And right now, Jon Wurster wants/is tolerating the request I put in to solve your problems!

Like Mike Doughty and Bob Nastanovich from Pavement before him, Jon Wurster is willing to take your questions and answer them in more than the 140 characters he normally sticks with on Twitter. So you know what that means?

Have a hipster emergency? Need to know how to act when someone references an album you don’t know? Want to know what to do about a weird neighbour? Something amiss in your previously groovy relationship? Need some suggestions about how to improve your life? Just wanna ask him a nerdy music thing?

ASK JON!

You’ve got one week to get your questions in. You may do so via the following ways:

• Leave a comment below
• Tweet @Backstagerider with the hashtag #AskJon
• mikala@backstagerider.com
• Send me a message via Facebook.com/backstagerider with ASK JON somewhere in it
• Tape your question to a very travel-savvy, GPS-enabled Tarsier

You have until May 18 to get yer questions in. I’ll collate the best ones, send to Jon and post the answers afterwards. STAY TUNED!

Bringing you fine advice columnists since last year, I am, the BackstageRider. You’re welcome! \m/

Ah hell, sod it.

Really, all it is is the music of French 80s addict Anthony Gonzalez, aka M83. And it’s the kind of thing that brought joy to a sold-out theatre in Vancouver on a Friday night, causing drunken dudes to bro-hug and dance together, underdressed, backcombed downtown girls to sway and hipsters to punch the sky with happy.

The start included that furry, penis-nosed creature from the Hurry Up We’re Dreaming! album taking the stage, followed by the band segueing into – natch – “Intro” as longtime girl-voice Morgan Kibby stood in for Zola Jesus.  ”Graveyard Girl” came third, “Midnight City” later with all the laser-shot punctuation and a SURPRISE SAX SOLO! making everyone grin. “We Own the Sky” sounded thick and heady,  ”Skin of the Night”, delicate. And the bestest for nerds? Their remix of Daft Punk’s “Fall” from the Tron: Legacy soundtrack flooding into “This Bright Flash”? Oh yes…

Drummer Loïc Maurin once again held full court behind neon posts, whilst young guitarist Jordan Lawlor bounced around the stage. Kibby provided the requisite ethereal, and in the middle, le man, le myth, le LEGENDE, Anthony Gonzalez held court – sometimes on a Simian Mobile Disco-sized analog keyboard set up, sometimes on bass, sometimes facing Loïc with his hands clasped.

Ultimately, it was just a good, brightly coloured night of lights and layers. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go unwrap my limited edition No. 1028 “dandruff white” vinyl version of The Breakfast Club soundtrack that I got on Record Store Day, and think about unicorns. \m/

She’s a great remixer, and a prolific writer, spitting out home-grown EPs faster than you can say “So Fast, So Maybe”, one of the good ones live, along with “Messin With My Head” and “No, duh.” And as for indie cred? Best tracks at the Media Club are “We Hate Everyone” (a collab she did with Liam from The Prodigy), “Less Than Zero” (featuring a The XX sample) and “Stop, Focus”, (which has us, uh headbanging to bits of The Decemberists’ “The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid.”) See what I mean?  Which brings us to…

2. …the fact that she’s bridged the Great Crossover. K.Flay’s got b-boy fanboys, hipsters, headbangers, good girls and hardcore rappers all drooling for her. No easy feat, it’s kind of what Die Antwoord’s managed and K is winning them wit and skill, not rats and ridiculous. 

3. She’s got an amazing drummer out with her. Songs seem enormous live as Nick Suhr bashes out on drums and pads, earphone in so he can catch the loop. He’s an absolute pleasure to watch, and fills out the room beyond Flay’s Macbook. Astounding.

4. She’s goofy. On tour, she poses for pictures against signs of streetnames that she thinks are dirty. Bush Ave, Prince Albert St, etc. Can’t wait till she tours Dildo, Newfoundland.

5. She’s nice. Whether’s she’s sweat-ily agreeing to throw us the rockhands while at SXSW or taking time to receive every cup of gush that the young b-boys throw on her after the show, Flay proves that you don’t have to be a dickhead to be a rapper.

6. She experiments, just gets it out there. She’s done a ton of EPs, a ton of remixes and a ton of really good videos. ONE EVEN HAS PUPPETS IN EM! Check ‘em all here.

7. She’s genuine. A track loop fucks up on stage, she just laughs, shrugs, calls it like she sees it. Her computer is giving her a hard time. Nae bother. She starts over again. Similarly…

8. She’s no bullshit. No fronting. No cheesy gold chains or ghetto “chic”. She’s just…a cool kid, with nice trainers and a Nixon watch, a dual degree in sociology and psychology from Stanford, who likes the Joy Formidable….and can rap at Warp Factor 11.

9. She works her ass off and is super high energy. Bounces high off her red kicks, headbangs, drums along with Suhr, lunges into the crowd. There might have been only 50 people in the crowd tonight but she performed as if there was 500. That’s style.

10. She does this thing with her tongue. You know how they say “spittin’ out rhymes”? K spends most of her time rapping with her tongue sandwiched between her upper and lower teeth, as if it’s she’s biting down on it. It’s kind of totally adorable and impossible to miss.

