We Versus The Shark Aren't Calling It A Hiatus

We Versus The Shark are going to be playing their last show of 2009 at the Georgia Theatre on Friday, June 26th as part of Athfest.

The next time you see us, things will probably be different: we might have a different name or a different line-up. Scott will have his degree from UGA and we will be well-rested from not touring four months out of the year. And hopefully we will have a really great new album to share with you.

Those who attend our "last show for a very long time" at Athfest can expect a set list that reaches all the way back to the beginning, and so it's only appropriate that we will be joined onstage by founding member Samantha Paulsen. Thanks and hope to see you assholes there.

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary - The End

Fin (21/04/09)

If you've been keeping up with all of these posts, I extend my thanks for putting up with their sporadic nature and sorta light content. I have pictures to post and stories that are better told in person. We wake up at 5:30 tomorrow morning to fly out of Gatwick Airport; tour is over. I'm a little fried (see #18) and am unsure of how to wrap all this up. So instead of trying to write another neat, tidy piece, I'm going to end with something sort of special, and not all that tidy: an entry from my personal journal. Re-reading it, I feel a little trepidation about posting it online, and only note the caveat that the listing of accomplishments is more to get it on paper and remember it than to give myself a big pat on the back. And I guess when you're as self-doubting as I am, sometimes pride isn't always the worst thing in the world. Anyway. What the hell, here you go:

We are in London, Neil and Luke and Dawnie and Kat went out drinking, I still feel sick and am saving my energies for tomorrow. Scott and I are surfing the internet and scheming. Learning, researching, reading, listening to music. I hope I can follow through. I think the fact that we've been aching to get back to work on fucking around with musical instruments speaks well of all that.

Sitting on the internet for hours is weird, because talking w/ Spencer Seim sorta put me on this "I need to get the fuck off the internet" tip. Dude totally alienated himself (unintentionally) from rock world and just did his own thing, full speed ahead. And I don't wanna become a tumblr/twitter/blog cow, just taking in memes and information and farting them out, needing to stay up on things. But sitting here and reading Doseone interviews and listening to a Chris Cohen mixtape and watching movie trailers is so good, it's really nourishing, I have to admit. I have to admit it. I like it. Maybe in-between is the way to go.

Anyway I've been tripping out on my 25th year as a living person, I think it started around the time when Wiz and Rich from Blakfish were having their birthdays, and I started thinking about how this year has treated me. And then, setting up onstage for our last show in Luxembourg, Q and Not U's "No Kill No Beep Beep" came on the PA and it got me thinking about ALL of my 25 years as a living person. About listening to "No Kill No Beep Beep" in the cafeteria in high school with Garrett Wakefield, and Fugazi, too. (Fugazi wasn't there, we were listening to Fugazi.) And how weird it is to fast-forward from being seventeen and listening to Q and Not U and going, "oh, this is really cool, this is really interesting" through meeting Luke and Sam and noticing that they thought the same thing, and then tuning my bass guitar on a stage in Luxembourg at twenty-five, that's uh eight years later.

But the age of 25, this past calendar year, I:

Toured more than I ever have before (something like four months)

Travelled to foreign countries for the first time

Worked, so hard, on this big polished pop record (Psychic Entourage)

Got my heart broken (brutally, like high school)

Fell in love (with a friend)

Survived an injury and physical therapy (the wrist)

And other stuff. Still not a very good service industry employee, still not a very good writer. Getting better all the time, though. I think I've gotten better at saxophone. It feels good to go home to...well, let's see: shitty economic situation, but a girlfriend I am crazy for, and some musicians I wanna play with. It's pretty similar to the last few years, but with some alteration. I'm just getting better. I hope I'm getting better.


Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 20

Twentieth Installment: You give me problem? (20/04/09)

Leaving Schlanders (!) early on Friday morning, I quickly came to the realization that I had a cold. My weird chest thing had vacated the premises and an aches-and-pains/snotty nose thing quickly took up residence. No problem, though: I knew I'd be spending at least the next eight hours in the safe, sterile confines of a van with eight disgusting people.

