The Revivalists
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Wednesday, November 7th, 2012

Anybody Catch Last Night’s Episode of “Prank My Mom”?

Hello, friends!  Rob here.

I am NOT going to get all political on you.

The internet is full of opinions right now, and if you want to read some of them, go ahead.  Close your eyes, type random letters into Google, and click anywhere.  You will find opinions. Unless the letters you randomly type are: “Revivalists Blog” and you click on the link to this post.  Then you’ll end up back here.  In which case,

Hello, friends!  Rob here.

Did you know that none of this year’s election results, from a hotly-contested presidential race to landmark wins for homosexuals, reefer smokers, and lady senators, to long-overdue measures that allow the state of Louisiana to actually punish corrupt officials, will matter?  It’s true.  Because guess what, bitches?

The end is nigh.

How nigh, you ask? Very. Very very. So freaking very nigh, in fact, that we at The Revivalists have actually made the mistake of scheduling shows after the end of the world without even realizing it. Not only will our South Florida New Year’s run most likely take place on a smoldering chunk of the earth’s crust as it hurtles into the cruel eternity of deep space, but, embarrassingly enough, we had the audacity to book a show at Vinyl in Pensacola, a city we claim to love, on the very night of our destruction.  So if you’re in Pensacola, please spend the end of the world with us.  If the world doesn’t end, we will reward your unwavering loyalty by playing a second show at Vinyl on the following night!  I’d say that’s a pretty sweet deal, provided we don’t all die shrieking obscenities backwards in Latin.

Not to say that we haven’t had a great run.  The last two weeks were life-affirming enough that The Revivalists can all face the screaming apocalypse with our heads held high, at least until the supportive muscles in our necks are corroded beyond use by the acidic vapors likely to saturate our atmosphere come December 21st.

Voodoo Fest!  That was fun!  Not just the festival, but the whole weekend.  We started out Friday in Lafayette, which worked out pretty well because it was an early outdoor show, so we were probably headed home by about 9:30, giving us plenty of time to get home and rest before our big show catch Dumpstaphunk at the Howlin’ Wolf and then, in Ed’s and my case, jam the afterparty until about five in the morning.

The festival itself was, of course, an amazing experience.  It always is.  I’m not sure what more to say about it, because really that’s all I’ve got.  They took good care of us, the show was good, people were there, and then we did interviews and watched other bands and stuff.  It was just a very nice day all around.

Fortunately, New Orleans wasn’t too sick of us by Wednesday.  Thank you to our fair city for having the fortitude to come down to the French Quarter in the middle of your work week and bring the fun.  For anyone who missed it, the big secret was that we were all dressed as various Michael Jacksons and we peppered in a few MJ songs over the course of the evening.  It was pretty fun (and surprisingly easy) burying ourselves in somebody else’s music (and wardrobe) for the week leading up to the show, and we’re already thinking about tackling another of the all-time greats next year.  Not sure who, though.  Also, I would be remiss if I failed to thank our friends The Scorseses for opening the show in thoroughly proper fashion, and for loaning us their horn section (an airtight and unstoppable mixture of equal parts Danny Nixdorff and Sam Bortugno).  I would also extend my gratitude to freakish guitar monsters Eric McFadden and Seth Winters for joining us onstage for a few songs and leaving a trail of rubble and embers in their wake.

That means they were good.

And then this weekend happened!  After a few scheduling issues, we finally managed to get back to Hattiesburg on Friday.  I like Hattiesburg.  There’s good chicken there.  Saturday, we were supposed to play for ninety minutes at one of Louisiana State University’s distinguished Greek-letter organizations, but it turns out that the right honorable Baton rouge Police Department does not acknowledge the sanctity of Daylight Savings Time, so we got cut off at 2:00 AM part one, instead of extra-special fall-back 2:00 AM part two.  At the time we were upset that we had to stop playing music and disappoint all of our friends in Baton Rouge, but in retrospect I would like to commend the BRPD for refusing to acknowledge Daylight Savings Time, because Daylight Savings Time is stupid.

Sunday we were honored to play an amazing event called Gleason Gras.  For those of you who don’t know who Steve Gleason is, get the hell out of New Orleans and don’t come back until you do.  Here, I’ll make it easy for you:  Gleason Gras is an event that Team Gleason puts on to raise awareness and support for anyone who is fighting ALS.  Musically, some cool stuff happened, but I don’t even want to talk about that because it’s ancillary to the spirit of the event and after hearing Steve speak and seeing the level of determination and support and downright grit that gets these people through day after day really put some things in perspective for me.  For what it’s worth Steve, you’ve made a believer out of me.  No white flags.

So that’s that.  Just getting ready to leave for a quick tour, which will bleed into Thanksgiving, followed by a little time off.  Now before I go, let me talk to you about Obama for a minute…

Just kidding.

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