11. This. Stick with it past the “La, la, la, las…” \m/

In the 9+ months or so since I first laid ears on Gotye’s big hit “Somebody That I Used To Know”, Wally De Backer became an unlikely mainstream radio (lower-case s) star. The song, featuring that never-before-written-about-in-songs-concept of breaking up, features the vocals of New Zeland popstress Kimbra, and is a quirky thing. And such was it charms that it became the launchpad for Gotye and propelled him into sold-out venues.

Still, I don’t think a lot of us were  xpecting a theater full of doe-eyed young girls and quaint middle-aged couples. Or maybe we were, and were nervous about this.

See, Gotye straddles a ledge: his music’s alternative and edgy in places, exciting to those of us who get hives at the thought of being trapped in a AAA playlist. His albums owe a debt to the 80s and electro, are incredibly percussive (de Backer’s an excellent drummer himself), expansive, and playful. He can belt, when he wants to, too. “I Feel Better” will totally mess with your head. Izzat Cee-Lo singing? No, it’s a weedy dude from Australia. Awesome!

But then there’s the quiet stuff. Maybe the stuff for Sarah McLachlan, who was hanging in the back of the venue for the gig. It’s the radio-friendly stuff. It’s the singalong stuff of “Save Me”, and “Heart’s a Mess” which on this night sounded warm and…accessible. It’s good stuff, sure, but to me, it’s the stuff that lacks the confidence I want it to possess and the adventurousness I know he’s capable of. In fact, musically, Gotye sometimes darts all over the map. Where’s Wally? What’s Wally? Some songs sound big, others flat.

But live? He’s energetic, sincere, nice. So what more can one ask for? The musicality on stage was impressive – his band’s fantastic, Wally surrounded by drums, drumpads, fancy xylophones and tech gadgets – and they looked like they were genuinely enjoying themselves. From the get-go, “Eyes Wide Open,” “Easy Way Out” and “The Only Way” filled the Vogue, with tight, triple percussion. And the vocoder’d low dub-meets-(Thomas)Dolby of “State of the Art”? Great. Inserting “Somebody That I Used to Know” mid-set rather than the cliché ender? Nice one.  The rest? Uh…hey, he was energetic, sincere and nice!

Gotye might not be MY thing all of the time, but what does that matter? Does it matter to him? ‘Course not, why should it? Music’s subjective. And it’s his thing. And it might be your thing. And while I’d love if his thing swung back around my way,  the love of young doe-eyed girls and radio programmers is a good thing, too. Right? \m/

They’ve been wearing cassocks/nightgowns since the early aughties, there’s about 147 (actually 14) of them in the band, leader Tim DeLaughter bounds about like a slightly sub-Wayne Coyne preacher, waving his arms about, directing the floor like a choir, and you can’t help but notice that tiny, tiny red light that spells “CONTRIVED” flashing somewhere in your peripheral vision.

The last time I saw the Spree – in 2003 at London, England’s Astoria – I remember thinking they were utterly bonkers… but utterly charming. And it’s been a while, a long while, since the Spree came back around. Now,  here they are.

AND THEY ARE AWESOME.

Live, at least. The albums are yunno…okayyyyy, but a live show, is a Spree…so full of fun. Like candy, it rots your teeth after a while, but while you’re inhaling it, getting powder all over your gob, it’s just SO GOOD! And they sound great, so…WIN!

At a Polyphonic show, you can’t help but grin, loon-like, and do some sort of jig akin to the one the little feller does in the Men Without Hats video for “Safety Dance”.

When the gig starts from behind red fabric that Tim cuts through in the shape of a heart, when the guy with the green trombone blasts, when the trumpet player plays while knob twiddling his samplers, when the two drummers bash out behind perspex, when the girls in the back sing harmonies and flip their hair like Go-Go dancers, and when the bassist, keyboard player, guitarist jump around and shout out out out, it’s…Just. So. Much. FUN. And when the cellist finishes off by playing the thing upside down, resting on her shoulders? EPIC FUN. Welcome to the Church, folks.

When “Soldier Girl” hits the rafters, “When the Fool Becomes a King” echoes about with  lyrics about trees wanting to grow grow GROW, when a cover of “Pinball Wizard” makes an appearance, when “Light & Day/Reach for the Sun” makes us all punch the air and when Tim takes us through a nice little singsong to end with “The Championship”…it’s JUST. SO. MUCH. FUN.

Polyphonic Spree, I do not mind drinking your Kool Aid. \m/

On February 24, 1991, I hung out with the Charlatans on their first-ever visit to Canada. It had preceded Blur’s arrival Stateside by 9 months, and the Charlies were big in Britpop, before the thing had a name and whilst we were all lookin’ in the direction of Madchester.

Likely mistaken for a groupie, (I’d had a habit of hanging around backstage doors), I was invited on the tourbus by the band’s roadies – Dave, Mark and Derrick – and we sat, chatted and drank red wine before I headed into a small, campus press conference at which the band looked excrutiatingly bored. Almost all bands did.

After the show – at which singer Tim Burgess replaced the lyrics in “Opportunity” of “Station to station/this sensation/a celebration” to “Sensation/Ejaculation/Oh masturbation”- I lounged backstage with the Charlies and other liggers.

I talked at length with bassist Martin Blunt, mugged with Tim, and bantered with the rest. I’m thankful I also had a chance to meet and chat with keyboardist Rob Collins that night. He died in a car crash five years later. For those of us who didn’t know him personally, Rob will forever been known for giving the Charlatans that trippy Hammond organ sound, and for that I am also thankful.

