Finding a cheap motel – one that’s not a crack motel – is always a bit challenging when you’re on the road late at night after a gig. Rick, Rachel’s boyfriend and bodyguard, a striking but intimidating 6’5” young man had his own method. He would call around for motels, ask how much for a room and if they didn’t ask how many people then he’d go with them, as long as the price was right. We found one for 45 bucks with 2 beds – no questions asked. And it was a “get what you pay for” kind of room – but no crack – except in the walls and ceilings. We had five people to the room – that included Rachel and Rick. Beaner Nix would be acting as watchdog sleeping in the Expedition SUV and Bro UMF was going to pay for another room so he could get a bed – smart man – and visitors were welcome.
This is where I go into me pirate speak: Now this beggar’s sack of barnacle boys turned out to be real gents – don’t ya know. They be offerin’ up their bunks to this rousin’ wench whilst they took their slumber of the flush deck -- and they be promising their shanty instruments to the perils of Davey Jones and strikin’ the colors if they won’t be offerin’ up the same fer the rest of ar-rrrr journeys – and – not one these wasters, no, not one these survy dogs would be crackin’ Jenny's tea cup, don’t ya know – ar-rrrr . . . . Wha-- was it something I said? . . . This was our first night together and I could tell I had a band of good guys watching out for me . . .
It was a cozy night of five in a room – Rachel and Rick in one bed, I in the other and SW and Dawghouse camping on the floor. I wouldn’t call these fine accommodations but a fair to middlin’ flop house. And not too much of an operatic snoring chorus ensued so everybody got their 40 winks.
The next morning, the order of rising that would later come to be the pattern for the rest of the trip played out: DH was the first to wake with rising sun and was the first one out, then SW, then me, then B Nix who came in from camping in the SUV to shower –- Bro UMF would be out by the trailer ready to roll waiting for me and B Nix to fall into line. This processional pattern seemed to work well for us and was established rather early on -- I guess even old punks are creatures of habit . . .
Breakfast at Tiffany's
In the morning, we all stood by the trailer in the parking lot, woofed down crappy motel coffee and had our only self-provided breakfast of the week from the six bags of groceries we had all brought (For the rest of the time we would be frustrated as we constantly shifted around those damn bags of groceries and tried to consolidate them into fewer bags as we threw out the rotting perishables because we opted to buy crappy snacks from gas stops and spend too much money eating in restaurants) – This morning, however, we were resourceful -- The Misery Jackal continental breakfast included: bruised but still delicious fruit and our own box cereal in a foam cup -- we did have to “borrow” the cups, spoons and milk from the motel’s “continental breakfast bar” to make the breakfast complete . . .
Rachel Brooke, Rick and Sweet Willy Corgan with his prized toy car
The Misery Jackals!!
Stomachs fed, bodies clothed, we were on our way to another adventure . . .
We arrived in Covington earlier than expected for our late departure – 8:45 PM – but we weren’t early enough to get a motel room. We would have to park the SUV and trailer next to Molly Malone’s and scout out the situation for the load-in – both of equipment into the bar restaurant and of food into our stomachs. All the testosterone floating around in the car had drained me of nourishment! I was feeling both queasy and hungry and was beginning to grow hair in unwanted places . . .
We were further south now so the evidence of spring was a little more prominent than up in Akron. We had seen budding trees with white blossoms and purple flowers majesty along the road – but it was still too cold for my internal-post-vernal-equinox-gage – I wanted the warm-er southern Spring and I wanted it in full bloom – NOW!
I put on another layer as the guys spilled out onto the parking lot and cracked open the trailer. Sweet Willy went inside to check out the situation as we all began unloading and consolidating the equipment on the sidewalk. SW came back with the plan. We were to load in from the side door, go through the kitchen and up the service elevator to the second floor. No basement playing for us – we were being elevated to second floor – that was a good sign.
I liked the way Covington looked. It seemed like we were in an historic district – older brick buildings, turn of the century (19th-20th century, that is) architecture. Molly Malone’s reminded me of a place you might find in Dublin – “a fine ol’ eatin’ house” -- a pub with good eats’n’spirits and good people. The interior confirmed my impression – it was a traditional Irish pub. It reminded me of places I had seen in Ireland. Warm colored wood trim everywhere, high back cozy benches and intimate cottage-style “cubicle” seating, Gaelic lettering on the walls. Click here to check out: Molly Malone's Covington
“Normal”, nice looking, cheerful young people adorned the establishment. I confided in SW a bit of my anxiety – “I think this is the nicest place we’ve ever played in – do you think they’ll like us?” A one-hour Jackal dining experience is not for everyone. It requires a special kind of digestive system – a very short, fat intestine and razor sharp teeth – yes, inebriation helps . . . He quelled my fears, “Well, they heard our music and booked us . . .” True . . . Okay -- it was time for suds and grub! I ordered the BBC Bourbon Barrel Stout on draft – made in Kentucky – YU-U-MM! A grog fit for a pirate – and wouldn’t you know – they even had veggie burgers! The hippie pirate in me was happy -- I loved this place!
