Fear not, for the happy event of the Rabbits Rabbits Rabbits EP release will be upon us soon! A couple of months ago, our little project that started almost entirely by accident went into a studio, and recorded four songs, which have now been pressed onto vinyl, and are almost ready to be distributed out into the world. The recordings came out great, and I am super proud to be part of this.

We are celebrating the release with a show at Spaceland on September 6th. We're playing with Eastern Conference Champions, and we will be onstage at 10pm.

You can stream the EP here. Thank you Bandcamp.

I felt an unusual mixture of irritation and anxiety whilst looking at this. Also- "key shavings tray?" WHAT?? Like, a tray for tiny metal shards? If you say so.

The next thing I wanted to do was post the song on the blog. Stupid Imeem had stopped existing in the meantime (bought up by the accursed Myspace), so I had to/still have to find a thing that will let me embed an MP3 on a blog. NO, not link to a URL somewhere else on the internet, but please GIVE ME CODE TO EMBED THIS FUCKING THING. Is that too much to ask? Yes, yes it is. Because after looking at, oh I don’t know, six or seven alternatives, I was finally able to ascertain that no, none of these things will let me do the one thing that I need to do. I even texted a tech-oriented friend for suggestions, and since he is having the same issue, I feel entirely validated in  having utterly failed to solve the issue. So, the bottom line is, I simply cannot post this awesome “Hollywood” song. Is it more pathetic that I’ve now spent somewhere in the region of twenty man-hours trying to make this happen, or that in spite of my efforts, I haven’t worked out how to do it? Hm? OK, well the next best thing is a Youtube video of the song, so here it is.

Also, my iPod got “corrupted,” whatever the hell that means. So, tragically, I have at least temporarily lost all my precious Neil Young and Tom Petty and Royal Bangs. Literally the only music I have on my iPod right now is Marina & The Diamonds. I have to check the external hard drive, because unless I’m a total moron, I’ll have backed up my music library on it. No guarantees. But for the time being: Marina & The Diamonds.



I have been taking lots of pictures recently, which I think is something that is OK for me to indulge in, since the only thing being wasted is my time, rather than mass quantities of film. The only thing I have to be careful of is not wearing out the patience of our neighbours; I can only stand in their front yards for so long, zooming in on their flowers and shrubbery, before they start to think it's creepy. Anyway, Rabbits Rabbits Rabbits already used one of my photos for a show flyer a couple of months back, which was hugely exciting for me. This time, however, I took the bull by the horns, clicked open ye olde Photoshop (sitting there, ignored, in my applications folder for embarrassingly long), and made a flyer with a picture I'd taken a while back. Combined with the excitement of the actual show itself, it was almost enough to push me over the edge.

This flyer tells you everything you need to know.

My ultimate aim with all this stuff- Photoshop, various music recording and programming software, playing music, writing, taking pictures- is to eventually be OK at all of it. As in, I could be totally competent at all these things, whilst at the same time managing not to excel at any of them. Truly, a jack of all trades, but a really mediocre one.

 Moving on. The last week has also seen extensive studio action from both Correatown and Rabbits Rabbits Rabbits. I feel as though I haven’t talked quite enough about either band on this blog… These are both projects that have been nothing but an absolute joy for me to be involved in. Apart from the fact that both bands are comprised of outstandingly lovely individuals, it’s a total privilege to be able to put my creative music hat on in such talented, magical company. Correatown has been killing it on the sync/license front (songs have been featured on both Gray’s Anatomy and Ugly Betty in recent months), and is putting together new material for public consumption. The new, more electronically-inclined direction the band is taking is like an explosion of sparkles and spooky magic, and a total blast to record. I can’t wait to hear how the final versions turn out. The RRR ep, on the other hand, is shaping up to be a superb wedge of sophisticated, intricate guitar bad-assery. One can only feel pity for Hot Hot Heat, as they know not how horribly they are about to be blown off the stage when we open for them in a couple of weeks.

