The Plastic Constellations -- Dumb Jerks Tour A Lot--

Fall Dates Bitchez!

2006-10-16T09:30:00.000-05:00

Soon, very soon.

Oct 21 2006 - Triple Rock Social Club (Early All Ages Show Only for the Shoe Shiners Release Show) - Minneapolis, MN
Oct 27 2006 - Subterranean - Chicago, IL
Oct 28 2006 - Garfield Artworks - Pittsburgh, PA
Oct 29 2006 - Local 506 - Chapel Hill, NC
Oct 30 2006 - Ottobar - Baltimore, MD
Oct 31 2006 - Northstar Bar - Philadelphia, PA
Nov 1 2006 - CMJ - TBA - New York, NY
Nov 2 2006 - CMJ - TBA - New York, NY
Nov 3 2006 - Piano's for the Frenchkiss Records CMJ Showcase - New York, NY
Nov 4 2006 - TT the Bears - Boston, MA
Nov 5 2006 - La Sala Rossa - Montreal, QC
Nov 6 2006 - Sneaky Dee's - Toronto, ON
Nov 7 2006 - Howard's Club - Bowling Green, OH
Nov 8 2006 - The Spot at Case Western University - Cleveland, OH

Homecoming, Brocoming

2006-09-14T20:16:00.000-05:00

Resume game. We are still driving from Seattle to Fargo, leaving the corpses of thousands of bugs in our wake.

Well wow, here it is. The Life of Montana. Who would've thought it would be a non-descript office building from the 70s?

They still have tagging out here, despite the rural steez.

We enter forest fire territory, and with the western united states engulfed in flames this day, the sky is a sooty orange as the sun sets.

Smoky skyscapes.

Nightfall, we are still driving. But thankfully, a huge full orange moon guides us safely through the coyote prairies.

Rest-stop wheat.

We stop and get a hotel in Miles City, drink gins, watch cable. The last hotel stop of the tour. We leave bright and early the next morning cause we still got a long way to go to Fargo.

North Dakota: as flat as Nicole Richie.

North Dakota's one shot at conceptual public art.

Our magnet map is finally complete. Nice job, Alison.

Death.

In Fargo, we get to the show early and head over to King Hunan's for our last meal together of the tour. They have an all you can eat buffet, including full ice cream bar. It is truly fantastic to be home in the midwest.

Faux-bamboo wallpaper, slightly textured to give the impression of authenticity. Beak decides to decorate his studio in this style, very classy.

Deuce cities represent.

We run into a bunch of awesome friends at this show. On the left is BTF (Big Time Fuller) and Blestos up from the Deuce Cities, and on the right is our old friend Jaret who drove down with his lady Ashley from Winnipeg. Manitoba, represent. The bar is full of people who are also there for "Centerfold Night."

The show is upstairs and is the first all ages Fargo show at this venue, ever. The kids respond well.

Jaret, Ashley, Scoops and Waff get stoked.

After the show (did we mention it was like 2 in the morning?) we go back to Blestos' parents house in suburban Fargo. They are in their pajamas, drinking white wine. Truly nice people.

Dear god. They have a hot tub. Things get crazy.

Brews, bubbles, butts.

The next day we get back to home sweet home, Minneaps. So what do we do after being on the road for two weeks? Head straight to the bar to drink beers, watch music, and smoke cigarettes. Very rational. Colezones welcomes us home.

The show is at the Triple Rock and we are ridiculously stoked to see our hometown friends. Tubs, JV Squad, Danielle, Lukekyle, Tallbikes. We salute you.

Homecoming shows can be fun.

Backstage, underage, adolescent, how ya doin? Fine, she replied, I sighed, I like to do the wild thing.

50's shows off his sweaty back.

The next morning is rainy. But its so good to be home. We head to the Bandbox for breakfast. So serious.

Northwest Rage Fest

2006-09-08T01:04:00.000-05:00

We leave San Francisco and head through the arid northlands of California. Jordan gets totes masculine behind the wheel.

