Outside the Winner's Circle Lounge, San Antonio. The Beatings rock Emo's in Austin. With Brasilia outside Taco Land. A disappointing crowd at the Boiler Room in Bir#!&@?h@m. Orlando gets a Beating. This picture was described as "Monkey Island"...which we were under the impression was a series of games from Lucasarts. Who knew it was an actual place? You learn something new every day. Either that or they're shitting us.

September 22nd -- El Paso, Texas
We drove all night to get to El Paso, the Texas city that is closest to the Mexican border. We slept for a while and then Dennis and Erin went to get The Hulk an oil change. While waiting, we came across a cool Mercado in el Plaza De Fox. We went in and Dennis fought off a five-year-old pickpocket with some quick Spanish and a scowl, and came away with a sweet belt buckle. It says "when this van's a rockin', don't come a knockin'". Then we went out to a Mexican restaurant for some authentic food. Erin had a hard time ordering from our Spanish-speaking waitress because she could not figure out how to say "vegetarian". Looking ignorant, she asked for help and now she knows it is "estoy pro vegetale"...or something like that. The food was delicious and there was a Mexican singer belting out some traditional Mexican tunes.

Then, immediately after we got back, Erin stepped onto a patch of grass that looked innocent enough, but attacked her with dozens of sharp spurs. Pobrecita. Who cultivates and tends to a lawn that would kill you if it had the chance? After some poolside recuperation, we headed out to find a cantina to hole up in and give the Federales the slip. The drinks were cold and the locals were friendly. Tomorrow is an eight-hour drive to San Antonio. A good hangover will make the miles just fly by...

September 23rd -- Taco Land, San Antonio, Texas
We arrive way too early at Taco Land, per our usual fashion. From the outside, Taco Land looks to be about 15 feet by 15 feet. There are overgrown weeds all around, and busted concrete ringing a patio, which is populated by locals who are drinking and providing some "color". There are no windows. A stray dog wanders the street. When Eldridge asks where the rest room, is he is told "Go outside". Stung, we retreat to our lodgings where the accommodations are indoors.

After taking care of some business, we hit the town. Ah, the River Walk of San Antonio -- a beautiful feat of city engineering and a tourist trap of a higher order. Being the mice we are, we are sucked quickly into a River Walk-side restaurant, continuing our city-by-city sampling of Mexican cuisine. As feral cats run amok in the background, we watch tourists go by on pontoon boats, not even ten feet away. The Mexican food is surprisingly average. There are no railings on the River Walk, but despite our most fervent hopes, no one falls in.

Tonight: the world famous, historic, legendary, rock institution that is Taco Land. There is a grave injustice that guided tours are given at the Alamo and yet Taco Land is ignored on virtually every piece of literature describing the great landmarks of Texas. No doubt more people probably died here than at the Shrine of Liberty, and for just as great a cause. And they were probably all killed by Ram, the horn-rimmed spectacled proprietor, lover of rock music, ladies' shoes and the F-word. We soon discover that the bathrooms are indeed located outside.

As there is a first for everything, we soon find out that the promoter of tonight's show is not coming. He's in jail. As a result, his band cancels, reducing the bill from three bands to two. Ram will not let us use the house PA, since it's not his, Everything's looking good. We congregate around the misshapen tree that blocks the rear exit and suck down PBRs and Lone Stars. We trade tour stories with Brasilia, the other band of the evening, who are on tour from North Carolina. And we fight our way in and out of the bathrooms, the doors of which are impeded from swinging by cracked, slanted pavement.

Brasilia performs a mostly instrumental set, screaming out lyrics only when the mood suits them. Word comes during their set that the PA's owner is on the way and soon there will be vocals. By the time we take the stage we have mikes. Playing for an audience of less than ten usually brings out the best in us, and tonight is no exception. A couple of Labradors mosey in to check out our set, and mosey back out. Our set apparently puts Ram in a good mood; he gives Tony a couple of free PBRs and showers compliments on Erin for her taste in shoes.

September 24th -- Rudyard's, Houston, Texas
Aliens is a really cool movie. Possibly the best of all the Alien movies. Possibly the best of any Sigourney Weaver film. The flame-throwers are sweet. And when Ripley confronts the queen alien and is like, "I'm gonna kick your ovipositor in the space-dirt, bitch," that's sweet too. The fine folks at Rudyard's provided us with an exclusive large screen viewing of this classic.

The fine folks at Rudyard's also provided us with a free meal, which we shared with Erin's Mother-In-Law, Brenda. She gave us a giant bag of various treats and goodies. What a sweetheart.

The other bands canceled, and so did the audience, apparently. So we watched the movie, And we sampled some fine free local suds called Shiner Bock. And then, when we could waste no more time, and when we could no longer avoid the inevitable...we took the stage.

We didn't quite Kick Out the Jams so much as we Asked the Jams Nicely To Leave. It was heartening to look up during the second song and see seven or eight people in the audience. It was disheartening to look up during the fifth song to see five of them leave. It took them that long to figure out that we weren't a glam-punk band from Baltimore. The two people who did stay really liked us and talked us up for a while. Despite the lack of attendance, our spirits were high and the bartender even pulled a few dollars together for our effort.

September 25th -- Emo's, Austin, Texas
We drive through the night to Austin and crash with another Fox affiliate just outside of town. Eldridge and Tony spend a better part of the day getting some equipment issues resolved, to varying degrees of satisfaction.

We get some wings and head over to Emo's where we meet some old friends from the Boston/Greenwood Lake loop. We hang out and pound dollar Lone Stars, sitting at oversize picnic tables until show time.

