

My dress almost fell off onstage Friday night.

It started with one shoulder of the dress slipping down my arm as I pounded on the keyboard. I tried to pass it off as a bad ass rock star thing, but then the other shoulder started slipping. I continued to belt out the song, unable to stop because it was during a solo set. The dress sunk lower, threatening to dip into dangerous territory. I began making my infamous Nervous Lauren face. I made eye contact with a few friends in the audience and could see that they were beginning to get nervous for me as well. I felt like I was living in that bad dream that I sometimes have - that dream where I'm onstage and my clothes fall off. Except this time, it wasn't a dream at all.

I stopped the song and comedically fixed my dress, then resumed the song where I left off and changed some of the lyrics to be about my near-wardrobe malfunction. So it turned out alright. And other than that, the show wasn't so bad.

Well, except for the part where I got up the nerve to do a song I had written two days prior and ended up mumbling half of the words because I forgot them.

Or the part where Magic Butter Guy opened for me and
1) started 45 minutes late because he had to change the tubes in his amp before his set.
2) came into the audience, stood right in front of where I was sitting, and serenaded me with a really long and very cosmic song about flowers.

But other than all of that, the show went fairly smoothly. Especially the trash rock bit. Ryan did a set with me after my slightly terrifying solo stuff (essentially, I opened for myself - how much more narcissistic can I be???). It was great fun. Turns out that the end of Original Sound Trash isn't really around the corner as I feared it might be, so that's good news.

I'll write a longer post tomorrow - it got be late and I am le tired.

Over and out, amigos.

I Now Return You To Your Regularly Scheduled Programming...

Whew. Busy day in the blogosphere. I just updated my Musical Advice Column for the first time since last summer. I'm planning to update it regularly again. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you may want to head over there and experience the madness. Basically, people write in with their various problems and I respond to them by singing and playing an instrument. Yeah, it really is as campy as it sounds. You just might love it.

I also just put up my Friday post for the Transatlantic Support Group. I think I've mentioned the TASG a couple of times already in this blog, but it gets a little bit cooler each week. Allison and Tom are fantastic people to collaborate with and I assure you that you will be entertained if you click on the TASG link.

Anyway, enough shameless self-promotion and onto other news.

I snagged this photo from Facebook today:

It's from the kitchen show last week and pretty much sums up the magic of trash rock. It was taken by The Chef, who was probably on his second or third bottle of wine at the time this picture was taken.

Sadly, the grand era of trash rock may be coming to an end. We're not breaking up, but we're slowly headed in opposite directions. Meaning that I want to do music for a living and he wants to be a full time computer programmer. I respect his decision, but it's still depressing.

So I'm working up the nerve to book a solo show somewhere. I've also been writing music like crazy. We'll see what happens.

Anyway, that's about all I have to report. I think I'm going to meet up with my old high school Spanish partner for a little heavy metal knitting party. Then later, I'm going to an electronica show with a few of my neighbors. I'm pretty stoked. I'm totally in the mood to dance.

I should figure out what I'm going to wear. It might be an evening that requires a costume change. I can't imagine that the outfit I wear to the dance club will be appropriate for knitting with the old Spanish partner...

Over and out, comrades! Happy Friday!

Trash Rock In The Kitchen

Friday night reminded me why I insist on being a musician.

The kitchen show was a grand success. Lots of people showed up and were really receptive to the music that Ryan and I played. It was a great intimate setting and we even worked up the confidence to bust out some of our weirder, less polished numbers towards the end of the night. I channeled Amanda Palmer a little bit on a cover of "Mein Herr" that had everyone in the room clapping along as though we were all in "Cabaret." It was awesome. And it was another one of those moments where I surprised myself a little bit.

Once Ryan and I were out of songs to play, a couple of other musicians grabbed their instruments and the whole thing evolved into a jam session/poetry slam that went on for hours. I think somebody got parts of it on tape, I really need to track it down and post it up here (especially the part where Tweaked Out Elvis Costello yelled "I WANT TO HEAR THE VIOLIN SO SHUT THE @#$% UP" and then the entire room starting singing/chanting those exact words in time with the music).

