Abysmal Crucifix - OFFICIAL WEBSITE

« January 2008 | Main | March 2008 »

February 2008 Archives

February 2, 2008

PRESS RELEASE: Happy Heartland Tour

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Lacey’s Relations
1142 Wilshire Blvd.
Suite 600
Los Angeles, CA 90017

FAMILY-FRIENDLY BAND ANNOUNCES TOUR OF MIDWEST

LOS ANGELES, February 2, 2008 — Hot on the heels of their latest single, “Little Darlin’,” Jupiter Starshine Collective has announced a 27-city, two-month tour of America’s Heartland—the Happy Heartland Tour! Each concert will be an all-ages show that will welcome both children and parents as Jupiter Starshine Collective explores its eclectic blend of top-40 pop and experimental “acid rock.”

A list of confirmed bookings follows. Additional dates may be added.

Date	City	Venue
2.14.08	Minneapolis, MN	Club 3 Degrees
2.16.08	Duluth, MN	Encounter
2.23.08	Fargo, ND	Bethel Church
2.27.08	Omaha, NE	Mosaic Community Center
2.29.08	Lincoln, NE	Antelope Park Band Shell
3.1.08	Topeka, KS	Community Youth Home
3.5.08	Wichita, KS	Two Rivers Club
3.7.08	Lawrence, KS	O’Connell Ranch
3.8.08	Kansas City, MO	El Torreon
3.11.08	Springfield, MO	Rare Breed Youth Drop-In Center
3.13.08	Columbia, MO	Intersection
3.14.08	St. Louis, MO	The Billiken Club
3.15.08	St. Louis, MO	The Billiken Club
3.18.08	Des Moines, IA	Ichthus Farm
3.21.08	Iowa City, IA	Buddyline
3.22.08	Dubuque, IA	Colts Community Center
3.27.08	Madison, WI	Alliance
3.29.08	Rhinelander, WI	Towering Pines
4.4.08	Milwaukee, WI	Guiding Light Community Youth Center
4.5.08	Chicago, IL	First Nazarene
4.11.08	Decatur, IL	Millikin University
4.12.08	South Bend, IN	Calvary Temple
4.17.08	Grand Rapids, MI	John Ball Teen Center
4.19.08	Traverse City, MI	Northwestern Michigan College
4.21.08	Fort Wayne, IN	The Harvest
4.24.08	Cleveland, OH	The Axis
4.25.08	Columbus, OH	J. Ashburn Jr. Youth Center
4.27.08	Dayton, OH	Dayton Ecumenical Youth Theatre

###

Press Contact:
Lacey Greenwood
818.655.5000
laceygstring@girthmcdurchstein.com

Posted by Lacey Greenwood on February 2, 2008 10:12 AM
Permalink | Comments (1) | Band News Don't Call Me Daughter Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08 Press Releases | Digg It

February 4, 2008

Quitters

Everyone’s been making a huge deal about the band quitting, and it needs to stop. I’m here to set the record straight, people.

First of all, no matter what Carl says about them nobly quitting because I screwed over some “innocent” people to ensure we’d get booked, it’s not true. Yes, it is true I screwed them over, but they weren’t innocent; yes, the reasons why I screwed them over are true, but I think you’ll agree they’re more than valid. But either way, this isn’t why they quit.

So why did they? Answer: money. These money-grubbing assholes don’t care about our art. They are all hopped up on the fact that Wooster’s taking 50% off the top, Lacey gets 10%, Herc gets 15%, which leaves us with 25% of the profits to split evenly. (This doesn’t even count merch, which we still get 75% of!) They’re just a bunch of complainers, still smarting because our last tour actually cost us money, and for this one we’ll be making less than we ever have. One of Mikey’s grievances is that, once you average all the costs of touring and the time it’ll take, it’ll average out to about $2/hour for him.

So fine, he can go back and slave away at a warehouse. Two bucks an hour is a long way from literally paying to play, like we did in the beginning and he did all through college in his shitty fucking band, Dust Storm. Fuck those assholes. Fuck them all. I don’t need them. I have me. I have Margo on keyboards and backing vocals. I have Renal on the tambourine. What else do I need?

