After nearly a week-long break from touring, we somehow find ourselves back on the American side of the border.  This leg of the tour, which lasts approximately two weeks, will be spent touring with Dress Bessy (for 8 shows) and then the Born Ruffians (for another 3).  After that, we have to drive all night from Chicago to Toronto (a nine-hour drive) and then fly all night (the following evening) from Toronto to London England, only to then have to drive another twenty hours to Oslo for the first gig of our European tour on October 4th.  I am exhausted just thinking about it, but also very excited.

Okay, US Tour: So far this tour has been among the best we have had in the US.  All the gigs have been well-attended and the venues have been awesome.  Before a good show in Lawerence, Kansas, Ben and I travelled to a party held by University of Kansas architect students.  We spent the hours before the show (and after it for that matter) getting drunk on local alcoholic beverages and playing a game called Cornhole.  Cornhole, which is very popular among U of K scholars, is a game where by you try to throw a bean bag into a box that has a small round hole cut into it, from around 10 feet away.  Its a little more complex than that, but I won’t bore you further.  Just think of curling without the rocks, the brooms, the ice, and the “hurry-hards,” so maybe don’t think about curling at all.  The take-home message here is that cornholing is both fun to play and to say (i.e. when explaining to Jord and Ian where we had strayed, Ben and I replied “We’re cornholing it man, what did you expect?.”)

Two nights later in Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa, one of our members was involved in a pretty acrobatic fall.  I should preface this by saying that we are all okay and so, more importantly, are our instruments.  It happened near the end of set, during the second last song in fact, when Ben decided to mount the monitor in front of his microphone as he frantically strummed his guitar.  I cannot tell you the number of times Ben has recklessly mounted inanimate objects on stage, and quite often when he does so, I become convinced that he will fall.  Until Sunday night this had not occured, so I had learned to not worry about it.  All of this came to an end in Iowa City, however, during our second last song, when Ben fell face first into the crowd and off the stage.  Picture Noel Gallagher’s fall at the V festival, only to my knowledge, nobody pushed Ben from behind.    The amazing thing is, in spite of the fall, none of us stopped playing.  I am sure Ben will make further comment on his spectacular fall at some later point.  HE IS OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!  I want to reemphasize this point!!!!!  He barely has a bruise. 

Next up is Chicago.

So believe it or not, we all still have part-time jobs with which to supplement our income. Sometimes these jobs require us to work while we’re on tour. I myself, work as a freelance web-design/flash-geek so it’s not too hard to do work when we’re on the road. I’m starting off telling you this because working on your own hours sometimes leads to staying up late at night. This tour was the first time on the road that I ended up doing that, which in turn led to my being witness to one of the most prolific displays of night sounds I’ve ever heard…

We arrived at the hotel late on sunday night after our gig in Seattle. I set up my computer and jumped in the shower as the rest of the guys settled into bed. When I emerged from the washroom I got dressed again and sat down to begin working in a peaceful, dark, super 8 motel room (that’s right, super 8 – our room at the 4 seasons was double-booked). By this time it was about 2 or 230 in the morning. The desk I was working at was facing away from the two overpriced double beds in the room – one containing Ben and Jord, and the other with Luke.

Now…have you ever seen that episode of seinfeld with Kenny Rogers’ Roasters where Jerry and Kramer switch apartments? There’s a scene in that episode where Jerry is trying to fall asleep with an internal commentary going. He describes the many sounds of the K-man’s apartment, asking himself what the hell the sounds in the apartment are and comparing it to being in the hull of a ship. There’s even a moment where what sounds like that creepy marionette, Mr. Marbles, opens a door and runs across the room. What I heard that night in our motel room was a lot like that – only much louder and more disturbing. At it’s peek, this shit would have caused both Wes Craven and Stephen King to simultaneously evacuate all of their bodily functions.