The real test for me though was the bathroom – that was to be my costume changing room. Now, a true accordion-playing-lipstick-pirate-girl needs to be well packed to be on the road doing shows every night. She needs to have a lot of costume/accessory options – and she needs to have plenty of room to assess these options before adorning herself for performance battle. My knapsack (on rollers w/ extended handle, of course) included: -- 2 crinolines: 1 hot-pink circa early-mid 70’s; 1 tri-colored (yellow, pink, blue) circa late ‘50’s early 60’s -- 1 red & white checkered short dress costume (used to be sexy Little Red Riding Hood now serving as Pirate Hillbilly girl costume) -- 1 optional flashy pirate-y ethnic-y sash -- 2 pair of knee to waist stockings: 1 blue, 1 pink -- “one-size fits all” that fits only small asian women -- 3 pairs of fishnet stockings: 1 full length black, 1 full length red; 1 pair thigh length black -- 1 pair of spider-webby-thingy-type black stockings -- 5 pairs of striped leg warmers: 1 blue & black, 1 hot-pink & black, 1 red & black, 1 white & black, and 1 multi-colored (red, two shades of blue & yellow) – OPTIONS! -- 4 pirate skull t-shirts: 2 pink, 1 blue, 1 black – and now – 1 hot-pink Johnny Cash t-shirt -- bras & panties! bras & panties! -- 2 ruffles panties: 1 hot-pink, 1 white w/ red flowers, green leaves: 1 pair of red hot pants, high cut -- jewelry: 3 Mardi Gras necklaces; pair of hoop earrings (mom’s -circa 1975); 1 rhinestone sword pendant given by wild pirate woman, Hildee Pine -- black leather lace/zip-up Red Wing boots; black leather belt with Pirate skull buckle -- and, of course – one well-stocked make-up bag (MAC foundation and brushes included) – along with long lasting pirate lipstick
I’m sure you’re thinking in what order does this all go, and how many layers of what – that’s where the fun comes in – there’s no boredom factor when you have a well stocked bag o’ tricks (Stayed posted for the up-and-coming Misery Jackals Paper Dolls -- you can assemble costumes in the comfort of your own home and even cross dress band members if the mood strikes) But anyway -- as you can see from the contents of this -- believe it or not -- moderately sized bag, one needs a lot of room to pull out its contents and explore. And that’s where the bathroom situation gets a little tricky. Ideally it would have been great to arrive at a motel, checked in, had time to relax and change into a costume, but it didn’t happen that night – nor did it happen any night of the tour (so don’t expect to read about it). So adaptation was the key to survival.
Molly Malone’s rocked on all fronts -- food, spirits, people, music – and bathrooms. I had a single clean jane on the second floor with not too many women on the floor to compete for it, and those women who were there hadn’t drunk enough beer yet, so all was clear. Down in the basement a whole other operatic scene was unfolding . . B. Nix had given birth to a giant dragon necked poop baby that wouldn’t flush down the toilet and he was trying to get all the guys in the band to go down there to change into their costumes and “Enter the Dragon”. SW took the bait and was the first one to go down for the encounter. He couldn’t slay the M—F---er so he warned off the rest of the guys to not succumb to the tricks of the evil Nix – “save your souls -- save your eyes and nose – NO NOT ENTER THE DRAGON!” (oh, those boys . . .)
