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| | Tour dates and about The Big Bang! | | | | Sunday, July 20, 2008 (5:54 PM) | | "The Big Bang" is a two camera, hour long, weekly show in which the band will summarize, quip, wax prophetic and basically discuss the weeks events out and about, in the studio, strip bars, gun clubs, etc. Following will be an acoustic performance of whatever song the band feels like playing that night. Maybe ya’ll suggest something. The most suggested gets played :)
07.21 - The E-Lab Sessions - Los Angeles, CA
07.22 - Recording tracks for Warner Bros TV Show - Malibu, CA
07.23 - Recording tracks for Warner Bros TV Show - Malibu, CA
07.25 - The Big Bang! - Los Angeles, CA
07.28 - The E-Lab Sessions - Los Angeles, CA
07.30 - Streaming rehearsal on Livevideo.com - Los Angeles, CA
08.01 - The Big Bang! - Los Angeles, CA
08.04 - The E-Lab Sessions - Los Angeles, CA
08.06 - Streaming rehearsal on Livevideo.com - Los Angeles, CA
08.08 - The Big Bang! - Los Angeles, CA
08.11 - The E-Lab Sessions - Los Angeles, CA
08.13 - Streaming rehearsal on Livevideo.com - Los Angeles, CA
08.15 - The Big Bang! - Los Angeles, CA
08.18 - The E-Lab Sessions - Los Angeles, CA
08.20 - Streaming rehearsal on Livevideo.com - Los Angeles, CA
08.22 - The Big Bang! - Los Angeles, CA
08.25 - The E-Lab Sessions - Los Angeles, CA
08.27 - Streaming Rehearsal on Livevideo.com - Los Angeles, CA | | | 10 Views | 2  Thumbs Up | 1 Comment |  |
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| | The E-Lab Sessions (Covers from TB5) | | | | Monday, July 14, 2008 (9:41 AM) | | "We have a series taking place on every Monday, every week. For "The E-Lab Sessions", we will be filming the live recording/production of songs we dig, streaming live at Livevideo.com/thebangkokfive.
First one is tomorrow at 2PM :)
Sessions will be produced by acclaimed producer and founder of The Supreme Beings of Leisure, Rick Torres. We will be recording "New Slang" by The Shins from "Oh, Inverted World", "Mad World" by Tears For Fears and "Time To Pretend" by MGMT off of "Oracular Spectacular" for starters. If you have a song you'd love to hear us play, let us know and maybe we'll do it (Nothing lame please)" | | | | 9 Views | 2 Thumbs Up | 1 Comment | |
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| | About our show on July 16th (At the Key Club / David Lynch Foundation) | | | Sunday, July 13, 2008 (10:33 PM)
(I'm feeling anxious) | | HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA, JULY 10, 2008 – The David Lynch Foundation (DLF) is celebrating its third anniversary this year, and in the foundation’s honor a red carpet benefit concert will be held at the Key Club, 9039 Sunset Blvd. - doors open at 6:30pm. DLF Founder and Chairman David Lynch is an award-winning director, writer, and producer whose work includes Eraserhead, Elephant Man, Wild at Heart, Twin Peaks, Blue Velvet, Lost Highway, Straight Story, Mulholland Drive, and Inland Empire. Lynch will host the reception and silent auction which will be held from 7pm-8:30pm. The silent auction will feature a lithograph by David Lynch himself, a print of Bob Marley in one of his last photo sessions by photographer Glen La Ferman, artwork by local artists, clothing and music. David Lynch’s “Signature Cup” coffee brand will be served along with food and beverages, and DJ Ana Dim Mak will be spinning. Lynch, who will be announcing the bands, will be joined by Joe Escalante, radio personality on Indie 103.1. The Indie 103.l Morning Show with Joe Escalante (Mon.-Fri., 6am-10am) features David Lynch on-air as he gives the weather report.