Luckily, we had an hour-long pit stop courtesy of a trio of Italian narcotics officers. A random checkpoint on our way out of Schlanders (population: 5928) was positioned perfectly to intercept our very suspect, very drug-free tour van. A bizarre sort of maypole dance wherein the members of We Versus the Shark and Blakfish were paraded in a circle while a drug dog was walked past us was followed by the evacuation of our entire van, equipment included.

Furthermore, passersby at the town square where the "shakedown" was being conducted were treated to a piece-by-piece evaluation of every article of clothing in my bag. The cops didn't speak English very well, which was for the best considering Sam from Blakfish couldn't help but moan, "We've got places to be, motherfucker..." around the 45-minute mark. The cops found the nothing that we didn't have, we snapped a photo, and made it to our next show a mere five hours late for sound check. They can't all be zingers!

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 19

Ninteenth Installment: The Hedgehog (20/04/09)

Touring anywhere, you're bound to encounter others bands' trajectories, past or future. It might be flyers promoting a friends' band that you are inadvertently criss-crossing paths with (on this tour: Brooklyn earth-punks USA is a Monster). Or it might be in the form of stickers or backstage scrawl. Entire histories, however crude, are etched into the walls of most of the world's choicest shitty dives.

We discovered a pretty excellent example of this at AZ Conni in Dresden. AZ Conni itself is extremely noteworthy: a government-supplemented punk club/leftist library/kindergarten, it was one of the most inspiring spaces we played on this tour. The summer camp-style bunks upstairs from the club sported an entire comic strip illustrated by none other than Al Burian. Al Burian is the definition of a punk lifer: through bands such as Milemarker, Challenger, and Canadian Rifle, or his own personalized zine Burn Collector, he has exemplified the willfully marginalized lifestyle. Burn Collector is full of a sort of glorified-loser vibe that skirts the edge of Henry Rollins-style self-flaggelation but the writing is always winningly cool.

Burian's comic strip, rendered pretty huge on the wall, depicts the author in his element: drunk. The basic storyline is as follows: he is drunk, he sees a hedgehog, the end. The hedgehog bears no positive or negative effect other than, wow, that's odd. A hedgehog. Nature!

So tonight, we are in Schlanders, Italy. Schlanders (which sounds better when punctuated by an exclamation point--Schlanders!) is part of the northern Italian countryside where most folks speak German in addition to Italian. This was one of the handful of shows that was a complete bust in terms of attendance, but it's Wiz (the drummer of Blakfish)'s birthday, so there's a small cake and novelty party hats and lots of beer. The club closes, the owner kicks everyone out, and we continue to drink in earnest.

After a while, I decide to take a shower, so I run to the van to grab my towel. The door locks behind me, because why wouldn't something like that happen? The light drizzle is gradually becoming full-on rain. Everyone is on the second floor. I start throwing a Coke can at the windows. No one has any idea that I am locked out. I start to feel sort of ridiculous: middle of the night in Italy, half drunk, throwing a Coke can at a window, trying to not get my towel wet.

And then, like a hairball coughed up by an angel: a hedgehog emerges from the brush.

I stare at it as it scurries across the street.

If that's not some low-rent Zen, I don't know what is.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 18

Eighteenth Installment: My Brain (16/04/09)

A month and a half has gone by, and my brain has left the building.

Last night we played in Bolzano, Italy with Capillary Action, a band lead by Jonathan Pfeffer, a 22-year-old from Philly who falls into the "force of nature" category of young people with endless amounts of creative energy and self-promotional propulsion (i.e. Allison Weiss). Once a "spazz-out" band with metal tendencies, his quintet line-up of NY jazz-hobos currently sports a more Latin American flavor; it still sounds like a radio dial being flipped every five seconds, except this time it's a radio in Brazil.

It was nice to play with some people we knew, see some familiar faces. Capillary Action have been on tour for two months, and they will continue to tour, Europe and Stateside, until mid-July. They are insane. But the accordion player is also Jonathan's girlfriend, so maybe not.