Posted by Girth McDürchstein on February 4, 2008 11:45 AM
Permalink | Comments (0) | Band News Don't Call Me Daughter | Digg It

February 6, 2008

Condomes

Last night, I sat in the living room reading Gutter Tramps when Renal sat on my knee, put her arms around my neck, and said, “Daddy…”

“Yes, dear?” I asked.

“I know you’ve been trying to think of a way to invest your money ever since the charity went under. I want to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

“What?”

“Her name’s Jordache Finkelstein,” Renal said. “I met her at the Sunset Strip. She goes to college and works at this place that finds real estate to develop. She has a proposal, and I think you should meet with her and hear her out. It’s right up your avenue.”

I shrugged. “‘Kay. When?”

“I sent up a meeting with your lawyer for tomorrow, two o’clock.”

“I’ll be there, little darlin’,” I said.

Renal giggled and scampered away. I leered at her until she disappeared from view.

February 7, 2008

The Long Con

You don’t know anything.

I keep repeating that in my head, over and over again.

Jordache Finkelstein said it to me yesterday. “You don’t know anything. We have two reasons for that: first, it gives you plausible deniability if anything goes wrong. Second, you don’t know anything about construction or architecture or the genius of the Condomes Cumplex, except for what I’ve told you. We don’t want interference. We just want money. You won’t hear a peep from us until you receive your first dividends.”

I nodded as I handed her several dozen cashier’s checks, each made out for $4999.99 for tax purposes. “I have no problem with this. It’s a sound investment. I just hope nothing goes wrong.”

As she examined the checks, Jordache licked her lips and smiled ferociously. “It won’t.”

On a Mission

“You would be taken in by something so stupid,” Margo snapped.

“It seemed so plausible, though,” I whined. “I’ve had sex with so many women. So, so many.” I raised my hand to high-five her, then put it back down when I realized she was in no mood to high-five.

“All right,” Margo said. She tapped her legal pad with a pencil. “Plug in your laptop and load up your asshole blog. Take me through the entire story from day one.”

And so I did. When I finished, she asked for the business card given to me by Morty Melendez, the private investigator who tracked me down for Renal. I pulled it out of my wallet and slid it across the table. Margo examined it for a moment, then stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go see if I can find our friend, Mr. Melendez,” Margo said. “If that doesn’t work, I’m going to Club Fuel. I’m going to find that goddamn bitch. We’re going to get our money back. Order a latté or something. I’ll be back.”

She kissed me on the head and left the Coffee Bean.

Posted by Girth McDürchstein on February 7, 2008 12:12 PM
Permalink | Comments (0) | Don't Call Me Daughter | Digg It

February 8, 2008

Melendez

Morty Melendez looked different hog-tied. Standing erect, he’s a short but powerful-looking man, with big knotted hands, square shoulders—hell, a square body—and a head that pokes out of a beefy neck like a turtle’s. His eyes, glazed with permanent hate, sneered at you even when his mouth didn’t. In short, he looked like a man you wanted either on your side or as far away from you as possible.

Tied, his body looked as powerful as a female phys. ed. teacher’s. Wimpering, his tear-rimmed, bloodshot eyes evoked no fear but his own. His gnarled hands hung up at awkward angles couldn’t hurt a fly, no matter how hard he tried to get at Margo’s expertly tied knot.

He lay in a heap on the floor of a room we had rented at the Days Inn on Ventura. His longing eyes gazed at the water dish placed on the floor in front of him, just out of reach. Margo’s touch, one that reminded me (not for the first time) that I never want to get on her truly bad side. She had gotten the cats’ water dish out of storage. Like everything else—including the cats—their usual water dish had been stolen.

Now she sat on the bed and watched him, her eyes a dead stare.

“You want some water?” she asked sweetly.

February 9, 2008

La Madera Verde

I sat on a hard plastic chair, reading an old issue of Life magazine, when I saw familiar faces coming down the hall.