As the sun goes down, we stop in Redding for the night. Mad wireless internet, pizza, cable TV, shower action takes place at the Howard Johnson.

Back up the next morning, up into the redwood forest greenery of Northern Cali and Southern Orego (that's slang for Oregon).

The first snow-peaked mountain of the trip.

So many easy jokes possible here. Like fish in a barrel.

Ice cream monsters.

The Koob.

Now is when shit starts to get ridiculous. For real. Matt and Alison begin a photoshop war that lasts days. They takes images of all of us, doctor them, and basically make us look absolutely insane. Here, Alison does a portrait of Jeff and Matt.

Alison then creates a painting of Jordan as a demonic, flame-headed lord of the nether realms.

Matt counters back with an image of Alison as a confused, hungry, and supersonice powerful tiger ready to eat an exploding hamburder.

Here's Beak as ultra-buff and hairy angelic guitar god. Lazerbeak's Lavabangerz.

Then he makes one of Jeff as a golden god, shooting out the power of one thousand united hands with his guitar licks. Beautiful women look on in awe.

Jordan is a space-age 1980's arcade game devoted to drinking huge gas station cups full of Diet Coke. So fucked.

Back in the real world, the sun starts going down as we get to Portland.

The venue is the Towne Lounge, a tiny but cool little club in the University area of the city. Volvo runs shit in Portland.

A few blocks from the venue is PGE Park, an underground minor league baseball stadium. In front of it are some completely insane baby face sculptures made up metal strips bound together. Jeff explores the insides of this baby's skull.

Mischevious boys. A pre-show newspaper and water bottle fight. If we were half-naked women it would be like a Coors Light commercial.

You can smoke in bars here.

Matt and Alison play around with long exposures in the club. The results are EXPLOSIVE.

Our pal from Mpls lives here now, Jamie, and his girlfriend Krista. Jamie likes Lil' Wayne.

Our friend Mike from L.A. drives up to Portland for the show and buys us a round of beers. What a guy!

The set is sweaty but sweet. Say THAT five times fast.

In Seattle the next day, we are walking to the guitar store to get strings and 50's decides to stop and get some fresh blackberries right off the bush. Crazy asshole.

Seattle overpasses are ridiculously tall.

A pre-show trip to the neighborhood Thai joint near our friend Nick's house. Look at these smug assholes, waiting patiently for their Pad Thai.

Right next to the Thai restaurant is a burnt out dock structure right on Lake Union. Everything is burnt to a crisp and melted together, except for this little tiny Christmas tree.

More burnt destruction on the lakeshore. Shortly after this photo is taken, a private security crew kicks us out and won't answer us when we ask what happened here.

The show is at the Funhouse, right by the Space Needle, and is run by very nice people. It also has an outdoor basketball court.

I bet you didn't believe me when I sad the space needle was right across the street, huh. Eat your words, jerk. Stop judging me.

Rock rage.

We are hanging out with our old pals Nick and Angie, who recently moved to Seattle from Mpls. In the middle is their broseph, Jason. HARDNOX4LYFE.

Alison runs into her middle-school friend Heidi. Bro-down sessions commence.

After the show, Angie buys us all shots. The nights gets fuzzy from here.

Behind the bar they have a vanilla liquer called French Kiss! Yes. Shout outs to Steve and Syd, our boys.

Photo booth madness.

The bar seems to stay open for us forever. 50's finds a bike, proceeds to ride it around the bar while the staff closes up for the night.

Late night after-parties lead to interesting sleeping positions.

The next morning, we wake up and Nick takes us to the 5-Point Cafe in downtown Seattle. The food is huge. Jeff approves.

Eating is really fun. There was all you can eat hash browns. Shit was out of hand. Bob Adams could get into that.

They also had the most amazing appeteizer ever created -- deep-friend macaroni and cheese wedges with marinara sauce for dipping. Kinda like the state fair back home. Question: how do even congeal macaroni and cheese into a wedge shape to begin with? Let alone keep the wedge together and withstand the intense heat of the deep-frying process. Truly a scientific triumph.

