On October 2, Groat Pulp and the band left San Francisco, heading east in their sorry wagon to entertain the country with tunes of the 1800's. The band members were...

   Gris Welled - Guitar, banjo, slooploops, maasmove
Doey Bulch - Viola whine
   Buttercup Lesson - Bass, scrapes, dry-land swimming, crunch
Both Oars - Percussion
   Groat Pulp - Keyboards

The band tells their tale...

Oct 3, Nevada. In Elko we see a giant black bull head hanging at a hotel much resembling one of Anton Lavey's black trapezoid things. It was an occult experience for us and perhaps a close connection between the sign of the devil and the index/pinkie sign of the bull. It was huge, nasty and very lovable.

Oct 4, Utah. We came into Salt Lake Shitty last night, braving the dangerous highways to treat the starved Mormon pioneers to pumple cabin fever music. Our bodies shook from the cold on the drive and then the noxious highway fumes. Once we got to our destination, our host for the evening Mr. Badley prepared a sculpted ice block table the size of the living room for us to gaze in wonder at. After feeding our dry reverent food holes, he left for bed. We had to curl around the table and stick our feet outside so there would be room for them. Our legs resembled the ice block corner legs of the table the next day. The novelty of the situation had us chattering and laughing all morning. The Indian music is going over very well as both oars slapped his legs red to the beat and to return circulation.

Bad news - the main Gear horn in the limo popped and the poor booger is sitting 200 feet away, silent and angry. It's at Pioneer Park which is a home for odd ball carts of SLC. On the way was a black Union Pacific train in the park. Wow! A sure joy here in a bleak atmosphere. Next, a fire pit as a window display! Wondering what kind of a store that is, hell if anybody knows. Fire for sale. These folks haven't gotten matches yet and we are fascinated. A guy who yaps "mother-fucker" as a mantra popped his head under the limo proclaiming "odd ball cart" as a mantra break.

We had a great time at the show. As the new costumes are combatable somersault machines of brilliant cloth, we got some good jigs, setting the Area 51 club on fire. A lot of people left the impression that they wanted to see Caroliner back in town soon with another set of costumes, or maybe naked, couldn't determine which. Next time we come here they'll find out 'cuz they're probably going to get both.

It was cold in Utah. Groat Pulp tried to write the following: "It's cold as hockies and my deathly frozen fingers crack as I move them slightly. They are brittle as sugar cubes hitting water. Can't write too much more with fingers, have to use the lips and teeth ..." (his notes become unreadable)

After Pioneer, Rhet put a new horn on the front end of our collective car and we got a good start on our Wyoming journey. Then we were attacked by our own wagon! About 3:30 their front end wheel slammed on the ground smashing the rim and the ring on it flew up and smashed the back end window a few minutes later, chasing us down the highway. We had no back window on one side, but we found some wood next to the Hoop Snake club.

Oct 7, Colorado. We played a quick set for the folk. Denver folk make bad horses, short and slow. Broken glass everywhere. A bunch of old faithfuls/helpfuls showed up, Ang 66, Big Boyd, P.D., Joe Heartlink. Big Boyd pointed out a wall of the club with a giant owl head that stared over a marketplace to scare off the Native Americans by spooking the liquor spirits. Interesting Americana consumer report on our heritage.

P.D. showed the Band his 6 horned plated goat head to be fired from the longest cannon in the world and at his sister A.D's there was a homage to burlesque in black and white and red! Truly exciting shrine. This couple is so helpful they need a 24 hour tongue worship service out here pronto! Broken glass all over the Band's fingers and 10 hour drive tomorrow at 6:30 AM.

In Boulder, the house we were in (Ang 66) was an homage to 8" tall women. Very wonderful and beautiful. Leaving Boulder, the wagon limo runs shitty and slow one mile high. After seeing our first tumbleweed and a sign for six legged steer, the limo lost its rear left and right flippers. This was a terrible thing. Thoughtfully, Groat Pulp stuck his hand out the window making left/right signs to alert the other drivers.

Oct 8, Kansas. We played at a bar in Lawrence trying to keep ourselves upside down as much as possible in the stiff upright drunk tank of the club. We did a lot of crawling around looking for lice and ticks, as they had to have close ups on the bug world for the song "Pinecone Collector". Having to improvise, Groat Pulp shoved a fistfull of straw from the tanks counter into his waiting eye. People were scared and went outside where it didn't stink as much. Hallejulah, the band had room to pommel and jig!

The whole next day, the cart cut the death fart and wrung its horns out in a wall-eyed manner. The whole day was shot! Groat Pulp's head consisted of stiff hair and small rocks with a shot of grease on the cheeks and eyelids for good measure. All who saw him were very comforted by the band's new design and wanted to copy it. Leaving Kansas City, a young lad whacked the band's car with his jacket for good luck, scaring some of us, but sending us off in a blessed blaze of glory.

