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So, we made it.
This far at least: San Francisco! Daddy Wrall’s first steps in California were glad ones as we spent many many hours in the car leading to this moment. His first question, “Where can we get some motherlovin’ Rice-a-Roni?” Suggestions anyone?
Oh yeah, some stuff happened on the way here. We spent an extra day in Colorado to work on our sophomore album, Ooh-La-La, Sha Sha, which was needed in a real way. It was beautiful there, cold and dry, and with no heat or hot water, staying warm in clean could have been difficult. Fortunately, the hot tub and fireplace were options. Thanks Uncle D.
After leaving Breckenridge I asked Dubs what he thought of the mountains, being an island boy all his life. His response, “Isn’t area 51 in Colorado?”
Uh, no, I don’t think so.
And we headed west. We spelled our best player (What do you think the P. stands for?) as I drove the whole way to our destination of choice: Reno. Why Reno? Well, don’t ask me. It was the right distance away. On the way, we listened to Suga Free and The Notwist, all the while compiling the master list for the Miss Fairchild mixtape. Look for it soon. So, Reno. We chose the Nugget over the Silver Trucker and DW and P went to gamble while I slept. In the morning, us travel industry types let the management know how disappointing our experience was, and Ernie layed on the reduced rate, making the whole thing worth it. Once I learn how to post photos, you’ll see Sam and Wrall rocking the stage gear at the casino.
So, the lobby of Chad and Ash’s apartment in San Francisco (which is beautiful and they are too kind) smells exactly like the Nantucket Girls and Boys club. Long live Bumper Pool! Chad wants everyone to know that “if your girl buys you comic books, you know you have the right one.”
Congratulations White Sox, you earned it. And how about that Harriet Miers? There’s more, but we’ll leave it at that:
Say turd: wack Chinese food buffet in mountain hideaways
Say word: happy moods from staying in mountain timeshares
Say turd: Sparks, Nevada couldn’t be farther
Say word: Hark, we oughtta should see water
Say turd: laptop is broken and cards don’t work either
Say word: mad props for promotion cause sharks don’t circle freely
Who’s to say what’s good or bad? the Great Dunlap, emphasis on send your friends to our shows…
Maybe my language has been particularly foul or something, because I felt some serious(ly funny) karma on the way to Boulder. Daddy Wrall, Samuel P. Nice and myself stopped at a truckstop to use the payphone when I decided to brush my teeth. I went into the bathroom and saw these odd-looking push button faucets that would only dispense a small amount of water at a time. Wrall watched as I wet my toothbrush and proceded to begin brushing.
He pointed quizically and I responded, “Yeah, that’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” thinking that the faucets were rather shabby. Little did I realize that I had just squirted rest-stop handsoap on my toothbrush and put it into my mouth. The laughfest that ensued was much-needed, but the taste in my mouth lasted a little too long for my liking. What are you going to do?
The foliage in the midwest was unbelievable. Many an unexpected “oh!” was heard on the drive out of Chicago. This experience was only surpassed when we saw a flock of geese join up with an already-migrating flock and begin to head south. The sheer madnees within the organization into such an enormous ‘v’ was mind-blowing. The geese were the only event in Iowa and Nebraska excepting of course “the bridge!” (ask Mr. Nice if want to know more about that one, though I suppose Lipschitz would counter “There’s no simple bridge, man.”) DW was hoping for something more interesting: “You know what I want to see? Crop circles!” Aliens indeed.
Thopie (Daddy Wrall’s vehicle) has held up well (knock on wood) through all of the trials, despite someone nearly driving over a stump with her. We’ll leave the driver’s name out of these proceedings…
A message for Don Dilego, if you’re reading: we tried to call you, but must have had the number wrong. The answering machine was in Spanish and that didn’t seem right. To the woman whose machine it was: My apologies for Daddy Wrall’s ridiculous message (“Wait, wait, I know how to say one more thing. Adios!”) Lo siento. For those of you who don’t know Don’s music check out http://www.dondilego.com
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to Mike and Caitlin Woodard for their extreme hospitality. We’ve been saying for the past two days that we were going to “blog the hell out of them” for their ridiculous generosity and sitting here, I’m speechless. Their home is amazing and the regal buck that grazed unfazed as we returned from our night of music-making was unbelievable. Watch out for mountain lions, though. When P.Nice went to the car in the middle of the night, we locked the door. I asked, “Should we go check on him?” Mike’s response, “Don’t worry, we’ll hear the screams.” By the way, Mike’s a great musician; his music is at http://www.mikewoodardlive.com
Music highlights from the car include Caps and Jones: Moving in Stereo and The Essential Isley Brothers.
