Man or Astro-Man?'s Summer 1995 <br>
West Coast Tour Diary <br>
<br>
Interim <br>
 Head West Young Extraterrestrial.  With only a few days for our fake human
exteriors to recover from the European Tour, we decided to pan for that
proverbial tour-collected gold at some 20 venues.  Equipped with a new roadie
construct, the Branock Device and the new Astro-Utility Outfielder, Dexter X,
we were on our way through the space-time continuum once again.  The
following is an official account of the chords we played and the reasons why
we chose them.<br>
<br>
<br>
Tuesday, July 25 <br>
Venue:  Butchertown Pub <br>
City:  Louisville, KY <br>
<br>
 The excellent bonus of transferring Main Brain Cell Center Activity to
Atlanta is a prevention of the acute "Oh shit, we're going to be yet another
hour late because of the change into the Eastern Time Zone" syndrome.  Every
show at the beginning of a US tour is an inevitable study in tardiness. We
missed our in-store at Ear X-tacy (great place to have one, too!).  Late,
cramped and with redefined tour positions, we were set to spew the Rocket
Sauce.  Dexter X really came through like a tried and tested X-Wing Fighter
would.  Could this be the Space Garnishing could send us over the edge?
<br>
<br>
Wednesday, July 26 <br>
Venue:  Second Story <br>
City:  Bloomington, IN <br>
<br>
 We arrived early for a "live transmissions on college radio" thing.  It was
a good broadcasting performance except for CoCo's "I'm not really prepared to
speak, so subconsciously my southern accent really cuts through" downer.  I
actually accused him of being on tour with the Oakridge Boys instead of being
that of the Astro-Clan.  Fun show, great crowd, and Dex X rocks again.  What
more could you want - J. Couger MCamp showing up on his home turf?  Well, it
was okay; our feelings weren't hurt.  What's he done that's been worth dick
since the first side of "American Fool" anyway?  (I didn't just write
that...)<br>
<br>
<br>
Thursday, July 27 <br>
Venue:  Shank Hall <br>
City: Milwaukee, WI <br>
<br>
 We showed up mega-spectacularly early at Bill from Rush-Moore Record's house
(aptly described as a Taco Bell covered in vines).  We slept all day in
traditional CoCo "wake me up before the year 2000" zombie mode.  Bill was the
man:  Mexican food, a well-promoted in-store, and Laundry.  Those 3
components make for a touring band's own little slice of heaven.  Star Crunch
and Dexter X bought matching chrome telecaster bodies earlier in the day so
the future may hold a rather reflective guitar attack.  The show itself was
not a very professional procedure, but it was wild.  Dexter was rightfully
served a crow-eating dosage about his never breaking strings.  I still can't
believe he plays naked under his space suit.<br>
<br>
<br>
Friday, July 28 <br>
Venue:  Lounge Ax <br>
City:  Chicago, IL <br>
<br>
 Chicago is kind of our home away from home planet.  Our booking agency, The
Billions Corporation, is there and we have tons of earthlings who have been
brainwashed into being nice to us centered there.  Our friend Scott Williams,
who does all our drum head and banner artwork, set up an in-store at
Wreckless Records for us.  It was more fun than lickin' the old 9-volt.  Mr.
Dexter X kept getting shocked because his amp wasn't grounded; he's going to
have to get use to our extreme voltage intake.  The show itself was packed to
the hilt with earth types making for a Top Ten heat indexer for us
Astro-Hoppers.  The show ended with 2 guitars and no bass because of CoCo's
mind and string numbing attack!  Watch out Jon Spencer!<br>
<br>
<br>
Saturday, July 29 <br>
Venue:  Club DeWash <br>
City:  Madison, WI <br>
<br>
 Geezer, this joint was a weird one.  It was a hotel, restaurant, bar, gay
dance club, live music club, and generally goofy place.  After the show I
found out that Hot Rod's, the gay club downstairs, was a Jeffery Dahmer hot
spot;  supposedly the guy we stayed with was friends with the guy who escaped
from Dahmer and lead to his arrest.  Scary stuff - guess there's more than
just having the government experimenting on your alien anatomy to worry
about. This was an action-packed show, but I'm tired of the 21 and over bull
chips.  Four kids drove 8 hours to see us play, which is sick enough, but
even darker and more sadistic is the fact that we couldn't get them in.  How
about a 21 and UNDER sometime?<br>
<br>
<br>
Sunday, July 30 <br>
Venue:  7th Street Entry <br>
City:  Minneapolis, MN <br>
<br>
 In Hamburg, Germany we took on Soul Asylum, but tonight we dared an even
greater adversary, Van Halen.  They were playing across the street from us at
the Civic Center, and I'm sure Eddie was fearing the day his path was to
inevitably cross that of Star Crunch's, exactly as the criss-cross lines
stretch their way over the body of that fabled Kramer.  Dexter's former
booking agency is from Minneapolis, so he was forced to hold constant,
informal Supernova press conferences.  During the show, CoCo pulled some
rather convincing Prince imitations.  By the way, no Mellencamp in Indiana,
and no Artist Formally Known as Prince in Minneapolis. Are we not goche or
what?  Anyway, we better have an earth-collapsing show in Moorehead, because
as our current motto states: "It's all downhill after Bozeman."<br>
<br>
<br>
Monday, July 31 <br>
Venue:  The Coffee Club <br>
City:  Moorehead, MN <br>
<br>
 Our ever-reliable tour compadres, The Galaxy Trio, had a brief attack of the
tour itinerary dysfunction so they thought they weren't playing.  This,
however, did not coincide with the fliers or the knowledge of the club.