The whole crew.

Stuffed, hungover, tired.

Yeah, man. I love 16 Bitch Pile Up's first 10". After that they got a little commercial for my taste.

So tired. Jordan finds the perfect light.

After a chill off-day in Seattle. We wake up at 5:00 AM to start driving to Fargo for the next show.

There is something about moments like this, where you're awake while the rest of the world is asleep, that makes you realize you're doing something fairly cool with your life.

Northwestern Pine Forest mazery.

In Montana, they love bull's balls. Like, eating them.

There is a seriously unhealthy fascination with bulls and their dirty parts in Montana.

Three Cities, One State

2006-09-03T23:24:00.000-05:00

When you last saw our intrepid travelers, we were traveling through the intense heat waves and scorched earth policies of the southwestern desert pueblos. What follows are some mad-artistic images from this apocalyptic wasteland. Mad Max.

RV commnunity in western Arizona. It's not so much a community as it is a gathering of a bunch of huge cars in the middle of the desert. Cars with front porches.

As we crossed the border into southern California, the desert started taking on the qualities of some middle east dubai outskirts type vibe. Where's the camels?

Then all of a sudden there was a bunch of rocks piled on top of each other, haphazardly, for miles and miles. Like God just said "fuck it, i'm just gonna throw a bunch a rocks down in this area and call it good."

The first show of our Cali excursion is in San Diego, a place that most of us had never been to. Newsflash, it is a beautiful place. The venue was right next to the airport, so throughout the night the entire place would shake when a jet would buzz by to land.

Southwest Airlines.

We drive around a bit before the show starts, taking in some of the crazy pueblo mission architecture stylings.

Art. Can you handle it?

The venue is called the Casbah, and features an awesome sound system, a ton of old arcade games (including Off Road!), an insanely friendly staff (as you'll see more of later), and this awesome painting of the Last Supper. Jesus looks hungry.

The sweat descends.

At the show, we meet our SoCal savior. His name is Aaron (aka M-16) and he has been, unbeknownst to us, listening to our band for 6 years since he found our a record we made in high school in the used bin of a record store in San Luis Obispo. Now he lives in San Diego, works for the Navy as a rescue swimmer, and rides a crotch-rocket motorcycle. After we meet, he proceeds to rule and be a fantastic human being, thoroughly.

After the show, the staff of the Casbah take us to another bar that's open later called the Cherrybomb. We love these people. The guy on the right in the ponytail is named Jason and he lived in Mpls for a couple years and worked at First Avenue. He tells us throughout the night that we "represented Minnesota right!" Yeah, he rules. On the far left is his girlfriend, also originally from Mpls and her mom in the middle. They all moved out to San Diego a few years ago, and assure us that its "just likes Minneapolis, but warmer." They buy us Jaggermeister. Things happen.

The next morning, Aaron takes us to Mission Beach for lunch and beach activities.

He takes us to the Liar's Club.

They give us some freakishly huge sandwiches that are maybe the mosts delicious things ever created by human hands. Here, Sanch illustrates the true school of these curious monsters.

Word has it, from those of us who consider themselves Bloody Mary experts, that these were the best ever created. Basically, the Liar's Club is proving to be heaven on earth for we tired and hungover Midwesterners. After lunch, we go to the beach and a) try to teach ourselves how to body board on the waves (it's all about timing it right, btw) and b) punch and attack the waves with the ferocitiy of caged wolverines. One of the best tour experiences ever, no lie.

That night, we fight through the heat and traffic to get to L.A. (pronounced Los Hahngahleese). The show is at a club called Spaceland in the Silver Lake neighborhood, which we've been assured several dozen times is "hot" and "trendy" and "in" right now. The club has us billed as The Pla5tic ConstellatiQns. Nice.

Surround the entire venue is some sparkly, high school theatre department-style curtains. So luxurious right now. The show is good and we see a bunch of old friends.

The next day we drive up to San Francisco and run into some seriously crazy windmill farms. Let the record show that we support alternative energy.