Contributing sponsors of the event include Indie 103.1, LA Weekly, MySpace.com, and the Key Club. Proceeds from ticket sales (available at ticketmaster.com $15 general admission / $25 VIP seating) and silent auction earnings will be donated to the DLF.
At 8:30pm, there will be musical performances by Nico Vega, Gods and Monsters, 8MM, The Bangkok Five, Astra Heights and special musical guests. | | | | 11 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments | |
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| | I am a level one security threat - part 1 | | | | Saturday, May 17, 2008 (10:10 PM) | | I Am A Level One Security Threat It all started when the band rose to number one chart status at a radio station in Albany NY Christmas before last, with a dirty little ditty called Spread Eagle. KEQX was putting on a big show with current internet stars and chart toppers OK Go as the headlining band and invited us to play last minute. We never turn a show down if we can do it so of course we accepted. Our manager booked us some cheap tickets on Southwestern and we went for it. Sounds easy, right? Nope, not with Southwestern… Inflated egos, inept airline employees and crazy new rules applied to post 9/11 flying were gonna make this a trip to remember.
There was this attractive, thirty something, very dark skinned flight attendant (East Indian???) who apparently had some kind of problem with uptown drugs- Talking a mile a minute, mistakenly announcing to the passengers dismay that we were going to Chicago as opposed to our actual destination of Albany. I swear, ten people almost got up and off the plane thinking they were on the wrong flight. She had this really offensive, sequined X-Mass tree tie that looked like it was out of some cheesy Las Vegas themed holiday store and a cute bob haircut with sexy little bangs. It’s important to note that in another life, I would have somehow tried to bang the crap out of her. So they come through with drink orders and I ask for a water. She brings me an orange juice. I again request a water. Around twenty minutes later, she stumbles by and asks me if she’d ever brought my water… "No you didn’t" I reply with a smile. "Oh, I must be losing my mind, hold on…" Twenty minutes after that, she wanders by, looks at me and says, "I forgot your water again, didn’t I?" Runs off to get my water. Brings my water ten minutes later… "This woman is such an idiot" I think to myself, but I remember the happy time of year this is supposed to be, smile and thank her for my water, which finally arrived almost an hour into the flight. For me, the cool thing about drinking water is that almost immediately after drinking it, I have to go pee.
They say everyone should drink eight, 8 ounce glasses of water a day but when I do, I’m in the bathroom all day so I don’t really think anyone actually does this. Does anyone actually do this? Let me know if you do cause I’d like to shake your hand… Anyhoo, I had fallen into a restful slumber but was awoken when my bladder decided it was time for me to take a leak. Now, you know when your bladder wakes you up, it’s time to pee. So, I’m sitting there about six rows back when I realize that every time someone comes out of the bathroom, they are replaced by someone sitting in one of the six rows ahead of me. I come to realize that if I’m going to make it through this flight with out having to change my pants, I will have to get up my lazy ass up and queue in line. So, I get up after this rather large gentleman had been in there for around three minutes thinking this would, most likely, be around half the time it would take for a very fat, out of shape man, to empty his bowels… I was sick, on a broken foot (hundreds of long jumps from stage to barriers) and not feeling up to snuff so I timed it so as not to spend a bunch of time standing in line. So, after these three minutes, I walk to the front of the plane where my sexy, Christmassy if not slightly retarded stewardess had been sitting in one of the flip down chairs designated for the flight attendants. I stood in the galley adjacent to the bathroom and begin to wait. Almost immediately, she says; "You can’t stand there…" So I take a step closer to the bathroom door… "You can’t stand there either…" I walk over to her and look down at the empty flip down seat next to her and ask her if I can sit down there. "No, of course not!" She says.