 Their replacement was a film on electrical safety that the Lounge Lizard
rigged through the P.A.  All the kids actually sat and watched attentively.
 See the benefit of playing all ages shows?  The club was packed again, and
CoCo had a fine audience-pleasing performance.  He even grabbed a 12-year-old
kid and carried him around in "King Kong" fashion.  I didn't steal this drum
stand I wanted for the new electronic drum pads that I got in Minneapolis.
 Good Karma should be waiting, otherwise I wish I had that damn stand!<br>
<br>
<br>
Tuesday, August 1 <br>
Venue:  Filling Station <br>
City:  Bozeman, MT <br>
<br>
 The twelve hour drive was like being baked inside a nuclear reactor.  I can
deal with the length of time and the cramped space, but the lack of a shower
is unbearable.  I felt like a facelift would have yeilded enought grease for
a Domino's pizza.  Pee bottles were at maximum capacity by the time we
arrived.  Both our radio interview and our in-store fell through.  After
arriving on campus (where we had gone to track down said, botched radio
interview), Star Crunch and CoCo found the building where ______  who wrote
"Zen and the Art of Motorcyle Maintenance" taught English.  With the
realization that today was a logistical nightmare that made the Chicago
postal system seem organized, we headed for the club.  The Filling Station
was nuts, or rather it really wasn't.  It was totally imaginable...It was
just the fact that it wasn't something I had ever WANTED to imagine that lead
me to astonishment.  Ever seen Patrick Swaze's movie "Roadhouse"?  You know
the movie where the bar tender says to a girl that he's fucking in the
storage room, "That's right baby, you're goin' to be my regular Saturday
night thang."?  You know with Jeff Healy playing behind a caged stage.
 Um...the map says "You are here!"  Why did only truck drivers fight in
Vietnam?  During soundcheck this guy came up to CoCo and said "Look, you're
really annoying the fuck out of the patrons.  And if you piss off the
patrons, then you got a big problem in a bad way."  No need for a barroom
brawl scene yet, so I called off soundcheck (the P.A. sucked anyway).  The
clientel for the show completely changed though.  A strange mix of
mountain-climbing machos and local alternative freaks.  The show was wild.
 Too much so.  Girls and guys alike were being beat around like that
head-bopping game you find at the mall arcade.  You could smell the
testosterone in the high altitude air.  It was stupid.  Dexter ragged on the
crowd for its mental affiliation with professional wrestling.  We only played
12 songs.  Afterwards, everyone (slammers included) said they loved the show.
 Fuck this scene.  I blame Alice in Chains for all this.  Honorable mention:  John the promoter is a great guy and made us excellent vegetarian tortillas (the only remaining positive feature of this night).<br>
<br>
<br>
Wednesday, August 2 <br>
Day Off <br>
On the road to Seattle <br>
<br>
 Nyquil helps you get your zeeze, or whatever the jingle is.  I slept like a
dead, dirty baby.  I got to (do you like that optimistic phrasing?) drive
through a good portion of Montana.  It was simply breath-taking (luckily we
had our emergency respirator units available whenever needed).  It looked
exactly like those Disney "Wilderness Family" movies that I loved as a kid.