On the way into San Francisco.

Beak, Jeff, and 50's illustrate the extreme nature of San Francisco topography. Cars have to park at 90 degree angles relative to the curb here to prevent them from rolling backwards and crushing small children.

Living in San Francsico must be hard, always being assaulted and bombarded by insane beauty at all times. Seriously, this city can't even be for real. It was built as a playground for all of us to enjoy.

Bird on a Wire, starring Goldie Hawn.

Quote: "There are countless cities, worlds, and realms out there. So much knowledge to catch in the web of time." Trueisms, indeed.

Sanch and these windows bro down.

Who doesn't?

50's finds a juniper berry tree and attempts to turn them into gin through friction caused by his head. He is unsuccesful, but smells like pine needles the rest of the night.

Romantic couples walk. I left my heart in San Francisco.

The venue is called the Bottom of the Hill, and is indeed, at the bottom of a huge hill. Portero Hill, to be exact. It rules.

Check out that Star Wars era communication tower poking up from the clouds. Lando Calrissian dudes.

The show is great, one of the best of the tour.

We spend the night at our new friend Simon's house in Daly City. He played in one of the bands the night before. He lives with his mother, and together they are some truly amazing people. They wake up and make us delicious breakfasts. They've been on the road before, and know how great a warm home-cooked meal can feel.

The cook. Sheena. She is amazing.

San Francisco horseshoe branding.

Seriously. The city is ridiculously awesome.

We have a day off before we have to get up to Portland, so we decide to do a touristy day in San Fran. We head to Fisherman's Wharf on the water. This huge billingual shark's name is Bitehead, and he politiely requests that you do not touch him. Thank you for your cooperation.

Why anyone thought that an up close photo of an insane mime with crooked teeth would sell tickets to their circus-themed dinner theatre show is beyond us.

We hop on a harbor tour boat to catch the sights of San Fran, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Alcatraz. This bird majestically follows us.

He really likes us. We decide that it's the same bird that attacked us in Duluth in May when he wanted our leftover Luce's pizza.

Tourist day!

50's approves of the GGB.

Huge freight ship.

The Rock. This makes us want to rent the Sean Connery/Nicholas Cage film of the same name. Do you think this is a common reaction amongst tourists in the area?

Alcatraz was occupied by a Native American sect in the 1970's on the grounds of an old Sioux treaty stating that unused federal property can be homesteaded by the Sioux. You can see the spray-painted remnants of this occupation on the walls still. Totes historic.

Boyz in the hood.

Matt finds an unknowing camo buddy. The tension is palpable.

Before we boarded the ship, they took our picture with the intent of making us pay $18 for it after we got off. We ask to see the prints, then start taking photos of the print (genius, no?). The lady in charge quickly grabs it from Jeff's hand and says "No, you can't do that." This prompts a long philosophical debate about who "owns" an image -- the person who took the picture or the person IN the picture? The paradoxial dichotomies are real. Look for a podcast soon of this roundtable discussion.

Half a Blog Bitchez - more coming soon.

2006-09-02T13:20:00.000-05:00

Sunrise.

At around 7:00 AM 50's buys this arm tatoo sleeve. It's a product designed for people who want to have awkward, stereotypical tattoo designs all over their arm, but don't want to go through the pain/financial investment involved in a conventional tattoo.

Southwest spirit animal mosaics.

We stop at this awesome roadside shop, painted with a happy cowboy who likes to smoke native american peace pipes.

Beak is smitten with the elephant-related tchotskes, but alas, there a minimum of $300 to purchase.

Spirit Animals.

On the left, a python wearing a top-hat and a mink fur. On the right, a fucked up dude face.

We fit in very well into the southwest culture.

We stop the next night in Tucson and get a cheap motel with a pool. We sit poolside till late, drinking Whiskey Press and swimming leisurely laps. Rock and roll decadence at its finest.

Too much whiskey makes the tummy hurt.

Get your rest boys. San Diego tomorrow.

