Bonham, son of the late John “Bonzo” Bonham, is likely very sick of critics’ often shallow headlines that have unanimously cropped up in response to his Led Zeppelin Experience Tour running course this fall. Despite its growing praises, headlines like “Jason Bonham Wishes He Was His Dad” force me to question publishers, writers and critics around the globe.

“Riding I guess under [dad’s] shadow, alcohol could make that a very dark place,” Bonham says. “And having lost him at 14, to get to think ‘Wow I’m being compared to my dad!” That is the positive feeling. It still makes me childlike when I think of it.”

If there ever was a situation that could be a more humble celebration of not only one’s lost parent, but one of the top three greatest rock n’ roll drummers in the history of the genre, I’m pressed to find one which trumps Jason Bonham’s Led Zeppelin Experience.

Why, perhaps?

Because Jason Bonham leaves the possession out of the word ‘ego’, he admits he’s not looking to replicate his father, and whenever he gets a chance, he says, “How could I?? That’s ridiculous! He’s dad. The best in the league.” Sorry kids, I’d probably start to resist parent/teacher day at school if I were you, because none of your dad’s can friggin’ touch JOHN BONHAM! I don’t care who he is.

What Bonham is doing with this Experience is creating a very public display of his own passage and journey through a highly produced, storytelling stage show and concert. We all surely mourn our losses in different ways, however as Bonham rolls out his obituary some 40 years after his father’s passing, he brings himself, his life, and his own grasp of the epic tale, to a touring stage.

“This is a personal journey of mine, for dad,” says Bonham. “It’s the Jason Bonham Led Zeppelin Experience, as it goes through the years of my earliest memory to my playing with them. Which should make it somewhat different. And that’s the only reason I agreed to do it — if I could pair music with storytelling, go-back-in-time and pair home movies, old pictures, personal stuff, with key moment’s I’ve remembered throughout the career, and my life as it relates.”

Growing up myself frequenting Bonzo’s session outtakes — and simultaneously germinating some kind of ego-maniacal Lester Bangs-ish jaunt in rock snobbery, I can’t help but think how if I had the talent and could present a viable and credible tribute to my father (also a drummer)…  that I would. Since figures like John Bonham, Ginger Baker and Keith Moon exist to us now only on the analog recordings that many of us still go Bonzo over, how cool to get a firsthand recount of the love, struggle and heartbreak of being a child, exposed to the coolest thing in the world, for a glimpse, and from then on, what it’s like being forced to learn and understand the space you move around in, linked yet fringing the center of it all.

“Dad was an iconic legend, a top three drummer in the world, ever. It’s pretty hard for me to get away from that — and to be compared to it — you’ve got to take it as a pretty good complement to even be in that league. You’ve got to take it how it was. He was the master, and I am the pupil,” he says.

“I like playing the Zeppelin stuff with the true feeling of what he taught me, which was to be sparing but also dynamic and explosive at the same time.”

And this guy, Jason Bonham, he’s got Bonzo’s blood running through his veins, beating to his heart, and likely, urging him to follow it.

The Experience hits the LA audience November 23rd at the Pantages Theater, where no seat is going to be a bad seat, and where the chance to win Jason Bonham’s Signature Yellow Ludwig Vistalite stage kit is yours.

“This is something that we’ve been working on a lot, for awhile. So it’s going to be good.”

Did they come out with a new album? Did it suck? Dr. Dog at the Wiltern Friday was sparsely packed, each song lasting shy of two minutes, and all generally sounding too reminiscent of the last, save the tunes that we know and love.

Perhaps it was the muddy sound at the Wiltern Friday night, coupled with an early showtime, 2 openers we’d never heard of, and the outnumbering of an R rated audience with an NC-17, this live show lacked all the feel we may have felt at their live show the past few years. But hey, the kids had to be home by curfew.

With lights staged by Roy G Biv, there was no thunder, no pot of gold, no kidding as the show moved through the hue cycle. And we moved because we knew what to expect, we’ve heard these albums a million times (or at least twice.) “Is this the worst trip you have ever been on?” Dog sings. When I see a live show I don’t want to feel like I’m listening to the radio, or worse, a backing track. It hurts to say it, but if the lights turned on the crowd, you’d see about 67.2% of the venue filled, in gapped groups slouching, and at song’s end, clapping emphatically because we should. Some sing to the songs they know, the rest “Shazaam” the ones they don’t. And unfortunately, find that it actually works.