Now, I have the vague idea that the seating protocol on a national Southwestern flight with regard to a passenger sitting in one of the flip down seats, does not include me actually doing so, however, I remember, sitting in one of these seats in the past. Could have been on maybe a more lackadaisical airline, but I do remember doing it. She rather rudely suggests that I go back to my seat at which point I lean over and tell her that if I do that, I will most likely be promptly "Pissing my fucking pants…" Uh oh… I guess she had either never had the "F bomb" dropped on her before, or, she was just a rather sheltered individual cause she pretty much lost it when I said it. Right as this exchange is taking place, with perfect timing, the large gentleman comes out of the WC and in a show of his gentlemanly nature, hence me referring to him as a gentleman earlier in the story, holds the door open for me. I smiled at her, then at him, and walked in. Once in, and positioned for success, I could hear her sounding extremely upset behind the door. Someone was loosing it: Terms like: "He’s a level one threat!" and, "Did you hear what he said to me?" coming, muffled through the door, rendered my penis, in the context of its primary function, useless! I was experiencing something us guys like to call "Stage fright". Yep, I couldn’t pee. This has happened to me in public restrooms before, you know, when you look over and there’s a six foot two biker guy only, ummm, he’s not a biker, peeing next to you, smiling at you? Yeah, like that. So, There I was; I could not pee! I yanked it, I pulled on it, I thought about warm water caressing the tips of my fingers. Hot showers… Nothing. Not a drop. "He’s going to jail for that one… He’s a level one threat!" How the fuck (oops, I did it again) could a guy take a leak with that kind of crap going on right outside the door?
I want to say as well, in defense of my manliness, that it generally takes a lot to take me out of my game. I have, on many occasions, peed in front of current girlfriends, ex-girlfriends, buddies, complete strangers, cops, etc. without a hitch. It’s generally only the creepy guy (six foot two, biker?) standing next to me in the public urinal, who stares at me with seemingly lascivious intentions who winds up, actually "Scaring the weasel". So, I finally, after around ten minutes of deep breathing and cock pulling, manage to give that shitty, little plane toilet, a decent amount of piss. To make matters worse, not only would the fucking seat not stay up, but for some reason, toilet paper was draped all over the thing so as to create a kind of disgusting Paper Mache mold of the seat. God forbid this managed ever managed to dry: "He’s a level one threat!" I could hear her scream in my thoughts. "He vandalized the urinal with piss and toilet paper! It’s like a sick, pee-pee, Paper Mache project!" She’d come in after me and lose her mind… After thinking myself into a panic, I realized I’d have to clean up before exiting. So, I laboriously went about making the place reasonably decent all the while hearing her cries: "What’s he doing in there? He’s taking way too long…" through the door. Poor lady had no idea what I was going through to save her prissy sensibilities and my own ass. I finally finished cleaning up the OTHER passengers piss mess and came out to a hysterical woman who immediately jumped down my throat proclaiming me, once again, "A level 1 security threat!" She yelled, she asked ALL of the other passengers within screaming distance whether or not they’d heard my transgression. Like a Chihuahua, she ran around barking, her stupid little bark. I kind of attempted to argue with her when some hippie lady from the front row let me in on a little secret. "She’s nuts, go back to your seat, you’re on an airplane, you cannot win…" She was right, I gave up. I was going to be arrested when we landed, and there was now, "nothing I could do about it" the retarded little Chihuahua barked. As I limped back to my seat, she followed me. Baiting me, trying to enroll me into her retarded post 9/11 fantasy that I had some how become a threat to our national security. When I got to my aisle seat, she kept at it. I turned my head down and to the other direction and didn’t say a word. She was absolutely hysterical. To Be Continued | | | | 37 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments | |
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| | This is bad ass | | | Friday, May 16, 2008 (6:15 PM)
(I'm feeling busy) | | This made us weep. Someone got it Music Review: The Bangkok Five - We Love What Kills Us Written by Jordan Richardson Published May 16, 2008 On any given Saturday night when I feel like losing my head and heading out the door in black eyeliner and gobs of hair product, The Bangkok Five is going to provide my soundtrack. We Love What Kills Us is the band's sophomore album and it's a dose of gutter garage punk notched up with a little industrial soul. Straight out of L.A., The Bangkok Five actually do have five members. Lead singer Frost is so engrossed in his music that his father apparently sent him to a shrink to get sorted out.