Note the Grammy holder in the background. Need to be prepared. Dan as a Rabbit, but a Rabbit that can also play the drums, engineer, and produce.I can't stop staring at this power conditioner and its magical screen.I took the bull by the horns recently and also decided that it was time to get my ass into gear and start being a somewhat-published writer again. I’ve contributed snippets to the LA Record in the past and need to get back in the saddle again. It’s stupid that these things are the first to go when all this “important,” “grown-up” crap gets in the way. I’ve always enjoyed being able to churn out drooling adoration/scathing contempt for whatever I most recently witnessed in the local clubs, so it really is time to quit slacking off on that front, and, you know, take the laptop down to the coffee shop where I can join all the other idiots working on their writing assignments, or big screenplays, or whatever. Besides, soon I’ll be too old to play music full-time, and so I must start to cultivate my future as an over-worked and underpaid writer of some sort. All joking aside, I intend to take myself down to The Echo on May 21^st, where I will stand around while Francis & The Lights play their music, after which I will write down my opinions and email them over the LA Record. Speaking of making plans for the future, I have also been working more on my amateur (at best) nature photography, but that’s for another giant blog entry in the future. If anyone has ideas on how to go about becoming a person that takes close-up pictures of flowers and leaves for money, email that shit over.

I will never cease to be amazed at the stuff nature can just casually barf out like it's not big deal.The social schedule is packed. Steak, wine and jokes were enjoyed by all as Miss Minogue and her managers invited Mike and I over for a hang at their fancy hotel last week. Mr Adrian Eccleston, passing through town on the tour of Drake Becoming A Huge Artist, was kind enough to buy me a glass and sake and a bowl of edamame at some hip restaurant downtown a couple of nights ago. Misters Nick Sizer and Rod Mattheson, reigning kings of Drum Teching and Monitor Engineering respectively, are stationed at The Wiltern this week, and invoicing Massive Attack for their services. I am very excited to catch up with both of them, even if the usual LA guest list clusterfuck won’t permit me to actually see the show. That is all.



The times they are a-changin'in fairly drastic ways, all of them good though. There are new recordings in the works with both Correatown and Rabbits Rabbits Rabbits. This is always awesome because it means I get to hang out in confined spaces (no windows allowed) with people I like. I have made some unlistenable electronic music on my laptop in addition to this. Some friends of mine (several) have had babies. A house has come into my ownership, and now, with a lot of help from Mike, it will hopefully be transformed from a crack-house into just a regular house. I am strangely excited that RRR will be opening for Hot Hot Heat, but that is mostly because I recall being at their shows in their glory days, which is not the same as their current days, but will be fun nonetheless. I have sorted through several thousand photos in my photo library, and arranged them into the following categories: Telephone Wires, Flowers And Other Nature, Windows And Doors, My Shoes On The Sidewalk, and Pictures Of The Sky. This is fitting because most of the photos I take fall into one of these categories. Very unfortunately, I recently attended a funeral. Also unfortunately, I recently kicked myself out of a local wine bar, but found another one to frequent instead almost immediately. I am doing my best to curb my coffee intake, at least to the point where I don't spend the first part of the day dehydrated and twitchy. My little sister recently moved to Northern California, and I have been attempting to give her helpful advice regarding the purchase of a car, and the licence required to operate it. I recently went to the courthouse, but only to do the one thing that is good to do in a courthouse. More on that later. I'd tell you to follow me on Twitter, but it would be a pointless endevor, since I don't really do that.