This band works best not as a headliner in a large venue with high-frequency sound, but is still more of an outdoor festival act, or maybe even just a much smaller house act. In the 5 to 10 times I’ve seen this band, they’ve always put on a great show. I guess it was an an off-night.

You can view the fashion shows and the night’s events HERE.

While it’s already weather changing anywhere beyond, So-Cal has the luxury of not only the continued success of sexy leggy summer fashion, it can add on any fashionable layers, creating a much more versatile, uhm, clothy clout. When it comes to leather, denim and beyond, we’s got it.

Lots of big LA names came out to kick off Fashion’s Night (turned weekend) Out, including Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, Perez Hilton, West Coast editor of Vogue Magazine Lisa Love, Stephanie Pratt, Will.I.Am, and more. Thinking about doing more runway photography after Fashion’s Night Out is sounding pretty great, but only to get more free leather jackets & g-strings (no joke). I was there in part to collect on schwag, but in reality wanted to check out new trends that we might consider using in coming shoots.

I actually got quite depressed because I wanted these:

My Moon Strippies

But instead had to wear this:

But instead had to wear this

And carry all this crap:

And had to carry all this crap.

You can view the fashion shows and the night’s events HERE.

Lindsey Haun of True Blood Shoots with Photographer Anna Webber

Lindsey Haun of True Blood Shoots with Photographer Anna Webber

Lindsey Haun of True Blood Shoots with Photographer Anna Webber

Click to hear CSN Live Audio (from inside my pocket)

David Crosby performs for the ICEF Foundation at the Skirball Ctr., Los Angeles, CA

What do you think of when you hear the names Jackson Browne, CSN, Keb’ Mo’ and Ben Harper? And then throw them in an intimate room with inner city school kids, foi gras, and fancy guests?

Last night these legendary musicians raised just over $472,000 for one of the largest private entrepreneurial foundations that brings success in the arts to schools in areas with some of the highest dropout rates. Teenagers who would otherwise never make it to the end of their high school term, let alone move onto college, are now mentored and encouraged by this organization, and are accepted into top schools like Dartmouth, Berkeley, even IVY leagues like Yale and Harvard.

Jackson Browne © ANNA WEBBER 2010

Success Through the Arts Foundation, co-founded by Jackson Browne, focuses its efforts on using the arts to help young people realize their full potential by creating an environment where students of all ages who have been traditionally underserved by the public schools, can learn to appreciate and produce music and art.

Last night these kids brought out their musical talents and covered songs by Jackson Browne, a formal tribute to a longtime mentor. They played on the same stage as CSN, Ben Harper, Jackson Browne, and Keb’ Mo’ – a bone chilling room to be in. Usually to see that kind of talent as a westsider, that means a drive to the Hollywood Bowl or Staples Center. Last night, we got them intimately in our own backyard.

Stephen Stills © ANNA WEBBER 2010

Graham Nash © ANNA WEBBER 2010

David Crosby © ANNA WEBBER 2010

Keb' Mo' © ANNA WEBBER 2010

Ben Harper © ANNA WEBBER 2010

David Crosby and Monty Python's Eric Idle © ANNA WEBBER 2010

Fernando Pullum, Keb' Mo', David Crosby, and guest © ANNA WEBBER 2010

T-Bird Shoots with Anna Webber

I eventually got hold of a generator rental facility in Austin, TX. I needed the 2000 EU Honda Generator – a pure sine generator, 120 volts at the minimum. I didn’t bring my battery pack to SXSW this time around, it’s a small 27 lb. cumbersome brick. If I had a converter, I could probably have run it off a car battery, but I wasn’t sure how like 4700 watts of light power would respond to my brother’s patchwork cattywompus RAM van.

Anyway, I picked the thing up, filled it full of gasoline, and off we went to meet T-Bird on the East side of town. I set up some lights around the caddy (already present), T-Bird arrived, and we shot while my brother James DJ’ed out of the very same wompus van mentioned previous. We grabbed these here shots —->

When I was told, “Anna – I need you to shoot a 10-piece Texas funk band.” Ten people? Make 10 people look cool all at the same time? “Okie doke.”

To side-track, this is the shoot where I looked down at my camera, which I had resting in an open acoustic guitar case, and thought, If Robert Rodriguez were here, I’d have him made me one of those cool gun cases where I could shoot my Canon like this—>

I’ve always wanted one of those.