When the whole thing was over, I felt like I was on top of the world. I felt so energized and alive. It all just confirmed for the millionth time that I need to continue making music and sharing it with others.

Anyway, that's all for now. I'm pretty tired so I should probably do that sleeping thing, but I will be back tomorrow to talk about the rest of my weekend. Just wanted to throw out a quick update and say that the kitchen show was fabulous.

Until next time, amigos!

If Music Was A Cave, I Might Hide In It For A Long Time

Ryan came over today for band practice. Lots of times, "band practice" quickly turns into...
a) indie/cult/foreign film appreciation time
b) time to talk about the meaning of life
c) time to drink too much
d) all of the above

These are all very wonderful things, but today we managed to crack down and work on music for awhile. We dug out our old catalog and prepared a set list for a hypothetical show. We played through some new material and revved up our old songs. We made a game plan. We're tired of being a dysfunctional rock duo that doesn't do anything.

We even attempted to make a video of one of our new songs to put up on youtube for our three fans to watch and enjoy. It's a difficult song and it took a million takes to get it right. When we finally got something we were semi-satisfied with, we loaded it on my laptop and discovered that all of the footage looked like this:

I'm all for being edgy and avant-garde, but it's also nice when Ryan has a head. So much fail.

Ah well. We plan on redoing it so that the world can listen to our new song without being distracted by the decapitation happening stage right.

It's just good to be working on trash rock stuff again, I guess. We haven't done a show since May and our plans to record an album got a bit stuck in the mud. Ryan works full time and lives in Timbuktu (actually, I'm the one that lives in Timbuktu right now, but we can say it's Ryan). Original Sound Trash's transition into the post-college world hasn't been the smoothest.

That's irrelevant, though. We're not those bad ass college rockers anymore, but I'd like to think we're still bad ass. And we're not in the mood to let real life get in the way of our rock and roll fantasies.

Speaking of real life, I need to call the school district tomorrow and get on their sub list again. For those of you just now tuning in, I worked as a substitute educational assistant last spring (I got the job because I had a connection, not because I actually like children). It was hellish and I would rather not do it again, but I have nothing else lined up. Maybe a few days of chasing retards kids down the hall will be the motivation I need to find a job I can stand.

*sigh* Can I just be a rock star? Pretty please?

When Life Gives You A Folk Concert, Pull Out Your Keytar And Shred

The show on Sunday night was brilliant.

I was so nervous. It was our first performance since August. I did not realize this until we were at the venue, but somehow, we got booked alongside several folk artists. We are not even remotely related to folk music. Ryan's got a Marshall amp that's as big as Rhode Island and I play the freaking keytar. So naturally, that made the experience even more nerve-wracking.

It turned out to be alright though. A lot of people came out to support us. I love seeing people I know at the shows (although often times it makes me even more nervous). When the fourth folk ensemble ended and it was our time to play, I muttered the words, "And now for something completely different" into the microphone. The rest is history. We did our thing and, strangely enough, people were really into it.

I had almost let myself forget how much I absolutely love performing. That's what happens when you go on hiatus for eight months, I guess. There's really nothing as crazy and wonderful as being onstage. It's hard to explain. I know it might sound cliche, but when I'm up there, shredding on my keytar and sharing my music with a receptive audience, I feel like this is what I was meant to do. And though I spent half the show feeling like I was potentially going to pee my pants, it also felt totally natural for me to be up there next to Ryan, belting out song lyrics about icebergs and the apocalypse and hearing the crowd cheer.

Anyway, the show was a blast. And the keytar was a hit! We finished the set, loaded our stuff off the stage, and were immediately approached by the guy who organized the show.

"Hey, wow, you guys were great, I like it!" he says. "It was weird, something different, but cool."

"Thanks!" we reply enthusiastly, still high off the music and adreneline rush.