It began with Ben’s quiet hint of a snore, which progressively gets louder and louder until it kind of chokes itself out, he twitches and then starts again from scratch. This happened about 2 or 3 times until Jord’s snore (which starts off like mild, wheezing asthma attack, and evolves into what can only be compared to the sound of two raccoons fighting) awakens Ben and Ben in turn jabs Jord in the ribs to get him to stop. This ballet continues until the two are somewhat in unison and are no longer waking eachother up.

During the valleys of the snoring, on the other side of the clock radio and telephone separating the two beds, is Luke Melchiorre -  a tour de force. Luke doesn’t snore. He grinds his teeth in his sleep. Now, I know what you might be thinking if you’ve never heard someone grinding their teeth in there sleep before, and it doesn’t sound how you would think. If it was just a slight tight rubbing of enamel, that wouldn’t be that bad. However, it sounds more like someone squishing their hands around in a vat of margarine or butter whilst slowly opening and slamming their teeth together. It can be creepy at the best of times. On top of this (about once an hour) Luke bursts out in a distressed, panicked, scared voice, trying to speak what I can only assume is english but could only be deciphered by someone who has just downed a 40oz bottle of Captain Morgan, 4 or 5 beers and maybe a hit of LSD. Needless to say, what he’s saying is irrelevent – it’s the way he’s saying it. All in the delivery. I almost dialed 911….twice.

These sounds in combination, emerging from complete silence and heard by a guy who has, at this point, been up for about 19 or 20hrs straight, are terrifying. This nightly opus could only be made complete by myself, which while none of us have ever heard at the same time, could only add to the chaos and terror. I’ve been told that I can sometimes stop breathing in my sleep only to violently restart. I also know for a fact that while I sleep, I can be more restless than a whore in church.

we are very troubled individuals.

Touring in general is pretty fun, but it’s much more enjoyable when you’re on the road with another band. We got home from our West Coast tour for about a day before we went out again to play a one off show with Canadian legends Blue Rodeo in Mount Forest, ON. With apologies to small town Ontarians everywhere, this four-piece had never heard of Mount Forest before (we’re horribly self-centered Torontonians), but it is a pretty little town an hour north of Guelph.

 We’ve played with Blue Rodeo once before in Petawawa. The highlight of that day was when three of us walked in on Jim Cuddy in his dressing room in his underwear. He was gentlemanly in his response (“Um, don’t you guys have your own dressing room?”), but the image of the Canrock god in nothing but his briefs is seared in our collective memory forever. Alas this time, the venue was too small for multiple dressing rooms, so we didn’t have a chance to try to repeat the incident.

Then we were home for another day before heading out for three dates with our friends Tokyo Police Club. On Monday night we drove into what looked like the rough part of Baltimore (it all looks pretty rough…) to play a club called the Ottobar. Even though we were opening up the night, the place was packed by the time we went on and we played a very fun show.

Being part of a Tokyo tour is kind of like being part of a sultan’s magical caravan. Every venue we get to we’re treated like royalty, people trying to make sure the bands are looked after. “Do you have enough beer?” is such a wonderful phrase to hear…

After another fun show we hit Athens, Georgia, a Mecca of sorts for indie bands because it’s where REM was born. We even played the club where REM had many of their early gigs. It’s called the 40 Watt because originally it was so small it was lit by a single 40 watt light bulb. Now it’s been enlarged though, and as I write this we just got off stage to a packed house. Local heroes the Whigs have been touring with Tokyo too and tonight they’re about to throw a great homecoming.