Turns out that The Bangkok Five is the only way Frost knows how to live. That dedication to the craft is apparent from the opening notes of We Love What Kills Us. Recorded live on tape to create a buzzing analog sound, this record represents musical purity and baptism by fire. The songs explode, sizzle, pop, burn, and kill. Keeping true to the roots of L.A., the album is split into an English language and a Spanish language portion. In that respect, this could be almost considered an EP as there are only five English songs that are then re-cut in Spanish. "It was a natural progression to translate We Love What Kills Us into Spanish; this record is about LA and what goes on here. To ignore the Latin culture and its people would to ignore the real Los Angeles," Frost says on the band's MySpace page.
The album's title track begins with a slow passive build and explodes with a scream and proceeds with what seems like a permanent scowl. The melody is addictive and the groove is satisfying, but most captivating of all is the unrelenting force of the song. The Bangkok Five never surrenders. Part of what makes The Bangkok Five more than just a simple L.A. buzz band proud of their heritage and categorically insane for the sake of music is their connection with fans. The band regularly blogs and maintains their MySpace page, openly participating in the scene as hosts to their brand of poetic justice. We Love What Kills Us reflects that sensibility, giving rock back to the kids and to the small, smoky clubs where good people do bad things on bad nights. When "Party Machine" kicks up, a sort of industrialized-noir sense kicked me in the gut and I had a desire to go snort lines off of a prostitute. Sorry, honey. But that's just it.
Maybe Frost and Co. have a point and maybe we do really love what kills us. Maybe this English-Spanish split record speaks all of our languages through the power of notched-up guitars and world-weary vocals. It's no coincidence that the band's T-shirts feature slogans like "Shoot Guns, Not Drugs" and "Kill Your Amp; You're Never Going to Make it, Kid." "This One's For the Haters" explains that "they hate because they're afraid to love" and suddenly Frost's message hits me. I put down the eyeliner. I look ridiculous anyway. Listening to and, in fact, loving to listen to The Bangkok Five isn't about fitting into a scene. It's about the sort of lovely cynicism that comes with really having it all figured out. It's about loving what might do us in. It's about not being afraid to make that leap. We Love What Kills Us shows us that The Bangkok Five isn't afraid. It's a record full of pop trash in two languages, a stunning collection of five-ten songs that rip through the walls and tells us to love what kills us… even if it… well, you know. | | | | 35 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments | |
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| | I am a level one security threat - part 2 | | | Friday, May 16, 2008 (6:12 PM)
(I'm feeling anxious) | | So I sat there with my head turned away from the crazy, seemingly coked out stewardess while she ran up and down the aisle barking at people. I watched as they were steadily growing weary of the crazy energy she was creating in the cabin. No one had really seen me raise my voice and maybe three people had heard me say fuck, so all and all, it was she who was looking like the threat. As I sat there taking her abuse; she was going on and on about how satisfied she was that I was going to jail when we landed, the people around me, people who would normally take one look at me and decide I was an asshole started to rally around me. The gentleman in the seat behind me handed me his card and told me if I needed an attorney or a witness, he'd be happy to step in. The lady across the aisle offered that she was a judge and handed me her number.
My guitarist, who was at the time pleased at all of this, thought it was real Rock and Roll, started kind of feeding it. Who else wanted to get in on the drama? He loved drama. The kind old lady to my right decided "she'd like to speak with the cops when they showed up" as well. It was strange to see all of the straight laced plebs, these non-pirates, join ME, an outsider and a deviant. It was actually pretty cool. I think in the end, there were like two attorneys, one sitting judge and one ex-judge all within a four foot radius of me wanting to crucify the stewardess. When I'd go to defend myself, to say something to shut her crazy ass up, I'd get a pat on the back or a reassuring; "Don't talk to her son, she's crazy…" Or, "Never mind her dearie, she's just an idiot…" She soon had lost pretty much all support from the good folks in the cattle call section of this absolutely shite airline. Idiotically, she went ahead and got on the sky phone in front of everyone to "officially" call the airport police to come and arrest me, "The second we landed, before ANYONE was allowed off the plane".