First things first. I got sick, not once but twice after the family vacation to Mexico, and my time has since then been largely monopolized by various nose-blowing and late-sleeping duties. That’s the boring part. The exciting part is that I also went to the NAMM Show in Anaheim last week, and played a show at Spaceland on Sunday- more on that later. I always approach the NAMM show with a certain trepidation due to its overwhelming size, as well as the inherent point of me being there in the first place: to schmooze as though my life depended on it. In addition, there’s the joy of driving to The Weird Plastic Kingdom that is Anaheim, which you’d think would be enough to push anyone over the edge in itself. Anyway, even though in my mind it’s as though I’ve been invited to watch my own death or something, the NAMM show never ends up being anywhere as bad as I think. In fact, it’s mostly pretty fun since I get to catch up with company reps I don’t see all year (and are nice enough to send me their kick-ass gear to use on tour), and I usually run into friends from out of town while I’m there as well. This year’s visit also ended up being productive, at least in terms of amassing huge quantities of business cards, and generating way more email communication than I am able to deal with on any given day. I finally met with the dude considered to be the Grand Fromage of Artist Liaison at Fender- and about time too, since Fender are the ones who have been providing me with a pass to this thing for the last couple of years. I also ran into fellow Fender artist Ginger Reyes of the Smashing Pumpkins, which was an unexpected and pleasant surprise. I commented on her cute and very recent acquisition (a baby), and we both agreed that it’s better she plays for the Pumpkins and I play for Kylie. Thank God.

 All that aside, I also had an extensive chat with the folks at T-Rex, who kindly supply me with more effects pedals thank I know what to do with. For some unknown reason, these dudes are ridiculously stoked to have me on their team, and have since then posted pictures and a little video interview from our meeting. I’m not going to do anything as lame as posting them here myself, since hearing myself talk about bass pedals is just about the last thing I need more of. But, should you be interested in that sort of thing, you can look up all of it on T-Rex’s website. I believe there’s also a video of me shredding on their Bass Juice pedal on their Facebook page. Ugh. I’m willing to take one for the team every once in a while, if it serves the ultimate purpose of me attaining global, all-encompassing Fame Among Gear Nerds. I think my plan is working, hahahahahaahahah!

This is Scott of EMG. I get to use their pick-ups, and in exchange they get to take a photo of me looking awkward. I win.

In unrelated news, I also went to see Spoon play a secret show at El Cid this week. All you need to know about El Cid is that it’s a way smaller club than what a band of Spoon’s caliber would normally play at, hence the secrecy. I do not have long and explicit history of Spoon fandom, in fact my main mental association with them is a vague memory of having to load out of a Har Mar show in London at a completely unreasonable speed in order to make way for the subsequent Spoon show. For some reason, this annoyed the crap out of me at the time. Anyway, in spite of all this, I was up for the secret show, and bought a ticket online. This operation was pretty demanding in itself since it had to be done at PRECISELY 2pm on the day (when I was already out running errands, of course), or else the show would sell out. After some general confusion with the layout of the website, figuring out where to input my credit card details etc, I was able to secure myself a ticket. My self-congratulatory back-patting was short-lived, however, as almost immediately after that, I was notified that Groovetickets.com had oversold the event, and were reversing my order. To reiterate: these assholes sold me a ticket, then decided that actually, no, we’re going to take that ticket right back. Fuck you, Groovetickets.com! The only redeeming aspect of the situation was that at least my credit card charge was reversed, also very snappily. I fear the main entity that will bear the brunt of my wrath with regards to this debacle is our friend Jonathan, who works at Groovetickets, and was the one who told us about the show in the first place. Oh, and I guess the other main redeeming factor is that my show buddy had a spare ticket, which I was able to use. Spoon are the type of band that you need some brains to enjoy, and clearly I have become smarter in recent years, because I enjoyed them way more than I thought I would. Spoon have interesting lyrics, killer bass tone, squiggly guitar lines, and solid drumming, and seem to be very grateful for the fact that people come to their shows and buy their records. Approval granted, The End.

 Moving right along. My friend Jack Burnside, formerly of Mezzanine Owls, asked me if I would play with him at his show at Spaceland last week. I was all, “Oh sure, why not, that sounds like fun etc”, so that’s what we did. The band is tentatively called Rabbits, and despite extensive online research, it did eventually turn out that there is another band called Rabbits, and we might to change our name. That shit is not going to rain on our parade, however, as both the show, and our beer-addled rehearsal week leading up to it, were tons of fun. I hope we get to do another one soon.

