Beachland Tavern Cleveland, OH

Beachland Tavern in Cleveland, OH, is a dynamite venue. Although, Ken, our hospitable promoter this evening, immediately debunks any myths about Monday night at Beachland being a Grand Marquee event. The band appreciates Ken's candor, takes the news in stride, and proceeds with the evening's festivities by staging a cooking expose via Diary of a Foodman involving Beachland's talented and friendly in-house cook/classically trained flutist, Leia. Ken passes out drink tickets as if they're Kool-Aid rebates for the Jonestown Massacre. In hindsight, The Black Hollies note that in lieu of the on going Zagat-esque survey there are instances where an overabundance of free drinks can impede the band from a hasty exit once the, "LAAAST CAAWL...IF YOU 'AINT FUCKIN' THE BARTENDER GET THE HELL OUTTA MY BAR," death knell is rung.

The Black Hollies perform to an audience of three, not including Ken, Leia, and soundman, Clint, who late in the evening after the band is caught smoking in the basement long passed any paying patrons are left in the bar, says, "I wish I got paid to stand here and do nothing but I gotta go man." The Black Hollies oblige, apologize to Clint for frown-burgering the situation, sing a quick chorus of "Four Dudes In A Room," and call it a night. The band inadvertently makes the terrible Jackson Browne song about giggin' and packing up a reality. The surplus of drink tickets still in existence at the end of the night contributes to this as does the band's performance in front of a three person audience which comes off as a performance before a three thousand person audience. One of The Black Hollies' favorite past-times is treating performances in nearly vacant clubs as if they're performances in expansive theaters packed to the rafters with excited fans. In other words, every note counts. Following the show into the evening and continuing into the next day, The Black Hollies always make it a point to preserve this past-time and treat themselves as if they've recently sold out The Fillmore West. Activities which commemorate self-appreciation amount to taking long drawn "Calgon Take Me Away" style baths, ordering imported cheese plates accompanied by expensive French wine, paying for high end new age holistic massages, and booking four separate hotel rooms only on nights where the band takes in less than $30 at the gate. The Black Hollies are paid $27.00 for their Cleveland performance, $27.05 if one includes the envelope that Ken presents the band's money in. So, four rooms it is.



The following morning the Black Hollies celebrate the previous evening's till with a trip to Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The Black Hollies receive free admission on account of presenting the Rock Hall with a copy of Casting Shadows and one recent press clipping from Rolling Stone Magazine wherein the band receives print, not in the form of a review or as one of a dozen bands to watch, but rather as a one-fifth ingredient to Rolling Stone's Top 5 Least Grossing Tours Of 2008 recipe, right behind Boston and Harold Faltermeyer. The magazine cites the signature Black Hollies guarantee of "refusing to perform for more than ten people while concurrently refusing to be paid more than thirty dollars" as reason enough for the inclusion. The listing which appears in the magazine's 'Smoking Section,' a random document of celebrity canoodlings, impresses Cleveland's Rock Hall which, in turn, accepts the band's cd and press clipping as a dual tribute granting The Black Hollies unfettered access to Stephen Stills' poncho which is normally kept behind a glass encasement. The Black Hollies extend their sincerest gratitude to everyone at The Beachland Tavern, especially Ken, Leia, and Clint for treating the band well and making it a memorable night for all.

Bohemian National Home, ?Love, and The Talking Donkey

After succeeding in spending Canadian money as quickly as possible, The Black Hollies cross the US border at Windsor and get back on American soil in Detroit, Michigan, home of The MC5. Palestinian Bluetooth spans the Ambassador Bridge which is one of the only privately owned international crossings in the world. Owned by billionaire suburban Detroiter, Manuel J. Moroun, The Ambassador Bridge is the busiest commercial border crossing in North America. This information as well as a great restaurant recommendation are passed along by the friendly and informative, Jennie Carol, a musician/bar tender at Detroit's Bohemian National Home. The band arrives at the venue a bit early and rings what seems to be a bell as the doors are firmly locked. Upon pressing the bell a real live loud dog barking sound is heard. At this point the band deems it necessary to head over to the hotel in order to let the dog cool down and to let the Bo-Natty Home get tight.

