TUSCALOOSA
I am hung over. Hung. The. Fuck. Over. Don’t ever let it be said that Tuscaloosa doesn’t know how to party. But let me back up a bit…
First order of business: breakfast. We hit up Waffle House (the Starbucks of the South) to get prepped for the long drive. People in Kentucky talk funny. It’s like they’re adding 15 or 16 vowels to every word, and some of them are silent. Our server’s name is Missy Mae. She can carry lots of stuff really well and does *not* need your help.
The haul from Louisville to Alabama is longer than anyone expects. Dan broke a snare drum head in Cincinnati and Kyle and I have been fighting our pedals for the last couple of nights, so we have to stop in Nashville at a Guitar Center to pick up supplies. Nashville probably has about a gazillion music stores, but if you’re not looking to buy a vintage dobro for $15,000, just go to Guitar Center.
After rolling into Tuscaloosa (finally), we went searching for Archibald’s Bar-B-Q. I want to state this clearly and for the record: I am going to build a BBQ shack behind my house just like George Archibald did. We literally ate all their ribs. They had to turn down the people in line behind us, and buddy they missed out. Tender, smoky, meat-cicles basted in a spicy vinegar and garlic sauce. Just goes to show that you don’t need a fancy building or a slick corporate marketing campaign if you know how to swing your meat.
Chris from Baak Gwai let us know that Egan’s was going to treat us right, and we took full advantage. The bar is a classic college town dive, reminiscent of some of my favorite bars in the world. No pretense, just a bunch of people getting fucked up on cheap beer, throwing darts, playing pool and dudes running game.
I decided that this was going to be the night that I cut loose. I’ve been pretty much on the wagon for the last month trying to whip myself into shape for tour, and I was surprised that I hadn’t really lost my tolerance. I lost count of how many free Bud Lights I drank, and I’m pretty sure that I did a half-dozen shots, half of them bought for me by strangers. Southern hospitality and all that.
There were only two bands on the bill, so we waited for John from Baak Gwai to show up after he got off work. Last time we played Tuscaloosa, we played before he made it out to the show, so it only made sense to make up for it. We rocked it for a mostly packed house, and I think we all wished that every show we played on tour was like this.
We’ve been friends and fans of Baak Gwai for over two years now, and in addition to being great dudes, they’re an amazing band. Their songs are in our ‘90’s rock wheelhouse, a smart combination of power, precision, sincerity and humor. After nailing a set of old and new material (“All our new songs are about squashes,” they told us), they called us up to play “Big Dipper” by Built To Spill with them. We had played it to close our set, but this version was better.
SETLIST (to the best of my recollection):
Blast From The Past
The College Try
My Resume
Nothing Interesting
The 8-Track Recorder
Sharpshooter
Can’t Make Up My Mind
Impatient Man
Rumours
Ordinary Man
Yr Band Flaked Out On Me
Lowest Part Is Free! (Archers Of Loaf cover)
I Would Like To Speak To Your Manager
Cutout Bin
Big Dipper (Built To Spill cover)
Cut to the next morning. My head is throbbing. Need water, coffee and drugs. Lucky for us, this place exists:
We stopped here last time we were in town, but they didn’t have streak-o-lean then. Luckily, they did today. The saltiest fried salt pork you’ll ever eat, but so delicious. Waysider is a Kyle Sowashes-certified pork palace, with great country ham, bacon and of course streak-o-lean. The best offering, however, is their biscuits. About the size of a half-dollar, they’re perfectly browned on the outside and rippled with flaky layers on the inside. Our server’s name is Dixie. Dan unsuccessfully tries to get the biscuit recipe out of her.