Meanwhile back in the upper eschelon: I did my thang in the jane as Dawghouse checked out a bodacious Gingernut (redhead). He was “on” before he got on stage – drooling, waiting for a juicy bird to throw the dog her bones. Too bad she lived in Covington . . . (this is where you hear the sound of a dog whimpering)
It was a night of great music. Wonky Tonk was up first -- Well, the girls of Wonky Tonk, that is: Jasmine on guitar and Moriah on mandolin. I’ve never seen the whole band but I can’t imagine it being much better. These girls had all the magic needed to put on a great show. Jasmine was like a little fairy goddess dusting the stage with notes of enchantment. Moriah was one of the best mandolin players I had seen in a long time – you always know a good player when they make it look easy! She could hold down the rhythm while reeling a voracious melody! These two inspired me! And when they weren’t playing on stage, they were stomping and gliding across the floor to the other bands’ music – they were still part of the synergy. Check them out on MySpace: Wonky Tonk
Our traveling lone star companion, Rachel Brooke was up next. The lonesome cry of her sultry voice felt like it penetrated the walls and floated into the night streets . . . through Kentucky . . . drifting down through the south . . . acting as the beacon for all its inhabitants to come on home to the old country, to its roots from where American music was born. She would have made Hank Sr. proud. I was glad this wasn’t the last show we would have with Rachel. I could listen to her every night . . . Check her out on MySpace: Rachel Brooke
It was time to Jackal it up now! Time to rake the mellow, turn the beds, expose the weeds, churn the compost, baby! (Oh God, I want Spring to be here!) Well, I must say, in my non-biased nature that we had a pretty damn good show. Even though good monitors are always a bit of an issue for us (especially me) B. Nix let it rip with his awesome vocals (I guess being emptied of the dragon helped him to sing better), Brother UMF was in the pocket, driving that midnight train to Kentucky, Sweet Willy was a hammerin’ and pickin’ Johnny Reb, and ol’ Dawghouse was luring in them bass fetish girls. I made a few good impressions that night myself – Moriah came up to me afterward and called me her new hero (or heroine) – I told her she was mine too – a lovefest of female musicians . . a-a-ahhhh . . . Mike from the Tillers ran awesome sound for us that night – a band is only as good as their sound guy will let them be – Thanks, Mike!
Our host and new buddy Jimmy kept the Hudy Delight beer coming and we were feeling the delight for sure! The Frontier Folk Nebraska band was the closing act. These guys were entertaining as hell as their sound morphed through their set. It started out folk/roots rock and ended kind of emo-y. I wasn’t sure if that was the plan or if they were just “going with the flow”. The lead singer was quite a showman, throwing his guitar up in the air. At one point his strap came off and he had his guitar down on the stage shaking it, half playing, then not playing at all as the band went on into improv riffing. I thought this was part of the act, but Bother UMF told me he lost his pick in his guitar and was trying to get it out – well, if you can make it part of the show, what the hell? His ending was dramatic – when all else fails go with that as well – he walked off stage and went out into the crowd as the band brought it on home. Check them out on MySpace: Frontier Folk Nebraska
The drunk chicks were all dancing at the end of the night. That’s how you know it was a good night . . .
Our First full-bodied Jackal Tour "Hitting the South in 8 days"
April 4th, 2009 Our ETD was 3:00 The plan was the guys meet at Sweet Willy C’s, load up and then swing by to pick me up. At 3 PM SW called and said that plans were a little off schedule due to the fact that everyone needed to take showers and he ran out of well water. Rachel Brooke and her boyfriend Rick along with Beaner Nix had all spent the night at the Corgan homestead after the Annabell’s show the night before (SW is a good band mom) He asked if it would be all right if he showered at my house before they loaded me up. I said “no worries” because I too was running behind schedule, cleaning frantically so as to leave as little sign as possible of my slovenly ways for my friend Joe who would be house/dog sitting for me while I’m on the road.
We finally got on the road at 5:00. The trailer was smaller than our “needs”. We had spillage flowing into the back seat of the van now – the backseat spread-out/chill bed was gone! I would have to be the cream filling in between two chocolatey Jackal cookies in the mid seat of the Ford Expedition SUV
Yup -- it was Jackal snuggle time. Brother Underwire Manzier Fromage on my left and Beaner Nix on my right. It was warm, snuggly softness. I had only dreamed of such comfort in lesbian fantasies – who knew men could be so supple-y soothing! – AND -- I had live stereo comedy channel: Saturday Night Live, Bugs Bunny cartoons crossed with porn and flavored with a bit of the Ringling Brothers, Barnum & Bailey up close and personal live touch -- comforting, deranged slapstick filled with the scent of animal poop and farts. Brother UMF broke out the sacred Communion Orbitz watermelon gum – and the chomping litany began: Here are just a few sound bites that rang in my ears:
In regards to the bright green watermelon communal gum: B. Nix: “I feel like The Incredible Hulk just came in my mouth”
In a more soft moment regarding killing animals: B.Nix: “I killed a bird once accidentally and cried” (I guess he wouldn’t REALLY go to a Ringling Bro’s show)
While passing the Crew Stadium in Columbus: B. Nix: "We could fill that stadium . . . if we played with someone else . . . like Sting" Then the whole band began to play on “The Police” theme . . . “yeah we began to play and The Police showed up – no really – THE police”
Somewhere between Columbus and Cincinnati began the creation and assemblage of the "The Misery Jackal Fun Pack":
The Misery Jackals Fun Pack: - one rubber glove - one work glove - a butterfinger - The New “KIIYP” Jelly (Please refer to our song “Keep It In Your Pants” on our new EP)
Variations on the pack include: The New England Pack (aka as "The Cape Cod pack") Also includes: - spicy cocktail sauce - Halls Cherry cough drop -- or if you prefer -- Fisherman’s Friend - Sailor cap
German Pack: - substitute Ricola 4-Pack - mini lederhosen - one kazoo
The Down Under Pack - pocket didgeridoo - 2-3 shaved kiwis - 1 tube medicated chapstick - 1 pair non-imperialistic French-cut grass panties
The Serial Killer Pack also includes: - lye - duct tape - golf ball –or— - old tennis ball –AND-- - old dog squeaky toy - Short length of rope
The band banter grew from worse to perverse now – I was now not only the documentarian but one of the boys – they let it all flow out freely – I was moving now from reluctant social anthropologist to “Jack-off-ologist” -- and for what I am now writing as a witness I am an apologist – no wait – I am not saying that I am defending it – I am apologizing for it . . . I am an apology-ist I guess you would say . . .