The Charlatans’ were one of my favourite bands of the 90s. “The Only One I Know” was one of my favourite songs. And I am a rock biography whore. Which is why the following excites me greatly:

On April 26, Tim Burgess releases his memoir, called “Telling Stories.”

I tracked Tim down via Twitter (where he and I chat on occasion – he loved my back tattoo by artist Pete Fowler. His a much more modest scrawl of the New Order “Ceremony” catalog number, FAC 33), and sorted this out. Herewith, Tim Burgess telling stories about his book:

Writing a memoir is one of the hardest things in the world, not least of which is that I imagine a lot of the time in the early days was a blur. What did you find the most challenging in putting together the book?

The challenge was to put the story across without it just sounding like a list of things that I’d done. I was thinking back to how I was at each stage of the band and before and what I wanted people to know about those times. I’ve seen some reviews and they’ve picked up on that, so I’m hoping I got it right and people will get a look at who I am. Surprisingly none of it’s a blur – it was all I’d ever wanted to do so I took it all in.

I was enjoying myself but I wasn’t doing it so that I could forget. Looking back, maybe I was a rock n’ roll explorer and these are my reports. Like scientific findings. I’m on to the next experiment now – it involves less riotous behaviour but it’s just as interesting. I’d read some really great books about music and I’m hoping Telling Stories would be looked at alongside some of those books.

What were the most painful, difficult and embarrassing parts to relive?

Nothing’s embarrassing – looking back over your past and thinking you can edit out some of it would change the story. There’s an interview that I used that was from when I was drinking quite a lot. It should have been a wake-up call, but I slept through the alarm. The difficult times of the band are well documented so they’ve always been talked about.

After Rob died, it was something we had to deal with privately but also in the public eye too. I’d find I’d be answering questions at a moment’s notice in an interview. It was a better process to do things at my own pace and speak to the other people in the band about their feelings.

But there was much to celebrate. What was the most joyful or fulfilling aspect of the experience?

Without wanting to sound like I’m showing off, I think the achievements of the band are the central part of the story. And they are something we’re all really proud of – the most fulfilling aspect of the book was that I was working with a publisher like Penguin and they liked what I was writing. I could count myself as an author – I’d be there in a bookshop alongside some writers I loved. It was similar to the feeling of when we first made a record and it’d be in the same shop as The Clash.

Your visit to North America preceded Blur’s …does it ever bug you that Oas-blur get most of the credit for Britpop?

We always just did our thing, and from time to time a pigeonhole would swing by that captured the times and a few of them we got stuffed into – whether Madchester or Britpop, we never aimed for either.

We knew we worked in the same world as Oasis and Blur, but it’s less of a competition than people may imagine. It’s cool when there’s an interest in similar bands. Magazines and TV people come looking for you and you get attention from countries you might not have been to before.

What’s next for you, the Charlies and can we expect you back this side of the planet?

No plans to be there at the moment – there some anniversary gigs where we’re playing Tellin Stories track by track in the UK. Two dates in Japan too. I’ve got a few shows around the book – doing some acoustic songs with Mark Collins, The Charlatans guitarist, and reading out some extracts. Chuck in the stuff with my label, O Genesis and it makes for a busy few months. Not really sure what’s happening after then.

But you did do a rather quite fab collab with Ladyhawke…any other stuffs on the radar of this sort and can you tell us a secret or give us a scoop?

Yeah, the track with Pip was something we’d worked on and got some friends to remix. We have some big plans for Record Store Day but can’t really tell you any secrets, I’m afraid. People can get me on twitter @Tim_Burgess – a few secrets and exclusives pop up on there from time to time. Today’s was a picture from when I was two – showing my early love of good jumpers and a good haircut. \m/

Telling Stories is published by Penguin Books and available at all hip bookstores (or, more likely, online) on April 26.

See, even though the much-loved and beardy California rockers announced they’d be doing a few shows at festivals this past week – their first in half-a-dozen years – Jason’s not really into making a big deal about it. Or any deal about it. He’d rather be outside climbing something, biking some trails or working on his new solo platter, instead of talking to bloggers about Jeddy 3 and the Sophtware Slump.

But he likes me. For some reason.

I caught up with Jason today and here is his gift to us, the real scoop. But sorry, folks, don’t expect a full tour or proper full-on reunion:

“The bargain I made myself regarding the ‘brief reunion and couple of shows’ situation was that I wasn’t gonna talk too much about it. I was just gonna stew on it , and then do it. That’s the good thing about festivals. No need for me to sell anything here. Get in …rock out…get paid….get out. There are just going to be a few shows. Festival-type thingys….Perhaps the odd ‘warm up gig’ in someone’s hair salon or something.

Money was a motivating factor (resurfacing my indoor tennis court, oil change for my 4×4 Ferrari) but the idea of playing and hanging out with each other is something all of the guys are pretty stoked about.”

So that’s about it, on Grandaddy. Makes me wanna open a hair salon. (Oh and just to clarify, Jason Lytle doesn’t really have an indoor tennis court or a Ferrari, but he may need some dosh to repair his Martin guitar after United Airlines “almost murdered” it.)

Wish I had better news for those outside the Grandaddy Limited Run Festival Hot Zone.

