this monday at the hideout

Two things, kind of separate. First, I'll be filming a little promo stuff for my next record, Upland Stories. It'll be me with my guitar, plunking through 4 or 5 tunes and talking about them as space aliens with spherical cameras for heads flit sinisterly about the room in a half-crouch -- fun!

Then, the real show, which is me and three of my friends (though I would never advertise it that way, the way they always do, "Robbie Fulks and Friends," because what kind of moron gets wet about that? "Get this -- for only ten dollars we get to see not only the great Robbie Fulks, but a couple of his friends! I bet his friends are something else! It's going to be such a friendly show...I know how much I love my own friends, and I'll bet anything that I'll form a similar attachment to Robbie's friends, who are perhaps even more musically talented than my own!"). The names of my friends are Gerald Dowd, Liam Davis, and K.C. McDonough, and we're going to bash through about 15 Alex Chilton tunes. Big Star, Box Tops, later Alex, love it all, I'm just that old.

The first thing, the video promo thing, is limited seating and advance tickets and sold out, so forget about that. It's due to start at 7 and end at 7:40, and I really don't think that's unrealistic. So if you get there at the usual a-bit-past-seven and are sad or pissed-off that a flunky will be denying you entrance to the music room, just "smoke some dope," as we used to say back when Alex Chilton was living, and wait for 7:40 to roll around, and walk in the fucking room.