Oct. 10, Missouri. Our house in St. Louis was Amityville in Panicsville day where a science guy took care of everyone. More horn handling underside. A mechanically inclined boatman gave us advice during the horn handling that "unless you're 500 years old you don't know nothin" he says. "OK" said Groat Pulp. What the hell are you gonna do?

Back in St. Louis, we did the Way Out club, a 50's - 60's time travel pad with a bartender who walked his tongue around about 78's and bad movie etiquette. We were so impressed we bought a pizza off him. The show was a bucking bronco's dream with a few roundhouse swings. The soundman became a silence man and refused to service in his drunken state. The show was cut short after an acoustic rage.

Oct. 11, Illinois. Driving to Chicago, the side door came open looking like it may fall off. We came to Beast People headquarters in Chicago - a garbage-filled area with 3" tall humans everywhere. The poets showed up as a warmup band but the soundman said it wasn't going to hapen. The 70 year old poet and his gang began their spoken poetry anyway. "I do not like to be shit on" and other natural knowledge things they said. Upset with the audience's lack of interest they all left going to another place to do their horrible terrorist activities.

Then came Lulu Theatre, a physically challenged beep and burp duo whose hand claps were a signal to the audience. We responded as they were swaying us. Black Scorpion Han was next with pretty much one note deja vu for a half hour time stopped. They needed to pick up on this and play it backwards. The Beast People came next with a wall of shrubs whild the soundman carefully put a microphone on the main leaves. The Beast People were harrassed by the young Beastie Boy who wanted to play with them. The tallest Beast tried to eat his leg, the fight was a life threatening one and the tallest beast was knocked out cold. Incredible! The other beasts were very upset. They pummelled the young boy to pieces as he ran off. Then the tall beast woke up, found his foot and fought it.

The live Chicago show was wonderful as the band was working on new music for ancient lyrics in the live arena. Second guessing enemy friends is a true challenge as they sabotage your ideas musically and wrangle a baroque spirit from your fingers. Very impressive audience drooling in delight and taking notes. The number one pest in Chicago threw up on himself as the gestalt of the 1800's was unrepentedly pounding into his weakened intoxicated head. All cheered. Groat Pulp got a pony ride from a stranger in the audience and a rosy thanks. Good deal.

Oct 12, Michigan. Next we took the Beast People who piss into their hands to Detroit. Part of the plywood roof flew off twice, so we had to screw it down, which was very disheartening. We played amongst 30 haunted red brick mansions for an anarchist group who explained by teeth count they liked to be in the 1800's too. The Beast People opened torturing a squirmy furry lump. The whales played Mexican rock while a blue whale popped in the audience screaming. How they trained it nobody knows. Ant System Nautical Alamanac tortured childrens toys for 15 minutes. Highly inspiring. Caroliner's set was an old folks music show with lots of banjo but the youngins loved it.

On the way of of town, we saw the 20 story Detroit railway station filled with homeless wonders. It was huge and scary. More roof problems as our canvas is ripped off.

Oct 13, Ohio. We showed up at the old 2 lane bowling alley in Cleveland and set up. All the locals came in telling us about "the value of the penny and children" and how much the cigarette companies help their image and how the talk on pop radio helps their linguistics. A lot of curse words are put into music these days to heighten the children's interest. They also thought we should play our music or fight someone. The media is doing a fantastic job on these kids. They are a real reflection of an old mans drunken bar scene without the touching of alchohol.

Our set was enormously exciting as there were theatre seats that acted as wild steeds. Someone tried to help tame the seats and it got ugly. But being professionals in an 1800's memorial band, we know theatre seat horses inside and out. Unfortunately, one guy didn't, and he and Groat Pulp both got hurt. You have to stand back during the taming process and keep your eyes shut during exorcism. Our host Goose War Ralph helped us to sleep.

Oct 14, New York. Our show last night in Buffalo was peopled by human chimneys. All were nervous and excited, talkative and interested in 1800's hallucinations. The opening band was musically derivative in parts and very creative in others. We were confused but supportive as they were interesting/amusing. Groat Pulp says the singer was so damn functional that his shank box got opened and he "added another name to the human side list of vocal chords I'd like to tear out, swallow and use."

Caroliner tried to visually encounter the folks with the roaring demons of our ghostly antiquated past. It worked, as their rigormortic corpse state turned into "psuedo" corpses and Caroliner became the worms giving their bodies life. One person was a mic stand and a human horse was there too.

Leaving Buffalo, our door is held on by a strap as the limo is rolling along and our bandage supply leaps out to its death.