Looking back, it's frankly pretty blurry. It's hard to quantify the experience. There's very little opportunity for anything other than driving into a town, playing, sleeping, and repeating the experience. You can walk around a little, but exploring beyond the immediate area surrounding the venue is usually out of the question. I have little scraps of paper from funny pamphlets and local papers' descriptions of our band which I can't read. You walk around, you take pictures, you don't buy anything because anything you buy will be destroyed in the van. You see things you never thought you would see in your life. You think about coming back to see all this with your girlfriend, as opposed to, say, eight sentient farts. You go to Europe for five weeks. My brain has left the building.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 17

Seventeenth Installment: Before and After (16/04/09)

This blog entry is presented in two parts. The first part was written around 1 a.m. immediately following our show in Ljubljana, Slovenia. The second part was written a few days later.

Part 1: Before

"There's nothing in the United States that isn't owned by somebody."

When I said that to some kids in Poland, the words struck me as soon as they left my mouth. Ownership is, I guess, a hallmark of America's legacy. And capitalism has, for better or for worse, been a constant companion for us. Countries whose economic policies are torn asunder every couple of decades are sort of like people who go through rough relationships. The weird lifestyle whiplash can cause interesting cultural ripples (hello, China!).

And so now we're in Slovenia. I intentionally came to Slovenia knowing absolutely nothing about it. I knew I'd be going to strange, new places on a daily basis on this tour, but a country that I'd never thought twice about? I willfully blinkered myself. Here's one thing I have learned about Slovenia: it was one of the first countries to break away from Yugoslavia as the Communist bloc collapsed. That was in 1991.


Today I sit and write this from a squat in Slovenia called Tovarna Rog. Rog was a bike company that went under a few years back, and Tovarna Rog literally means "Rog Factory." For whatever economic reasons, Tovarna Rog remained empty for years. This gigantic building was eventually taken over and completely transformed: the main, hangar-sized area is a venue space. Upstairs is "Cafe Trotsky," which is a sort of Eastern European music dance club run by a member of the band Gogol Bordello. The entire thing is festooned with graffiti. Plenty of people live there. No one pays rent.

I haven't gotten the whole story of Tovarna Rog down, but basically it seems like they have a similar storyline to most European squats: they went to the local government and said "Hey, no one is using this huge deserted area. May we?" And the government said: "Sure." That's obviously an understatement but think about that for a second, and think about how that would work in America.

The whole conceit is a little too mind-blowing for me right at the moment, frankly.

Part 2: After

Around five in the morning, I found myself in Cafe Trotsky with a very, very drunk Luke Fields. I was trying to figure out how I could find the van keys, which had been lost by the very, very drunk members of Blakfish. Dimly tired, I got about half a sentence out when every light in the building went out. The locals laughed: the generator for the squat, which ran on diesel gasoline, had exhausted itself. The entire place was pitch dark. I navigated my way to "The Jazz Place," a jam room which was doubling as our sleeping quarters, and laid down to go to sleep. Some things, I guess, are too punk to be true.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 16

Sixteenth Installment: CRK (14/04/09)

For anyone who laps me in worldliness many times over and finds these entries sort of redundant or obvious, I half-apologize, but I'm learning all kinds of new things over here, and I think we're all in the favor of demystification, right? Guys?

Personally, I know that my previously conceived notions of what a punk squat can be have been totally smashed upon reaching Europe. For the uninitiated, Professor Wikipedia says: "Squatting is a term for inhabiting an abandoned or unused building or plot of land without owning or holding a formal lease on it; a person squatting is known as a squatter, and the house or building occupied by squatters is known as a squat." The concept is inseparable from the punk world, and therefore can summon images of empty 40 bottles and compost piles gone horribly awry. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a squat in Wraclaw, Poland called CRK.



Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 15

Fifteenth Installment: The Writing Is on the Wall (13/04/09)

It will strike you very occasionally when you're traversing the post-antebellum South: there was a war here. The remnants exist in more psychic tones than anything else; the de facto world of separatism and privilege that permeate every stretch of American soil, North or South. The wounds in Europe, it's safe to say, are fresher.