Now we look forward to a long drive home and on Friday, our first show in Toronto in what seems like ages. I haven’t looked forward to a gig so much in a long time. It’s a bit of a homecoming for us too, and a bit of a going away party, because in about a week we go out again with Dressy Bessy, and then one of our favourite bands in the world the Born Ruffians. Then we head straight from the US to Europe… Copenhagen here we come??!?! I’m losing track of it all…

- Benny

Our show tonight at the Uptown in Minneapolis was without doubt one of the best of this entire tour. There was a really good crowd, we played well and I think we made some new fans, but because this is our last night of the tour there is no time to celebrate. You see in the Coast, we have a time-honoured tradition, as soon as the final note of the final song of the final set is played, we like to get the fuck out of Dodge. Essentially, this almost always leads us into a manic, all-night drive home from wherever we happen to be (this has included insanely long drives home from Thunder Bay, Halifax and, now, Minneapolis). Benjamin always takes the first-leg of the drive, this typically lasts from between 1am to 7am. As I am the only one without a driver’s liscence, my job is to remain awake in the front seat and keep Ben company during this first leg (so he does not fall asleep).
Tonight, we decide to keep ourselves occupied by watching (Ben’s listens) movies through the laptop. Tonight’s triple bill includes Annie Hall, Rushmore, and This is Spinal Tap. By the end of this first leg Ben is a zombie and I am speaking jibberish, and so, dependable Jordan takes over the second leg. As he blasts the music (a meticulously-planned playlist) and the air-conditioniting (in order to keep himself awake), I attempt to fall asleep in the front-seat without doing serious damage to my neck.
By 2pm, a rejuvenated Ian takes over the anchor leg. We arrive in Toronto around 7:30, after virtually 18 hours of non-stop driving. That we are all still getting along, after such an epic journey is, to my mind, quite impressive. We all say our good-byes. Our three-week tour is over and has been successful. We now must go without each other for a WHOLE ONE DAY!!! We have a show with Blue Rodeo and Jason Collett in Mount Forest, Ontario on Saturday and then on Monday we go back to the states on a mini-tour with Tokyo Police Club and the Whigs. No rest for the wicked indeed.

Disclaimer: The Following blog may contain information that some band members feel is inappropriate, reader’s discretion is advised.

One of the main questions on any off day when one is touring is how much longer should we drive? We are sitting in a JBs restaurant in Evanston, Wyoming. The weather outside is terrible. Rain pours down in biblical proportions. The past week has seen us play shows in Seattle, Portland, Eugene, Salt Lake City and Boise. All the shows were good and we feel like we have been progressively improving every night, but it does not change the fact that we are exhausted. I am getting over a cold, and Ian, wrapped up in multiple layers (scarf included), swears that he has been afflicted with a terrible flu. We were supposed to make it all the way to Rock Springs today (about 85 miles away) but the weather has seriously put a crimp into our plans. When we leave the restaurant, we are confronted by a giant puddle of rain water that has completely filled up the slope in front of the the only exit in the entire place. After each and every last one of us gets our feet soaked, we decide we have had enough and drive to the nearest motel 6 for the night.

After changing out of our wet clothes, we receive some very good news. To our surprise and delight, TBS is showing that timeless rom-com classic, Mick Jackson’s 1991 film the Bodyguard. This is significant because just two nights earlier, after Ian and I had engaged in a minor debate about the correct lyrics of Whitney Houston’s I Have Nothing (a seminal track on the film’s massively successful soundtrack; Ian ended up being correct the lyric is in fact “stay in my arms if you dare”), Jordan and I broke out into an impromptu sing-along medley of the soundtracks tastiest selections (i.e. I will Always Love you, I Have Nothing, Run to you, I’m every women, and of course, Queen of the Night). Benjamin Spurr, who at this point had no knowledge of the film, watched on slightly annoyed, slightly smug, and perhaps, just a little alienated. As we proceeded to watch the film, Jordan remained rigidily on the end of his seat in sheer suspense, Ian skillfully pointed out which scenes in the director’s cut that we were watching had been omitted in the film’s original version, and I fondly reminisced about my attempt at, as a nine-year old boy, writting the film’s sequel. By the end of the movie, when Kevin Costner’s Frank Farmer heroically thrawts the attempt on Rachel Merron’s life (played by Whitney Houston) during her Oscar acceptance speech, even the ever-skeptical Benjamin Spurr appeared to be subtly moved by the film’s raw poignancy and its nuanced mediation on the power of improbable love against all obstacles. Des Moines is next.