After checking in at the hotel, The Black Hollies notice ?Love exiting the elevator sporting his signature pick-in-'fro hair style, fresh to death. Too quick on the move for PBT to secure an interview there is speculation as to whether ?Love is headed to the corner of McComb and Brush which is located a few blocks from the hotel. The band learns that ?Love is in fact in town to DJ this evening but not at the corner of the aforementioned intersection.




The Black Hollies return to The Bohemian National Home where Joel, the owner, treats the band amazingly. Joel shares information as to the history of the venue and welcomes the band into his personal living space, a distressed work of art itself which displays his father's personal art work. There is a 600 capacity space upstairs. The smaller room down stairs feels like a spacious living room with couches, a beautiful old billiards table, and two sturdy pianos. The vibe is great as the band happily supports the cause forgoing the free cans of Miller to pay top dollar for New Castle Ale. The crowd this evening is few in numbers but deep in soul. The openers, The Dial Tones, are a fine group of young musicians. The Black Hollies meet and greet each person in attendance, connecting with The Muldoons, a great familial rock and roll trio out of Detroit. The Black Hollies extend their sincerest gratitude to all who attend the show at Bohemian National Home.



Before retiring I perform one aggressive walk through a casino close to the hotel. With hands shaking I deliberate over whether or not to let The Black Hollies' $60 net from the evening's performance ride on black. I gain my senses, exit the casino without betting, and eventually cross paths with a donkey. I ask the donkey if he'll give me a ride back to the hotel for a penny. My inquiry is met with the donkey's startling reply, "What are you kidding me? It costs the United States 1.4 cents in copper just to make a penny these days. If you think I'm giving this ass away for anything less than that you're outta you're fuckin' mind brother!" The conversation ensues into a discussion about our country's current gas price crisis. Mental note: Detroit, lots of midnight creepers as well as talking donkeys.

The Black Hollies cross paths with ?Love one more time during evening's end as they notice a brand new Mercedes Benz parked outside of the hotel lobby. The Mercedes is flanked by two beautiful women anticipating someone's return. As ?Love is spotted sporting a speedy gait across the lobby floor it is apparent that these gorgeous women are waiting on him. At this point Justin Angelo poignantly observes, "?Love rolls deep while The Black Hollies weep." The statement is made in conjunction with the singing of the final song of the night, "Four Dudes In A Room," usually the encore performed after the night's official closer, "Techin' and Giggin.'

Marble Sack Shuffle Causes Toronto Blackout

It is no secret that the hair of Justin Angelo Morey has its own zipcode, 1-Double-0-1-STR8. While Wiley's secret is in his diet, Morey's secret is in his hair. How does he do it? The answer lies in what The Black Hollies refer to as Morey's Black Marble Sack Shuffle. The Marble Sack Shuffle is a daily ritual wherein Morey showers, blow-dries, and then straightens his hair with surgigcal precision. The MSS usually clocks in at about an hour but can sometimes last up to an hour and twenty minutes, never less than fifty minutes. First, Morey lies down on the shower floor. Then, much like a baptismal rite, the water rains o'er him from above, cleansing the previous evening's impurities. How much time is spent on the shower floor is directly proportional to how many pints Morey consumes the night before and whether or not he attains a proper "soak-up" which usually amounts to a couple of burgers from Jack-In-The-Box or a frozen "Bomb" burrito from 7-11. Neither delicacy is ingested without exorbitant amounts of hot sauce which Morey deems a necessary deterrent to all impurities. Justin Angelo Morey bleeds hot sauce. The band refers to the first segment of Morey's Marble Sack Shuffle ritual as the "Elizabeth Shue Phase," derived from a scene in Leaving Las Vegas wherein Shue takes a similar kind of shower.

Upon shower's end, Morey dries himself, applies some kind of unidentified talc, and slips into a pair of "titey-blackies," aka the black marble sack. Morey performs the blow-drying phase of the MSS upright in front of the mirror in the hotel bathroom. Towards the end of Phase II the other band members either need to use the bathroom or shower themselves. At this point, Morey relinquishes his stronghold over the bathroom as a king abdicates his throne.