Our first night in Germany, I talked with a kid who is the singer of a "beat-down" hardcore band. He brought it up before I even thought of doing so. In broken English, he basically expressed the following: he feels terrible for his country's history ("How could you not?" he said), but it had nothing to do with him. And walking through the halls of the DIY spaces and squats we've played in Germany and Poland, there's a clear sense of a rejection of history, and a determination to set a record straight: it's a youth culture saying, "this had nothing to do with us."

All the clubs, all of them, are strewn with anti-Nazi stickers. Anti-sexism and homophobia, too. It reminds me, really, of going to punk shows when I was in middle school. It reminds me of American punk rock before politics fell into the realm of the unfashionable. Going from country to country, day by day, it's hard for me to piece it all together cohesively, how it feels to be here – how it feels to walk around a former ghetto in Krakow, or being bowled over by the punk space/political library/kindergarten in Dresden that is almost entirely subsidized by the government. My camera keeps dying. There's no time to reflect. I am going to have to come back.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 14

Fourteenth Installment: Let Me Here You, Berlin!(09/04/09)

Listen, I like Blakfish. Blakfish are really nice guys. They also happen to be sadists. They are the drivers, so they are the iPod DJs. For the last few days, our drives have been graced by Metallica's complete discography...in reverse chronological order. After listening to so much, I mean so much of this crap (Load? Fucking "Reload"?) that by the time you get to the good stuff, it's like being shown a picture of Hitler as a baby. "Cute baby, right?" No way, man. Worst baby ever. The only upside? James Hetfield's call-and-response exhortations on the live album S&M:

Hetfield: "Let me hear you, San Francisco!"

Crowd: "FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS!"

Hetfield: "You betcha!"

Today we played in Berlin. Scott's language in high school was German. So he took every opportunity he could to hop out from behind the drum set to attempt to engage the audience. Pretty much every time, Scott would say something and the expectant pause would be filled with the overwhelming sound of a few dozen Germans staring in complete silence. Afterwards, he somewhat dejectedly remarked to the bartender: "Was my German any good? Everyone was just staring at me." Bartender, blase: "No, we understood fine." As for me, I've made very few attempts to shatter the language barrier, but tonight I kept asking the audience if we should play some Rammstein covers. Who doesn't love a good Rammstein joke? Everyone who came to our show. Good times!

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 13

Thirteenth Installment: Go To Sleep (09/04/09)

I'm sure anyone who reads these blogs, or any blogs, or actively blogs themselves, is familiar with the '90s collegesploitation film "PCU," so I'll skip straight to the analogy: remember when Jeremy Piven jumped onto David Spade's bed and screamed "GO TO SLEEP!" at the top of his lungs over and over again? Thus was my mantra on our drive from Vanersborg, Sweden to Hannover, Germany. Our nine-seater van affords very little room to stretch out, much less put the seats in a reclining position. So I swaddled myself in the amazing down jacket my uncle gave me, donned some sunglasses, and had to sort of mentally bludgeon myself into unconsciousness. Twelve hours and two ferry rides later, we arrived at Cafe Glocksee.

Marathon highway navigation is nothing new for anyone on tour. But there are big differences so far between club shows in strange cities on American tours and those of European tours.

-American Version: Pull up the club (let's call it Club X) to find employees who generally greet you with an attitude that lands somewhere between polite ambivalence and jaded hostility. Load up and wander around aimlessly to find some sort of food. It's a Tuesday, and the promoters didn't bother to book any local bands, so you play to the few people who actually are aware of your band. You ask one of the kids in attendance if you can stay at their house, and crash on his floor. Drink cry sleep.

-European Version: Pull up to the ridiculous youth center thing (Hannover's Cafe Glocksee acting as our example) that is covered with amazing, city-ordained graffiti; don't forget about the gigantic skate ramp. (I hadn't been aware that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles film was shot in Germany). Walk in to find a fucking cheese-and-meats spread, coffee and beer; the employees seriously couldn't tell us from Adam but they're friendly. It's a Tuesday, and Tuesdays at Cafe Glocksee means free admittance, cheap beer, and apparently bands of consistent enough quality that while there are no local bands, the place is absolutely packed from wall to wall. The promoter has arranged for us to stay at a friend's apartment around the block. Beds for all. Drink, high-five, sleep.

