April 10 - Peoria Theater, Peoria IL

The Peoria Theater sits inside a mall that has been on life support since 1982. Attached to the theater is a bowling center, a sauna, and a neglected arcade.
Two security guards dressed as California Highway Patrolmen oversee the property.

When we arrived Derrick Hart & The Fantastic Possibilities Of Life On This Planet were assembling their massive stage show. While Mike and Alan bowled, I made a beer run that involved a Schnuck's cashier who had never heard of Jim Beam or bourbon. He used a telephone. I was told the guy who runs the liquor department had gone home early.

Returning to the megaplex, I found John and his wife Christine hanging out in the parking lot. John drank coffee from a thermos and smoked a cigarette. Soon one of the mall ChiPs approached. We were told to move, proving that coffee and cigarettes doesn't play in Peoria movie theaters.


Derrick Hart and his crew had decorated the stage with plush toys, homemade Radio Shack lights, and a life-size robot that seemed in a decent mood.
They kept their music slow and easy on the ears. Derrick gently referenced boxing legends in a Grandaddy timber, using "smurf" as a verb, while his right hand man Eddie launched flatulent balloons upward and onto the songs. Then he added Fisher Price feedback with a Toys 'R Us guitar. Sometimes he narrated through a megaphone, and let his horsey-on-a-stick whinny for emphasis. During one song, Eddie slowly unravelled his body from a mummified cacoon, revealing a butterfly costume in the song's crescendo.
The sextet was dressed for success, a motley melding of gnomewear, Nehru, sombreros, baseball caps, tape moustaches, and robes. Several kids sitting on a couch wore gorilla masks or those novelty springy alien antennae things that were popular in 80's malls. All the while a film played behind them. For the final song, a barrage of streamers bounced off of the band, and supermarket fireworks popped, like a family version of Great White's live show.
Derrick Hart put on something special for Peoria.
Too bad Peoria doesn't know what special is.

We played next. We weren't very good. We closed with "Vanilla Bean."
Three times.
During the fourth "Vanilla Bean," someone shouted out "Laura Clark."

Laura Clark is a 17-piece band that takes a long time to set up. While they were still setting up, I retrieved some keys I had accidentally left near the stage. I apologized for walking through their set up, and said it would be the last and only time.
"Good," said the lead mandolinist flatly.
Laura Clark is also the name of the band's lead singer. She is an "attractive" girlwoman who plays original guitars and musics. I think it's really cute that such a beautiful girl can be a woman with a band of men to make her songs sound so professional and good-sounding. Her father played keyboards and favored major sevenths, the kind that contemporary adults go mad for.
"That's my Dad. It's past his bedtime."
The rest of the family laughed. It was a good family time atmosphere.
"Thank you for staying. I know it's late. We're going to play some nice songs."
Laura Clark the band did play nice songs. All 23 of the band members knew exactly how to play their instruments the right way. Every song sounded like it could have been on the shiny radio. They played so properly, it sounded like 47 people were playing. And there were only 34 of them on the stage! They were that good.
And gracious, too!
"Thanks to The Bitter Tears. That was an experience."
That's the thing about being an artist. You have to have life experience. And Laura Clark was born with it.
"Can someone get me a beer-JUST KIDDING!! I don't drink beer.
It tastes like pee."
Now even though Laura Clark has never had a beer in her life, she knows that it tastes like pee because it smells like pee. That makes sense to me! Besides, her husband would kill her if he caught her talented face drinking a beer.

The only reason I immediately left after that was because I had to go drink some pee, I mean, use the restroom. On the way there a gentlemen compared The Bitter Tears to Phish. He insisted that he meant no harm for several minutes.
At the concession stand they sold liquor and pee, I mean beer. The guy behind the counter switched to speaking in Ebonics when talking to black men. I ate a soft, warm pretzel and watched other conversations, until someone asked me how Jay Bennett had been portrayed in the Wilco movie. Meanwhile Alan sold a bunch of CD's and pee, I mean LP's.
Our records just sound like pee.

The original plan was to spend the night in Peoria and drive back the next day. But if we hit the road right away we would get home by as early as tomorrow. Mike took the wheel for the necessary trip directly back home right now.

As the morning birds chirped in Chicago we passed an establishment called Family Bar.
"The family that drinks together, stinks together."

A big thanks to Derrick Hart & The Fantastic Possibilities Of Life On This Planet for putting together a wonderfully odd bill in reverse order. Since The Bitter Tears didn't "play in Peoria" I wonder if we should remove it from our past shows list.

March 28 - Circle A, Milwaukee WI

Though we've seen it over 700 times in our lifetimes, none of us had never been to Mars Cheese Castle in Kenosha, Wisconsin. So Alan, Mike, my girlfriend Lauren (making her Bitter Tears road debut) and I used it as a pit stop.
It had a lot more to offer than I thought.
In addition to the obligatory cheeses, jerkies, and obnoxiously scatalogical, sexist hot sauces ("Ass In Space," "Fiery Fart," and "The Big Hot One" featuring a cartoon bikini girl with fake tits and collagen lips sucking off a porn-sized pepper), there's a deli, a bar, a long knight's table, maces, and suits of armor. And best of all, a gift shop!

The Circle A is a tiny bar owned by a pair of quirky adults who live upstairs. It's what a childless couple's child could look like if they had a good jukebox. And they do! 45's of James Brown, Strawberry Alarm Clock, and Kitty Wells played while friends (including Yale Delay and Mr. Alarm from ifihadahifi) filled the one-room bar to capacity.

Wereworm began the night with truly enjoyable instrumental rock of the Thinking Fellers variety. Tom Stack (painter, illustrator and creator of many gig posters) bashed many a flam on an early 60's jazz kit that resembled a delicious honeycomb. One of the guitarists had a Stu Sutcliffe stage presence, his back to the crowd the whole time. We were in for a good night.

This was a rare Bitter Tears show as a trio, just Alan on guitar, Mike on bass, on me on drums. The room was packed and tight. The neck of Mike's bass crashed into my ride, and the body of Alan's guitar rode my crash. We kept the tempo mostly up with "Fire Messiah," "Moline" and "Rough & Ready." The guys from hifi added a round of whiskey into the show and things got kooky. One of those fruit shakers (apple) found its way onto my floor tom, so I beat a hole into it. All of its beads leaked onto the drum, and when I pounded the drum they flew into the happy mass like confetti bullets. They returned the favor with flying beer cans, which pissed off the living ghost of Rollins. Too bad, Hank.
Yale Delay tried to tackle me during "The Companion," which ended with nasty cymbal washes, ringing everyone's ears into tomorrow. Reluctantly the 10pm DJ allowed us an encore, and we dusted off "Murdered" for the messy mass.
Afterward Yale thrust another 16oz Bitburger into my hand and bear hugged me into the ceiling and onto a blue collar regular. The guy told me to watch out, but he liked the show. It took a long time for me to get out of make up and figure this one out: You have to work in the morning and Lauren's driving your drunk ass home.

Circle A is tops!