OH BUT I DO! There will be new Jason Lytle solo music this summer! Huzzah! Says Jason: “My new solo is done and ready to master as well and should be out July/August. It’s called Department of Disappearance. There’s 10-ish songs and it’s kinda epic-sounding at times.”

EPIC LYTLE? I’ll take that. And now it’s time to get outside. Or on a plane. Coincidentally, I’m sitting at a United Airlines gate right now, heading off to San Francisco, and all of their systems are down. Thankfully I do not have a Martin to get murdered, but wish me some serious luck anyway.

Oh and Jason? Thanks. \m/

Over the next few months,  a dozen+ alt-rock bands get added to the bill, J Mascis miraculously agrees, and soon I’m booking my berth aboard the Bonkers Boat for the inaugural Weezer Cruise.

Setting sail January 19-23 from Miami to Mexico, the theory was that 2500 indie rock fans and 15 bands would hit the high seas, get drunk, listen and play music and generally party. The reality? Yeah, that. So in order to facilitate, I became Julie Cruise Director for Lou and Sebadoh (Sebadoh had three gigs, Lou SEVEN) and kinda “tour” managed the band’s way onto the ship.

I mean, how could I NOT be on the boat? I’m mates/acquaintances with a third of the bands who’d be on board: Dinosaur Jr, London, England’s Yuck, San Diego’s Nervous Wreckords and Brooklyn’s The Antlers, among ‘em. Plus Boom Bip, Wavves, Free Energy, Ozma, The Knocks, Sleeper Agent AND our friend Andy from Wye Oak, who was coming just for fun? Uh, yeah. This was going to be a boat of such indie-rockness, it’d be amazing if it didn’t sink from awesome.

Let’s set sail, shall we?

We begin, the night before, in ghost-town down-town Miami at a cool club called Grand Central, where Sebadoh are playing. There’s a pre-Cruise party upstairs, and we try to go for food but find out from local bands Plains and Jacuzzi Boys that the next best restaurant is too many blocks away (WTF Miami? You are SO weird), so Lou and my cabin-mate Terri and I have to order in sushi from a local joint. It’s dodgy, but none of us puke on stage or off. Win?

“We haven’t played together in three months” Lou says from the stage, “so welcome to our rehearsal.” But it doesn’t sound like that all – shhh don’t tell anyone, but the Sebadudes are tiiiight. Afterwards I snap the above pic of the band with promoter Mario, then we all bundle into a mini van. Gods bless him, Dinosaur Jr’s tour manager extraordinaire Dan has come to collect us and take us back to the hotel.

Cruise Day. I run into Max Bloom from Yuck ambling past the hotel pool, but my number-one priority is basically getting Lou & Co on the boat. Once I get ‘em on board, I can relax and begin the long, arduous task of getting drunk. I feel like a sheepdog in the lobby trying to herd everyone, including wives and gear, on the Artist Shuttle. BUT WE MAKE IT TO THE CARNIVAL DESTINY. Reeee-zult.

But our rooms aren’t ready yet! Boo! Lou grumbles about how the rest of Dino didn’t have to come until later and I make a joke about the Lou Barlow Jealousy Vortex – the one where he disappears into a hole of envy at his own other band. But we’re all pretty stoked anyway and hang out on the Lido Deck, babbling varieties of “HOLY CRAP! I’M ON A BOAT!!!”, “WHAT THE FUCK?”, “JESUS, I’M HOT”, “UGH, THIS RUM-BASED DRINK IS TOTALLY TOO SWEET” and “CAN YOU WATCH MY STUFF?”. I am in charge of watching stuff. That’s Lou’s bass, above. I’ve got my eye on you, Lou’s Bass. Don’t make any sudden moves, ‘cos I’m really preoccupied by the fact that I’M ON A BOAT!

Soon it’s time to find our rooms. En route, we run into the rest of the lovelies in Yuck who drop their gear to hug us. I adopt them, and they adopt me. We’re a funny-looking family.

Marvel at the splendour of our “stateroom” and bask in its cheap hotel room feel! We do. We also marvel at the fact that right up until push-off, there was a dude outside PAINTING our window and that during the cruise, someone seems to enjoy banging  above or below us at 8am on mornings when we got to bed at 6am. But nevermind. This room will see little action except for towel animals, when I wake up half-naked with my contact lenses in, and when I fall backwards off the bed.

At 4pm sharpish, we’re all supposed to meet at a “Muster Station” – an area we’re assigned to go to in the event of an emergency. Bands, including Weezer, line up next to fans, and we cozy up with Andy from Wye Oak. That’s Andy.

We run into Brian Karscig and his band in the production office . Brian used to be in rad band Louis XIV, and is now the chief of equally rad band Nervous Wreckords. Brian and I go way back to a night in Vancouver when we all got drunk on the tour bus (read about that, here on their blog) and I taught him how to use teh Twitters. He now has a band of good-looking people who make good-sounding rock choons. I’m excited to finally see this incarnation – and I do, twice. That’s Brian on deck in his uniform: black, hat, and beard, as we’re all awaiting…

….WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZER! Holy shit I can’t believe they’re doing “Hash Pipe” first! I can go home now. No wait, I can’t..I’M ON A BOAT!

Would you look at that adorable nerdy guitar solo face? Oh, Rivers. I’m sorry if I ever doubted you and told people I was basically going on the Lou Cruise. Weezer, you’re kind of really good.