Jesus Christ. I can see why Maserati spends half their time over here.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 11

Eleventh Installment: Gavin Glove (06/04/09)

I'd like to speak of a phenomenon that we've encountered for the first time on this excursion, but is not localized to any particular region. I'm referring to the tour manager. To those unfamiliar with this player in the music world, here's his gig: he drives. He settles up with promoters. He locates food and shelter. And he wrangles: through coaxing and half-stern commands, he corrals us losers at the end of the night and gets everything loaded up and out. It's everything that an indie band does on tour, without any of the fun parts.

This was, with a few minor exceptions, the first tour We Versus the Shark has ever gone on that we didn't book ourselves. We're usually armed with a binder of phone numbers and directions, and after countless hours spent on the Internet dealing with venues and promoters, the itinerary is usually tattooed inside my skull. Not only did someone else book this tour, but the ins and outs of what the hell was going on at any given moment was completely in the hands of Gavin, the tour manager hired on by Pulled Apart By Horses' management for the UK leg of the tour.

Gavin is the definition of affable, with generally unflagging patience and a thick Scottish accent; probably a few years older than us; and very gradually, with Gavin telling us when to wake up, where we were staying, and where we were headed tomorrow, I sort of felt like my brain was...losing an idle portion. Gavin was handling all the dirty work--navigating alleys that were designed with horses in mind rather than cars, cracking the whip on load-out slackers, dealing with unforthcoming promoters -- and was being compensated for his work, so I couldn't feel too bad, but...it's just very unusual. We're not used to tour being about just...playing music.

It was nice, of course, but also felt a little infantilizing--when Gavin had to search for parking for a while, leaving us at the venue, and a question came up--"what time will the sound guy be here?," for example -- we all sort of looked at each other helplessly. Plus there was the lingering question of whether or not Gavin actually liked our music. He wasn't required to, of course, but as a professional, I figured he would probably assume the posture of a polite poker face. But I feel a little disingenuous describing Gavin in those terms, because more often than not, he generally felt like one of the gang, albeit the one who always had to be the designated driver. Furthermore, he did a bang-up job. The remaining dates of the tour are being managed only by ourselves, and by "managed," I guess I mean we "managed" to keep our van from getting towed until the fourth day. Like I said: it's good to be back on the circuit.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 10

Tenth Installment: Flirting With Total Fucking Disaster (06/04/09)

The shows themselves? They've been really good! I'm not going to sit here and talk about my own performances; it's like doing a Jon Madden play-by-play, circling the fumbles. Anyway, We Versus the Shark is treating this as our final tour with this material, "this material" being the inward-looking "yuchhh" of Dirty Versions. It's a bunch of sweaty screaming, and as a means of giving Luke and myself a break while simultaneously alienating the audience even further, we've developed a fun new habit. This habit involves recruiting a drummer - any drummer will do - for a rendition of "The Greatest Gift," a golden classic from '80s Texas punk freaks Scratch Acid. Meanwhile, our percussionist, Mr. Scott Smith, he of the copious sheets of perspiration and hobbit/caveman stature/hairstyle, drops into the crowd as "lead singer;" very upsetting for everyone involved. My favorite move that Scott has executed so far this tour is stuffing his entire head under some poor kid's shirt for the entirety of the guitar solo.

And so it's very fun: until last night in Copenhagen, wherein "The Greatest Gift" was very nearly a stocking stuffer of sadness. As Thom Peckett, guitarist for Blakfish, settled behind the drums and we launched into the song's surf-punk lurch, I noticed a pint glass had shattered into a web of shrapnel to the left of a monitor, all over the floor. Scott was in the crowd, barefoot. My mind was immediately flush with images of bloody footprints and a very sad trip to the emergency room. And so on the downbeat, I jumped offstage and bum-rushed Scott deeper into the audience. Of course, he thinks I'm perpetrating some fun-time mosh move or something, and so he begins pushing back harder, totally oblivious to the glass very nearly underfoot. This battle of the peons continued for the duration of the song, with me screaming over the music "GLASS! BROKEN GLASS!" and Scott screaming back "YEAH!" and other rock and roll truisms.

