So MCD played Coachella a few weeks back. We got to REEEE-LAAAXXX by the pool for a few hours in Palm Springs, party all night, hide from the sun all day, and then hit the road home again. The band was all over the place before the show. Leslie came in from Detroit, Spencer and I came in from Seattle, Derek met us in Palm Springs already on tour with the Cave Singers, and Dann flew in from Chicago from his tour with The Cold War Kids. Gabe, unfortunately was not able to make this show … possibly the first show he has missed since he quit the band on our first tour before he came back again.

Times were different then, a lot different … We were stuck in Jackson Mississippi for three days with no shows, our booking agent was in jail and we were staying in a $21 a night hotel called the Cross Roads Inn. To get there off the freeway we had to drive down a dirt road, pass a gas station that had burned to the ground, and in the parking lot as we pulled up was—I shit you not—a fat kid with no pants and his t-shirt tucked into his underwear sweeping the gravel out of the driveway. I swear to god, as we pulled up I made eye contact with that kid and he was shaking his head in slow motion, as if to warn us not to come there. We should have heeded his advice.

When we checked in to our one room for the eight of us, (most of the band was hiding in the van so we wouldn’t have to pay for them) they passed us our two towels through the bullet proof glass and told us it was best not to leave, or to use the pool. As hot as it was in August in Mississippi there was no way in hell you could have gotten us to swim in there. The pool was half empty, and dark … dark and murky murky thick water. The regulars on second floor would hang out on the balcony and throw their beer cans and cigarettes into the pool, and even though there wasn’t that day, I’m sure there has been at least one dead dog floating in that pool at some point.

That night there was some kind of huge prostitution or drug bust, and there were cops all over the place. The Cross Road Inn’s private security was running around screaming gibberish at each other into cheap kid’s walkie talkies. It was straight out of cops and one of those times where you really have to question the paths you have chosen in your life. It was after those three days that Gabe left, and I have to say I don’t blame him, it was looking pretty grim, but he came back a few days later and things eventually got better.

Anyways, our stay at The Ace hotel in Palm Springs was nothing like the Cross Roads Inn. It was, quite possibly the sexiest place I have ever been. When we pulled up at 11 on saturday night, the bar was full, music was playing by the pool, there were people everywhere, a rave going on, it was nuts. It seemed like the ultimate party oasis of good times. The next morning we were down by the pool drinking Mimosas and Bloody Mary’s and eating delicious breakfasts and living it up before the show.

They were setting up shop and selling drinks at around 9:00 in the morning and by 11AM there was live music poolside. Personally, I was thinking to myself, “Ahhh, now I get it, this is what people mean when they say living …” it was awesome. Then we left the hotel and I saw Palm Springs in the daylight on the drive out to the festival and the tune quickly changed to me thinking, “Why in the hell to people live out here in this insane heat? This is fucking ridiculous.” And it was … It was over 100° by noon, you couldn’t be in the sun for more than ten minutes without starting to turn into dust. I felt like I was dying even when I was chugging water as fast as I could drink it. My body was revolting against the idea of it ever being that hot anywhere, maybe somewhere in space, or on another planet, but seriously, come on. It’s stupid how hot it is there. I don’t know how people do it.

So then we got out to the festival. We got driven around the grounds in golf carts, and we had a little trailer with air conditioning we could hang out in … we had to take turns, it was a little small for how many people we had there. The way it worked out with the schedule of where we needed to be and when, I didn’t really get to check out very many bands, which was kind of too bad, but what I did see was pretty awesome.

Fucked Up played and they tore it up. If you haven’t seen them you should check them out. They are a good time, and they know how to do it. 

We were up next. Needless to say, it was hot. We were in a tent in the shade, but it was hot. I thought I was going to be really smart and I tied my glasses onto my head, because they fly off when I’m playing. Turns out that wasn’t such a great idea …

All the sun screen I had put on to keep myself from getting destroyed by the sun sweated off and ran into my eyes, which I couldn’t wipe off because my glasses were strapped on. So for a few songs there, I was having some kind of massive chemical burn going on in my eyes, it kind of sucked but didn’t last long, new sweat came along and washed it all out.

Then X played and sounded great. Billy Zoom is a very creepy guy. He always has the same weird smile on his face … We played with them years ago and he came into our dressing room where we were all hanging out. We had never met him before, but he came right in and sat down in the middle of our conversation and didn’t say anything, he just sat there smiling. We tried to continue our conversation but it was too weird. We offered him a beer, “No thanks, I don’t drink.” he said, smiling. Ok … we tried to act like it wasn’t weird that he was just sitting there. We wanted to think it was awesome that Billy Zoom was in there, but he was being too creepy. We all stopped talking and just sat there. For a long time. Eventually the room started to clear out and then he left. It was really weird. Anyways, X sounded great as I’m sure they always will. Billy Zoom always looks exactly like this:

Eventually we got back to the hotel. Derek, Spencer, Dann and I had to fly out of LAX on Monday morning at 6:30 AM, so we left Palm Springs at about 2:30 that night. These are the beds we slept in for about two hours. I wish I could have gotten to know them better.

We’ll be playing the Sasquatch Festival at the Gorge this weekend if you can make it.

Here we go, the start of the real deal … We actually got to leave town for this one, and it was a doozy. Early AM equipment load out from the Showbox, car rentals, and two border crossings all in one day. The show went off without a hitch, the crowd was great, and we got to hang out with a bunch of buddies from way back. It was awesome to actually get on the road and play in a town we hadn’t been to for a long time. Vancouver was always a great time for us, and this time was no exception. Thanks guys.