 This night is notable in that Jack Burnside didn't even do his customary pre-show anxiety puke.

Apart from looking totally sweet, this church also has removable floorboards!

Holy crap, I am totally *jazzed* on Mexico right now! Christmas Eve was a fun exploration of the town, including a couple of amazing little churches, a cemetery, a tiny local museum, and best of all, a mystery hunt for pulque, the local booze made from cacti. We made some inquiries and were told that we needed to go find a man called Urbano- he is the sole producer and supplier of pulque in Real De Catorce. In true small town-style, we just asked people on the street, and they pointed us in the direction of his house, where indeed we were able to purchase a liter and a half of pulque for the very reasonable price of 50 pesos. Adventure time! Having said that, the pulque didn’t get consumed till yesterday, as cousin Tero had also brought an excellent bottle of tequila, which we ended up drinking after dinner last night. Being in Mexico has completely over-hauled my appreciation of tequila as a potential choice of beverage. Tequila has (unfairly) acquired a shitty reputation on account of all the douchebags and douchebaguettes that drink it in their awful frat bars. In Mexico, tequila is considered a fine product, to be treated with respect and appreciation, not pounded down before flashing your boobs and puking in the hallway. And, as much as I love my local dive in Echo Park, the tequila here also tastes a lot better than the retch-inducing rubbing alcohol served down the street from my house. No wonder you need all the lime and salt to wash it down. Anyway, the real miracle of Mexican tequila is that because it’s not filthy like everywhere else, it also won’t give you the kind of hangover that makes you consider suicide like you’d normally expect. Hurray!

You can't just hang around the bullring, it's not allowed.

If you pray to a saint and your prayer is answered, you have to make a little painting as a thank you note and take it to the local church. This guy got bit by a rabid dog, survived, and is suitably grateful.

Our travel buddy Jose Luis had the mother of all brainwaves today, and suggested that we should hire some horses and go for a ride after brunch. Lo and behold, for about 10 American dollars each, we were able to secure said horses, a local guide, and set off through the hills of Mexico. I love horse-riding and hadn’t even been near a horse for years, so I was pretty much bouncing off the walls with excitement before we even set off. We ended up spending three hours trekking through some of the most amazing scenery I have ever seen. I was so ecstatic I was grinning away to myself like an idiot for the majority of the afternoon, not least of all when we stopped midway to take a look at an indigenous ritual site. We’d gone up an extra 900ft from the town itself (which is already at the lofty altitude of 8000ft- that shit is no joke since EVERYTHING is much more difficult at this altitude), and the site itself was at the top of a mountain with mind-blowing views of the surrounding valleys and towns. The site itself consists of concentric stone circles, each representing new, heightened states of consciousness, which are attained through said rituals, not to mention the consumption of copious amounts of peyote. Some of us took a stroll through the magic circles, but I personally didn’t feel like disrespecting the local witchiness and getting tagged with some weird curse, so I stayed on the outskirts. All in all, pretty much the coolest, most radically different Christmas day I can remember for a long time.

Without this guy, I wouldn't have been able to get up the mountain.

Today the plan is to drive to Zacatecas, where we are booked into a hotel built in an old bullring. Yeah! The drive is about five hours long, and my butt hurts from the horse-riding, so it remains to be seen exactly how painful the drive will be. I’m pretty confident I’ll survive though.

The Christmas Sweater Festival is fun, but it was a mistake taking multiple international flights the next day.