16 Hours in a van

2006-08-31T13:37:00.000-05:00

In Austin, a dude on the street handed us a free "desert rose." In related news, Austin fucking rules.

The show is at Emo's, the best venue in Austin hands down. They have this kickass stool hanging from the ceiling that Johnny Cash sat on in 1994.

Pre-show Sparks imbibements.

Our last night with Fatal Flying Guilloteens. Predictably, they ruled again. Here, Sean rides a dudes head.

>Will (aka Boone) rocks inside a garbage can.

More riding.

Rage.

After the show, Boone and Jeff discover that they both have the same indentation in their chest. Whenever you find another person with this oddity you feel an instant connection stronger than family. Jeff needs to get his hole tatted though.

We start driving right after the Austin show towards California. All through the night. In the desert. Here, the van hits 194,000 miles.

Jordan and Matt drive. Beak, Jeff, and Alison crash.

The road dawgs in action. Keeping each other awake.

Mirages.

Texas Toast

2006-08-29T20:24:00.000-05:00

Right Photo: This blog will be a smorgasboard of images. They may not always be in chronological order, but fret not, this doesn't dilute their power.

Left Photo: North Texan gigantism is a increasingly common and troublesome problem for today's bears, ex-basketball stars, and poorly painted snakes. Cobra Starship, dudes

Before the trip, Beak's mom packed us some delicious snacks, including Triscuits, Wheat Thins, Cheese Whiz, Hot Tamales (the cinamon candy kind, not the real Mexican kind), trail mix and other sundry delicious curiousities. Here, 50's has created some post-modern collage work. More of a mosaic really.

These items were for sale at a highway convenience store. There is truly something "convenient" about mid-evil Golem demons.

The show on this night is in Denton, Texas home to two colleges (apparently empty on this night), a quaint downtown district, and this sweet-ass city hall that totally looks like some Back to the Future clock-tower lightning storm type situation.

We are stealing magnets for every state we visit, eventually creating a map. Except Missouri. Fuck that place.

We are sick and tired of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking van.

We are forward thinkers. We buy brews BEFORE the show starts in anticipation of what we will want to do AFTER the show ends. This type of foresight is a testament to our sheer genius.

Beak sends his love to Cam on a leaf. Totally lovechild 1969 Berkeley sandals type thing.

On the way to Houston the next day, one of the van tires blows out. Jordan breaks down some serious top-awesome mechanic work.

Those of us with no mechanical knowledge retire to a nearby shaded hilside to drink these pony beers.

Dallas buildings appear to all have been constructed inside MC Escher's nightmares.

The next day we head to Houston. The club is called the Proletariat and is a) air-conditioned b) having pool tables c) having inexpensive libations d) being staffed by some of the nicest people ever. We win.

On the left, Lindsay our old pal from Boston shows up to cheer wildly and buy us beers. A good person to know. On the right, the local margerita joint holds moral values in high regard.

Demonic reverse dog tounge vampire visages.

Blood, sweat, and tears.

Merch alignment.

Fatal Flying Guilloteens take the stage and proceed to rip the club a new asshole. Truly amazing. The crowd is out of control. Pitchers of beers flying, one dude in the crowd takes a bottle to the head, stage diving. Total Jesus Lizard in the 1990's type vibe. These guys are seriously great.

Afterparty at Roy's. He's got a kickass DVD collection, including a collection of live performances from a 1970's British TV show. Edgar Winter's "Frankenstein" on keytar is awesome, but an early Bruce Springsteen clip of "Rosalita" takes the cake. Springsteen in the 70's was seriously a force to be reckoned with, and the E Street Band is insanely tight. Don't let anyone ever tell you that the Boss is overrated.

The next morning we go to get the tire replaced. Jordan does his best "I'm very interested in the directions you're giving me, random mechanic dude" routine.

Palm trees. We don't have these in the midwest.

Blimp Bizkit.

LFK is AOK

2006-08-28T10:59:00.000-05:00

Lawrence (aka Lawrence Fucking Kansas, aka LFK) is another midwest college town that is inexplicably awesome. We have lots of old friends here, and it will be mad bitching to see them tonight. That's right: mad bitching.