This is the new thing. Never mind cam-phones. How about an iPAD in your face, Scott?

Yeah, so Rivers dons a captain’s hat and goes for a walk in the grinning crowd. Did his trousers rip or summat? Check out the little girl’s face behind him. But this is a fun moment. I’m wedged dead centre by the sound tent and Rivers basically straddles his way up the pole while singing the hits. (It was the Hits and Blue show – Pinkerton and rareties would come later.)

And what, pray tell, is Rivers gunning for? THAT. THE GIANT BLUE WATERSLIDE. Which he promptly climbs. (Note the drummer: that’s Josh Freese, who is, basically, the best US rock session drummer everrr. He’s stellar and pinch-hitting so Patrick Wilson can play guitar. Freese is so good that even Murph from Dinosaur Jr  tells me he wants to meet him.)

So Rivers gets to the top of the waterslide, the sun is starting to set on his face, and I’m guessing someone asked him if he could touch his tongue to his nose?

And there’s the sunset. Nice! So long, Vice City! See you in a couple of days! Following Weezer’s set, we wander  trying to get our bearings, and eat the buffet. And in no time, it’s time for….

…SeBADoh to confuse all the mainstream Weezer fans and delight all the hardcore fanboys with their raucous melodipunk! (Or indie rock, whatever.)

This is officially one of my fave pictures of Sebadoh’s Jason Loewenstein, aside from this one with his pet pig Emmett. This is also Jason Loewenstein rocking out. He does that. I mean, seriously, have you HEARD the track “Careful” and all the other ones he belts? Gah. LOVE.

Love this pic of Lou, too, even though he’s already complained to me about the double chin. And the crowd’s pretty ace. You gotta hand it to the devotees for showing up to Seb’s first of three shows on t’boat. Is that Max from Yuck watching? And acclaimed music journo Brian J. Bowe (author of books on Judas Priest, the Ramones AND the Clash, writer/editor for Creem and SO MUCH MORE)? And “the Indie Rock Professor” (no, really, she’s an anthropologist who specializes in indie rock) Wendy Fonorow? YUP, all watching. I mean, seriously, when is this much cool going to be on a ship together again?

Oh hai, Bob D’Amico, drummer and Animal (the Muppet) for Sebadoh! I like to describe him as the punk-rock Marlboro Man. He doesn’t smoke, though. He’s too cool.

But soon! It’s time to pry ourselves from the Lido Deck and go find a bucket of beer in the big venue, the Palladium, where there’s comfy seats, waiters and a ploosh front-row vantage point for these guys:

Oh, Antlers. How I love you and your albums Hospice and Burst Apart. Peter’s voice sounds stunning, per usual. I last saw/met The Antlers at Music Fest Northwest in Portland, where me and the gang were imagining what it’d be like on the Cruise, and if Wavves would be the ones who’d be bringing the pot onboard. (Not saying a word, here.)

Darby Antlers is kind of ridiculously handsome (good ‘boardist too, hell, everything about the Antlers is amazing) but…

…drummer Michael Lerner is my buddy. Also handsome. He gives good drum face. Musically? You can’t really fault anything tonight. Because we have a bucket of beer. And Antlers are like 10 feet in front of me.

Shortly after, with only a half-hour in between sets, Mr. Lou Barlow steps offstage on the Lido Deck with Sebadoh and directly onstage at the Palladium with…

….Dinosaur Jr! Not the tightest musically, but I gotta say, this is the most eventful and rocking Dino show I’ve ever been at. Not only is Barlow playing at Warp Factor Bass God (no, really, everyone’s mouths are hanging open and for a guy who’s JUST PLAYED, he’s going INSANE on stage), but J is throwing some minor rock poses AND HIS HAIR GETS IN HIS FACE! That’s when you know he’s really letting loose (see below). Seriously, this was quite awesome. And he’s even chatty! “I’d like to thank Weezer, ‘cos without them I woulda never met the Fonz”, drawls the White Wizard, while Scott and Patrick from Weezer look on.

… But that’s not all! There’s a drunk/stoned couple next to us throwing shapes in the aisles so emphatically they have to be escorted back to their seats five times by the tolerant security guards. Back at their seats, dude puts his hand in his missus’ shirt and pulls her boob out. Fun! Then he falls on his girlf and they both get gently escorted out. At which point, another dude tries to stagedive during “Feel the Pain” into the 2nd row, lands on the back of the (at least padded) bench, and splits open his face. It’s a MONSTER of a show, and actually one of my faves.

But that’s STILL not all! We all pile backstage after, and Lou’s missus, Kath, is screaming: OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODTHEREWASACOUPLEINROWSIXWHOWEREHAVING…….SEX! We think it’s the same couple from before who’d come back, ‘cos apparently he had her bent over the bench, thrusting during “Forget the Swan.” Kath’s traumatized. Note to self: Do not sit in the sixth row for Weezer’s Pinkerton show. Even J smiles at the news about the audience participation/sexytime.