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Alright folks! The dust is settling a little bit around here at MCD headquarters, and we’re finally getting a chance to catch up with all of our projects. We’ve been editing videos, getting photos ready to post, organizing for the Coachella and Sasquatch festivals, and picking the winners for the Feather Bed Whiskey Blanket box set contest. They’ve all been notified, so as soon as we hear back from everyone we’ll announce the winners here. Over the next couple weeks we’ll be getting all the videos ready for the rest of the tour series. We’ve got some great footage that we’re excited to get up.

Thanks again to everybody for coming out to the shows, it was great to see so many friends. Here’s the video for day two, the second show at The Showbox here in Seattle.

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We’ve kicked off the tour and things are going great. Here’s the video of the first show, all ages at the Showbox in Seattle. It was a great crowd and a good time. We’ve been filming tons of footage and taking photos which we’ll be editing and posting here over the next week.

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First, as a special commemoration of the February tour and the re-release of the vinyl on Sub Pop we’ve put together a super limited edition Box Set called “Feather Bed Whiskey Blanket.” The three studio albums, The Murder City Devils, Empty Bottles Broken Hearts, In Name and Blood and the Thelema EP all will all be pressed on pristine 12″ white vinyl in a limited quantity of 275 sets that will be for sale exclusively on this tour. Unlike the black and white marbled represses, the white vinyl is only available in the box set.

Bundled in a custom made package with a button and string closure, each set will be hand-numbered and contain one of a kind photos, stencils, posters and other pieces unique to each set. Who knows, you might end up with rare promo photos, press stickers, outtake / live photos, studio notes, sketches, old set lists, old backstage passes, Gabe’s electric bill … anything from the massive MCD archives that can fit into a flat 12″ box. Each package will have the four 12″ records on exclusive white vinyl, a totally unique set of bonus items, be hand-numbered and shrink wrapped air tight so nobody but nobody will know what’s in there until you get it home and open it up. (We’ll know, and we’ll be keeping track.)

The second announcement is, because there are so few of these sets to go around, and we’re only going down the west coast on this tour, we wanted to give everyone who can’t make it to the shows a shot at getting one one of these. So we’re hosting an international contest here on the website where the grand prize is a Feather Bed Whiskey Blanket box set, a limited edition silk screened tour poster, and a t-shirt of the new design for this tour.

Other prizes will be two complete sets of the four 12″ black and white marbled vinyl editions of The Murder City Devils, Empty Bottles Broken Hearts, In Name and Blood , and Thelema, and a few t-shirt and poster packages.

To enter, go to the Contest page and sign up.

One the first times that we played in Houston, TX we were exposed to one of the most incredible bands I’ve ever seen, RUSTED SHUT, a three piece consisting of a husband and wife team (Don – guitar and Sybil – Bass) and a drummer. Don and Sybil were both in their late 40’s or early 50’s. Don, I believe, was a music teacher and Sybil was a librarian or something. They had been a band for almost 20 years and had never really left Houston, and were bitter about it. 

The night before we had played in Austin at SXSW. Because the festival was still going on, most of the local people were down there and since it was one of our first shows in Houston, there was nobody at the club. That’s not quite true, there were maybe 5—10 people there, one of whom we learned was the brother of the guitar player in ZZ Top. He was wearing a patchwork leather, southwest themed, Tweety Bird & Taz jacket and was acting like a real asshole. He was eventually thrown out of the bar for fighting with his wife and was actually yelling something about ZZ Top on the way out. The rest of the people there were the members of Rusted Shut, the bar’s staff and Dave the promoter. (I’m pictured with him below this post.)

Rusted Shut was one of the best/worst things I have ever seen in my life. Don was throwing temper tantrums on stage, berating his wife and the drummer and screaming into the microphone about how they’ve always been ripped off, never got any respect, and how SXSW was keeping their demo tapes and then giving all the shows to bands from Seattle. He hated us, Nirvana, Sub Pop, and anything from the Northwest. The most vivid memories I have of one of his tirades was after stopping in the middle of one song and screaming at the drummer for fucking up, he turned to the room and with his fingers pointed at his temple like a gun  and yelled, ” GYYAAAA WHY DO WE PRACTICE?!?!” They were amazing.

It turns out that Dave intentionally booked us with them as a joke on us because he knew that no one was going to be at the show, and he thought it would be hilarious. He was right. From then on whenever we went to Houston we always put Rusted Shut on the guest list, and they almost always came and were always really nice … at first. Inevitably by the end of the night they would be totally pissed off at us and going crazy. Every time. It ruled.

Anyways, the guy in this photo is Don’s brother, or cousin or some kind of relation, and I’m pretty sure he was wearing a wig. He claimed to have played organ with the Rolling Stones in their touring band or something … it never quite made sense. Now this guy really hated us (not our beer though, he loved our beer) and he was going nuts. You can see in this photo that he is about ready to attack Leslie. I can’t remember exactly what sparked it, or what the details are about what went down, but I think that moments after this photo was taken he totally lost his shit and started to destroy things backstage. I could be wrong, and I beg of anyone else who was there to help me fill in the details, but I think that we had to try to sneak out of the club, run to our van, and peel out of the parking lot with this guy and Rusted Shut running after us, cursing us, throwing bottles and with all of us laughing our asses off. 

I love Rusted Shut.