For those of you who don’t know, Vitamin Water is taking over. Oh yeah, the show: Thanks to every one who came and supported us in Boulder, Jonathan and Chuck for their support at the venue and city of Boulder for taking so many fliers with a smile. We’ll be back soon. Apologies to the woman that got kicked out for harrassing Samuel.
And last, but in no way least, shouts and craps (out)-
Say turd: mostly ghost town dancefloor beats
Say word: host and hostess who can’t be beat
Say turd: two or three (dead) deers a road
Say word: do the three year-old
Jive Sucka! and don’t forget to write.
Blew in to the Windy City on the eve of the White Sox’ first World Series in 46 years. Can’t help rooting for them, so people start giving the South Side some love. So, for now: Go Sox!
I don’t think I made it clear yesterday just how great we had it in Michigan. A couple of new friends and fans came out to our show, new to the music that week, went out dancing with us and then, when our housing fell through, put us up, gave us breakfast, fresh towels and new music for the road. This is the type of kindness you can never expect, but can help but appreciate. Give it up one more time for Kelsey and Xristina.
Here’s today’s fan testimonial, from Francia: “Daddy Wrall is sexy like Moses. When he hit the cymbals, it was as if he was parting the Red Sea.” The son and grandson of preachers, he is mighty proud. Old testament represent!
And now some shoutouts/crapouts:
Say turd: sore throats and red eyes from smoke in bars Say word: tour hopes set high when fans stoke the fire
Say turd: four or five ‘mistakes’ and same old tracks, wack two-in-a-rows Say word: surprise mix tapes, railroad tracks, and Bad News Jones
Say turd: way too fast we had to mosey, fourteen hours in chicago? Say word: breakfast was rad, Toby; sure she’ll be ours (on 11/11) in chicago…
Music Highlights: Tribe: ‘Check the Rhyme,’ Pharrell: ‘She’s an Angel,’ George Harrison: ‘For You Blue’, Bad News Jones: ‘Hellz Bellz,’ Paulinho da Viola: “Meu Mal” though I can’t get ‘Regulators’ out of my head.
Mount up! the Great Funlap emphasis on dun for today. (Say word.)
What’s up people? We’re in East Lansing right now, staying with some brand new fans, Kelsey and Xristina. I’d like to start by giving them their propers: here.
So, lots of news, some may some positive and negative, but really, who can say what’s good or bad?
First, the saga of the flute: Well, we packed Daddy Wrall’s sport utility vehicle and were all set to leave, when we did the mental check list: turntables (check), keyboards (check), environmental records (double check), flute… uh, flute? No flute. It’s gone missing; stolen, lost, who knows? Wrallying right quick, we phoned Robert’s music shop, who agreed to stay open extra late for us. (God bless them.) And so I bought a flute after five minutes of trying it, the second one I picked up. (Now, that wasn’t in the budget…) There was no option; we had to leave immediately if we stood any chance of making it to our first gig… Played it tonight and it sounds great. The flute-box is off the muthalovin’ chain with the new extraspecial flute. I’m naming her Stamina Show Sally, because we couldn’t have done it without the Stamina Show.
So, I’m happy to say that we made it to Albany right well and Nana was even more hospitable than we thought possible. She sent us fed and with rations a bun. And eleven hours or so later, we arrived in East Lansing. Musical hightlights included Nuno (from Extreme fame), Fiona Apple (from long album titles fame) and Harry Nillson’s Nillson Schmillson. And who can forget that gangstah spit? Suga Free, Kurrupt and Quik keepin’ things lively.
And Code of tha Cutz deserves a mention. Strangely enjoyable place to have a gig. Thanks everybody who helped us out there.
Happy Birthday Mom & Dad. Happy Anniversary Mom & Bob. Happy.
Say turd: bye bye favorite flute
Say word: high fives for high-heeled shoes
Say turd: prankstahs like dennis the menace say Mr. Wilson
Say word: gangstahs sip hennesy and rock Harry Nillson
(Or so I’ve heard.)
Say word, The Great Dunlap (emphasis on Phew!)
Check this for the inside scoop on “the cute one” and scope what people are saying about Miss Fairchild:
“They have something for you. And it’s not standard.”- Crash
“I’ve never seen a band with so much personality and the talent to back it up.”- Elizabeth Ziman, whose music you should also check out.