Anyway, solving that riddle might have been way more hopeless had we not made a BBQ party out that gorgeous afternoon. I wanted Questlove to man the barbeque, but he was too busy to man some BBQ in Austin that day, so, whatever. We just had to make do.

I also, wanted the ribs to be flying out of the pinata, but that didn’t happen either. What am I?

Anyway, after it all, we made this:

T-Bird and the Breaks, "Day party"

And This:

T-Bird and his one legged tree bird

So… T-Bird, The Breaks, they’re breaking a Bird Pinata… Not too in-your-face of a metaphor, huh?

Props included: pinatas, Pacificos, propane, an old Cadillac, 10 awkward musicians standing around (no offense), a BBQ, an impossibly huge flame, and drumstick chopsticks. And a record player. A perfect recipe to make some things happen.

Check out the shoot video here:

T-Bird and the Breaks shoot with Photographer Anna Webber

www.tbirdandthebreaks.com

Photographer/stylist/storyteller: Anna Webber

Fancy iPhone footage: James Webber (www.whitecrowe.net)

[Legendary rock photographer Jim Marshall passed away last week at 74.

One of our own photographers and writers, Anna Webber, wrote this personal reminiscence about Marshall and his legacy. She contacted Marshall's fellow purveyors of iconic '60s images and got their exclusive permission to reproduce here some of their shots of Marshall. This is a rare chance to see the man behind the camera captured by some of his best colleagues.]

© Robert Knight // For Anna Webber

Jim Marshall

?

The Water is Muddy, the Belly Is Lead, the Wolf is Howlin, the Heat is Canned. Jim Marshall, Rock and Roll Photography Legend, 74, Dies.

After getting the message about Jim Marshall’s passing last Wednesday, my heart went narrow. And my hand — surely leaked mojo. “Too close for comfort, baby,” I thought. “But as always, too far away.”

Jim was responsible for some of the most iconic rock n’ roll photography this world has ever seen. His work can be seen in galleries internationally, and his legend, like fellow music photographer Neal Preston explains below, “truly preceded [him] — like an R. Crumb cartoon character, drawn walking down a street with his feet and legs 10 feet in front of him.”

I met Jim while I was working for Baron Wolman, most famous for his seminal photography for Rolling Stone Magazine in the late 60s through the early 70s. At the time, Jim made it abundantly clear he wasn’t thrilled by me — a 19 year-old girl with a camera who liked to take pictures of rock stars.

It was the mere thought of yet another music photographer that made him twitch, in a world where music photography is so saturated — almost demeaned — and where few new photographers seemed to know the difference between aperture and f-stop, or that it was a trick question.

Jim did not feel that way because he was threatened. How can anyone ever attempt to be as good as him? He’d taken all the pictures already. So, little girl, what are you gonna do? That’s Jim. Jim is the guy that will inspire you, the guy so close yet so far from reach, the guy who would look at you — a wide eyed kid — and say, “The world doesn’t need another music photographer.”

©PK IMAGES // For Anna Webber

(L-R) Baron Wolman, yours truly, Henry Diltz, Jim Marshall at the 40th Woodstock Anniversary at Duncan Miller Gallery, LA.

?

Jim Marshall’s legend will not only live well beyond our lifetime. It now has the chance to take the mythical, otherworldy form perhaps only big-screen gurus like Tim Burton, David Lynch, Cameron Crowe, Tarantino, Scorsese, et al could take on. Which one, I can’t say.

But if they won’t, I will.

When I can see a character onscreen who pulls a gun on an encroaching photographer in a photopit at the SF Fillmore West circa 1968, or watch someone tell Johnny Cash to pose for the Warden and receive the iconic San Quentin finger shot, I’ll have been delivered. I can definitely see a feature film bent on Jim Marshall’s scathing, extraordinary persona, artistic lunacy, confidence and candor.

The way I see it, it’s a Big Fish sort of film, where the story gathers into some mythical world, with an abrasiveness only Tarantino could conjure (with guns, mud and ammo), or a humorous reality which could only hurl headlong from the wit of Cameron Crowe (or David Lynch), or a “No Direction Home” type of documentary from Scorsese stock.

After March 24, 2010 perhaps, this film will be made.

When I thought about how to conceivably write a piece on Mr. Marshall, now as a 23 year-old full-time career music photographer (take that, Jim!) I figured it had to be a compilation of stories, anecdotes, thoughts and reels from Jim’s life, from Jim’s closest friends and colleagues.