My mom and sister Juulia were also heading to Monterrey to meet us, but their journey wasn’t turning out to be quite so hassle-free. The entire East coast of the Us had been buried in snow, so their flight to NYC had been canceled, and they had to deal with some 5am stand-by bullshit the next morning instead. I guess even getting on that particular flight was somewhat of an ordeal as so many people were stranded at Heathrow that they’d had to put up quite a fight to secure the last two seats on a flight to Dallas. Long story short, they also made it to Monterrey, albeit 24 hours later than initially planned. In the meantime, Tero and I had a fun and relaxing day in Monterrey, including some light sight-seeing in the old part of town, and a two-hour massage at his usual spot, the location of which I am banned form revealing, lest it become inundated with newbies. Anyway, my initial impression of South America in general had been quite negative (the Kylie tour ran into all kinds of difficulties here last year), and I was keen to see some unusual stuff from a local’s perspective, and not be all pissed off with it anymore. On that count our day off in Monterrey was totally successful, and I became stoked on South America again, even though Monterrey itself is primarily city devoted to hardcore business and industry, and isn’t considered especially beautiful or idyllic.

My cousin was driving, so I sat in the back seat and took photos out of the window and ate snacks.

The next day we were set to make tracks for Real De Catorce, a tiny mountain village about five hours from Monterrey, so the morning was taken up with various preparations for the trip, including snack purchases, general confusion at the cash machine, and picking up an extra rental car. We’re also planning on making these traditional Finnish Christmas pies somewhere along the way as well, and Juulia had hauled the necessary prune preserves all the way from Finland, so we also had to find the specific pastry needed for this in an Mexican supermarket. I wasn’t at all convinced this was going to work out, but amazingly, the mission was accomplished relatively painlessly. We were on our way to Real De Catorce by 3pm. We listened to The Who in the car (Live At Leeds, for interested parties), I did some reading (The Little Friend, by Donna Tartt), and took some pictures of the neat sunset along the way, like a complete cheeseball tourist. Real De Catorce is a very, VERY small town, and the only way there is via a cobble-stoned two-lane road, which had all kinds of donkeys hanging around it for the last twenty or so kilometers of the journey. The final step of the trip is a two-mile-long tunnel, which isn’t wide enough for more than one car at a time, so there are dudes with walkie-talkies stationed at both ends to let you know when the way is clear. To give you an idea of what this place is like, the movie “The Mexican” (with Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt, whatever) was filmed here, so weirdly, all I could think of the whole way was how the hell they managed to squeeze truckloads of equipment and hundreds of crew through this minuscule tunnel. I pretty much kept that one to myself though.

Tero was all, "oh hey this cactus is great for your skin!", and Juulia touched it, and now she has a rash on her hand.

Our B&B in real De Catorce turned out to be really adorable and very comfortable. It’s run by a husband and wife duo, who hooked us up with a yummy pasta dinner when we arrived, and instructed us to take a hike (in a nice way) to see some ruins up in the mountains, which we did today. Real De Catorce used to be a really happening mining town, and also served as the place where the country’s coins were made. The “Royal Mint”, so to speak. Anyway, the mining boom was all well and fine, but eventually all the precious metals ran out, at which point the people took off, and left some pretty spectacular ghost towns for the likes of us to check out on our vacations. The walk itself was lovely, and I took tons of nature photographs, which nobody needs to look at in massive detail, but it’s all up on my Flickr account for anyone who cares. After three hours of pretty intense uphill/downhill action, everyone was pooped and we headed back into the village for some hot chocolate and cookies. Tonight, another friend of Tero’s is joining us for the festivities, and the plan is for everyone to hit a nice restaurant in town. It feels super weird that tomorrow is Christmas Eve; these kinds of holidays don’t hold too much sway in such remote parts of the world, but that’s totally OK by me as I’m mostly just happy to be away from the tackiness of the Western holiday season.