Say word, The Great Dunlap
In case you missed it in the paper:
Wrall Skillz Changes Name Diminutive Falsettist Adds Name, Acronym
by Jaime Heiny-High
NANTUCKET, MA- It seems that Diddy isn’t the only musician having an identity crisis. Indie start-up Nantucketastrophe Records has issued a brief press release stating that their President and CEO, Wrall Skillz, of Janitor’s Gulch Band and Full Blown Excuses fame, will hereby be known as Daddy Wrall. The rapper-turned-singer says he “still [has] skills,�? but wanted the fans to know that his “daddy always said, ‘Wander righteously and love life.’�? Friends have long speculated that a change was imminent. Friend and confidant Samuel P. Nice said, “He was sick of being called Raw Skillz. Wrall Richard was an option, but in the end Daddy Wrall just fit.�? Sources could not confirm whether Mr. Nice intended something by that statement. Island resident Jordan Seitz says, “It rhymes with pal and gal, not small and doll.�? He claims to have “invented the name,�? making him the closest we could find to an expert. Others say that the change was inspired elsewhere. A local associate who requested anonymity stated, “He considered spelling his name W-R-A and a letter that combined an L and the number 1, which in effect becomes un-writable symbol a la the artist once again known as Prince. That just seemed stupid to me.” A local nemesis (also requesting anonymity, though he did want to add, “Blacksmith for life!”) stated, “Not everyone can have a name as great as mine. And considering the quality of his music, that’s appropriate,” though his statement might be a simple case of speaking out of turn. In the end, the name hardly matters. As Nice said at a recent press conference, “We’re growing up and if you don’t like the changes, y’all bitties can bite my titties”
Jive Sucka! indeed.
I know how much you’ve been anticipating this post so let’s get on with it. Thanks as always to everybody that made this recent strong possible. And on strongs-
We’ve decided that referring to our four and five day “weekends,” which might start on a Wednesday or end on a Tuesday, and during which we might work fifty or so hours, not as “weekends,” but as “strongs.” The work week will still be known as the week or if you prefer, the “weak.”
And now the shout-outs/crap outs:
Say turd: late flights and squeaky breaks. Sawy word: great nights and triple eight.
Say turd: back pain and crazy violence on the “worst day.” Say word: happy gains and kareoke on DW’s birthday.
Say turd: way to go leavin’ ‘fore you’re sure, see? Say word: Dilego, Ziman and Moorthy
Say turd: cops with lame excuses ruining the fun Say word: topping thangs off with fluting a bun
Say turd: Chills, shivers; we’re all sick some. Say word: Bill Withers and Al’s kickdrum
We love you all,
The Great Dunlap (emphasis on LAP), SamueL P. Nice (emphasis on MNO) and Daddy Wrall (emphasis on 2-5).
Wow, what a weekend for the MF trio. Here’s a behind the scenes look and some shouts-outs and crap-outs:
Two great shows at Colby College in ME and at As-220 in Providence. You folks clearly know how to get down and we could learn a thing or two from you. As Larry would say, “Attention everyboday. We love all y’all. Everybo-day, well. We love all y’all.”
Every moment not on stage, Daddy Wrall, Samuel P. Nice and the Great Dunlap spent mixing and tweaking the new Nantucketastrophe release from poet and philosopher Lipschitz, which is called “Jed Sed.” Together and Separately, they produced the entire record and would like to say, as unbiasedly as possible, “it’s hope; that is, hype AND dope.” The record will be out by the beginning of November, hopefully in time for you to pick it up during our U.S. tour. Okay, now for the fun stuff:
Say word: Fans, dance and other bands. Say turd: Can’t find mannequin hands.
Say word: colllecting all the parts, sweet smell of fall. Say turd: getting really late starts and no sleep at all.
Say word: Seu Jorge, Shuggie Otis and Bjork videos. Say turd: George Porgie, Big Unit and first in the division hopes.
Say word: birthday songs and still more to come. Say turd: tattoos all gone, but tons more at home.
A special thanks to Clifton for Dee Dubs’ dark and stormy and to Maine girls that actually say “You can’t get there from here.” And thanks to Jason, Jordan and Paula at Colby College and Jeff, Chris, San Serac and Joey Beats in Providence for making our shows such a success and pleasure this weekend. Thanks to Papa Jim at the studio. And to all of the fans, new and old, that came out this weekend, thanks.