Lacey, flanked by Mikey and Carl.

I stood, surprised, and watched them approach.

“How is she?” Lacey asked, hugging me tightly. Too tightly.

I exchanged awkward glances with Mikey and Carl, then said to Lacey, “They say she’s going to be all right, but she’s still critical.”

“How did this happen?” Lacey wanted to know.

We all sat down as I explained the story of Renal stealing all our money and possessions, and us catching Melendez to find out where she and Jordache disappeared to.

“…and when I got back to the room, there she was…”

Jammin’ on the One

The shadowy maw of the semi-defunct Lunaria Jazz Bar stretched what felt like a mile high. I gazed at the foreboding doors before taking tentative steps forward, pulling the old-fashioned wrought-iron door handles, and stepping inside.

I was greeted by the siren sound of piano-led smooth jazz and the pungent but delectable scent of tobacco smoke. Since Santa Monica’s smoking ban, the faux-managers of the Lunaria have found a way to spice dry-ice fog with a rich tobacco scent. It gives the Lunaria an old-timey feel. Also, as a former heavy smoker (who quit because of a pregnancy scare with Margo, which itself turned out to be a ploy to get me to stop smoking), the ability to harmlessly take in that odor in a shabby, poorly ventilated jazz bar makes me happier than I can put into words.

While it’s true that the Lunaria closed in 2006, a certain sect of the clientele has seen to taking it over, keeping it open 24 hours a day (so they can squat), and ensuring everybody has as good a time as possible.

I wasn’t here to have a good time, and it was written all over my face. Smiles faded when patrons caught a glimpse of me. Even with the amplified music, I could hear people whispering about me. Did they know me? Had they kept up with the blog? Did they know what happened to Margo?

February 10, 2008

Peet’s

I “borrowed” one of Margo’s credit cards to rent an inconspicuous car, which I took up Ventura to the first address Tommy had given me. It’s a nice little coffee shop called Peet’s, which I’ve been to several times I recommend their americanos. Nobody in Southern California has espresso as smooth and flavorful—not even Tully’s.

February 11, 2008

Fallout

When I got back to the hospital, Carl was waiting with Mikey, Riffs, and Lacey. My head was killing me. I made the mistake of glancing at myself in the mirror; it’s all swollen and bruised. I no longer look the rock star part. I may need reconstructive surgery. We’ll see when the swelling goes down.

February 13, 2008

Recuperation

Margo’s resting comfortably at our room in the Days Inn. She’ll be ready to fly to Minneapolis with us tomorrow. I’ve just been making the final arrangements, like double-checking our bookings (so we don’t run into the same problems we did on our last tour) and buying new instruments.

I hope to see a lot of fans out there and Club 3 Degrees tomorrow night, even though the Weather Channel is saying it’ll only three degrees.

Posted by Girth McDürchstein on February 13, 2008 5:19 PM
Permalink | Comments (0) | Band News Don't Call Me Daughter | Digg It

February 15, 2008

Tour Blog: Minneapolis — Sons of Njord

Because of Margo’s recent injuries, we had to fly to Minneapolis instead of driving their in our official tour van and hearse. From there, we intended to rent a van large enough to fit our instruments right the airport. Unfortunately, we ran into something nobody could have anticipated.

An elderly man in a cheap suit and black cap stood at the gate, holding a sign on which ABYSMAL CRUCIFIX was scrawled.

“Huh,” I said.

Posted by Girth McDürchstein on February 15, 2008 11:17 AM
Permalink | Comments (0) | Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08 | Digg It

February 21, 2008

Tour Blog: Duluth — Dog Bites Man

On Sunday morning, Riffs went out for his usual nude jog (although we’re so far up north, he could only make it semi-nude). He stumbled into the motel around 8:15 and collapsed on the floor, and that’s when we all saw it: a blood-soaked right calf, gnarled pink flesh, obvious bite marks.

“Christ, Riffs, what happened?” Carl wondered.