Hopefully not with the person who put up this sign….

We plan to submit this to Men’s Health Magazine as consideration for the cover…

We think this is outside of one of John McCain’s 7 or 8 properties.

this will be the shortest tour post we have ever written.  We have some good news that we want to share with everyone that we received today on tour.

First, today NME.com (one of Britain’s biggest music websites) has written a positive blurb about  us and posted our song Killing Off Our Friends as their free download of the day.  Here is the link: http://www.nme.com/blog/index.php?blog=122&title=the_coast_killing_off_our_friends_free_m&more=1&c=1&tb=1&pb=1

Second, we also just found out that MTV has decided to use our song Circles (off our self-titled EP) on an episode of their new show Exiled.  It will air on September 8th at 10:30pm, after the Hills.  So be sure to check that out.

Finally, we have also been informed that as of last week our record Expatriate has risen to #73 on the American National campus radio charts.  We like to think this has something to do with our constant touring.  Hopefully that number keeps rising.

okay, tomorrow we will go back to normal blogging.
 

One aspect of the art of touring is to be able to handle a day off. This is a very dangerous situation. Spending a whole day confined to a 10 by 15 foot motel room with three other men who have not been out of your sight for more than 30 minutes in the last 20 days is potentially enough to drive you out to the parking lot to cut the break lines on the tour van. The whole thing has to be handled very delicately. A cooler rock band would probably solve the whole thing by breaking out a sizeable stash of drugs and spending the day sedated, watching the 700 Club and eating Doritos. But this is not the Coast’s style (even if it was, I wouldn’t write it here. I’m pretty sure my mom reads this blog), so we are left to our own devices. Time must be killed, but not to the extent that at the end of the day you are left feeling unproductive. Naps must be meticulously timed. Hostile contact with other band members must be avoided at all costs. But it’s not all bad, a day sequestered in a Motel 6 gives you plenty of time to contemplate important questions, like “Is 10 am too early to buy beer?”

Upon waking up in Beaverton, Oregon we discover that there is no internet connection in the motel. This is disastrous, especially for Luke, who is compelled to know the score of every soccer game being played anywhere on the planet at any given moment. He mumbles something about a big game between Udinese and Palermo but otherwise seems determined to grit it out.

Days off are relaxing but they drag by. We watch a lot of Tv, take long showers, go swimming in the algae encrusted motel pool. The highlight of the day comes when we all pile into the van to drive in circles around the nearby strip mall, looking for something to eat (taquitos!). After dinner Luke and me fool around on the guitar for a while. Because we’re on the road so much we don’t get a chance to write much anymore, so any time we have is useful. We came up with something that might be a good song, but I guess we won’t know til we get back and the whole band can play on it. So not a useless day after all, but one that certainly left us excited to get back on stage.

- Benny

Scene: Somewhere between Los Angeles and San Francisco (after a night of heavy drinking and rocking out in Los Angeles):

                As Ian puts the key into the ignition, we all fall silent.  He turns it once and to our grave disappointment the coughing noise of our elderly engine starting remains troublingly inaudible.   Benjamin quickly reminds Ian that our van (an idiosyncratic, fifteen-seat 1996 Ford Club Wagon) will not start unless the air-conditioning is turned off and our power inverter is unplugged.  Spurr’s recommendations are followed to the letter and Ian proceeds to turn the key again…still nothing.  This does not bode well.

                We have had this used van for over seven months.  In that time — during which we have toured all through North America to the extent that we can count the number of provinces and states we have not driven through on two of our hands—the old girl has broken down multiple times.  This includes prolonged stops in Winoski, Vermount, Billotte, Wisconsin, Windsor, Ontario, somewhere on the side of the interstate in Nebraska and, perhaps most notably, in Clinton, New Jersey, where we only managed to make our Brooklyn gig after a generous fundamentalist Christian man with a trunk full of newly printed bibles kindly decided to drive us into the city in his trusty Suburban.  The turbulent history of our temperamental automobile goes a long way in explaining why this failure of the van to immediately start, even though it has practically become an regular part of our daily routine on this tour, is always the source of quiet anxiety among the four of us.  Ian tries again…the dying engine wakes up with a croak rather than a purr, it will have to do.  Jordan, the Coast’s Born-Again atheist, cries “Thank God!”  We will now make the San Francisco gig on time.  Hallelujah.