 Well, just seeing the scenery was probably better than growing up in a log
cabin faced with a hopelessly uncalled for sequel.  Later in the day, we
drove through the town where "Twin Peaks" and "Northern Exposure" were
filmed.  We arrived in Grunge City, U.S.A. (actually I think Seattle is a
great place) to shower up at the house of the Lounge Lizard's Kinko's
compadre Rosemary.  I separated myself from the group so proper space was
allowed for everyone to deal with me.  I got a really cool book on the band
Kraftwerk, and I got a shirt that has the Roger Moore and Chick iron-on but
says "Star Fucker" instead of "Moonraker".  I love seeing movies by
myself...it makes me feel like such a fucking loser.  Tonight's pick was "The
Net."  I thought it was dorky - an OK story but presented in a mega-boring
fashion.  Also all I have to say is "To all you internet geeks - get outside
and expose yourself to harmful UV radiation dorkoid!"<br>
<br>
<br>
Thursday, August 3 <br>
Venue:  Crocodile Cafe <br>
City:  Seattle, WA <br>
<br>
 Our first show here nearly 2 years ago was one of the worst Electronic
Catastrophes this side of a transcontinental brown-out.  Nothing, absolutely
nothing, worked.  I punched our rental van and left a dent the size of a
grapefruit in the hood.  We redeemed ourselves earlier this May with a
charged up Pre-Garage Shock show.  This was set up for the breaking of our
50/50 chances of success.  We arrived and immediately I was sentenced to Drum
Hell.  My tom heads were completely dead, my snare sounded like a hollow bag
of piss, and my drum sticks were more chewed than the edge of a 4th grader's
homework looseleaf.  Temporarily fixed, by some borrowed goods from the fab
men of the Galaxy Trio, I settled for mediocrity.  On this tour, most people
at the clubs thought my "space dork" kit was electronic anyway.  After
dinner, CoCo took us to the Mr. Mad Scientists' (Dale Travis) laboratory for
a look at the 8 foot Tesla Coil.  As always, it was amazing.  One million
volts, jagged flashes of sharp, purple light, and a sound straight out of the
Death Star destruction scene of "Star Wars."  This is the most intense the
life of a space rocker gets.  The show was a great package, The Galaxy Trio
put on yet another fine display of great instrumental rock, and the Smugglers
were fantastic.  The Smugglers have to be one of the funnest live bands
inside any space-time continuum!  Our show went well; Dexter X was in fine,
fine fashion. Then, the 10 hours to Portland lay ahead like a distant star
system, light years away.  The only problem was that our intergalactic vessel
was a '82 Chevy Ten van, not a Star Cruiser. <br>
<br>
Friday, August 4 <br>
Venue:  Satyricon <br>
City:  Portland, OR <br>
<br>
 We drove straight to Portland after the Seattle show in order to get set
into a more organized Astro-Mind Set.  Chaos was now set into place almost
like CoCo's leaning tower of electronics.  We arrived in Portland around 7
a.m. to stay with one of Dexter's friends, Amy. Crash-landing took on a new
meaning as the four of us transferred our active roles as aliens into that of
zombies.  Upon my return to consciousness, I prepared (stretching all
necessary bio-servo mechs) to enter town.  I had a great indian style buffet
lunch while listening to the ramblings of two guys who were talking about
running over squirrels in the street.  Two fine shops get the Highest
Astro-Approval:  Poker Face, a retro clothes, skatewear, vespa scooter,
hispster paraphenalia store (O.K., maybe I'm biased cause they actually
stocked Man or Astro-Man? T's); and Dr. Tongue's 3-D House of Collectible
Toys, thanks to whom I became the proud owner of a Quisp Key Chain and a
bendable Mr. Peanut figure.  Additionally, Ozone Records, where we did an
in-store, was an excellent store with a myriad of 7"'s and fanzines.  This
pre-show was immensely fun.  I was just getting over a cold and I had snot
flying everywhere - apologies to anyone looking at the R-Z's in the Used CD
rack.  The show later that night at the Satyricon was also a thrill-soaked
blast of wanton teenage excitement.  This girl pulled CoCo out in the
audience and literally beat the shit out of him - I'm talking serious bloody
nose.  It was an absolute riot.  After the show, the same girl asked the
injured Monkey Wizard if he wanted to have sex.  To top it all off, one hit
super-legend Tommy Tutone was out checking the sounds from Astro.<br>
<br>
<br>
Saturday, August 5 <br>
Venue:  Bimbo's 365 Club <br>
City:  San Francisco, CA <br>
<br>
 This was supposed to be the climax of this tour.  Bimbo's was a completely
amazing place.  Swank reaches a new level with this kind of joint.  In the
'60s Esquivel was contracted to play here.  We got to check out his contract:
 $5,307 a week, 3 shows a day, 6 muscians, 3 female vocalists, and the
slickest sounds this side of the rings of Saturn.  We all felt out of place
and out-classed, after all we're just 3 wacked space teens who crashed in the
great state of Alabama...oh, yeah, I almost forgot about our California via
Cynot 3 drifter, Dexter X.  The planets must have been in perfect alignment
because everything that happened the entire day was not in sync with the
normal Man or Astro-Man? logistics (i.e. everything actually went
flawlessly).  Well, except for CoCo leaving every single sample disk in
Portland.  We bought all our own CDs at Tower, resampled the intros and
prayed that Fed. Ex. would bring us a more permanent cure when we arrived in
L.A.  Both the in-store and the show went well with our world-conquering
motives.  1,200+ people ended up coming, and there was a line a block long of
people who could not enter the entertainment envelope.  I actually felt
rather absurd.  The whole Man or Astro-Man? project suddenly seemed like a
miniscule joke that had infested upon itself and gotten way out of hand.
 Still, it was great to see Ken Sanderson, Alabama's only true punk rocker;
Estrus Head Man Dave Crider; Art Chantry, our main graphic artist, and even
Jello Biafra who was still bitching about not being on the guest list.
 Geeze, shell out some of that "Bedtime for Democracy" royalty cash!<br>
<br>
Sunday, August 6 <br>
Venue:  F/X <br>
City:  San Jose, CA <br>
<br>
 If Man or Astro-Man? was a children's television program this episode would
be titled "CoCo's Big Day!"  Sonic, a skateboard company in San Jose, was
going to have the Man or Astro-Man? decks ready to fly.  After hearing 2 1/2
months of monkey-speak, we were finally going to see what CoCo had set into
motion.  They looked astro-amazing!  The Tom Bagely artwork was superb.  The
club had even made full color posters of the same artwork for the show. Now
the pages of Thrasher were only a few shreds of grip tape away.  This was a
really great line up.  The Hi-Five's, The Mr. T Experience, and of course the
Eight-Legged Dork Machine incarnate.  The Hi-Five/Mr. T experience was a
guaranteed good time in the space suit pocket.  Our show was a weird one in
any terran terms; the gravity problem was definitely self-evident.  On the
second to last song, "Nitrous Burnout," my kit completely fell to a wicked
death.  I finished the last verse with only a hi-hat and a snare.  It might
not have been a successful audition for the Violent Femmes or Doo Rag, but I
think I did an admiral a job as a space private like myself was capable of.