Murdered arachnid corpse remnants.

Midwest. Hardland/Heartland, literally.

Ditto.

The show is at the Jackpot Saloon, which, like most things worth seeing in Lawrence, is right on Massachusetts Street, the main strip. The bartender's name is Thad, and he is keeping the drinks flowing at a discount rate.

Before the show, Jordan buys a 64 ounce Diet Coke. Literally one half gallon of liquid. He takes it down like a man. This leads to a long conversation about whether or not you could physically drink a gallon of lifuid in an hour with out dying. Results are still inconclusive; further testing needed.

Our old friend Dan Davis is in town. Beak, Dan, and Jeff illustrate how having a lot of money makes you really cool.

The stage is surrounded by red velvet wall paper with crazy 1800's wild west patterns. Totes prohibition in this piece. Sweaty rock shows commence.

This has happened before but it happens again. Someone in the crowd buys TPC a round of shots and beers during the set if they agree to play "Let's War." They do so. Here, Matt explains why he doesn't fear the serpent.

Hopkins represent bitches. Our old friends Paul and Nick are in town for the night, carousing and raging.

The skies open up on us as we try to load out the van after the show. This turns into an intense military-style exercise where we have to work together to get the gear loaded with minimal moisture ragings.

Afterparty at Christine's. Beer in cans, rap music on the stereo. Completely different than every other night. Here, Chance is showing us his middle-school boxing championship trophies.

Modern communion. Jesus and the disciples got nothin on this.

Sean, aka Dogbert, shows up with an awesome umbrella, a Montreal shirt and some Coors Light.

The rain continues to pummel the virginal Lawrence landscapes, but we are protected and safe in this awesome porch.

Late night mind warp. Comparing the size of feet with the size of a chip. There are pretty different. In terms of size. Like, how big they are compared to one another.

This is what Axl was thinking about when he wrote "November Rain."Totes symbolic.

This rain is just getting brazen now. Come on. Just chill out with the water coming from the sky thing you got going on, mother nature. Shit is out of hand.

The first drunken dance party of the tour. We enlist a couple of the house's residents to join us in a rousing sesh of Jay-Z and Kelis.

Get that dirt of your shoulder, Lawrence.

50's illustrates his patened new "point at your friends" dance move.

The next morning, we drag ourselves out of bed early to hit the road to Texas (or Tejas, or Tehas). Kansas treats us to green rolling hills and a shit ton of clouds on our way out.

Midwest pride.

Tour! Tour! Tour! - Iowa City!

2006-08-26T20:48:00.000-05:00

Friday morning, we get up bright and early and head over to 50's house. We're loading up the van to kickoff TPC's two week west coast tour. That's right, this blog becomes a travelblog starting....NOW. For the next two weeks.

Locked and loaded.

Southern Minnesota recreational boating styles. Ominous cloud formations.

A giant cows ass suspended 200 feet in the air.

Northern Iowa casino styles, midwest wastelands.

At this truck stop restauraunt, the chef is apparently a snow-covered pine cone. That is fucked. I wouldn't want my breakfast made by an inanminate descendent of a tree. It's about this time that we get the word that the show in St. Louis is being moved to Iowa City. We are stoked cause, as you maybe know, Iowa City is somehow one of the awesomest cities around.

We get into town early due to the reroute, so we head to Lake McBride, twenty minutes out of the city. It is at this very lake that Jordan lost his glasses at the beach two whole months ago. To our amazement, they were waiting for him patiently at the park lost and found. Here he is, celebrating by making a weird face.

Interesting things happen on tour. This is not one of them.

In Iowa City, Beak makes a sales pitch for the Support Broke Rappers Foundation. It's totally like that crying Indian when the garbage got thrown on his mocassins. Support your local broke rapper today.

Our old good friend Jacki Becker from Lawrence, KS has recently bought what used to be Gabe's Oasis, IC's best venue. She just finished rehabbing it and bring it up to date, and TPC are playing there tonight on one of its first night's back in business.