"So uh...I was back there talking to the bartenders and uh...we realized that no one carded you. You ARE at least 21, right???"

Ryan and I look at each other. We're well aware that we both look as young as 17 at times (not to mention our music often appeals to a younger, rowdier crowd), but we just got done providing everyone in the venue (and probably some people on the street) with quality trash rock. Was he really going to card us?

"We're 22!" I proclaim. He looks at us skeptically, then hands us our earnings for the night.

We pocket the money and go outside to load our equipment into my mother's SUV (I have to borrow it whenever we have a show considering it's the only vehicle that will fit all of our stuff - nothing says ROCK AND ROLL like a Honda CRV!). Then we go back inside to listen to last band. We're greeted like minor celebrities.

"I love that keytar work!"
"What was your band's name? Original Sound Track?"
"How long have you guys played together? That was great!"
"Way to shred that keytar!"
"Come do a show for us in Washington!"
"ZOMG KEYTAR!"

Eventually we left the venue and found a pub a few blocks away. Ryan and Steve both had to get up really early for work the next day, but we could not deny our need to celebrate Original Sound Trash's return to the stage.

There's the after party crowd in all of it's fuzzy phone picture glory. Steve the Cute Camera Operator (yes, the show was recorded - expect video posts later), Post-Rock-Show Lauren (fortunately the fuzziness of this picture hides the melty eyeliner), Felix (the man, not the cat), and Post-Rock-Show Ryan (reminding you that Pluto is not a planet anymore). Great way to end the night.

Original Sound Trash is baaaaaaack. :D

Mildly Freaked Out

I shouldn't be awake right now. My phone might ring at 6am, and if it does, I should answer it and go tackle whatever subbing job is thrown at me. I need the money. It will enhance the quality of my rock tour experience. Also, I can't live at my parents house forever. Money is a good thing to be acquiring right now.

But I'm watching all my friends get sucked into the relentless world of work and I have no desire to join them.

Ryan is in that world now. I can tell he doesn't enjoy that much, especially on the days where I strut into his garage wearing his girl pants and talk about how I spent the whole day writing blogs and eating nachos. But he's making more money than I will make for awhile, so I guess it's good for him.

Since I've had a lot of free time lately, I've started up a new blog - a musical advice column of sorts. It's an idea I've had bouncing around my brain for several months but have never had the time to put into starting it up. You can check it out here. I've been having a lot of fun with it so far. Weirdly enough, it's been getting tons of hits.

In other news, the infamous Someday Lounge show is in four days. I'm honestly nervous. Our ticket sales aren't what they need to be yet. I'm also feeling like we need to practice more. I'm even skipping out on the Amanda Palmer show to work on perfecting our sound. It's lame, but the great AFP will come through town again. If I sound awful on Sunday, I won't forgive myself easily.

I should end this post and go to bed before I completely descend into the land of neurosis.

Ack. We need sell 10 more tickets. Or something like that.

Being onstage at a rock show is one of my favourite things ever, but it always stresses me out. I need to get a grip on that if I'm really going to do this for a living. Or at least for a summer. I have no idea what I'm doing for a living. Maybe I'll come live under your bed and write musical advice for you whenever you're having a bad day? I'll be like a little leprechan, but not very little and a lot less Irish.

Okay. Must be bed time.

Peace and trash rock, amigos.

Friday Friday

Bleck. I feel as though my entire throat is inflamed in rebellion against that bad lemonade I drank last night. I'm just going to call it psychosomatic and move on with my life.

Besides, life is good today. It's a sunny Friday. I am done with classes for the weekend and hanging around my apartment in my scuzzy Greenday t-shirt (a shirt I still insist on wearing even though I know it looks better on Ryan...).

Fridays get my thumbs-up of approval. Not sad to see this week come to an end.