I’ve heard stories. Dare I try to speak them? It would only be a piece fueled by rumors (of which there are countless). I contacted these greats, asked targeted questions, then realized who I was asking and wrote back: “Or, you can talk about none of that and just write what you want.”

They did anyway.

I spoke with Baron Wolman, Neal Preston, Lisa Law, a few other close friends and acquaintances, and regrettably, could not track down our own, Henry Diltz. I’m including their intact responses to me on Jim, all of which can now be filed under historical memorabilia.

© Anna Webber 2009

Baron Wolman, Henry Diltz, Jim Marshall at the 40th Woodstock Anniversary at Duncan Miller Gallery, LA.

?

© Anna Webber 2009

Jim Marshall, Baron Wolman, Henry Diltz, Lisa Law “The Four Musketeers”.

?

NEAL PRESTON

I was a friend of Jim Marshall’s for 35 years.

He was a very complicated person. As the news of his passing spreads, a lot of things will be said and written about him- and I dare say all of them will be true. His much-larger-than-life personality was legendary.

He was stubborn, crass, and temperamental to a fault. He could be extremely mean, aggressive and threatening – even towards someone he’d just met…and as his friends can attest to, that was just the tip of a very dark iceberg. Jim was more comfortable around loaded guns than anyone I’ve ever known, and that includes cops, drug dealers, military, and D.E.A. agents. In fact, I’d always thought that when Jim died it would be caused by some sort of cocaine-and whiskey fueled gunplay gone awry.

Jim really reveled in that dark persona. He loved that his legend truly preceded himself – like an R. Crumb cartoon character, drawn walking down a street with his feet and legs 10 feet in front of him.

Where that dark legend that he’d cultivated so lovingly came into play was when it came to business. There wasn’t a record company art director alive that didn’t cower when the time came to call Jim about a project. Picture researchers with less than 20 years tenure were not even people he’d speak to on the phone, much less work with. Usually there was one lone person at a record company or magazine that by default was designated “the guy that Jim likes” or “the guy that gets Marshall on the phone”…. or the ultimate compliment, “the guy that can cut a deal with Jim and actually get him to send pictures”. It was an art or photo department badge of honor to be that person. Trust me, there aren’t a lot of those people out there. They know who they are and they know EXACTLY what I’m talking about.

He loved the finer things in life and didn’t give a rat’s ass what anybody thought of him OR his lifestyle. But Jim’s really filthy nasty secret was that he was a sweetheart of a guy who was generous and extremely kind to the people he cared about. He just wanted to dole out that kindness on his own terms. He’d badger rich people for cash to buy his prints and he’d give the same prints away to some girl he’d met 10 minutes ago. Just last month, at a dinner for 10 people where he picked up the check (easily $1000), I watched him berate one of our waitresses for 2 hours and then slip her a $100 bill above and beyond the huge tip he’d already added to the bill. She looked as if she couldn’t decide if she wanted to slug him or kiss him. There isn’t an art director on the planet that hasn’t felt that way about Jim.

But there was something else, something deep in his DNA, that lived inside of Jim Marshall that was beyond bluster or ego. That something else was a simple, unshakeable sense of supreme confidence – the confidence that came with knowing that he was THE master of his chosen craft. He was the best there ever was and the best there ever will be.

Neal Preston
Studio City, CA
March 2010

BARON WOLMAN

I’m writing this from Munich, Anna, where I and some fellow photographers and musicians learned the sad news. There is so much I could tell you, but I must be brief.

First this from another well-known rock shooter, Lynn Goldsmith, who emailed me yesterday:

“Jim passed on last night
in his sleep
clean sheets
nice hotel
lucky guy
I’m sure he’s partying with Janis”

Jim was an eccentric and brilliant photographer whose memory will live on not only in his extraordinary pictures but in recounting the tales of his storied behavior. His photographic legacy is incomparable, his archives a visual history of decades of our
greatest jazz and rock musicians.

Jim was a hugely talented unique man, an irreplaceable “one-of-a kind” friend who will be sorely missed by me and countless others.

Love you. xxoobaron

©Anna Webber 2009

Baron Wolman, Jim Marshall at the Woodstock 40th Anniversary Reunion

?

BOBBY KLEIN

I was travelling with the Doors to San Francisco where they were playing at the Avalon ballroom.

I had heard about Jim but we had never actually met.

