Travel through the ghettos of Phoenix, burning up in the May heat of the desert.
Arrive at Zia Records in the afternoon for an in-store. Hip hop tracks are playing, and native Phoenixians are milling about at the hip hop stations.
Set up on stage and play to a few folks and the staff, who clap intermitantly. We treat this as a practice chance and way to break in Bronson, who's filling in on bass for Matt for the tour.
That night, arrive at Phix in the depressed downtown Phoenix area. The Phix is a stripped out industrial space with the raw rafters showing and some drywall pressed up against the wall here and there.
First band was a screamo thrash metal band with some young kids twirling their hair around and a lead singer crouching down, screaming into the mic like it was some kind of secret delicacy. They end with Michael Jackson's smooth criminal and then leave with all their teenage fanbase, leaving about ten folks for us to play to.
We meet some more myspace friends for the first time after the gig. How cool is it to finally meet folks who have been so good to us with tips and advice.
Band makes about $50 at the door and sell NO MERCH! Ouch. This is not a merch town. That makes it tough for a touring indiw band that relies heavily on merch income. Good thing we're up from Las Vegas.
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