Finally, we’ve posted the videos on our website here. We’ve had them on youtube for a while, but neglected to make them accessible in any way, but now that’s fixed. Additionally, our website has a cool new sleek look thanks to my being tired of the whole black and gray thing.

In other news, James McGregor, our charismatic and gentlemanly bass guitar player, has officially left the band to seek his fortune elsewhere. While we wish him all the best, we are now seeking a new bass player to fill his massive shoes. See the contact page and drop us a line if you’re interested or know someone who might be.

In spite of this setback, we plan to be back on the scene with a few shows in the months ahead, possibly with a gig as soon as January 19th. Check back for updates!

So, we’ve recieved the awful news that our dear friend Jill Sorrels’ son, Sam, was hit by a truck in California state.  He’s alive and seems to be doing relatively well, but he’s in a lot of pain and undergoing a great deal of reconstructive surgery.  At any rate, a great deal of our fellow Keynote Cafe connoseurs and musician friends have put together a benefit in Sam’s honor at the cafe in Jeanette (416 Clay Ave, Jeanette, PA).  The show will run from about two in the afternoon until midnight, tickets are ten dollars (you can email us if you need one–visit the “contact” page) and all proceeds benefit the Jill and her family.

Full information can be found here.  Do a good thing and get entertained at the same time!

You can visit the “upcoming events” page for a complete schedule.

In other news, we are preparing to release another track for The Lost Man, the album we seem to eternally be working on.  The track is about 90% complete and it should arrive in a day or two.  Moreover, our graduated-film-student buddy, Tim, filmed a show of ours back in July and the videos of that madness are forthcoming, as well.  Stay tuned!

–VTM

Hey all, we just wanted to thank all the fine people who came out to our show last Saturday.  We’ll have more information on our next performance and on how the complete Lost Man album is coming along soon!

Again, thanks to those who came out to support us!

NO GPS DEVICES WERE USED IN THE MAKING OF THIS ADVENTURE.

So, as promised we went on an epic adventure into the very heart of Bloomfield and charted our quest to help weary travelers follow in our steps.  The journey was filled with mayhem, chaos, epic battles, and foul magic, but somehow we made it home safe and carved a path into the depths of that dark place, making the roads safe again.

We set out from our home of Murrysville (Steve’s home, actually), but things quickly went awry when Steve and I were separated from our stalwart companion, the bassist Sir McGregor.  Steve and I navigated the treacherous parkway on our own, but we wisely decided to avoid the tunnels running beneath the dreaded Squirrel’s Hill.

“That’s where the squirrels set upon you,” I cautioned, “when you enter the deepest darkness of their lair.”

“Aye,” replied Steve, “nasty business, those vermin.”

McGregor, meanwhile, fathomed the treacherous depths by himself, hoping to catch up to us and offer his aid.  He braved the underbelly of the verminous mound singlehandedly, though the battle cost him precious time.

Steve and I continued into the civilized regions of the Squirrel’s Hill to stop for supplies and refreshments, and, seeing no sign of our bold bass player, pressed on alone.  The streets were bleak and foreign, and the scents of foods from far off lands filled the early evening air as we walked.  A man in the street stopped us, he was well dressed and carried with him a cup of coins in one hand and a bottle of fine liquor in the other.

“Adventurers,” he said by way of greeting.  “What brings you to this cursed land?”

“We seek supplies, sir,” I replied.

“As do we all,” he retorted coyly, like a viper.  “An offer gentleman: if you can answer this riddle I pose to you, I will guide you to a place where you can get your supplies.  If you answer wrong, you must put your coins in my cup.”

Steve and I glanced at each other.  We nodded.  “Ask your riddle,” Steve responded.

The man took a deep breath and said, “Paul’s height is six feet, he’s an assistant at a butcher’s shop, and wears size 9 shoes. What does he weigh?

Steve and I briefly huddled and discussed the problem amongst ourselves.

“Meat,” a voice called out from behind us.  We turned to see McGregor round a bend and come into view.

The man nodded.  “Correct.  I will take you to Uncle Sam’s.”

“No need,” replied McGregor.  “I know the way, the fine folks of that tavern are old friends of mine.”

And so they were.  The people of Uncle Sam’s recognized our friend on site and gave us supplies and a meal before sending us on our way.  “You’re doing God’s work, brave ones” they said by way of farewell, “Godspeed.”

We sat under the setting sun on the steps of a nearby temple and ate our meal of submarine sandwiches and French fries, which nourished our bodies and filled our bellies.  Under that very same setting sun we shoved off for Bloomfield, continuing our glorious quest.

It was nighttime by the time we arrived in Bloomfield, and we sojourned through the land until we found the place we sought: Howlers, the infamous café known to harbor coyotes.  We entered through its grand archway cautiously and found a room full of shady individual imbibing alcohol, some testing their accuracy with thrown weapons in the back.  A venerable old gorilla stood watch at the portal and stared at us menacingly.

“Passage into the coyote’s den costs five dollars,” he bellowed in a voice that was neither soft nor loud, but like an organ; filling the air without being overpowering.  We scraped together what coins we had and paid the beast and he granted us passage.

We continued inside and found a table near the back near the marksmen and ordered ourselves some drinks.  No sooner had we sat than an aging succubus appeared before McGregor, her charms dwindling but her charisma strong with drunkenness.

“Hello, young man,” she said to him, and she turned on the juke box and proceeded to gangster rap and dance for him.  McGregor, with the mental fortitude of a dead man, ignored her courting and stayed true to his goal.  The succubus would not give up so easily, however.  She continued her mental assault on McGregor, but another band of noble adventurers, who called themselves Triggers, rose to the challenge and fended off the seductress.

They were, however, too late.  The damage to McGregor’s sanity had already been done (if you’ve never seen a middle-aged succubus dance and rap, then you can’t fathom the mental strain it can have on your psyche).  McGregor was fading fast, so we had only one option, as Triggers made known to us: take him to Action Camp, whose technological music sorcery could restore his mind.

With only seconds to spare, we took our ailing friend before Action Camp, and they pumped his mind full of great music until he regained his mind.  With our friend restored, we set off to return home from this dark land of ancient and foul magic, and made it home, by the grace of God, with no incident.

All this we have done to ensure your safe passage to our show Saturday night at nine at Howler’s Coyote Café in Bloomfield.  We learned two important things you may need to know:  1) Parking is available on the streets around the café, and also in the lot near the Shurfine next door.  2) Bring CASH.  In addition to it being king, it is also the only means by which to pay for anything.  There is an ATM in the bar, but it has a $2.00 fee for withdrawals.

SEE YOU ALL THEN!

Tonight we intend to scope out Howler’s before the show.  Stay tuned for details from our heroic adventure into the abyss that is Bloomfield. . . .  Wish us luck, we’ll need it (McGregor’s driving).