Morey performs the third and final phase of his MSS sitting cross-legged on the floor. Morey switches from blow-dryer to heated straightener and usually needs to power it off of an extension cord so as to reach the power outlet in the bathroom. Just as a painter puts a finishing touch on a painting, Morey tweaks his straightening work with strategic combing and product placement. It is at this point that Morey rises and slaps on some pants henceforth bringing the Marble Sack Shuffle to an end. When asked to comment on the necessity for such intricate attention to detail Morey states, "Even though I firmly believe that 'Oh What A Night' is one of the top five most heinous songs ever written or performed in the entire history of music, I really can't take anything away from Vali. When it was time for him to step on stage he dresses to the nines. That's what got him as far as he went. Yeah, Vali was a ma-moni but he built an entire career on bryl creme." (Contrarily, Morey cites Vali's Northern Soul monster, "You're Ready Now," to be a great song. He also cites Vali's, "Let's Hang On," to be one of the greatest songs ever written.)

On May 3, 2008, Morey's Marble Sack shuffle goes too far. Me, Ferrante, and Wiley decide to dine at the hotel bar before the evening's show at The Silver Dollar in Toronto, Ontario. This gives Morey the window of time he needs to shuffle, about an hour. As we bite into our entrees the power in the entire hotel suddenly goes out. People are confused. A Canadian woman seated at the table next to ours offers the classic joke, "OOH. That's my leg, ay." I get up to survey the situation. As I come back to our table I notice Wiley sipping his French Onion soup in utter darkness as if nothing is awry. Barely able to see each other, Ferrante raises an eyebrow while I shrug my shoulders as if to say to each other, "What did you think he was going to do, let the soup get cold?"

After fifteen minutes elapse the dining room is illuminated to lukewarm applause. I inquire with the concierge, "Sir, do you know what happened?" The concierge replies in a French accent, "It seems there was an electrical short which emanated from room 7209 that, in turn, caused a momentary glich in our mainframe." My eyes widen as I keep to myself the fact that 7209 is The Black Hollies' hotel room. The band attributes the exact cause of the hotel's electrical short to be a direct result of Morey not utilizing the proper adaptors necessary for performing a Marble Sack Shuffle on Canadian circuitry.



To Morey's credit he does forsee a possible Canadian circuitry mismatch and attempts to transport a power converter across the Canadian border. Immigration officers confiscate the converter deeming it "hazardous materials." Morey baffled, presses the issue asking the officer in charge, "If we really wanted to blow up Canada with a hair dryer," pointing to Ferrante, "do you think he'd be wearing a vintage Rush 2112 concert t-shirt?" The immigration officer, now less than impressed, makes it his mission to scour our records for any inkling of a spotted past. At this point Ferrante realizes that he supplants his US passport with an old head shot from his audition as Silvio for the original Sopranos pilot. The band laments that crossing the Canadian border is akin to visiting a priest in a Catholic confessional. In both cases dudes behind glass attempt to make you feel guilty. After the immigration officer finally relents, on account of admiring the Sopranos for its accuracy in decpicting Italian-American life in NJ, he issues the band a penance of two hail marys, an our father, and a special request that The Black Hollies promise to only dine at Tim Horton's, referred to by some Canadians as Timmy's, for the entire duration of our trip. We oblige and are granted admission into Canada.

With the border and Marble Sack Shuffle incidents the band arrives at The Silver Dollar in Toronto considerably behind schedule. Dan, the show's promoter, seems a bit perturbed about this. The band worries but then realizes Dan is not at all angry. He's an ex-journalist with a low tolerance for crap and an appetite for the mind-blowing, a hardcore lifer and a great guy. Colin and Cameron from The Disraelis quell any anxiety the band harbors as they reach out to The Black Hollies with open arms. Tthe Disraelis make the band feel more than welcome and assure that the night will be fun. This kind of outreach goes a long way especially when you're in a town where you don't know anyone. The Black Hollies not only gain new friends in the Disraelis and Dan, who after our set is entirely blown away and in spirits higher than an entire housing project, but also manage to turn on every single person in The Silver Dollar this evening. Women dance. Dan Dances. After their set the band converses with most members of the audience riding the high of being well-received.