 We did our "The Who from Outer Space" maneuvers and the stage ended up
looking like the destroyed clumps of civilization that remain at the end of
Missile Command.  I guess this was fun, at least the earth patrons of San
Jose said it was, but then again, who can trust an earthman?<br>
<br>
<br>
Monday, August 7 <br>
Day Off in L.A. <br>
<br>
 Okay, by this time you are probably well aware that the term "Night Drive"
is more than just the Atari game where you get to use the paddles.  On our
way to stay on the beach with Dexter X's friend Steve Waggoner, we had a
rather bizaar set of circumstances befall us.  A guy in a car with a beagle
pulled up and asked, "What are you guys doing?"  Dexter X replied, "I don't
know.  Who are you?"  "I'm the police!" The light changes to green and we
rocket on our way in bemusement.  The next thing we know, two cop cars are
pulling us over. We all have to put our hands out the window, and they call
Dexter out.  Apparently, some one had called in that our Astro-trailer was a
trailer that had been stolen. Unfortunately for us, it also looked strange to
the fuzzies that our plates were from Alabama, but our driver was from Costa
Mesa, where the other trailer had been stolen.  I couldn't believe that
someone could actually say that we hadn't acquired the Jupiter II on our own
hard work. Why, I still remember the day CoCo put the "Repairing Your TV with
Savage Teenage Lust" vinyl lettering on her backside.  Everything eventually
got cleared up and the rest of the day went as smooth as a Californian
Protein Drink. Well, Dex did almost break his toe because of incompetent
boogie-boarding.  We got to stop by everyone's favorite store (or it would be
if you didn't have to give them your phone number and address every fucking
time you go) - Radio Shack.  Later, we ordered pizza and watched William
Peter Blatty's "The 9th Configuration," an amazing film that is now a
must-see on the Astro-Tour Film Viewer.<br>
<br>
<br>
Tuesday, August 8 <br>
Venue:  Jabberjaw <br>
City:  LA, CA <br>
<br>
 Last year the Man or Astro-Unit?, complete with the Dr. Deleto circuit,
played one of our hottest (temperature-wise) shows ever at Jabberjaw.  The
club is in a horrible part of town, the ventilation is nil, and the P.A. is
fading into nonexistance.  So, why is this place so great?  The humans that
oversee this spot are some of the finest in the known cosmos!  Ah, you humans
still overcome the lameness of your species if only on a few occasions.  With
these kinds of shows, I just forget about the quality of sound and what
little bit of professionalism I might have.  The main objective is to muster
enough psychotic energy to burn people's hair off their heads.  This show was
no exception, and it was a complete thrill to make CoCo mad enough to kick
over my hi-hat stand after I spit in his face.  Supposedly Drew Barrymore
came out.  If I had known this, I would have surely burned the hair off her
head with my heat vision.<br>
<br>
<br>
Wednesday, August 9 <br>
Venue:  Spaceland <br>
City:  LA, CA <br>
<br>
 They say that there are so many cellular phone transmissions in the
Hollywood area that they travel through people's brains to get to their
destinations.  This makes about as much sense as anything because LA is the
only place weirder than space.  Southern Californian traffic makes an
asteroid belt look calm and refreshing.  Our in-store at Rhino maintained an
OK energy status, but was rushed and thus fairly mediocre.  The Spaceland
Club itself turned out to be somewhat of a disappointment;  what we thought
was going to look like the Death Star metamorphasized into a rather large LA
hipster club/Captain D's.  This show was a mess.  The P.A. blew and the crowd
was completely insane.  Star Crunch tight-roped the stage bannister, and the
drums got kicked over at least five times.  It was either amazing or complete
shit.  I really wasn't sure.  I had a complete solid readout of ambiguity on
this one.  Mark Mothersbaugh from Devo was out, as well as the Cramps?  Two
of my all time favorite bands, but I was lacking the space balls (not to be
confused with the Mel Brooks flick) to meet them.  It's hard to face idols
whom you've read countelss numbers of zine interviews about.  This was our
most violent night of the tour.  It even had closure.  Dexter got knocked out
by one of CoCo's Astrophonic Speaker Horns before the show, and after it was
all over I got pissed at the Lounge Lizard and kicked a TV off a speaker.