Then a couple of us head out to the Lido Deck for Brian Bell from Weezer’s Midnight Movie. Young Frankenstein? ALL KINDS OF HELL YES. *Applauds* We hang with Murph, walk past J at the back of the boat looking at the wake of the black water whilst hanging with his band friends, Sweetapple, talk about the show for a bit and admire all the folks in lounge chairs under blankets. Nice one. But by this time we’re drunk and hungry (drunkgry?) and LO AND BEHOLD, the “New York Deli” onboard is open until 3am. I get a sandwich and pile my plate high with pickles, then run into…

…THIS GUY. This is the adorbs Daniel from Yuck, who’s hanging around with bandmates Max and Mariko in the restaurant, where they’re availing themselves of the hot drinks. I tease them mercilessly about being English and needing a cuppa tea, but Daniel insists he’s having coffee. They’re deliciously tipsy and Daniel follows us around. “I”m just going to follow you around,” he says as we walk by Mascis (we do a lot of walking past J Mascis over the course of four days), whom he goes to thank for letting Yuck open for Dino on the return show in Miami. I can’t watch. I have this thing where every time a fan or ANYONE approaches J, I have to look away ‘cos I’m afraid we’ll all die of mutual awkwardness.

As we’re walking around,  plate in hand, we come up on afro’d Yuck drummer Jonny, and Sleeper Agent’s teen singer Alex Kandel. I offer Jonny some of my pickles, which he takes (he’s from Brooklyn, of course!), and Alex slurs at me to come see her band at some point. Uh….whoops.

Soon, it’s time for bed. We get in the room and are greeted by this guy:

Night night, Towel Creature! For tomorrow is another day and I’M ON A BOAT! \m/

READ WEEZER CRUISE DIARY DAY 2

READ WEEZER CRUISE DIARY DAY 3

READ WEEZER CRUISE DIARY DAY 4

Anyway! Onward!

I check out the fab boutique hotel, Hotel Max, in Seattle, and find Lou in the lobby, who I am to meet because my Christmas present has come early: rather than get a stinky shuttle bus back to Canada, I have been invited to ride shotgun on the Dinosaur Jr tour bus across the border and with the lads. HONOURED doesn’t even begin to describe it especially as I think there are day-old Top Pot donuts still on the bus. Woo!

In the lobby, we discover a book on “Grunge” by Michael Lavine, whose pics also cover the doors of the fifth floor of the Hotel (I stayed in a Mudhoney room, yay!) and Lou flips through it. “I think there’s a pic of us in here somewhere,” he says and finds one of the three of ‘em looking ridiculously young and long-hairy. I should have taken a pic of Lou holding the book page up but was, I think, still asleep.

We arrive at the bus, and find Murph and Dino’s tour manager extraordinaire (and I do mean extraordinaire, the man is LOVELY and very funny) Dan Mapp in the front lounge with the rest sleeping. J arrives on board shortly after clutching a bunch of Sub Pop t-shirts and retreats to the back. Lou goes to crash out in his bunk while…

…Murph and Dan and I enter into one of 100 different and fascinating conversations about education, children, the Internet, social skills, addiction and probably the state of both our nations. We also use THE BUS WI-FI, woo! Murph tries to convince me that as I’m a social media-type that “we” (he and I) should invent the new Facebook thing so that we can become rich. Murph is only on LinkedIn – of all things, though never checks it – and after countless conversations about Twitter, declares later that he’s overwhelmed by it all.  I like Murph. Me and Lou want him to go on Twitter so we can retweet his stuff under the heading “Shit Murph Says”.

He and I go for a cigarette break when the bus gets near the border and talk about the process of recording with Dino Jr – they’ll be doing that in February – and how it’s been staying at Lou’s place the last month. “The kids call me Uncle Murph!” he says proudly.

At the border, I am treated to another amazing thing: Tour Man’ Dan collects all our  passports (all labeled, and weirdly/wonderfully Henry Rollins’ passport is BLACK not BLUE) and goes to deal with Customs/Border patrol while we lounge. Murph and crew man Larry have to go out but otherwise, we’re all in the bus CRYING WITH LAUGHTER as Rollins cracks jokes about things the border guards may find wedged in private places.  The rest of the time…

…Henry Rollins sits quietly, reading. About what, I forgot to ask. But he is very serious-looking when he reads. (And apologies for sneaking these two on-board pics of Murph & Rollins. I do realize that what goes on on the road must stay on the road, but I’m kinda geeking out.  I mean, WOULDN’T YOU? Sorry Murph and Henry.)

We arrive in Vancouver and park a block behind the Commodore Ballroom. Lou’s still asleep so I show Murph how to get into the venue, and head home for a quick shower. I come back in time to get my ears pre-blown out during soundcheck and take this camera phone pic from the rafters to prove that J Mascis’ pedals are, uh, numerous. In fact, I walk backstage to see J surfing Ebay for a new pedal. I ask him if he found the one he’d wanted, but “No………”.

Next door, Vancouver cultural icon Nardwuar The Human Serviette about to interview Henry Rollins. “Hullo BackstageRider!” Nard greets me. (The whole fact Nardwuar is interviewing Rollins again is amazing because the last time he did so, in 1988, Rollins nearly chewed him up and spat him out. I tell this story to a fascinated J and Lou in the room next door.) Check out the innervu – all the “recent” pics of Henry et al in this video are by ME!

O and here’s a pic of O, from LA-based band The Makeup Sex, whom Dinosaur Jr. really dig and who O-pened in Vancouver. And when I say O-pened, I mean, only O opened. His drummer and bassist didn’t make it over the border in their rental car on time, so O had to go it O-lone. “I’ve never cancelled a gig,” he said to me and Nard afterwards. O well, was still good.

