An update from the “Love Guns?” tour. The Homosexuals’ Love Guns? first pressing is nearly sold out. Get yours now or face never getting one of these initial hand silk-screened, hand numbered, hand inscribed, 100% unique 10″ records. Order it here.

Tour Diary #3
Tour Diary #2
Tour Diary #1

NOVEMBER 5 -
Cleveland, OH
Beachland Tavern

We arrive at Beachland and walk into a bar with six inches of sand on the floor, discarded cigarette ends and used condoms scrunch and squelch under my psuedo-cowboy boots. And then I wake up and realize I’m still in the van on the way there. I see the magic name Beachland hone into view. Once inside … I immediately lose the three other band members, Travis Dave and Mike to the Aladdin’s cave of vintage vinyl downstairs. I get as much sense out of my band now as a gorilla in a spaceship. “Oh my God did you see this? Oh my god this is amazing ? Hooly shit? ” I’m happy for them that this part of the trip is satisfying them in such life enhancing ways.

When we do finally get to soundcheck we have an opportunity to learn a new old song, “Snapshots of Nairobi.” Written in 1978-79 “Snapshots” is a multi-tiered comment on society in Britain at that time as seen through the very different eyes of 1) a Guiness heiress who threw herself off a viaduct in Rome —2) the grandson of J. Paul Getty the richest man in the world in the 60s having his ear cut off by kidnappers because his grandfather wouldn’t pay a million dollar ransom — and 3) one Julianne Plambeck a member of the notorious Baader-Meinhopf group who terrorized Germany in the 70s.

When I first read about the Guniess heriess throwing herself off of that viaduct, my mind immediately flashed a series of Polaroid snapshots before my eyes, imagining what kind of images flashed through her mind as she plunged to the ground. Kenya had already figured in my writing of “Hearts in Exile” for its own symbolic reasons due to my vivid memories of the Kenyan uprising against British colonial rule in the 1960s. The Kenyan freedoms fighetrs / terrorists (bad folk / evildoers as that idiot George W. Bush would call them) were called the Mau Mau and the attacks were always protrayed as being commited by savages in furs with leopard’s claws. Many years later I was to meet of the other grandchildren of J. Paul Getty who was besotted with a lady writer friend of mine in London. As we trapsed around London from one drug den to another we found it hilarious to have a car trailing us full of his armed body guards. Such is the life of a super-rich kid living in the underground, incognito. As for Ms. Plambeck I had occasion to be living next door to her in a squat in south London during her time on the run. Baader-Meinhopf were particlarly threatening to the establishment as they appeared to have no other axe to grind other that being born into a middle class who they were disgusted with and whom they saw as perpetrators of all kinds of social and moral crimes against their fellow hiuman beings of every class. To misintent they bombed and assinated people they saw as being the leaders of the three arms of the Constituion such as judges, military men, politicians, government administrators. In much the same way as pop will eat itself then Baader-Meinhopf were the politcal version of that, the middle clas, the creators of a name the perpetuaters of consumer society were starting to eat themselves. Obviously this was far too dangerous a notion to be allowed so Baader-Meinhop were hunted with a particular ruthlessness and when apprehended by the authorieties were subjected to a kind of torure that would have their torturers tried under the crimes of torture tribunal. The leaders were put into sensory deprevation units with padded walls with NO SOUND form the outside world. Their food was servied in a way that there no implements that could be used to create sound. They had absolutely no human contact. Both mysteriously and miraculously the leaders were able to, according to official reports, not only smuggle parts of guns into their cells, but also to assemble them and commit suicide at the same time, in the same way, as if by telepathy. So much for Snapshots of Nairobi.

As I rehearsed this song with band who are always keen to learn new songs all these memories notions and ideas flash through my mind and I find my self thinking “How could anyone ever know from the sparse words in this song what I’m really singing about. ” At the same time I question the validity of this form of communitcation I ALREADY HAD THE ANSWER. By me couching the lyrics in the dynamics of beautiful melodies and yet abrasive music I personally was satisfied and stimulated to write the memories in me. From a Socratic or deconstructionist point of view, everything I’ve just uttered is complete nonsense BUT taking in the context of me performing these songs to an inquiring audience make myself available to talk to anyone who wants to know what the song is really about or tell what their impressions are and to see whether any of that is intended. So both through interview and personal interaction I feel that there is a useful purpse to this form of expression. If I work on the basis that I can never think anyone else’s thoughts or feel anyone else’s feelings I can start to build an empathetic picture of the world which may just be useful to me as a writer and also to any listeners. At the same time I wirte am intensely aware of the fact that I teach what I need to learn.

So .. again these things pass through my mind while rehearsing “the new song” trying very hard to be too pleased with myself I declare to the band I was very happy with their rendition. The song continues to grow as do I.

The wonderful chaps from Mystery of Two who played a great set very kindly recorded our set and also the band with the best name in universe Muhammed Cartoon played and also gave me a T shirt. If ever I decide to be a suicide bomber at MSG I already have the T shirt. Enough of this. I want to live. Beachland proved to be a Peachland by the end of the night as I waved goodby to my new friend Analise, a beautful alluring intelligent young lady with a slight air of mystery and come-get-me. It turns out we have mutual friends in NY amongst the screaming bitchy gossipy drag queen community who remain amongst my most loyal fans.