                The gig in San Francisco turns out to be great.  The venue (the Make-Out Room) is nice and it is in a really cool part of town called the Mission District, which is home to some of the city’s most beautiful Christian missions and some great Mexican restaurants.  After the show, we go out with a bunch of our San Francisco friends and proceed to eat and drink and be merry.  The evening, however, is marred by a single unfortunate incident.  Minutes before the gig commences, as Benjamin Spurr is coming back to the venue from our van after a quick change of clothing, he witnesses a grown woman defecating on a parked car.  When pressed for details about the woman’s description and her possible motivation, Ben merely recalls that she appeared to be disgruntled, given the heinous nature of his experience, further questioning ceases.

Seattle is next.

It doesn’t necessarily bode well when you pull into a city and are playing in the “Plaza District.” I can’t imagine a city being proud enough of their plazas to actually name a whole district after them. When we pulled up to the venue Kansas City, sure enough it was in a strip mall. To the left of it was an abandoned fabric store, to the right an exciting-sounding shop called “All About Scrapbooking”. Out front there was a giant covered wagon, because this particular plaza had founded by pioneers, from what I could gather from the accompanying historical plaque.

The venue (the Record Bar) actually turned out to be really cool, and evidently it’s the place to play in Kansas City. It was full of lots of cool young kids, despite the fact that My Morning Jacket was playing down the street. Apparently Kansas City has a really vibrant music scene. Made a lot of friends who we hope we’ll see again when we play Lawrence in September, the local college town.

The drive to Denver was beautiful, up through the Rocky Mountains. The place was buzzing because the Democratic National Convention is coming to town in a couple of days. Signs everywhere for Obama. We played a fun show to a good crowd. It was made a little nerve wracking because in the audience were members of Dressy Bessy (part time Apples in Stereo). We’ll be touring with Dressy Bessy in September, so I hope they liked us. They were very nice but did good-naturedly assure us they would kick our asses come Fall.

We had a day off before LA, and since our manager had never been, we decided to spend the night in Vegas. The drive down to Nevada is amazing. Through canyons and desert. It feels like driving through a movie set. The light slanting across red, blue, and brown cliffs. Hurtling downward between the sheer walls and then being spit out into the flat desert.

Vegas is kind of like Wal Mart, but with more hookers and everybody’s drunk. People just walk around dazed, looking for ways to spend money. We did get to stay at the Sahara Casino though, which used to be the hottest place in Las Vegas but has since fallen on hard times. The Sahara is where Elvis and Sinatra used to hang out, and the Beatles played there once. There are pictures all over the place of these famous people to remind you that there was a time when the Nascar Café wasn’t the hotel’s main attraction.

Ian, our manager Ben, Jord and me walked down the strip towards the Belagio Casino, which has huge fountains out front that erupt every 15 minutes. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen water shoot 150 feet in the air, choreographed to the sound of Faith Hill’s “This Kiss.” We stood there with about 300 other intoxicated, mostly overweight gawkers, swaying slightly to the music. Looking up at the fountains I thought “God, I feel like such an asshole.” The disturbing thing is though, it was actually quite beautiful.

After I made sure that neither Ben nor Ian was carrying any of the band’s money, they went off to gamble and Jord and I went home to bed. The next morning Ben, Jord and Ian went off the gun range, to shoot pistols at targets shaped like Osama bin Laden. That is what people down here do for fun, I guess. Luke and I prudently sat this one out, just in case anyone decided to settle that argument about the new setlist once and for all.

- Benny