Wrote a new song a couple of nights ago while I was attempting to mentally process the weirdness of the world. I really don't know if it's any good. It's a bit of a departure from my normal whimsical style (I'll be back to writing songs about zombies and icebergs soon, I am sure). I'm always nervous to post songs like this for fear that they are too cheesy or just plain suck. But I am trying hard to overcome these standard issue neurotic insecurities of a songwriter, so I took a quick recording of it on my iphone when I was practicing this morning. It's a terrible recording and the song is still fresh out of the notebook so it's a bit rough.

See? It's barely legible, and that big blank spot is where the second verse will go if I ever feel like writing one (I'm infamous for cheating and just recycling the first verse instead of writing a second...hey, words are hard for me - I'm more of a music and melody girl).

Anyway, now that I've given you two paragraphs worth of disclaimers, you can hear the song now. It's just audio. Maybe I'll be more sophisticated next time and add video as well, but I was feeling camera shy this morning.

I would love to hear what you think. The sound of Internet crickets is always terribly unnerving.

On a side note, if you're just now tuning into all this madness, you should check out this entry.

It's all about how you can get involved with our summer tour by joining our street team. There's a great video over there you might want to watch. Also included in this entry is information on how you can date Ryan. Check it totally out, yo.

I'm gonna go do whatever it is I do on Fridays. Peace and trash rock. Over and out.

Trash Rock Defined on the Interwebs

The following is copied from dictionary.com:

trash rock - 1 dictionary result Main Entry:	trash rock
Part of Speech:	n
Definition:	a genre of rock music that is loud and unsophisticated
Etymology:	from the music's garbage-like nature
Usage:	music

And this is from urbandictionary.com:

	1. trash rock
	Trashy, seedy, campy rock n' roll with an often androgynous, drunk/drugged out, and b-movie-obsessed disposition. Many trash rock bands are punks reviving the feel of the raunchiest '60s garage bands.
	Hehe. And all this time I kinda thought we had invented a new genre...
	I particularly enjoy the fact that the words "b-movie-obsessed" made it into the description on urbandictionary. That part doesn't fit us at all. It's not like we have a 40 minute rock opera devoted entirely to the subject of zombies or anything. (That was sarcasm in case you didn't catch it. We totally do.)

My Apologies To Any Grizzly Bears I May Have Offended

A gang of wild grizzly bears near the border of Alberta contacted me shortly after I published my last post. In the post, I hinted that playing for an audience of Canadian grizzly bears might make me uncomfortable and that I'm leaning towards staying in the states. The particular gang of wild grizzly bears that contacted me was greatly dismayed by this post. Several of them sent me emails with the following jpeg attached:


So maybe I was wrong about grizzly bears. And I won't rule out Canada just yet.

There. Are you happy, grizzly bears?

Preparing for Rock and Roll Excellence

Hello friends.

My name is Lauren and I've been a slave to academia my entire life (well, I believe there was a brief, five year period of time before kindergarten when I was not involved in any sort of scholarly institution, but I was too young to appreciate it).

I live in America, where all functional members of society are expected to go to school until they obtain a degree that will land them their job of choice. This job will then pay for all the expenses of life but drain the life out of a person in the process.

I'm not ready for that. I don't know if I'll ever be.

The truth is, I've spent my whole life just wanting to make music. That is what really makes me happy. But I've also spent my whole life hearing people laugh when I say that all I really want to be in life is a rock star. People think it's a joke. People think it's impractical. People don't understand why I can't just be "normal" and go after a job that will make good money and suck out my soul in the process.

I'm done listening to those people.

I graduate from college in t minus one month. I'm going to take my degree, hang it on my wall in a safe spot (I may want to use it someday), and prepare for rock and roll excellence.

My band, Original Sound Trash (consisting of myself and my friend Ryan), is cooking up some sort of supersonic tour of trash rock this summer. We do not know where we are going yet, but we're targeted to leave a few days after June 19th. We will need the help of friends and fans along the way. So if you know of any great places we should play or couches we can crash on along the way, let me know!

I plan to document my side of all this madness through this blog. If all goes well, I will be updating it regularly, so subscribe away and stay tuned! :D