Not to belabor the point because I know that he's been getting alot of ink in Palestinian Bluetooth as of late, but The Black Hollies realize that mentioning Dave Coulier is hands down the best ice-breaker in any Canadian bar. Most Canadians are blown away by an Amaerican's appreciation for one of Canada's forgotten comedic heroes. The Black Hollies would like to thank everyone who came out to The Silver Dollar in Toronto, especially Dan and The Disraelis.

Why Coulier?

How does a guy like Dave Coulier keep it fresh in 2008? I don't know but The Black Hollies receive word today that Coulier is alive and well and can be found cutting it up at The Laugh Factory in Montreal on a bi-monthly basis. Is Coulier Canada's hidden treasure? You would think so. I talked to a few Canadians tonight about this and they are well aware that Coulier is gold and openly admit they are not trying to hide him from anyone.
On the other hand, Tim Horton's is to Canada as The Olive Garden is to Italy, except that Tim Horton's isn't some bastardization of proper Canadian food. Time Horton's IS Canadian cuisine. Happy families go in there and eat donuts together while discussing the episode of Degarssi The Next Generation where Emma gets gonorreah in her throat from giving blow jobs and consequently has to miss her big school recital because she can't sing on account of the bum throat. I overhear a mother, father, and two kids in their early teens hashing this infamous episode out over a couple of Glaze Au Chocolats. It's been a while since I've brushed up on my French. So the family may have been talking about something else that I botched in translating to myself. Degrassi the Next Generation is pure Canadian television, not afraid to tackle real issues and not afraid to leave a little length in the back while doing it. You can actually walk into a Canadian hair salon with a head shot of Dave Coulier, sit in a chair, and the barber just lets the scissors do the walking. Montreal, the center of it all, is not just a France cover band but a France tribute band, real French but not really France.

On their way there The Black Hollies encounter a sun beam on an otherwise rainy day. Liz, the district manager at The Stewart's chain in Schoon Lake, NY, lost a bet about a month ago during the last freeze of the season. Liz bet the members of her staff that they couldn't sell 100 milkshakes in one day. If she loses she dresses up like an ice cream cone and pumps gas for the patrons. Surprisingly The Stewart's chain turns out an astounding number of shakes and malts on the day of the bet proving that sub-zero temperatures are no deterrent to the people of Schoon Lake wanting to suck down vanilla shakes. Even though Liz loses the bet she still loves it. She pumps our gas with an ear to ear grin which proves contagious as the members of the band feel her flow and carry it across the Canadian border. The Stewart gas station also offers a "Milkshake Mention" sale/give away. If the staff doesn't tell you shakes are $2.25 between the hours of 2PM and 4PM you get one free. Lucky for the band we arrive to gas up around 3:45PM. Lo and behold the staff forgets to mention the milkshake sale to none other than HJWV. Wiley promptly collects his reward. See Diary of a Foodman for further details.

The show tonight is at Casa Del Popol. It goes over well as the band performs to a warm and welcoming crowd. Great venue, great staff. The band is fed and properly soaked. Evan and Dominique go out of their way to make it a special night. I'd highly recommend washing down the delicous Samosas with a pint of MacAulison's Creamy Ale. Not a bad do.

George Clooney v.s. Chris Burke

The night begins with a band meal certainly worth mentioning. The Black Hollies venture to Frank Pepe's in New Haven; great pizza, que fack sucker staff. Kirsten Dunst walks in. The first words that leave my mouth are S-S-Suddio. I reach out and invite her and her friends to the performance. Dunst politely accepts the invitation. I set up what I believe will be an exclusive interview for Palestinian Bluetooth taking place later in the evening at Cafe 9. Our old school italian waiter, aka Allen Town era Billy Joel with Lenny Dykstra's helmet for a haricut takes notice and proceeds to treat us less than civil... He gets all Frank Stallone on us but with a dry venomous undertone promoting an odd vibe. The band does not appreciate this. Perhaps we should have paralytically gawked at Dunst as if the Twin Towers were crumbling before our eyes precisely mimicking the wait staff. Had it been Montel Williams we would have extended the invitation as well. We're friendly human beings. Had it been George Clooney or Chris Burke we'd reach out. Who would Dykstra trust in the emergency room, Clooney. We'd take Burke based on his Dryfire Walkoff performance alone. We'd love to one night anticipate Blair and Joe from The Facts of Life arriving at our show after being put on the guest list. Dykstra and his waitstaff/cohorts, especially Kieth Hernandez, successfully smash our fun. Especially when Dykstra refers to our band as The Black Olives probably on account of my mumbling not fully recovered from the S-S-Suddio encounter. Lenny Douche then attempts to convince us that Montreal is a twelve hour drive from New Haven. The band exits Frank Pepe's with a bitter taste and predicts a Dunst no-show.

