A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Douchebag: 1st Entry

A Künstlerroman ("artist's novel", German pronunciation: [ˈkʏnstlɐ.roˌmaːn]; plural -ane) is a specific sub-genre of Bildungsroman; it is a novel about an artist's growth to maturity. Such novels often depict the struggles of a sensitive youth against the values of a bourgeois society of his or her time.

I'll save us both the time by not explaining why that word amuses me.

I wish I could tell you that I've been really pouring over this entry these past few days and not dicking around watching netflix movies, I wish i could say that. It's been a good long while and there's been a whole lot of something going on these past few months, and with our record release but breaths away I figured it would probably be a good idea for us guys to actually use this blog. Do some promoting, prove we're not musical robots. The usual. And as the voice of Black America, I figured it was my responsibility to do my part here; so here we go.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times -

It was last Friday.

Picture it: Sicily, The Saint - The place that bore us and gave us more shows than we can count. We were booked to play at Rick Barry's Holiday Hangover. It had been awhile since we last played there and from what I'd been told it was supposedly a pretty big deal. I was still nursing a beat up body and a shiner from Monday's Gogol Bordello show, everyone else was hung over from a pretty heavy shit show week and Connor somehow found his way back from the most epic NYE party ever. but all in all we found a way to slap ourselves together after a two week break and get to work.

Now if you told me that someone out there figured out a way to sprinkle southern rock and shoegaze onto a voice smoother than warm horchata, I'd tell you to fuck off but All The Tired Horses pulled it off and the world is a bit better for it.

We were on second to a surprisingly packed room and save for a few soft sour moments here and there I think we did pretty ok. I totally meant to lose the strap and almost drop my bass. I did. Its called performance art. I'm a showman. I wear $100 jeans. I like to shave smooth. All and all a solid set from four guys who hadn't been in the same room, or state, together for the better part of two week. Its a bittersweet feeling having all these awesome b-sides and non-album tracks on our setlist, knowing that the closer we get to record release the less we'll be playing them. We've been busy boys.

We cleaned up pretty nice. soon enough Rick Barry and his men took the stage. I've seen Rick Barry play solo a few times and its always really good. Strong, deep lyrics that don't completely stray away from pop sensibilities; but I've never seen him with a full backing band and I must say I was really impressed with not only the individual talent of each member but with how tight they were as a band and how well they meshed together. There is nothing sloppy about Rick Barry and The Forget-Me-Nows and I respect that. These guys fucking practice. Plus for about five minutes I was pretty sure Uncle Joey was playing Keys and that's always a plus for any band.

Let me say with no insult or exaggeration that Mr Rick Barry has a phenomenal mustache. It takes time and energy and real dedication to groom something like that and I've said on more than one occasion that I wish that his mustache would read me bedtime stories or tell me about the one time it got smashed on blotter acid and hit on Kim Deal at Lollapalooza in the 90s while I drink warm horchata. One Day.

One Day.

I'd like the mustache to be voiced by Morgan Freeman.

But its not a deal breaker.

River City Extension.

These guys make me feel bad for playing music because I know nothing I do will be nearly as good as what they do. Imagine Arcade Fire relocated to the shores of Mexico. Time and time again I'm blown away by the sheer intensity of their live show. Their infectious rhythms. Everything. I like what these guys do. They don't have a heavy-handed agenda. I like that.

There was a moment during the show when they started playing this song, I forget the name but I distinctly remember it about going south for the winter. Now it started with Joe, the singer and acoustic guitarist, playing by himself a rhythm and chord progression that left hints of Crane Wife on my tongue. At this point I was ready to call shenanigans on this guy but suddenly the rest of the band just exploded into the moment and took the song someplace indescribable. And for the briefest moth flutter of a moment I saw everything. The big picture. And for that moment, everything was fuller and brighter than it had ever been. Needless to say I haven't felt that at a live show in a good long while and I doubt I will again any time soon.

The rest of the set didn't taper off from there. It got better. Even if you've never heard them before I defy to see them live and not find something primal rise in you.

I defy you not to move.

All in all it was the best night of music Asbury Park had seen in a good long while.

But the past seems like a distant place, and I'm pleased with that.

Its time for the future, to talk of new and better things. Our debut album "Everything Between The Moon & The Sun" is set for release in about 6 weeks and we're all really pumped for it. I wanna thank anyone and everyone who was ever remotely involved in this project. You're champions, gods among insects. Don't forget that. I also just wanna throw this out there; Guns and Roses' Chinese Democracy beat us to the shelves how did that happen? At least we got this thing knocked out before Ben Gibbard could put out another Postal Service album.

At least we beat Duke Nukem Forever.

One last thing about Rick Barry; we've sorted out the details, the mustache will be voiced by John Turturro. Stay tuned for further developments.

I'll leave you with this one last note; Sometimes the only thing you need in this world is an enigmatic cowboy who speaks in non-sequiturs and has a staring problem.

Do what it do, Do it big.
Manny
The Amboys