Soon it was time for the return of the Rollins….INTERVIEW O’CLOCK

There’s more on that exchange here in The Snipe’s coverage, by Rachel Fox.

I think J spotted me taking pictures.

But soon! It was time to rock AND roll on out! Here’s the setlist.

Freak Scene….sorry, not Lou. The song.

Yep, Murph forgot his drum key backstage again. But after a mad scramble by Tour Man Dan, he was keyed up and mouth opened.

AND THE CROWD WENT WILD! No really, this guy was rockhanding it, pounding the stage, singing every mumble that came out of….

…this guy’s mouth. Man, I love shooting Mascis in good light. His hair is AMAZING.

Here is another comprehensive portrait of J Mascis, taken from sidestage where I perched for most of the night. Tinted purple for added J-ness.

And, once again, Henry Rollins and his workboots sit DIRECTLY BEHIND J MASCIS’ WALL OF AMPS either taking notes on something, diairizing or headbanging. At one point, when the crowd started to go a bit moshy, even got up and looked like he was gonna help out by protecting J’s pedals (either that or flinging some bodies back into the crowd, which I would have paid money to view). I love how much Henry loves Dino.

And once again, it was time for someone to close out the tour and sing “Don’t” so that Lou didn’t have to. Enter my friend and  musician Devon Lougheed. Devon plays in several bands in Vancouver including Beekeper, Hey Ocean! and Sidney York, and is a MASSIVE Sebadoh/Dino fan. I’d put the bug in Lou’s ear about Devon as a possibility, and on stage Lou went for it. Devon got up and NAILED IT. Mama was so proud. (That’s me.)

After the show we drank beer and hung out with Nardwuar before leaving out the back to find a good dozen or so fans had waited in the cold to get autographs and take pictures. But soon it was time to leave my new family…whom I will see in just a couple of weeks on the Weezer Cruise, whee! But before we go, Lou Barlow has some very important advice if you’re going to be attending a Dinosaur Jr. show in future….

Remember, kids, ALWAYS WEAR YOUR EARPLUGS!

Thanks again Dinosaur Jr, for letting me tag along. An epic weekend and an epic band. Extra rockhands to you! \m/ \m/ \m/

(And now READ PART ONE, SEATTLE if you haven’t)

So besides being AWESOME to hear the Bug album in full, what else was was particularly awesome about the Seattle and Vancouver shows on December 17 and 18?

I was there.

At the radio station, on the bus, at the hotel, backstage, sidestage and across the border, the BackstageRider tagged along…and Dinosaur Jr and their amazing crew put up with me. Here’s what happened in Seattle. Click on all photos to embiggen the magic.

I arrive in SEA,WA just in time for a Thai lunch with Lou at a restaurant near KEXP, where the band were to perform and be interviewed. The halls were crowded at the radio station, and filled with fan boys plus old friend/VP of SubPop Records, Megan Jasper. Megan’s known the band since almost-literally forever, and it was her mum Maureen who interviewed Joseph Jr. Mascis in this quite-remarkable video.

While the band played four tracks and Henry chatted on-air with the DJ, I stood, nose-pressed to the recording room window. The soundbooth was rammed and, possibly, shaking during that last bit of “Just Like Heaven” so I sought refuge elsewhere, to take the shots. Listen to the whole performance on KEXP’s site.

Afterwards, while Seattle photog Dave Lichterman set up for a photoshoot for the KEXP blog outside, the Three Messedkateers hung around chatting (ie, Murph did all the talking). J had just been to Whole Foods down the street. I knew this even before I saw the bag because a Twitter friend tweeted at me excitedly that his mate had just seen J in the shop. “Whole Foods people are REALLY SERIOUS about Whole Foods”, said Lou with a laugh. I introduce myself to J. His handshake is very light and if I’m not mistaken there might have been a “hi” uttered.

Set up in the parking lot, Henry and the band pose for photos…

…aaaand goof around. J starts slowly pushing imself away, rolling downhill, while the mostly-serious-but-actually-really-fucking-funny-when-he’s-with-the-band Henry Rollins tells some sort of entertaining anecdote. That’s photog Dave in shot. Here’s his set of pics on Flickr, they’re rad:)

Then Rollins and I chat about the first time I met in him in ‘92 when he was out on tour with the Rollins Band and Therapy? in Toronto. “That was ‘94,” he corrects then goes off on a ramble about how he manages to remember certain gigs and tours and festivals. (“There are some festivals where you always see and tip your hat to Paul Weller…”) Rollins likes to ramble – he’s good at it. And very entertaining.

We all head over to Showbox at the Market, a fine venue. At some point, after soundcheck I find myself sitting backstage, silently, with J Mascis, while he eats some Liberte yogurt . A glacial-paced year seems to pass, but everyone knows that J’s not *cough*, a big talker. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about being backstage, it’s that one must blend in with one’s environment. So I also sit silently. But within minutes, I can’t stand it.

Me: “You have to have one of the most healthy riders I’ve seen, ever.”

J: “Huh?”

Me: “Your backstage rider. Yogurt, Perrier, brown Rice Crispies…it’s so healthy. And coconut water is awesome! Lou told me about how it’s good for hangovers.”

J: “Oh……………………….yeah.”

CONVERSATION COMPLETE.