Standing in the ruins of humanity, with my backpack.Oh yeah, I also plan to keep track of my taco consumption while I’m here. So far: Day 3#, Taco Count: 9.



anywhoo, show #2 at the UFO club was also rad, if almost unbearably smoky for our cigarette-sensitive, LA-pansified selves. when i say that everyone in Tokyo smokes, i mean that EVERONE in Tokyo smokes. from what i can tell, people aren't even doing it because they enjoy it, but almost purely out of boredom, or to pass the time. feel free to correct me on that. the backstage room was very little, as well as being occupied by about nine bands that particular night; the venue was tiny but sounded great, and all the other bands were killing it too. our friend Masa joined us for some dinner at a nearby restaurant, where, thanks to him, we ended up eating things that we never would have ordered by ourselves. it's not that we're unadventurous or anything, but rather the fact that the menu was exclusively in Japanese, so we were basically pointing at random things and seeing what turned up. anyway, Masa arrived, and made everyone happy by ordering more sake, as well as different types of curdled beans and tofu that i didn't even know existed.

i should mention that it was round about this time in our trip that we started noticing the overwhelming dominance of Jazzmasters and Jaguars with local bands. i think that Eskimohunter John played the ONLY Gibson on every bill that we were on. and it's not like dudes just had crappy, standard-issue axes; most people were rocking really sweet vintage instruments. sigh... if only bands in the US could aspire to anywhere near the same standards of musical excellence and great taste.

the next day saw John and i undertake some light shopping duties in Shibuya before heading to our show at Bullet's. Jason and i had played there with Ulrich Schnauss about six months previously, so we knew what to expect. namely, no shoes allowed in the venue, not to mention the fact that shows there run very late, so you'd best be prepared to play at 4am if that's your posted set time. oh, and another thing- NO DRUMS. many folk in the other bands were concerned about the "no shoes" rule, and how it would affect their ability to switch pedals on and off. well, it seems that everyone managed just fine. this show will forever stick in my mind as the night when both John and Jason fell asleep on various couches throughout the venue; to be honest, it's a goddam miracle we were even able to play, considering the frequency with which various members of the band were falling asleep in public. at some point in the evening we took a stroll out in the neighborhood, which was only down the street from Roppongi. Roppongi is known as an incredibly wealthy area of Tokyo, populated by huge numbers of rich ex-pats and diplomats. it's also known as the seediest part of town, and the place to go should you be looking to pay for sexual favours. all i can say is, our ten-minute walk through the place grossed me out sufficiently that i will not feel the need to return, hopefully ever. woo! way to go, Western folk of Roppongi, for you clearly have the ability to make all of us look bad with no help from me.

my hoodie is from Uniqlo, which is a JAPANESE CLOTHING LABEL. do you see where i'm going with this?

Sunday was our day off, which we used for general adventuring around the city. actually, calling it a "day off" is a bit rich, since we had all basically taken time off from our real lives to be there to begin with, so it was all an extended vacation anyway. we checked out the Prada building, which was amazing in its gloriously innovative design, as well as its ability to tolerate our scruffy, sneakered, picture-taking presence for a whole five minutes. thank you, Prada staff of Tokyo. we also took a big walk in Yoyogi park, strolled around Harajuku, and met up with Jason, who had mysteriously vanished in the early am of the previous night. at some point we also made it to Tokyo Tower, which, in spite of being an obvious tourist trap, does offer some truly spectacular views of the city. we watched the sunset from there, got vertigo looking into the "Lookdown Window" (does exactly what you think it would), and then bailed to go eat sushi.

our last show at Fever was easily the best one of our mini-tour. the venue was great, the sound was fantastic, and the backstage room was DOUBLE RAD. by this point, all the US-based bands had become buddies, so there was a lot of goodwill being expressed after each one came off stage after their set. on top of this, our promoter Manabu was celebrating his birthday that day, so there were some truly touching tributes being delivered from the stage, not to mention some delicious birthday drinks being paid for on our behalf at the bar.

to summarize, i cannot wait to go back to Japan, which hopefully we'll be able to do soon, God (and Manabu) willing. thank you to the bands that we had the privilege to play with. thank you to all our local buddies who took the time out of their busy schedule to hang out with us and show us around. and speaking of local buddies and bands, here is a song by a Japanese shoegaze band that Masa was kind enough to introduce us to.

Pounding - Primrose

see you next time, Tokyo!