So as we approached Covington making good time, we began talking about "a good time" -- Dawghouse Timmy began his dog bone drooling over the possibility of some fine Kentucky puntang . We all chimed in on how we could help him out. I clarified, “Yeah, Tim I’m sure we can find you – what is it you like – a big breasted blonde – like Laurie Anderson? Of course I meant to say “Lonnie” (and how appropriate that we would be going through Cincinnati – the faux/real setting of the sitcom "WKRP" that made Lonnie’s faux/real boobs so famous . . .) B. Nix was the first to correct me – “he doesn’t like cropped haired older musician women in power suits – you mean 'Lonnie'” (He also corrected me in calling Lonnie's boobs "faux" -- "they were totally real", he defended) Tim clarified, “I would titty f--- Lonnie and come on Laurie at this point –it’s been so long . . “
As I transcribe their lippage into my computer I tell them that Microsoft Word is not recognizing the word "titty" and is telling me that it is mis-spelled. Brother UMF comments first: he says Bill Gates has issues – "I mean, why didn’t he name his programs “Macrohard” -- think about it!" Dawghouse comments: "but he owns a f---ing island so what does it matter . . ."
Back to Saving Private Dawghouse (or DH's privates) -- The guys reassured him, “Don’t worry Tim, we’ll be your wing guys if it takes playing “Deliverance” to get you layed . . . “ B. Nix and Brother UMF then embodied their "Deter" and "Schfanzy" alter egos and dialogued in the cryptic indigenous vernacular of Deter-Schfanz -- perfect lisp-lipping and hip schvishing ensued . . . (imagine gay German men not too much black leather but rather fashionable black high turtle neck sweaters and zip-up black boots)
Deter then “schvitched” channels back to Brother UMF and began rehearsing his sales pitch – a commercial of “specials” for the evening as deemed appropriate from his theocracy of one – the mono-theocrat dictator, Brother Underwire Manziere Fromage:
“Tonight – a night of special viewing – 2-for-1 confessionals – for women . . . If you have a problem confessing your sins, you can act it out in a bra & panty interpretive dance . . . no language barriers – remove all barriers, my daughters!"
He then broke into his "Bras & Panties" hymn which was more Deter-esque but had the cross-over of Frere Jacques -- the German and the French were fighting again to gain control through our poor drummer who was merely channeling these energies of frustrated sexual energy . . . It was then that I realized that it was all the same -- love, sex, death -- war -- orgasm . . . Thank you Brother UMF for enlightening me . . . Anyway, here are the lyrics to the tune that some claim was a mix of a nursery rhyme and a funeral dirge (Brother John)
"Bras and panties -- Bras and panties Deter's new song -- Deter's new song Please wear bras and panties -- Please wear bras and panties While Deter grows long -- While Deter grows long"
Then to B. Nix: "Oh Schfanzy, join me! Make wiz de ooz and de aaz!"
Cincinatti approaches. We are almost to Covington which is across the river/bridge in Kentucky. B. Nix spots the Cincinatti skyline and breaks out into a perfect recreation of the theme song from "WKRP" -- Wow! He is probably the only person I know who remembers all the words and melody to the theme song -- He really does know that show! . . . I now believe him -- if he says Lonnie Anderson's boobs were real, then they must be! We all join him in on the station jingle harmony -- "WKRP in Cincinatti --"
ecstatic
artistic
angsty
excellent story of MJ great adventure tour!