I established my ‘place’ in front of the stage as I always did and waited for the boys to go on. The room darkened and I felt someone elbow me and say “Hey motherfucker you’re in my spot. I saw by the cameras it was another photographer who wanted my position. I told him I was there with the Doors and to fuck off. He elbowed me again and opened his camera case to show me a snub nose .38 revolver. He looked at me and said, “it’s loaded.” ….I gave him my spot.

I never saw him again until a dinner David Fahey hosted for Jim many years later. I related the incident and he said, “Man I was nuts in those days.” but didn’t apologize. That was Jim.

A few years ago I ran into him at the Mondrian and he asked if I would donate some prints to an MS auction that he was sponsoring for his beloved assistant.
I did.

Jim was a good man, charitable and kind in his later days.

I still would not want to be in his position at a concert, you never know.
Rest in Peace brother Jim.

ROBERT KNIGHT

©Robert Knight

Jim Marshall and Robert Knight

?

On shooting Knight’s Film Rock Prophecies with Jim… and other Jim scenarios.

Me: I love that photo of Jim with the tissue stuck to his bloody chin. How’d that happen? Did he… fall on set?

Robert: He called me and asked if I would help him on a shoot, and wanted me to find a studio – which I did. And then he asked to borrow my lighting and be at the studio at 8AM. He came in with all this blood on his shirt with the paper hanging from his chin. No one said a word. Finally I asked at the end of the day what happened. He said he cut himself shaving!!! Maybe?

He had a Hasselblad with him but forgot how to load it and asked me to do it. He also could not hear the beeper on the power back and was shooting too fast, so I had to slow him down and tap him each time it was charged up. He suddenly stopped shooting and wanted to eat and drink something – but made the Doobie Brothers stand on the backdrop until he was done. It was a real Jim Marshall moment.

©Robert Knight

Jim Marshall and the Doobie Brothers

?

When we went to his house to film him, the night before the director was told to wear body armor. Rumor was, sometimes if Jim did not know who was at the door, he would shoot at it… It was all good but, my director was scared to death the whole time.

ALAN MESSER

I have known Jim Marshall’s work for years – I recently met him in Seattle attending a book launch and exhibit for Graham Nash’s “Taking Aim”. We both had pictures in the book and the exhibit. We shared not only the common bond of being photographers, but of being chroniclers of Johnny Cash. Jim photographed Cash during the 70′s including the notorious Folsom Prison concert, and I from 1987 onwards. I met Jim briefly at the Bob Dylan Tribute concert at Madison Square Gardens in 1992 — I was there with Johnny, but Jim was preoccupied and a bit gruff that day.

?

Fast forward to February 5th 2010 in Seattle, meeting Jim was a memorable occasion. I found him to be a passionate and kind man who loved photography. He told stories and spoke about his pictures as if he was talking about his children or grandchildren. Jim’s photographs were his children. He was proud of them and knew he had brought some great ones into this world.

Jim was so excited about his current work and projects. He phoned me just before I left for a trip to England to see if I had received the ‘Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison’ book that he sent me and signed. I had, I told him and thanked him for his gift. Jim was delighted that he had just sold eight prints on his website. Those people have possibly the last Jim Marshall hand signed prints.

He was a lovely man and one of a kind. A real photographer and a Leica man. He just got his first digital camera, a signature M9 Leica, when I last saw him.

Alan Messer – Nashville Tennessee
www.alanmesser.com

LISA LAW

© Lisa Law. For Anna Webber

Jim on Stage at the Human Be-In with Suzuki Roshi 1967

?

I lived in Forest Knolls in 1967 with my husband Tom. We would go to the Haight Ashbury almost every day – that is where it was all happening. Ron and Marshall Thelin, who owned the Psychedelic Shop, lived right down the hill from us. There was music in the panhandle every weekend and all the groups were getting together and playing in the streets and in the park. Tom was writing for the Oracle and I was shooting photos of everything for them too. It was a wild time.

© Jim Marshall / From Lisa Law for Anna Webber

Jim Marshall photo of Wavy, Lisa and Tom Law. Woodstock 1969

?

Jim Marshall was there doing his thing. Every time I looked around… there he was, dripping with cameras. So, I started shooting him shooting, and did so in the Haight, at the Human Be-in and later at Woodstock and even up to recently when we did a show together at the Duncan Miller Gallery in LA for the 40th anniversary of Woodstock. My daughter Pilar had the idea for the show and Jim, Henry Diltz, Baron Wolman and myself were the four photographers. The four Musketeers, I called us. Over 1000 people came for two nights to view our work but most of all to see us all at once. The cameras were flashing all night and we signed some 200 posters that Baron had made of one of his shots. Jim was in great form as we all were. Hey, it had been 40 years since we shot Woodstock and we were all still doing our thing. Those photos were a big part of our work.