After two minutes of pure, concentrated idiocy, the song ended and Scott returned to his kit unharmed. He then proceeded to perch on his throne and fall into the drum kit in the first thirty seconds of the next song. Thank you Copenhagen, goodnight!

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 9

Ninth Installment: He doesn't speak the language, he holds no currency... (06/04/09)

We woke up early, like you're supposed to when you have an eight hour drive ahead of you. I accidentally poured yogurt over my cereal - I guess in retrospect, it was more plausible that time was out of wack and the milk was just traveling very slowly?

We trudged into the grey Netherlands morning to discover that our van ("Sanjay") had been, yes, towed. I felt very much like a foreigner: sure, there was some sort of sign, but how much use does a sign have to us when we can't read the language? Why can't every nation cater to US? The private company who hauled off our means of transportation was predictably dispassionate about the whole affair, and we despite our most benign cajoling, we were suddenly out two nights' worth of pay for us and Blakfish.

As we venture further from the British Isles, we've been exposed to more and more of the alien and unknown, for better or for worse. I've been striving to find local delicacies and weird customs, but globalism conquers all: our hosts in tonight's city of Copenhagen prepared curry and Pakora, and when Scott and I went looking for adventure, we mostly found commerce. Strange moments come more in more subtle forms: a non-QWERTY keyboard in France (talk about frustrating), being asked to remove our hats at a random coffeeshop in Holland.

A note about our new tourmates: Blakfish is a terrific tech metal band from Birmingham (SABBATH!) who has been a band for 10 years and whose members are all in their early 20s. Along with their hyperactive manager Kirk, they have the half-spoken, crass communication style of old, old friends, and they're good guys. And: they fucking love Paul Simon's Graceland. We'll be getting along just fine.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 8

Eighth Installment: Proper Jamming Econo (03/04/09)

The vocals aren't loud enough, and the soundboard is actually in the upstairs bar area, whereas we are in the basement of this tiny French club. We are able to exploit the language barrier when the proprietor asks us to turn down before we start our first song; there was no sound check. Two songs in, and I take a mic directly to the grill, very hard. That's on top of the grounding-related shocks they will continue to give Luke and I until the show's close.
Afterwards, while we wrap up our cables, I look at him and say, with all sincerity: "It's good to be back on the circuit."

The UK tour was unlike any We Versus the Shark had ever gone on, and more than just because the currency was different. As Pulled Apart By Horses' star has been steadily rising in the NME-driven scene of British bands, their accommodations and rider were pretty posh by our standards, and we definitely reaped some of the benefits. Blakfish, our Birmingham-based tourmates for the European leg of the tour, are by no means unknowns. But when we were checking out at the grocery store buying the bare necessities for the coming week, I said to guitarist Sam Mule, "I'm glad you guys are into jamming econo."

"Oh yeah," he answered. "Proper jamming econo."

And I don't know if it's some sort of weird, punk loser culture thing, but this is really, I think, where our band thrives. Disorganized situations, unpredictable events and a fucking budget. The culinary amenities and professional rooms of the UK leg were fine, but, truthfully, repetitious. NOT COMPLAINING. But. The who-knows-what-this-is-going-to-turn-out-like mystery of the coming weeks looks to be, frankly, more our speed. It's dumb but it's fun.

Ok, uh, also, right: France! Rouen is full of cathedrals that are so complex in design that words can't really encapsulate their majesty. It definitely makes modern skyscrapers look boring by comparison. We made fast friends with the promoter, Damien, and his companions, and willfully got an earful of Francophile history; we're talking structures, still standing, dating back to the 13th century. All that and, finally, some coffee I can get down with. Good thing we're leaving again first thing in the morning.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 7

Seventh Instalment

It's a good thing we're leaving Britain today, because apparently some shit is about to go down. Or is it? I'm referring to the convergence of anarchists and like-minded Ruckus Society alumni for the G20 summit here in London. Apparently the schedule goes something like this: at 10 AM, PM Gordon Brown and President Obama will give a joint press conference. At noon, people wearing gas masks will start hurling bricks through the windows of the Bank of England.