The show at Emo's was put together by John Hunt from Fivehead, Austin's own indie rock gods. Everything is in order: no bands cancel, there are folks in the audience, and the acts on the bill actually work to complement one another sound-wise. The first band is the Prids, a goth quartet from Oregon who blew us away with their lights, smoke, and early '80s synth-pop majesty. They're on tour for seven weeks -- you should check them out if they come around. There's one more band after the Prids and then we play. It's getting tough at this point to objectively describe our shows, but there was good audience response after each song and we were rocking out. The audience was very enthusiastic and that was immensely encouraging. We closed with "Brighter than Bright", ending with a prolonged jam/mess that brought the house down.

Fivehead took the stage next and started with a sentimental, GBV-esque tune and continued on with a solid set of indie-rock. They reminded me of the Lemonheads and the Replacements.

With the specter of the drive to Birmingham and Hurricane Isadore looming over us like a giant Rancor monster, we loaded out as soon as Fivehead finished up. It took us some time to get all the goodbyes in, but soon we were on the road, with only 1100 miles to go to the next show.

September 26th -- Boiler Room, Birmingham, Alabama
The debate right now is over whether or not we should have an entry for this date. There are some who say we should never mention this day again for as long as we live -- indeed, that we should kick anyone's ass who even utters the words "Birming" and "ham" in the same sentence.

As the first rays of sunlight crept into the loft, we were in Shreveport, LA. After a brief pit stop, we headed right for the belly of the beast. The remnants of Tropical Storm Isadore were right in our path. For another eight hours and three states we pressed on under driving conditions that make Dennis weep uncontrollably and huddle in a corner whenever they are brought up.

We pulled into Bir*@#!ham around 5:00 p.m. and promptly found the most depressed neighborhood in the continental US to break down in. Out of gas. We pushed the van to the side of the road. Eldridge, Erin and the big man stay with the stricken van and Fox and Dennis go to get gas in the pouring rain. After running the ten-block Doberman guard-dog obstacle course and negotiating the English language with the gas station employees, they return. After filling up, we realize that the tank was not empty after all -- probably just some water in the line. Driver Fox is absolved of all guilt. We quickly take our leave of the general area and find the nearest hotel to dry off and clean the gas off our bodies.

Another two bands canceled and the promoter dug up a real gem in their stead. The Boiler Room holds 700 people. Or so they tell us. One thing's for certain: the Boiler Room definitely holds twelve people comfortably. Some monitor issues plague us, but we battle through and even get some people dancing.

Androgynous-Waif-Core... That's the musical wave of the future, folks. Get on board. The band that followed opened our eyes to this genre-on-the-verge. Two singers weighing in at a buck-fifty, combined. Elf-ish haircuts. Tight black half-shirts. Floodwater-length black poly-blend slacks. Stage humping. Candy throwing. Fellatio simulating. Wall of noisy "core". Reading this, it sounds like it would be fun -- or funny, at the least. You be the judge...it'll be on every music store shelf in three and a half months.

Back to the safety of our modest hotel room for a nightcap and sit-up competitions.

September 27th -- Orpheum, Tampa, Florida
Completing the final phase of the "Big Push East", we pull into Tampa after an eleven-hour drive. We load into the club and sound check, and then head down to the biker rally in town. Motorcycles line the main drag, and we find a pizza place to get some food.

Back at the club, family reunions, drinks, and even a few flirtations transpire. The Unrequited Loves provide an energetic set of the purest rock, drawing on some great influences from the last 35 years, but keeping it original. Chase Theory followed with some damn fine emo-oriented, but not formulaic tunes. In addition, they are damn fine dudes, with whom we made fast friends.

The Beatings dropped the bomb.

As the smoke cleared, we received some warm accolades and more door money than was warranted. There are some really nice people outside of the Northeast. Somehow, we load the van, and find our way back to beautiful Homosassa Springs, FL (that's right, "Homosassa") where Erin's father lives. Beds, food, pool, big-screen TV, manatees -- Paul's got it all. This will be our home base for the next three days.

September 28th -- Will's Pub, Orlando, Florida
After a day of much-needed sleep, showers and swimming, we make the two-hour drive to Orlando. Not much to see on the ride, just sprawl and swamp and orange groves. We find Will's Pub and are greeted with free Rolling Rock, free pool, a Playboy pinball game, a well stocked jukebox, and too much time on our hands. We are informed (for the second time on this tour) that Bright Eyes is in town so not to expect a great turnout.

Our friends from the Chase Theory show up and promptly teach us how to play pool in some friendly two on two round robin tourney action. They take the stage first and are even more entertaining than last night. We follow with a somewhat disappointing set. Not as much energy as Tampa. Maybe that's an unfair yardstick by which to measure our shows, but it is a bit of a let down after last night. Our spirits are quickly rekindled with a pool rematch and some drinks with the Chase Theory guys. Sure, they display a supernatural ability at billiards, but their drinking ability is merely terrestrial.

Hugs and tears were exchanged at our parting, followed by a hazy drive back to the swanky Westin where Eldridge's connection comes through with another too-good-for-us hotel room. Along the way, we encounter several roadblocks and detours. But most confounding of all is the pimped-out mid-'90s Honda Accord low rider we get "stuck behind", with hardcore porn on its flip-down TV. Ahh, Orlando.

Tomorrow, we rest. It's about damn time.

We'll post a new installment of The Beatings' diary every week. Want to be mentioned in it? Get your sorry ass out to see the band on the remaining portion of their tour. Here are the dates:

10/04/02 | Southgate House | Newport, KY
10/05/02 | YWCA (all ages) | Huntington, WV
10/06/02 | Black Cat | Washington, DC
10/07/02 | Talking Head | Baltimore, MD
10/08/02 | Fire | Philadelphia, PA
10/09/02 | Knitting Factory | New York, NY
10/10/02 | TT the Bears | Cambridge, MA