©Anna Webber 2009

Lisa Law and Baron Wolman, 2009 Woodstock Anniversary

?

From Jim I learned to add 0′s to my fees. I was charging way too little for my work.

Jim was Italian and had a very quick wit and many times, were very abrasive. He would always curse when he was talking about someone who would give him credit or pay him. I remember for years he would wield a gun, playing the tough guy. If he liked you though, he was very sweet and always helpful.

Nion McEvoy of Chronicle Books met him once and told me he would publish him only after he was dead. He was so hard to get along with but eventually, they worked it out and they published his book ‘Proof’ in 2004.

I heard of his death by email from Chip Monck, as a matter of fact. He lives in Australia and was up before me to get the news. I am in Santiago, Chile at a Hare Krishna ashram. I dropped back into my seat in the office and took a deep breath. Good grief I thought. Another one disincarnating. Another friend gone. A great way to go though… in your sleep reading a book.

I hope I go as easy as that.

What a character he was and I am really going to miss him. He had a great eye and used only the best cameras. Loved his work with the Beatles.

Love and Peace, Lisa Law

When in LA, you walk into the Samy’s camera stronghold, up creaky licentious stairs that vow to one day sink through and take with them some lesser species of photographer like you or like me. You see Jim’s iconic images on the walls. Late Wednesday, those pictures went up in value to the point where you definitely screwed yourself for either not having bought one when you had the chance, or not having rolled one up into your hipster makeshift camera bag.

Dear Jim, there is something to be said about an ice cold Corona with fresh lime that tastes so much better when you think about being dead. To a man who has taught us all so very much about being so very alive.

Lightspeed.

Anna.

© Lisa Law for Anna Webber

Jim Marshall in the Haight 1967

?

©Rick Edwards (for Anna Webber)

?

Highlight 1. Getting through TSA.

Here was one of three suitcases that looked very similar. Two involving a gross amount of amps, watts, volts and hard wires, another full of lightstands, hardware, tools (and a curling iron.) And then there was my personal bag… batteries, dresses, shoes, and more shoes. My backpack, which had a Wacom airbrush tablet, a mini-hard drive, a laptop, The Rum Diary, and some cords, wires, and Southwest drink tickets.

Of course I checked all 337 lbs of luggage at Skycap (a pricey necessity), but what would happen in the TSA check? Two backpacks and a purse. I (my person + baggage) must have weighed 200 pounds that day, all loaded on top of some old cowboy boots.

They took everything out of my backpacks, while the moaning, groaning security line  self-loathed for a minute or two. Shaking the Wacom like it was supposed to open, I found myself again considering their intelligence.

My hard drive. “Whoa, is this a kindle?!” No, moron. I was getting thirsty and impatient. Slightly nervous. My veins contracted and said, “it’s time for a beer.”

The arsenal, all set for take off.

Highlight #2: Austin Airport

Back on the dirt. Waiting at the baggage claim, my brother James approaches from behind, looking Classy with two Tecates stuffed into his pockets. He’d cut his hair a bit, though it still reached his shoulder blades, establishing himself as something of a likeable music maker. We grabbed the bags, and dragged them across the airport until we reached, his van. Not pictured here.

My Brother/Assistant/Chauffeur

Highlight #3 – The Ride In.

Once we reached the van, we loaded up, while loading up:

Highlight #4: My Business trip went on vacation.

The zombies were out early on night one – there was little I could do to fein zombility, so I joined in. Into the night James and I went, and found ourselves at the Scoot in, and evidently 2 hotels and a house party later, we were scooting our way back to the homestead. Our buddy Gian Ortiz from the loudest Austin band there is (Amplified Heat) found us attempting a few games of ski-ball in the middle of the room. It was a miraculous game… in fact, I picked up some taxodermy in-between the two lanes, and much to our surprise, the stuffed thing was sitting on three $1 dollar bills. The games continued.

That night I accidentally punched a girl in the face with a full glass of Cazadores. Since neither of us expected it to happen – a mere accident – we were able to laugh it off and cut our losses. Her hairdo, my refined thirst-quencher.

Gian insisted we remove ourselves and follow him to a friend’s houseparty. I caught some laughing bug, and the rest, all history.