Tiger Flowers are nearing Austin as they prepare to rip SXSW a new asshole with Meek Is Murder. Frontman Jesse James Madre bring us his third diary from the road, and it’s a winner.
Sometimes, you just have to drive. The roads down here stretch for miles and they’re straight and flat like 6th grade girlfriends (except for Mary; her tits were huge in 6th grade).
They go forever and at this time of night, they’re all mine. These roads yawn lazily and you don’t have to think about driving them so you’re free to think and dream about what’s ahead of you. Never behind. That’s the past and it will always be there, it’s what’s ahead that isn’t promised. A hypothetical tomorrow we’re always counting on. Pushing off to.
I can drive forever out here. Willy and Dan are asleep in the back while Dean sits shotgun and messes with the video function on his camera. All I hear is the wind and the faint shutter click. We just left Georgia where we played the night before for some old friends and some new ones. We finished two handles of rebel yell whiskey and about a pint of moonshine from the north Georgia mountains all while we were playing.
In between songs, my friend Roger, who booked the show, would come by with the handle of whiskey and just dump it into our mouths until we almost choked on it. For there only being 12 people there we had more fun then if there was 1,200.
We like to make a show out of things. We call it Mötley Crüe-ing. It’s a lifestyle. Get the people involved. And if they ain’t having fun, its their own damn fault and I doubt they ever have any. We sold more merch and made more money at this little show in Loganville, Georgia, then the packed show the night before in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Both great shows. Both different. Every moment is different out here. Nothing is the same but us and even we are changing.
This is the road. The North Carolina show had us playing a stage that our heros had played decades before. The Bad Brains played the Milestone. Black Flag. Nirvana, Motörhead. And there we were with our simple feet, trying to smash what giants couldn’t.
It was still standing after them. After us. And hopefully for a long time to come. History is everywhere if you’re looking for it.
After that show it was Meek is Murder’s turn to get sick. They wanted to tie-up the pants-shitting competition so if you’re keeping score at home it’s TF, 1, and MIM, 1, going into halftime.
We had the day off after our Georgia show so we stayed in town for a bit to spend some time with our friends. I got a couple new tattoos from my boys at Walk the Line in Athens, Georgia. Then we hit the road around 5 and we drove and I’m driving and the night air is perfect and I feel like I don’t even need my eyes to navigate.
Now we’re in a Motel 6 on the Alabama/Mississippi border (I still can’t help but sing/spell Mississippi) and the lights are out and my hand is in a bag of cheddar sour cream Lays and I’m getting cheddar grease all over my phone as I type all this out. I can’t sleep. I don’t want to miss anything.