The show itself is a success. The entire staff at Cafe 9 in New Haven are solid folk. Paul, Dan, Uber, and Warren are amazing 5 out 5 Zagat-esque treatment. The band plays to an enthusiastic crowd of 35, gets paid, and commences merriment.

Morey converses with the woman who performed the Poconos Mount Airy Lodge jingle back in the day. Ferrante relaxes coming off a hectic red eye flight from Vienna to JFK then on the puddle jumper out of Teterboro into Hartford. Wiley finishes out the night illuminating subjects such as Merkabas, the theft of Geronimo's bones, the Skull and Bones Society, MK Ultra, and worm holes through Time. Kirsten Dunst's absence from the show is felt as it marks the last chance for a Palestinian Bluetooth exclusive. We're holding Lenny Dykstra accountable and teaming up with Tony from Lombardi's in NYC to buy out Frank Pepe's and fill it not with pizza but with head shots of fogotten stars from the 1980's, specifically Dave Coulier, the parapalegic actress from Different Strokes, Bronson Pinchot, Nell Carter, Blossom and Joey Lawrence's father, Valerie Burtinelli, Craig T. Nelson, Paul Resier, the kid that played Winny Cooper, and Judge Rienhold.

AS220 Providence, RI

The band arrives in Providence with an incorrect address for the venue. We shimmy 'Ol Bluetooth into a tight alley where we believe the optimal load door to be. Ferrante performs what the band refers to as his aggressive walk through in order to make assertive contact at the bar. Myself and Wiley are ten paces in tow. I witness Ferrante mime words to a barman in the distance. Upon looking to my left I immediately notice a 10X12 framed collage of oiled up full-frontal musclemen bearing scholngskis. Wiley and I exit in accordance. This bar is not the venue AS220. Ferrante figures it out and exits shortly thereafter. We later find out it's a gay bar called Shakers not unlike the name of female go-go bar and IRINA Agency host, Shakers, in Carlstadt, NJ.

The band obtains new information from a toothless man wearing army fatigues. The live space for AS220 is two blocks away. We arrive at the actual venue and decide it imperative that the band attempt to hock its beaded cab-driver seat cover as a result of it being more hinderance than comfort. (Three days earlier the band decides to jettison a jumbo citrus air freshener that emits what is refered to as an "old person's bathroom" scent which heavily relies on unused fragrant soaps from the early 70's. In the aireEntering AS220 there hovers an apparent odor of onions, vinegar, and human musk, not unlike the fragance one might encounter attending a Buzz Oven show in July at ABC NO RIO circa 1992. The odor is of unidentified origin.

We meet space manager Mike at the door. The bar and restaurant seem to be a separate establishment. I inquire with bartender Susana about food and drink for the band. She informs me that drinks are half price and the kitchen is closed. Luckily we were given a gift from someone we met in Seekonk, MA, the previous day, a 5L mini-keg of Heineken. The first pirority after unloading the gear is obtaining ice, as the band travels with a portable cooler bag. The van doubles as a bar and the band doesn't anticipate a problem with setting up their own bar on stage as opposed to buying half price drinks.

The two opening bands play deafening experimental noise scapes of warfare to the smell that still hovered in the room, divisive.