 Birdstuff is the King of Embarrassment once again.<br>
<br>
Thursday, August 10 <br>
Venue:  The Casbah <br>
City:  San Diego, CA <br>
<br>
 No Clash jokes please!  The Casbah was a cool little club with lots of
noteriety.  It was right across from the airport, and it looked like
in-coming planes were going to crash into the surrounding buildings.  The
Hi-Fives were great as always, but Deadbolt, who are on Cargo, were really
hilarious.  I never was very fond of their records, but the live show was as
entertaining as an Alabama Offroad Mud Derby, which, I might add, is one of 
the world's finest sport spectacles.  I thought our show was intense.  We
finally played Supernova's "Calling Hong Kong" so Dexter could display his
goods, and the crowd completely lost logical brian patterns causing Dexter to
get a tooth knocked out by a flying mic stand.  Okay, maybe I shouldn't have
ever made fun of Epitaph for giving their bands a health plan.  Major surgery
is looking like it's going to be a common experience for extended
Astro-Tours.<br>
<br>
<br>
Friday, August 11 <br>
Venue:  Double Down <br>
City:  Las Vegas, NV <br>
<br>
 Vegas is the wackiest, tackiest city on this planet.  We arrived at 9 in the
morning.  Louie the Letch, our casino connection and one of the slickest
gentlemen on Planet Vegas set us up with rooms at La Concha next to the spot
where the Untamed Youth recorded their live album, the El Morocco.  Here's
the break:  CoCo and Dexter ended up out $100 a piece, and Star Crunch up
$120.  The actual show was completely fucked.  There's no way for smaller
bands to really play in Vegas so people do indie shows at different venues.
 The Double Down is definitely a bar and not a club.  People were out for
blood.  Drunk, mad and out of their heads.  This was a wild fucking crowd.  I
mean we could barely play.  CoCo was getting leveled like a Jr. High School
Offensive Tackle going up against the entire Pittsburg Stealers defensive
line.  Additionally, the place's wiring was fucked.  Star Crunch got such a
jolt that he blacked out and fell on a TV.  We had to quit after 10 songs
because someone was literally going to get killed.  After the show, the
testosterone continued to flow like Niagra.  "Let's prove our stupidity
through violence" reigned as an idiot popped a guy in the face with a glass
bottle.  The guy was screaming and bleeding like shit all over the asphalt.
 His face was going to be scarred for life.  Flashing ambulance lights
replaced the accustomed stage lights as everyone headed back to the casinos.
 Was this primitive ritual really fun?  I'm into punk energy, but these
Thundar and his Barbarians show goers will be annihilated when our invasion
is completed.<br>
<br>
<br>
Saturday, August 12 <br>
Live Radio Broadcast Day in Tucson, AZ <br>
<br>
 We escaped Vegas and Area 51, but our live Radio Broadcast in Tucson turned
out to be a phoned-in sentence five miles outside of the Hoover Dam area.
 Our Earth Ground Transport Vehicle faltered, but with fate on our side, we
soon got back in sync, if only in a mechanical sense.  The Hoover Dam was
completely phenomenal in itself.  The guide book said that with all the
concrete used to build it you could make a passage way 5 feet across all the
way from the North Pole to the South Pole.  By coincidence, we met up with
tour mates The Hi-Fives at the dam.  Crossing the Mojave and surrounding
desert plains, we headed for Phoenix, Arizona and the home of Eastside
Records and Entertainment King, Ben Wood.  Ben has an amazing Tiki Room and
an equally great collection of Robert Williams, Coop, etc. artwork.  Finally,
we headed to our robot dream states with our alien bellies full -
 compliments of an earth cheese pizza.<br>
<br>
 Sunday, August 13 <br>
Venue:  Boston's <br>
City:  Phoenix, AZ <br>
<br>
 Ben Wood is probably the nicest gent that we have had the pleasure of
examining.  No alien abduction here;  Ben will be one of the few that we
spare at the cosmic time of inevitable annihilation.  Ben runs Eastside
Records in Phoenix which is a complete archetype of what an independent
record store should be.  Super recently Eastside has also started putting out
vinyl.  Man or Astro-Man?'s "Needles in the Cosmic Haystack" 7" being the
impetus of their new endeavor.  The in-store at Eastside was jam-packed with
terrans ready to be blasted with that Astrophonic sound. This was really
excellent: Star Crunch amazed onlookers by doing the noise section of
"Nitrous..." by sliding used CDs up and down the fret board.  After the
in-store we got to see the Neil Young film "Human Highway" starring Devo.
 Fairly novel stuff, but can you say "1982"?  Boston's, the chosen area for
tonight's Astro-Incursion, was a weird place with a  stage that was half
indoors and half outdoors. The audience could stand on either side.  With my
well-known affinity for all that is backwards, I had to find a solution for
the rearview on-lookers that night.  The other three Astro-Men did it "for
the kids up front," while I pleased the alternate universe crowd with my drum
mechanizations.  I actually had the bigger audience.  The show went well.  It
was another riot ensuing crowd.  One guy jumped on stage, unplugged Star
Crunch's amp and bit my cymbal.  I never thought the taste of brass was very
palatable, but hey, I'm from space.<br>
<br>
<br>
Monday, August 14 <br>
Venue:  Golden West <br>
City:  Alburquerque, NM <br>
<br>
 We had a strange drive on the way to Albuquerque.  On the scary side of
things, the van stalled right after one of those "Federal Prison
Institution/Do not pick up hitchhikers" signs.  Luckily, we re-ignited the
retros before any thumbs became visible.  However, on a more desirable
circuit, we were able to check out the meteor site just outside Flagstaff,
AZ.  It was downright awe-inspiring .  To think of something that size with
that velocity striking the earth from space is just completely astounding.