Posted by Girth McDürchstein on February 21, 2008 11:14 AM
Permalink | Comments (0) | Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08 | Digg It

February 24, 2008

Tour Blog: Fargo — The Great White Way

Well, we played the first show of the tour, and it’s only our third confirmed date. I guess that’s progress.

About two hours before the show, Lacey called to let me know that after the show, the mayor of Fargo would have a ceremony giving us a key to the city. Since this was from our official publicist, I figured it was more legitimate than last time. I felt honored receiving the key to a city I’d never set foot in before, and all in honor of my good works and family values.

The show was at the Bethel Church. It was full of kids—mostly young girls, accompanied by their loving daddies—wanting to hear songs like “Little Darlin’.” It made me very uncomfortable playing for so many fathers and daughters after what happened between Renal and I, but we opened with “Little Darlin’” as a tribute to her, and to the real loving relationships between fathers and daughters. After that, things got a little sketchy. The audience did not respond well to “Tongue Quest,” even though we cut the usual live demonstration on account of Margo’s medication making her too nauseous to need my love.

Afterward, the manager of Bethel Church politely informed us that he would not pay us and that we were no longer welcome at his club. I hate it when club managers say that. He kept saying all this crazy stuff about God, too. I didn’t really follow it. I just kept wondering why he was dressed in a gold turtleneck and brown blazer.

On the way down to City Hall, I received a call from Dennis Walaker, a mayor shrouded in mystery (legend has it that he refuses to leave the Hall itself for fear of aides stealing his vast collection of honey and urine, so he hires an impersonator for public events and fortifies said impersonator from attacks by slathering him with a cocktail of peanut butter and vaginal secretions—I’m not saying any of that is in any way true, and therefore is not libelous; it’s just a rumor I heard). He said, without an ounce of mystery, that I would not receive a key to anything. He wouldn’t say it explicitly, I assume for political reasons, but I got the distinct impression that Abysmal Crucifix will not be welcome in Fargo until he retires from office.

Next stop: Omaha!

Posted by Girth McDürchstein on February 24, 2008 2:17 AM
Permalink | Comments (0) | Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08 | Digg It

February 28, 2008

Tour Blog: Omaha — No Country for Old Men

Fun fact about Omaha: they only love acoustic-based faux-folk indie rock. They love it from the achingly sincere to the achingly bad, irony-twinged to crappiness-twinged. But the sad fact is, they love nothing else. The Saddle Creek fascists haven’t let a truly rocking act anywhere within the city limits in 15 years. We were to be the first ones, but sadly, that came to a tragic end.

When you walk through the streets of Omaha, one of the first things an outsider notices are unusual TV monitors placed on every corner, in every urine-soaked alleyway, in every public lobby—even, no doubt, in people’s homes. These monitors broadcast the emotionally blank, pasty face of Conor Oberst, a constant reminder of the disappointing figure who runs Omaha from an underground lair/recording studio. His face never leaves the screen—never even seems to blink. There are rumors it’s just a loop, but there are more substantial rumors that, once in awhile, differences crop up. Sometime in October, they say, Oberst turned slightly to his right and began to admonish a “Mrs. Evans” for trying to burn a Sorry About Dresden CD. Nobody knows if he was angry that she was trying to make a pirated copy or literally set it on fire.

Nevertheless, his face remains on those screens 24 hours a day, every day, virtually unchanging. For about 20 minutes each year, the face disappears, replaced with the image of the sagging black-curtain backdrop. Legend has it, this is when he records his albums.

Posted by Girth McDürchstein on February 28, 2008 9:22 AM
Permalink | Comments (0) | Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08 | Digg It

February 29, 2008

Tour Blog: Lincoln — Canceled!

As a result of our exploits in Omaha, we regret to inform the fans that we had to cancel our gig in Lincoln. Fortunately, your tickets will not be refunded. We know it’s a bummer, but we invite you to join us in Topeka (it’s only a three-hour drive!) tomorrow night—free of cover charge*. Enjoy!

*Customers will be required to pay a $20 door fee.

Posted by Girth McDürchstein on February 29, 2008 3:38 PM
Permalink | Comments (0) | Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08 | Digg It