As 11:30 rolls around the The Black Hollies set up and commence performance to a thin but extremely appreciative crowd of about nine, including MIke the friendly space manager and Frank the helpful sound mixer. A few people dance to the songs while both audience and band are more than appreciative. It is equally important that a band perform as gracious for few as a band would many. In the end, the night proves fruitful in performance aspect yet deteriorative in financial aspect as The Black Hollies receive nada dinero. No stranger to gate sales proving a bit short come evening's end, the Black hollies attribute the low turnout as resulting from the people of Providence, RI, getting word that the band's cover of Your Better Run by The Racals is in breach of AS220's "No Covers" policy.

The bathrooms are clean and the stage is spacious. AS220 vibe is not uptight or lacking humor just a bit dry. Zagat-esque sleeps on it.

The band's day off is spent discussing eschatology. The day also marks Justin Angelo Morey's first stint as headlining act for Palestinian Bluetooth's, "What 'Choo Gonna Do? Drive! Fest." Ferrante, the festival's usual headliner had to cancel due to a Wine Spectator's all expenses paid trip to Austria where he is slated to receive the magazine's "Critical Appreciation Award" for his poignant descriptions of Austrian Reisling's bouquet. Wiley serves as main support in the shotgun seat which also marks his first appearance as a driver/co-pilot.

The Middle East Cambridge, MA

The drive to Boston is its usual snail paced trot. Gun Hill Road is always a false point of alleviation. Rubberneckers love it when garbage trucks catch fire. Why keep driving? Gotta see how close you can get to the disaster without your own car catching fire, right? Connecticut nevers lets us down and continually earns its title as "The Parking Lot State." The band begins logging Wiley's food consumption in a serious attempt to get closer to his secret. The link can be found in The Others under HJWV Diary of a Foodman.

After a solid six hours the band finally arrives at The Middle East. At this point, The Black Hollies deem it fitting to conduct a Zagat-esque survey/rating of every fine bar, arthaus, nightclub, restaraunt, roadhouse, and crabshack in which the band is slated to perform with the sole intention of doing a service to bands across the land because in the end, "Even though we spent $75 on alcohol and only got paid in Twizzlers, at least WE PLAAAYED."

This is how it works. The venue receives an overall star rating out of five possible stars. The factors the band will consider are the following.

1.)Sanitary Conditions of Bathroom:

Whether a particular bathroom is "shittable." Does it lock? Is it without proper stall coverage? Do you need your bandmate to stand guard outside the door? Does it only offer cattle trough style urinals? Are there feces on the toilet seat? Did that special wild man, aka Yarnix, really have to piss in the sink right before your very eyes? The condition of the bathroom will be properly documented with before and after photographs.

2.)Hospitality:

How friendly is the bar/wait staff, doorperson, sound mixer, promoter, etc? If offered, how good is the food? Are the beer taps dirty? Dude, we can't pay you tonight but we'll gladly buy you a round of PBR. Is an actual dog or cat tapping the kegs behind the bar? If your rider is crossed out with an X and faxed back to your booking agent just settle for getting high on life that night. Smiles and a good all around vibe go a long way especially when you have the shakes.

3.)Stage/Greenroom Conditions:

Are you performing on top of five milk crates that are still standing from when Die Kruezen rolled through in '83? Are you singing into a microphone that wacky Robbie, the loose-cannon front man from the opening band, just had to rub on his ball sack? Is your greenroom the bathroom?

The Middle East in Cambridge, MA, is a top notch venue all around. As a result, the venue is rewarded a 5 out of 5 Zagat-esque rating. The entire staff did their very best and were hospitable. The cook actually came inside to watch The Black Hollies perform a couple of songs. The bartender, Roger, recommended the lamb cous cous as the restaurant's primo fare. The dish was outta sight, perfect amount of spice and the lamb fell right off of the bone while not being too gummy. Dick from The Prime Movers, our main man upstairs, was incredibly welcoming. He greeted the band with a positive vibe and offered sage-like advice with regard to touring in general, recommending that the band get over to France and Spain ASAP. DJ, the sound mixer, was a true professional throughout the entire night. Mark, the door person, was friendly and prompt in settling up with the band at the end of the night. The other bands on the bill, Nudity and Scout Niblett, were an absolute delight. And the bathroom held strong for the entire night. The Black Hollies would like to extend our sincerest gratitude to The Middle East. The band can't wait to come back in June opening for The Lyres.