We still have hours to go before the show, so we go to this awesome dive bar called the Deadwood where they have $1.50 domestic taps. We get a nice afternoon buzz going. Also, you can smoke cigarettes in bars in Iowa. Genius.

They have a drink called Pussy Juice.

50's begins a quest to find Jesus. This is a pure-hearted and ambitious quest fraught with trials and tribulations. He is determined and prepared for any foe, great or small. Here, he is too intense for Bill, frightening him like a small child.

I can see how he would be confused here: the beard, the serene smile, the religious overtones. But, sorry dude, that is so not Jesus.

A dog? Now that's just absurd. More likely than not Jesus is a dude, not a canine.

50's ends his quest back at the Picador, angry, confused, spiritally bankrupt.

Jeff hangs out with our old friend Dolla Bill. Jacki is giving everyone free tallboys. Hey, she's the owner, she can do whatever she wants. Who are we to complain?

TPC is the first band to put their sticker up on the Picador's walls. Truly historic.

Beak and Jeff are making some intense gestures with their hands, making concise and confident statements to each other while selling shit tons of merch.

Also playing this night is soul legend Andre Williams and the Diplomats of Sound. He was crazy and awesome. He looked a bit like Saddam Hussein but without teeth. He kept smacking his gums and unbuttoning his shirt. The crowd loved him and his songs about having sex with 17 year olds ("Jail Bait").

The legend up close and personal. Each song had about 2 lines of lyrics repeated over and over, interspersed with the band vamping for 5 minutes and Andre dancing about as actively as a 65-year old can.

Jeff drinks 4 beers at once, a new world record.

A ton of free beer + good vibes = one of the drunker TPC sets ever.

Jeff in mid leg kick.

The crowd is hot and bothered and down with the jams. That's Jacki's head whipping around in the bottom right.

Afterparty at Molly's, in the basement. We listen to the new Paris Hilton record and drink beer from cans. This is roughly what the rest of the tour will be like, probably. Each night.

Our host for the night, Dolla Bill.

The next morning we go with Bill and Bob and Urs to the Hamburg for breakfast. We form eating teams, two teams of four. We compete on awesomeness of order choice, clean plate ratio, and grace of eating style.

Serious eating competition ensues. No smiles in the group, all business.

The glorius results. We split town and head to Lawrence Fucking Kansas.

The Plastic Constellations' Tour Diary - Believe It!

2006-08-15T22:04:00.000-05:00

This is the spot to check in on what TPC is doing on their August/September Tour. Also Check back to see photos from future tours as well!

Here's a list of upcoming tour dates!

Aug 25 - Creepy Crawl in St. Louis, MO w/ The Life and Times
Aug 26 - Jackpot Saloon in Lawrence, KS w/ The Life and Times (18+)
Aug 27 - Hailey's in Denton, TX w/others TBA
Aug 28 - The Prolateriat in Houston, TX w/Fatal Flying Guilloteens
Aug 29 - Emo's in Austin, TX w/Fatal Flying Guilloteens
Aug 31 - The Casbah in San Diego, CA w/others TBA
Sep 01 - Spaceland in Los Angeles, CA w/others TBA
Sep 02 - Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco, CA w/others TBA
Sep 04 - Towne Lounge in Portland, OR w/others TBA
Sep 05 - Funhouse in Seattle, WA w/others TBA
Sep 08 - The Aqaurium in Fargo, ND w/others TBA
Sep 09 - Triple Rock Social Club in Minneapolis, MN w/Belles of Skin City, God Damn Doo Wop Band, and One for the Team as part of the 45 Degrees North Music Festival (18+)
Oct 29 - Local 506 in Chapel Hill, NC w/Thunderbirds are Now and Rescue
Oct 30 - Ottobar in Baltimore, MD w/Thunderbirds are Now and Rescue
Nov 04 TT the Bears in Boston, MA w/Thunderbirds are Now and Rescue (18+)