It was actually pretty funny, and as much as I hate the police for seemingly always fucking with me, my band mates, my friends, lovers, etc. I actually support the families of fallen officers with thirty five of my hard earned dollars each and every year and have been doing so for the past four years. I guess I get it in some way, not to mention the stickers they give me make it less likely I get pulled over for stupid things like driving a pile of shit car, or throwing my garbage out the window. Fucking cops… Where were we? Oh yes, so I was going to jail when we landed. Awesome! Just what I needed. So we land and finally, the voice comes over the intercom: "Please remain seated, we have an issue needing to be addressed by local law enforcement. Once the issue has been resolved, you are free to leave your seats and exit the aircraft." Shit! I thought the anxiety and torture I had been going through was just some left over Irish Catholic crap I needed to put myself through to feel good about myself again. I wasn't really getting arrested, was I?
Minutes later, I look up and there's a dead serious, bald headed sheriff asking me sternly to gather up my belongings and come with him. He was short and stocky and ready to fuck my shit up at the very slightest indication that I was not going to fully and completely comply. Blanco knew what was going on, he thankfully has a nice habit of knowing what's going on, and immediately came up and stated that he was the tour manager of the band I was in, The Bangkok Five and that he'd need to accompany us. While Blanco was talking, all of the sweet, dear folks around me started in on the cops. "He didn't do ANYTHING…" one said. "She's been baiting him for an hour and the poor thing has just been staring down at his lap not saying a word." Actually, this is true. After I had realized I couldn't win, that on airplanes post 911, we are no longer customers but captives from the second we step through security. We are defendants for the duration of the flights we pay out of our asses to be on, so I just kind of submitted.
By the time the officer was engaging me, I was like a sad little puppy dog. I can only imagine how big and red my sorry puppy dog eyes were when I asked him if I could pee before we got off the plane and he took me to jail… Yes, I had to pee again but was told I'd have to wait. The officer kind of gave Blanco some shit and finally agreed to let him accompany us. The cop was getting crap from everyone around him; I can imagine he was feeling a bit awkward. The "Chihuahua" was barking at everyone, the bystanders were trying to explain to him that The Chihuahua was an idiot. Interesting to mention, I don't think I've ever seen such a clear indication how effectively the police actually put the old "Good Cop, Bad Cop" into play. But there they were, the easily identifiable, "Bad Cop", he acted like a prick the second he engaged me, and the "Good Cop" who just kind of stood in the background whole time rocking back and forth on his chunky, cheap cop shoes looking pleased with himself. "Good Cop's" partner finally got everyone to shut up and we walked off of the plane. I looked back at my new found friends and gave them the sorriest, hang dog expression I could muster, hoping they'd actually come and help me out. Once off the plane, away from the density of the bad breath and body odor on board, I was allowed to plead my case. I've dealt with cops in many situations, from many different positions: Getting my ass beat by the Guardia Civil my first week in Barthelona.
Getting fucked up as all hell in a Spanish jail on beer we'd actually purchased from the jailer (another story all together), getting arrested on felony charges as a minor, not once, but on three separate occasions. Good times. One could say; I've had a lot of experience with cops. What did I learn? I learned to shut the fuck up until they are ready to listen. You sit there, calm, cool and collected and, when they are ready to hear you out, you tell them your side of things in a calm, cool and collected manner. If you are guilty, you don't say shit… This time, I was sober and I made sure I was respectful and mellow. Halfway into my explanation, The Chihuahua, I guess feeling like she actually might be in trouble, came out and started barking at the cops. "He's a threat to national security! He's out of control!" and, "He CUSSED at me! He used the ..F Word'!" All the while, I sat there, leaning against a table directly outside of the gate, calm, cool and collected. Blanco looked at them with a smile and said, "Gee I wonder who's out of control?" The cops asked him to kindly refrain from speaking, but we knew what was coming. The Chihuahua was going to manage to illustrate to the officers, first hand, what a total and complete moron she was and was hopefully going to bark her way right out of a job. They asked her to calm down, which I thought was awesome, then they requested she go away until they had finished interviewing me, which I thought was awesomer. Once they had finished with me, she'd be allowed to "slowly and precisely tell them what the problem had been". I told them the exact truth. I had done nothing wrong and did not need to lie. I even explained to them that I realized I had lost the moral high ground when I used the word "fuck".
