I think the picture says it all.

Eric M.

Photo by: Eric Morelli

I went out on the strip this evening with some friends. One could assume that we were drinking scotch, smoking cigars, pulling slot levers, and harassing waitresses by asking them if they like our cowboy hats, but tonight, one would be wrong. It was an evening for trying on the finer things for size. Yes, we went shopping, or more appropriately, we went out to try on two thousand dollar blazer's we couldn't buy. From Dior to Barney's we crept, putting our grubby hands all over everything.

Thanks to my closest friends, I have developed a dangerous appreciation for high fashion(groceries? or jeans?). Each of them go to school with fashion related majors, one in San Diego the other in New York. It is an interest that often gets a bad rap. I would like to address the two most common hang-ups people seem to have with fashion. Hang-Up One: Fashion makes you gay. Address One: If you honestly believe or place importance on anything like this, you're an idiot. Hang-Up Two: Fashion makes you shallow. Address Two: It is an art form. It's when a person constantly looks to others to inform their taste that beauty is ruined. Fashion walks that line most narrowly, and most often gets crossed. It's precarious nature makes it an even more telling statement in a lot of ways. I can''t dress myself very well, it socks. Leggo My Eggo.

Eric M.

Photo by:Eric Boyd

Some days I wish the world would work exactly as I like. We played a show at the Beauty Bar last night, and it didn't go quite as planned. We went on three and a half hours later than expected. Most of our friends had to leave early. Those who did stay, sacrificed a decent nights sleep. Typically, a bad show would be the beginning of a week long rut for me. At twenty three I am finding this to be an unattractive attitude, so I made an effort to lead a productive day. It was as easy as that really. I feel great now. It has taken me nearly a quarter of a century to turn lemons into lemonade(sugar? really?), but I still hate the fact that Keith Gibbons would never wear this t-shirt, and there is nothing I can do about it.

Here is something interesting that Keith found today. It is the Killer's cover of Bright Eye's Four Winds. This was the most entertaining youtube tribute I found. I especially appreciate Brandon Flower's, David Bowie, Major Tom, M. Night's The Village outer space wear. Fancy!!!!

Eric M.

Illustration by: Eric Morelli

I love writing music. The process has such a therapeutic effect. Scribbling down my fears and desires somehow makes them seem less abstract. Since I am such a scatter-brained person, it serves to organize an otherwise disjointed head. It's a puzzle, and my skull is the box it's wrapped in. If the picture came assembled then there really wouldn't be any need for me to write, but it doesn't. The photograph above is of a re-write I did for Secondhand Affection. In the recording the song is sung from both the male and female perspective. For live purposes it needed to be reworked so that it was coming from the male side only. It may seem unfair, ladies, but I'm sorry, singing from a females perspective is so very unattractive(unless you're doing it of course).


Everything I've written looks like this, or worse. The process may not be pretty, but I believe that the end justifies the means. It also reminds me of Wes Anderson's reoccurring stationary shots, which makes me laugh and laugh. On the side note of film there is a preview up for Spike Jonze Where The Wild Things Are. By coincidence, it features an Arcade Fire song. And now for my daily Arcade Fire tribute, I really want to show you something

Eric M.

photo by: Eric Morelli

They say that home is where the heart is. Basically, home is priority, right? Well, here is an image of our practice space. It was a three car garage, in the typical sense, when we moved in. With some help from our neighbor John (more about him at a later date), it blossomed as a haven for good time fun. Other than the one noise complaint, we have had a relatively low impact on quaint little Unicorn Street. We put in carpet, sound board, sound foam, insulation, and an additional wall behind Keith's amp, but apparently Ebenezer could hear us with his TV volume all the way up to half. Yes, I live on Unicorn Street, and I promise that the irony is not lost on me.

That is me in my recording nook. Being that From a Limb was recorded in a closet, I felt compelled to recreate a similar environment here. My band mates were very accommodating, and my musical agoraphobia persists unchecked. Someday, I will post an image of our living quarters. I promise you that it pales in comparison. It would probably help in demonstrating that, "home is where the heart is" jargon, but I sleep on a floor in a sleeping bag. Nobody needs to see that. Here is something you should see. The Arcade Fire playing Neon Bible in an elevator. Amazing.

Eric M.

photo by: Eric Boyd

Here we are in Las Vegas. It is fair to say that we have made ourselves at home, and could not be happier with the move. The most difficult part of any endeavor of this nature, is that you essentially start over. In that we are starting over, I can offer only my first impression.
This town has a unique vibe. If you would offer a,"don't all towns?" Relatively speaking, no, they don't. There is an aura of darkness here that the city can't fully confirm. It is more of the impression that I get than anything. I am constantly going back and forth between the questions, "What has happened here?" and, "What hasn't?" With enough booze, sex, and gambling to make any upstanding american blush, I find myself falling in love with it, and not because I like feeling bad. I don't feel bad for precisely the same reason everyone who comes here doesn't feel bad. We are in it together. If ever you need a lesson in responsible decision making, stop in, I will buy you a drink.

Eric M.

photo by: Eric Boyd
model: Alexandria Bevilacqua