 The crater is so large that 20 football games could be played simultaneously
within its rim.  In Albuquerque, our in-store at Dropout Records was
completed to our working formula's satisfaction.  Brief X energetic = happy
crowd + happy Astro-Men.  We couldn't see the National Atomic Museum because
we did not have our insurance papers for the van, thus, we were unable to be
a registered vehicle on the military base in which the museum is located.
 Space Poop!  The club was located on Historic Route 66, and because of the
installation of a new P.A. system we got a chance to walk around.  What was
this?  Taco Bell closed at 7 p.m.?  No running to the border was possible
here.  It was CoCo's earth birthday, so the Hi-Fives hit him with a birthday
tune during their set, while us Astro-Men handled cake duties.  Our actual
performance was rather tame.  Fortunately for us, we played in the dark.  The
sound guy never turned the lights on, so if you didn't have a pair of
infrared goggles on, all you had was the dim light of the film projector to
see four dorky Astro-figures by. <br>
<br>
Tuesday, August 15 <br>
Venue:  Mercury Cafe <br>
City:  Denver, CO <br>
<br>
 This day was crammed into the waste module with all kinds of space gobble so
try to hang on tightly.  We landed in Colorado Springs at about 10 a.m. to
complete CoCo's Tesla pilgrimage.  The "Tesla Museum" was in absolute
disarray.  Half of the displays weren't completely up and the main show room
resembled the interior of a shop class more than it did a museum.  It is in
honorable defense that the place is voluntarily run and the staff on hand
were beyond informative.  The "tour" wasn't until 2 p.m., so we scoured the
town for nifty thrift stores.  Dexter snagged a farfisa compact organ for an
even 100 smackers, and Star Crunch got a cheesy guitar/drum sample pedal that
made some truly bizaar noises - like all the freaked moog hits found on the
Devo Hardcore stuff.  The Tesla Tour was fascinating.  We were shown an
instructive video and then a guide did various experiments with a Jacob's
Ladder and numerous Tesla coils.  It's really amazing the technology that the
world was provided with through the genius of Tesla:  neon, x-rays, radio,
alternating current, lasers, remote controls, robotics, radar - the 20th
century would still be hanging on the apron strings of the industrial
revolution if not for Nikola Tesla.  Also, it is downright terrifying the
simplistic technology that the government keeps from us for corporate profit
or other devious gains.  At the Mercury Cafe, we had dinner and somehow got
entangled in the theory of "ebbing originality and creativity due to the
emperical finite possibilities of current modern instrument line up and sound
capability."  Basically, everyone disagreed completely.  The audience was
hooked to the core on that all-ages energy tip.  It was reanimating to my
robot soul.  Kids going wild without beating eachother's cranium in or acting
like they're in a Stone Temple Pilots video.  The show was a stimulatingly
good time.  I got to climb in the rafters during the set, went back into a
storage attic, and came back with a full-size moose head.  After the
inevitable destaging, we hung out with Brian from Weezer, who had played a
show in town earlier.  He was a super friendly guy and we almost stayed in
Weezer's hotel rooms because they were leaving at 1 a.m. for Phoenix, but we
met a fine gentleman also named Brian who let us crash at his place.  Hotels
are generally lame for a small touring band.  You dish out $50 of your hard,
space-sweated moula to have some insane maid's wake-up ceremony at 10 in the
morning.  Fuck that earthly concept.  I'd much rather stay with a cordial
earth inhabitant.  You get turnd on to new bands, comics, movies, certifiably
derranged local charaters, and all kinds of new general philosophies.  The
final score of the night was the "Almighty Robotic Horn Blowing Gutiar Unit"
that Dexter X scored from the rafters.  Someone had attached two bicycle
horns together, added about a dozen loopy knobs, and pulled out the wired
interior of this old guitar to make the aforementioned device.  Hey, but
here's the strangest kick in the proverbial space booty - it actually worked!
 Astro-Luck on foreign worlds...nothing like it in the cosmos.<br>
<br>
<br>
Wednesday, August 16 <br>
Beautiful Day Off in Denver, CO <br>
<br>
 Rest and relaxation on planet Earth.  Today's occurences were happily
uneventful.  Our host, Brian, was going way beyond the "mi casa, su casa"
customs.  We went to the "Breakfast King" to do an interview during which
CoCo exstatically declared it "The Quest for the Ultimate Pancake Sandwich."
 Unable to find an ultra-sonic dirt blaster we once again washed laundry in
typical earth coin-op fashion.  After a cleaning of the space suits, supplies
were retrieved from Star Crunch's favorite outlet:  Wal-Mart.  We decided to
make our cinematic death wish of seeing "Waterworld" come true.  What's worse
is that everyone got the student discount of $3.75 except for me, Mr. Forget
to Ask for the Discount So Get Popped for $5.75 for One of the Worst Movies
of Any Dimension.  I really tried hard to appreciate this film, but it just
bit like a giant celluloid stink patty.  It touched on some decent, heady
environmental issues, but then had these boring 15 minute "Road Warrior" on
Jet Skiis rip-off action scenes.  Back at Brian's we went through the normal
Astro-departure procedure, 94-CX-2, including the idiot check.  When we got
on the road around midnight to head for Lawrence, KS everyone was honking
their horns at us.  The question of whether or not anyone remembered to shut
and lock the trailer door was posed.  Indeed it was as wide open as an
Astro-patron's mouth right before chomping down on a Little Debbie.