But, that the woman had clearly either been snorting coke the entire flight and had rendered herself incapable of doing her job. Or, she simply wanted to see what would happen if she treated the skinny guy with the gay hair-do like shit; either way she was wrong and I was, if not totally innocent, somewhat innocent. Unfortunately for The Chihuahua, she'd never managed to calm down. The entire time I'd been relaying my side of things to the police, she'd been kind of drifting on and off the plane, grabbing anyone who'd listen, and telling them how I'd cussed her out, threatened her, whatever. There was clearly imbalance in this woman's life, and while I'm good at driving the ladies nuts, any fool could see I'd not been involved with this person long enough to make anyone this crazy. Slowly, as I spoke, the witnesses started gathering around. First the cops told them to please stand back and they'd be heard. But as The Chihuahua ran around talking to herself and anyone who'd listen, they relented and let some of them speak. Of course her account of what happened included me telling her to "Fuck off" and apparently I had "Called her a bitch" as well. At this point, there were enough witnesses to completely annihilate her complaint against me. The bad cop kind of muttered under his breath; "She's full of shit." Blanco and I looked at each other and laughed with our eyes.
After her version of events had been completely shot down by every witness within earshot, both good cop and bad cop had realized they'd been lured into a complete fucking waste of time. There were no actionable offenses here, just a young lad who'd wanted to take a good old fashioned piss. No harm had been done to anyone. Unfortunately for all of us, the pilot, a very tall, weathered looking gentleman approached us and started explaining to me, very sternly, how I needed to understand all of the trouble I had caused and that I needed to apologize and realize that I could never, ever do what I had done again. We felt stupid, including the two officers as we had to sit there and listen to this respectable, accomplished man make a kind of fool out of himself. It was like the little boy in the four of us were all taken back to our respective childhoods… We were a little star struck: The CAPTAIN was personally addressing us with very, very important, life or death information. I looked at Bad Cop and he indicated with a nod that I was to apologize and tell the pilot that I understood precisely what he was trying to impart to me and that, while the Chihuahua might have been a little over the top, I had acted in a reprehensible manner and was completely and totally wrong. It would never happen again, and I was really, very sorry. It feels great to totally sell the fuck out but I had a feeling this would secure my freedom. I have swallowed many a big, fat, smelly shit sandwich in my day but this time, I think I actually managed to gag while I was choking it down. With my apology to the captain, they took both Blanco and myself aside and explained that while I would not be arrested, they'd have to bring me to the station in the airport and file a report with my relevant information. They were surprisingly apologetic and quite cool in the end.
The Chihuahua just kind of ran out of steam and disappeared into the executive lounge or wherever they go to do another line. The kind old witnesses wandered off, back to their lives and we were taken to the station located a couple terminals away from the one we had exited the aircraft into. We sat down and gave the info they needed as well as taking their info so as to put them both on the guest list for the show that night; it turned out they were both fans of the old Rock and Roll and apparently wanted to get the party started with our deviant asses. After we all shook hands and made some remarks about what an idiot the Chihuahua had been, I limped along with Blanco at my side, dragging my overnight luggage through the airport. The next day we did a radio show which apparently transmitted to a couple million people. That one was for the haters… | | | | 31 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments | |
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