We are scheduled to be picked up around 11.

We're currently in our booking agent Dawn's Bethnol Green apartment following what was a very satisfactory final show in the UK with Pulled Apart By Horses. We're safely east of the action tomorrow and will remain so after we're picked up, but part of me sort of hopes for some sort of detour. Being in We Versus the Shark means, to a certain extent, being apolitical. In the six years we've been a band, we've never been able to agree on much, least of all how we'd approach social issues lyrically. So we haven't. And I realize this might not be so for others, but it's felt a great deal like being a part of this group has meant sort of like part of your brain is attached, bungee-style, to one another. We look to each other for cues, ideas, and affirmation. Going home and shifting into low gear might bring other nuances of our lives to the fore, political motivations very much included.

Like I've said earlier, I've been pretty negligent on the blog front but hope to be more on top of things as we venture into the more linguistically baffling portion of our trip. More updates, more stories, more pictures. It's worth noting that Neil has posted a children's treasury of great photos thus far on his blog which is right here. Thanks for yr patience, and next time you hear from me I'll be on the other side of the English Channel.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark European Tour

They just survived the UK, what will mainland Europe do to We Versus The Shark?

A Note For Our New Friends
The first "leg" of our tour is over and we feel deeply fortunate to have made loads of new friends. We were gonna party all night with Pulled Apart By Horses after our London show but they had to go; something about going to a "dick meeting" whatever that is.

Pulled Apart By Horses, Gavin Glove, Dawn, Ash, and tons of others. Thanks very much.

We want to send a shout out to all the kids from Leeds who came to the London show. You guys are great.

Onward to France!

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 6

Sixth Installment: Don't Panic (31/03/09)

Last night was my first experience of going directly from the hospital to the stage.

First off: generally, I'm fine. (To repeat for anyone with the last name Tobias: I'm fine.) About 10 days ago I started feeling a weird thing in my chest, which was low enough (sternum-ish in proximity) to be mistaken for a pain in my stomach. As the tour has progressed, it's sort of come and gone - mostly feeling okay in the morning, feeling kind of weird by soundcheck, and then generally feeling kind of crappy by the time we're passing out. I've been to two different walk-in clinics (Yep, for free. Thanks, UK taxpayers!) and have been told I've overexerted, strained, inflamed, etc., some muscles in my chest…No shit!

I guess this is what happens when you stop screaming for four months and then go about doing it every night for weeks on end. It's not debilitating, it just means that for the remainder of the tour, I must avoid bad food (next to impossible), loading gear (less so) and alcohol (deeply unfortunate but not soul-crushing). It's a bit of a damper on the experience to be totally honest, but wondering what I did to be dealt a lousy hand in the karma game is inefficient and useless, so I've been trying to enjoy myself despite the busted breastplate.

Feeling fucked up (physically) while singing songs about feeling fucked up (mentally) seems like a fitting coda to this era of We Versus the Shark. We've been touring fairly consistently since we put out this very angry, very screamy record and in that time, where there's been a lot of playing but not a lot of writing, it feels more and more like we need to just put the whiny baby shit to bed. We have girlfriends now. Not to put it in easy stark terms, but we're ready to write some music that's a little less on the self-flaggelation tip. Whether or not the band that plays said music is called We Versus the Shark remains to be seen.

But health concerns aside, everything's been going swimmingly. We've definitely become solid friends with our UK counterparts Pulled Apart By Horses. Neil and drummer man Lee in particular have bonded over common interests (Black Flag, tattoos, copious amounts of alcohol). We'll be sad to leave them tomorrow only to meet a new set of tourmates, Blakfish. In the meantime, I've got some photos up riiiiiight over here.

Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 5

Fifth Installment: The Horror (31/03/09)

It wouldn't be tour if you didn't spend the night in at least one absolute shithole.

Moment of Zen for this wonderful hotel of misery: asking our host if any toilet paper would be available, his response was, after inhaling a balloon's worth of nitrous oxide, a giggly little simple: "No." Perfect!



Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!

Last We Versus The Shark UK Show Tonight

I'm off to hook up again with We Versus The Shark for the final show of their UK tour with Pulled Apart By Horses at Madame Jo Jos in London tonight (tickets still available) before they head on to Europe with Blakfish. It was great to finally meet the band face-to-face for the first time in Brighton on Sunday after talking online since 2005 and their set at the Prince Albert was as energetically nuts as I'd hoped despite the band being leaden with a bumper portion of Harry Ramsden's fish and chips (do all Americans refer to batter as 'shell'?), that also saw a whiteknuckle-tight Pulled Apart By Horses come a-cropper. The WVTS set was recorded for posterity and we hope to host some of those live tracks including their hilarious onstage Sonic Youth Knock Knock joke in the near future.

Pulled Apart By Horses also fall into the jolly nice chaps category and here's a snippet from James Horses' Myspace blog from Brighton.

today we are in brighton. all of the gigs have been amazing and its nearly over sadly. jeff, luke, neil and scott from the shark are some of the most delightful americans we have ever met. bloody lovely chaps and we will miss them dearly when they jet off around europe with blakfish (god forbid). they took all our instruments last night in guilford at the end of the set. lee cracked his kick drum and somehow my 2 piece guitar is still working. playing
prince albert tonight in brighton. stayed with dave from tubelord last night (thanks dave and daves mum) and him and joe cooked us some mean ass breakfast. hopefully they'll pop down tonight so we can booze them up. man, does any one else really wanna hear the tube album as much as me? they wont give us a copy. twits. anywhoo. the lovely ste and laura from blood red shoes have given us a room tonight. we slept in our van for the tour with them earlier this month so i think they'd like to give us some bloody shoey rooms. what lovely chaps n’
chapesses.

We Versus The Shark Tour Diary Part 4

Jeff from We Versus The Shark is blogging his band's UK experiences on the road with Pulled Apart By Horses for Athens Georgia online arts magazine Flagpole. Thanks to both for allowing Jeff's tour diary to be carried on the STA blog and here's chapter 4.

Fourth Installment (25/03/09)

That's (obviously) the front page of the map for how to get around London via the underground subway system. Throughout the tube, you can find other pieces of art amongst the billboards for Paul Blart: Mall Cop and Vincent Gallo shilling for H&M (goddamn him). I don't want to fall into the familiar lib American spiel about Europeans and their high appreciation for the higher arts, but this is simply not something you would see in even New York. It speaks of a different attitude. It's nice.

That said, Tom Hudson, vocalist for Pulled Apart By Horses and our host here in Leeds for the past few days, rides a similar train to us through his "artistic" "career": he works a moderately blase job by day to support his habit of needing to act the fool in front of crowds. Between rent and needs, it's a scrape-by situation. I'm excited to get to the Nordic regions--we've just confirmed a show in Oslo--and see what socialism has done for them over there. Especially considering Neil's New Hampshire-borne libertarian streak.

The shows have been consistently fun, and tonight was our first headlining show. Our Middlesbrough venue, Uncle Albert's, was a perfect antidote to the shitshow of a barricaded-stage bougie joint we played in York, which shall remain nameless (The Duchess). I've just assumed that pretty much no one knows us around here, and we've been enjoying the comfy slot of playing before the Horses, who are newly minted up-and-comers according to the NME. Tonight, we played last of four bands and played to about forty kids. Despite my lingering stomach problem, god damn if that isn't a nice experience.

Anyway, I'm trying to avoid boring folks with details about backstage amenities (or lack thereof) or garbage soundguys. Do you guys want to hear about that stuff? I doubt it. Next post I think I'll get into one of the more bizarre aspects of British culture: the tabloids.

Jeff Tobias