 Fortunately, we packed that sucker so tight that nothing fell out.  Why do
an idiot check when the band is completely full of them?<br>
<br>
<br>
Thursday, August 17 <br>
Venue:  Bottleneck's <br>
City:  Lawrence, KS <br>
<br>
 Okay, okay our D.I.Y. mode finally broke!  10:00 a.m. in Lawrence, KS - no
way we were going to spend all day in a parking lot:  Ramada Inn here we
come!  Pool side in top style, Astro-Luxury is as high society as can be
imagined.  Last year at the same space occupation unit, we had a great show
while on our tour with Southern Culture on the Skids.  For some inexplicable
reason we had an enormous payload of interviews.  We even did an interview
for a spanish magazine.  Let me relay to you that my three years of Spanish
that I had learned in a primitive Earth Education Institution served me
nothing more than a plateful of humiliation.  The show sold out and proved to
be one of the most affable that we had all tour.  For the Astro-Hardware
Instrument Systems this was an extremely taxing night.  Dexter smashed 1 1/2
guitars, Star Crunch kicked in a TV screen, and I personally tested the
aerodynamic properties of my interstellar drum module.  Also, we annihilated
the back lighting and ceiling tile above the stage.  So maybe we get docked
for our juvenile space treacheryxit was fun.  My personal highlight was
seeing Star Crunch scrap with a crowd member for one of my drumsticks.  They
were rolling all over the stage in the attempt to possess that prized
Birdstuff souveneir.  Small, yet cunning and adaptable, Star Crunch soon won
out over his larger, but technically undermatched earth adversary.  At the
end of the night the guys from Better Than Ezra came up to us. They were
playing the next night in Lawrence, but had flown in early just to see the
show.  Actually, they used to open for us in Atlanta.  Alas, those seemed to
be the days of old as Dexter asked, "Hey, aren't you guys rock stars?"  After
the show at the hotel our key wouldn't work and there was "mystery hair," a
cockroach, and a cricket in the bathroom.  What was I blabbing about
Astro-Luxury?<br>
<br>
<br>
Friday, August 18 <br>
Venue:  Cicero's <br>
City:  St. Louis, MO <br>
<br>
 Update:  The "Almighty Robotic Horn Blowing Guitar Unit" has recently been
bungeed and chain locked to the front of the van as a hood ornament.  Dexter
has refused to ever play it because of the myriad of bug intestines now
emmassed on its surface.  We did a rather enjoyable phone interveiw with a
magazine in Orlando, FL.  We have switched labels from the Estrus satellite
to Planet Touch and Go.  When asked why we didn't consider any major labels,
I relayed that we already made our own nuclear weapons, tested on animals
(including humans), and harmed the environment in ways that earth scientists
would never be able to calculate, so what could a major lable possibly be
able to offer us that we don't already possess, control or plan to conquer?
 Needless to say, we decided to continue to do E.P.s with Estrus but simply
felt that Touch and Go was a solid, beneficial, honest place to coincide with
our new "Tour Till You Drop" schedule.  Tonight's show at Cicero's was with
hometown mutant friends, The Quadrajets, which of course features the
unbridled guitar debauchery of former Astro-Man, Captain Zeno.  They're great
guys in a great band (strange duality for these days, eh?) and they use more
oil in their hair than that spilled by the Exxon-Valdez;  a certain respect
factor is thusly due.  All said, we made the moronic decision of going to see
They Might Be Giants at another venue instead of hanging around to see the
'Jets.  They Might Be Giants are nothing but a completely dulled, blase
parody of their prior, amazing selves.  What ever happened to two nerdy, New
England guys running around with a marching bass drum, an accordion, guitar
and drum machine?  The backing band had that uninterested, coked-out, glazed,
"male porno star" look about them.  It just completely sucked.  I threw my
gum at the bass player.  In the immortal words of CoCo, "This is worse than
"Waterworld"!"  Back at Cicero's, the show was hotter than a martian s'mores
cookout, and the show was a lot of fun.  I'm being Captain Obvious.  Isn't
that every show?  We left right afterwards for Nashville to stay with Star
Crunch's cloned older sibling entity.  On the way this guy studied our
trailer briefly, then walked to his van and pulled out a CD.  He then asked
CoCo, "Is this you guys?"  Well, well, what's that?  "Destroy All
Astro-Men!"?  Our disease has seeped into mini-vans!  Now that's an
accomplishment!  He asked if we would sign the CD for him.  "Only if you sign
something of ours first!"<br>
<br>
<br>
Saturday, August 19 <br>
Venue:  The Mercury Theatre <br>
City:  Knoxville, TN <br>
<br>
 Back in the Southland!  It made me feel that good ole space alien inbred
vibe that I had been missin' on that durn new agey West Coast.  The Branock
Device and I spent the day coming up with new and twisted drum
configurations.  We were completely destroying the stale thinking that
provides normal drum didones with standardized kit set ups.  Nanotechnology
is the new emphasis.  Only Earthmen with micro-penises need a big drum set to
equalized their egos.  Come on, Carmen Appice, Jr., do you really need 7
crash cymbols?  I'm going to blow that sucker away with the Astro-Shrinking
Ray!  One possibility was using a trigger that is secured to the stage itself
as the kickdrum.  The bass pedal would actually travel all the way to the
floor hitting the unseen trigger.  The illusion of a drum set, set up with a
completely invisible, or more accurately, nonexistant bass drum.  Silly?
