Friday August 2 2019

Alarm goes off at 9:30 a.m. Packing up and meeting Josiah, Jonnie, and Bobby at the apartment.


Ladada is officially off on tour for the weekend!


Josiah takes the wheel with Jonnie in the passenger seat controlling “the queue”, as we call it, the music.


At some point north of the Eastern Shore we stop at a Royal Farms to get fueled up.

PB&J. Plum. Coffee.




We finally arrive with the city skyline in our sights.


Bobby, the driving master of the big city, leads us into the heart of Brooklyn. At Muchmore’s, in Williamsburg, a dark lit no bullshit bar similar to Charlie’s back in Norfolk. There was supposed to be a $10 cover but we decide to make it free entry in order to get people into the show room. So many of our expectations about this show were unmet, and that’s exactly how you have to treat a show in New York. Shormey showed up without her full band but still put on a charismatic show. The local band, Smock, dropped off the bill for whatever reason and apparently they would’ve drew a nice crowd. During Ladada’s set Josiah broke a total of three guitar strings, two on his guitar and another on my backup. Besides those setbacks I thought we played well overall.


Earlier, down the street I enjoy a couple slices and garlic knots at Best Pizza, a notoriously great spot for pizza.


Linking up at Brock’s apartment, our go-to place to crash when in New York. Josiah and Bobby start talking about their past experiences with cocaine.

“If you’re doing art,” Josiah says. “I’ve had those nights. I spent 12 hours with just a pencil – I created this – it looked like multiple galaxies!”


Bobby and Josiah saunter off to some bar down the street to meet up with Bobby’s friends. Meanwhile, Jonnie and I walk down to the nearest bodega for a cold drink. We dig deep and talk shop – about our relationships in the band – music – growing up – film.


Later on, everyone makes it back to the apartment. I lie down on a few couch cushions ready to sleep but not until everyone settles down. Josiah’s freaking out about where his bag of cigarette packs are but they are recovered sooner or later. Up here on the third floor is terribly hot but not because the A/C doesn’t work – Brock just chooses not to turn it on. I manage to get to sleep as the sun starts to come up.

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