Anyway! Here’s the a pic of the band’s most awesome openers, Pierced Arrows,  in a haze of hair, insanity and sheer amazingness. Backstage Lou tells me their long history about how they used to be known as Dead Moon, and were really popular in Europe, and I marvel at the fact that the drummer, Kelly, sitting down is almost as tall as bassist Toody is when she’s standing up. They’re really, really great. And Toody? An insane bass player, a monster on that thing. “Almost as good as Lou Barlow,” a fan says to me.

Then it’s time for the Henry Rollins interview. On stage, you can tell Rollins takes his interviewing job seriously. (Fuck, man, he seems to take EVERYTHING seriously, bless him) and takes care to ask different questions each night to keep things well-paced. “They’re not the most loquacious” he’d said earlier in the day at KEXP to the DJ, and he’s right. It’s kinda amazing, the whole Interview-Three-Dinosaurs concept, and a cool twist to the usual. I like me some cool twists. I also like Black Flag. Double win!

During the interview, though, J is positively chatty (at least a dozen words!) and very dryly funny. There are jokes about the old days. Lou refers to having to wait for J to finish watching All My Children (which J’s watched since he was about 12 years old) so they could practice. All laugh. I admit that the image of J, wrapt in front of soap operas is a rather quite entertaining picture to rest on.

Backstage, Murph and I joke about how his non-alcoholic beers tend to disappear because folks see the Beck’s labels and grab ‘em thinking they’re “real”. A clear-eyed Murph is lovely to see. The crew recall other times when Murph played the Shoebox and was, uh, a little worse for wear. But that was then, and this is now. Perrier and N.A. beer, hell yeah!

Before go-time, I ask Henry about his acting career and if there’s any plans to return to it (I’m pointing at you, rather quite disturbingly good stint on Sons of Anarchy). Not at the moment, he says, he’s busy concentrating on his series Animal Underworld for National Geographic, which has taken him to a shopping list of cool international enclaves. But, he concedes, “I’ve been in a lot of straight-to-DVD movies, because at this stage of my career, I kind of almost say yes to anything that I get offered and I’m very fortunate. But I don’t NEED to do the acting. I have lots of other things going on.”

A few minutes after wrap with Henry, it’s time for Dino. Sir Ampsalot earns his nickname by walling himself in among a stack of six Marshall amps, which, Lou says, is entirely unnecessary… but we all know adds to the mystique and enormousness, right?  I am thankful for my heavy-duty earplugs….in fact, me, Murph and Lou all spend a lot of time going “WHAT? SORRY? WHAT??? to each other.

Pictured: White Wizard. Not pictured underfoot: Three square blocks worth of pedals, including J’s own purple (what else?) Fuzz Munchkin. Not to be confused with Fuzzy Lumpkins from the Powerpuff Girls.

Shortly after this picture was taken, Murph runs over to me during a break in a song, and asks me: “Can you get my drum key out of my jeans back pocket?” I go backstage, rifle through his jeans, delete everything in his phone, steal his credit cards and find the drum key. (Okay, the last bit was true.) SEATTLE, THE REASON MURPH COULD KEEP DRUMMING WELL WAS BECAUSE OF ME. YOU’RE WELCOME. #NoactuallyitwasbecauseofMurphwhoisagreatdrummerbutwhatevs

Fact: Lou Barlow wears his shoes on stage for only one or two songs then goes be-socked. His socks are from Marks & Spencer in England. The trousers were new from Portland (he made a resolution to not look shleppy on stage), and the glow is the radiation of his AWESOME PLAYING WITHIN DINOSAUR JR. To wit: here’s the setlist of that night.

You know what else was mind-bendingly amazing to watch? Henry Rollins (who is, it must be said, AN ENORMOUS DINO JR FAN) sitting directly behind J’s amps EVERY NIGHT and, in between jotting notes on whatever into a notebook, HEADBANGING, AIR PUNCHING, PURSING HIS LIPS, SINGING OR NODDING ALONG along to all the songs. Beautiful to see Dinosaur Jr’s own hero sitting behind them so dedicated.

And as the theme here has been focused around awesome…let me introduce you to Shannon, k?

This is Shannon. You know the last song on Bug called “Don’t”? The one song that Lou sings? That was written for Lou about Lou?  The one everyone talks about because its five words “WHYYYYYY! WHYYYYY DON”T YOU LIKE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?” was screamed so strongly and repeatedly during recording that it caused Lou to hork up a few bits of blood? Well, understandably, Lou doesn’t like to bloody his vocal chords much anymore, so he invites audience members sometimes to scream in his stead. Shannon’s apparently a drummer in a heavy metal band…who also didn’t know the song at all. None of the words. None of all five of the words. “I went to tell her how the song went,” said Lou afterwards,”but she was, like, ‘yeah, whatever’ and just went for it.” Instead she just screamed great big guttural howls. BRILLIANT!

Also awesome? Her stagediving and the parts when her skirt just rode up over her leggings and she didn’t pull it down, and when she sat down on the stage just screaming, and when she was generally all I don’t give a fuck. Yeah, this pic sorta sums up how I felt about the night, too, trying not to give a fuck, having fun in the moment, ‘cos, really, there ain’t much else more awesome than hanging out with Dinosaur Jr. and Henry Rollins. Except for maybe coconut water after a hangover. \m/

NOW READ: On the Road with Dinosaur Jr and Henry Rollins: Part 2, Vancouver