 Maybe, but our advanced minds must keep themselves entertained.  This led to
--------------- discussions into new live shows.  We collectively came up
with the "Maximum Efficiency, Video Buddy System, Live Musical
Experimentation" tour.  Basically, each member would tour by himself with the
other 3 members being represented by a "video-generated stand-in."  This
would let us to still have a live element to the show, but at the same time
allow us to play in four cities at one time.  The ultimate in Low Budget Mass
Media Marketing!  Who needs Kraftwerk's expensive servo mechanisms and hired
computer automators when someone's folks own a video camera?  Hey wait,
wasn't there something about a show played in Knoxville, TN in here?  Okay,
enough of our inane Astro-Futures.  At the Mercury Theatre we were as tight
as the artificial straps we secure our earth experimentees with.  The crowd
was an aggressive Little Debbie-throwing bunch.  It's always great sitting
behind my drum fortification and getting to watch CoCo being brutally pelted
with Nutty Buddy's.  Apologies went out from me to Dexter for biting his butt
unit, but he should have never gotten it that close to my synthetic chomper
by standing on my drum monitor.  A lesson learned by all.  Dexter won't get
that close to me ever again, and I realized that Dexter X's butt tastes like
a combo platter of fetid tofu and sweaty toe jam.<br>
<br>
<br>
Sunday, August 20 <br>
Venue:  Local 506 - SLEAZEFEST <br>
City:  Chapel Hill, NC <br>
<br>
 The Last Great Show of yet another tour of Planet Earth.  Sleazefest was a
great 3 day smorgesborg of highly charged bands like the immortal Woggles,
the Hate Bombs, Southern Culture on the Skids, the Flat Duo Jets, Sons of
Hercules, Hillbilly Frankenstein and a slew of more phenomenal bands than
most clubs have in an entire year.  Astro-Friends had circled the globe and
converged on the Local 506.  It was practically like a "This Is Your Life"
episode in which four lonely space dorks get entirely too nostalgic.  Anyway,
it was a perfect ending to our "Tour to End All Known Practical Science"
because sometimes every Astro-Man longs for human companionship.  The show
was a macromolecule short of being one of the most enjoyable of the tour.
 Our main video historian, Craig Zeerfoss at No Place Like Home Productions
was documenting the New Dexter Era Astro-Show.  As soon as the Tour Probe
returns to Alpha H.Q. we will be editing 7 shows that Craig has captured to
contrive a Live Video Collage of some of the wildest and weirdest
Astro-Performances.  Our Sleazefest Show proved to be a valuable resource for
wild and weird itself.  First off, the Lounge Lizard fell on his ass bringing
the likes of half our stage set up with him.  A Human Avalanche of Mass
Media, a sight beyond bounds.  Secondly, I forgot to remind my center of
brain cell activity that I can barely chew Earth bubble gum and walk, much
less chew and play drums.  Needless to relay, my nutrional chomping units
punctured my fat smoocher.  Being the clever space freak that I am, I quickly
turned a punctured lip wound into a Gene Simmons blood spitting side show.
 Oh yes, the geniusness of stupidity comes to play once again for Mr.
B.Stuff.  Finally, some big chick and a burned out earth hippie got on stage
for our second to last song.  They were dancing right in front of the
rhythmic sound device that I call home.  It was really starting to piss me
off.  I said, "Get the fuck out of my way.  No one can see me play."
 Drummers never get their fair shake to begin with.  "Fucking move!  Do you
think I'm making my face contort like this for excercise?"  They were
oblivious.  At the end of "Principles Unknown," our last song, I decided that
they would look much snazzier if they wore my drum set as hats.  They
actually looked surprised.  I continued the overly macho, Jesus Lizard-style
antic all the way to the goal line, but the audience forced me back on stage
with space dork kit in hand.  Sorry guys for being a turd, but I like to be
seen.  Birdstuff is once again the provider of goose eggs.  On that note, it
all ended.<br>
<br>
 <br>
The Astro-Van turned into a pumpkin.  Branock and the Lounge Lizard were
their original, mousey selves and CoCo, S.Crunch, and Mr. X looked just
lovely as my wart-covered, wicked step sisters.  We will meet again I'm sure
as the Fairy Godmother will surely make us search for our own glass slipper
up the East Coast in the oncoming month of October.  See you then fellow
dorkoids.<br>
     - Birdstuff <br><br>