Journal

Back in Florida throwing a birthday party April 19th at the New World

2013-04-15T13:47:47Z

NEW WORLD BREWERY

APRIL 19th 2013

SWIMM

Florida Kilos

Hovering Humanoids

Do you remember when TV ON THE RADIO played for like 12 people because no one in Florida knew who they were? We do. The New World has long been home to ever great touring act before everyone in the world found out they were great, and has been footing the bill and tabs for some of the best bands around for years. Come out and raise a glass and get strange with us.

It's the New World's 18th Anniversary Party. Be there or be square.

Hey, we're at SXSW 2013 where are you?

2013-03-12T16:14:52Z

ALL SHOWS ARE FREE. NO WRISTBANDS NEEDED (we are pretty sure). AND IF WE AREN'T PLAYING WE ARE PARTYING. LET US KNOW WHERE TO BE. XOXOXOXOXOXOXSXSWOXOXO

Free Demo Download | Summer Heat | Florida Kilos

2013-01-10T05:41:23Z

Here goes.

This demo will likely never get recorded. Dig it. ITS LIVE. Love it. Make it. It's yours.

SUMMER HEAT | FLORIDA KILOS | FREE DEMO DOWNLOAD | KATHERINE KELLY | SHAWN KLYE

OCT 20th in Tampa, FL: BRONCHO + FLORIDA KILOS + WOLF FACE + ARTICLE 47

2012-10-20T21:29:45Z

Go to this show or else you will regret it severely forever and ever and Pryscila may find you and kick you in the shins while wearing heels.

Broncho: members of Starlight Mints and Unwed Sailor and Native Lights and Cheyenne join forces to suddenly make one of the best new indie rock bands out right now. On tour from Oklahoma.

Florida Kilos: Members of Beauvilles, Sons of Hippies and a Lifeguard join forces to tour the country with all the underground rock bands in the midst of becoming icons that they have crushes on, release sweet vinyl records recorded the old fashioned way, wear swimsuits and drink too much blanco tequila.

Wolf Face: a bunch of masked men in wolf man / basketball team outfits playing songs purely devoted and inspired by the movie Teen Wolf, along with some sexually frustrated ambiguity.

Article 47: opening the show, a new group of kids rocking the new wave hooks.

CROWBAR LIVE DOORS / SHOW At 9PM

*HEADLINER ON BY MIDNIGHT*

1812 North 17th Street Ybor City, FL 33605
(813) 241-8600

Event Page: Broncho + Florida Kilos + Wolf Face at Crowbar Live Tampa Florida

Dressing Rooms, and Motorcycle Wrecks in Tallahassee at Club Down Under.

2012-10-20T20:44:44Z

It's 11:56 PM and Shawn is calling 911. We were trying to go hang out with Zach and some other cool peoples that came to see our show at 529 on Gaines st. for an after gathering at a pub, and we are stopped at the light and a lady in a Chrysler turns left in front of a motorcycle. Guy on the bike hits the front of the car, flips clean over the bike and lands in a heap, it looks like he may have been run over by the car. Everyone on the block starts running over to make sure the car doesn't drive off, and see if he is alive.

Earlier arounf 7pm we got to Club Downunder to get a little dressing room, a big nice venue and some friendly faces: a bunch of FSU locals were at our last Growlers show in Gainesville (they had made the drive) and found out we were in town and dragged a bunch of people out.

Broncho once again cleaned clocks. We found out later that 3 of our fav. songs of theirs are going to be on the "New Record" and like us they only care about releasing vinyl and digital. <3

Always wear a motorcycle helmet, people. No joke. It just saved this guy's life in front of us. Then some hangout, a house key from Michelle and a tip about an all night dance party, and also an invite to hang with our buddies off Gaines street send us off with a bunch of groceries (courtesy of FSU, thanks FSU!) and off into downtown looking for a good time.

And we see our buddies sitting outside of the bar, but get caught by the light and then screech - CRASH and good god I think he is under the car. But...

Shockingly he is conscious, he was wearing a full helmet and there are people all around him. He is able to stand, but it may have just been the adrenalin, because his leg seems to be hurt. Police show up within seconds and shut down the entire area. We are all shaken up a bit.

Now not tired, and not sure if we can get down in a late night reverie, hoping that guy really could have walked away from the wreck and our minds on a good friend that recently didn't: we decide to hit the road back to the next Town: Tampa.

BE AT the Crowbar in Tampa for Broncho, Florida Kilos, Wolf Face on October 20th.

By: Shawn at a truck stop somewhere on I-10, October 19th 2012.

Busted hands, bad fingers and Fernet in Atlanta at 529.

2012-10-19T19:59:00Z

He's just the bass player, he only needs on finger anyhow.So. It's Thursday morning, time to leave town for Atlanta, and I am bleeding everywhere. I should have gotten stiches. But that would have meant cancelling the show, and a doctor. I didn't do that and Katherine isn't sure about my hand at all. "I hope it doesn't become gangrenous..." she says. And then it is suggested that I open it up again and rub iodine into the knuckle, which you can see right down into. It was nasty. Last minute mechanic works on the van. Shame on me. Orange juice. Don't throw up. Get alllll of that rust and grease out of the inside of your knuckle.

Pryscila is all fancy so she gets a flight. And now we're all in East Atlanta together at 529, wondering if we have enough money to eat at the Flatiron. Broncho are there. Broncho are really nice dudes. Pretty sure they just got a deal, but didn't want to ask em. Libations are imbibed. East Atlanta is a real pleasant place.

After 3 shots of Fernet, Kyle was in a good mood. Kyle tends bar at 529 in East Atlanta. Kyle likes drinking Fernet. I like drinking Fernet. And who the hell are tight brothers? What do they do? Who knows. Regardless another shot of Fernet, 3 PBR's and all became well in the world. Broncho metled faces. I got drunk enough to not feel my f***d up hand, and saints of Atlanta: specifically Leslie and Stacy let us crash at their nice pad in Decatur. Leslie has a badass obscue garage band collection on vinyl, including All Night Drug Prowling Wolves, which was nowhere near as badass as their name would imply, or as awesome as the breakfast hash that was cooked up at 5am would be. On more sleeping bag shot of tequila and a hardwood floor on a yoga mat never felt so good.

Now we are back on the road. The Girls have informed me that I have to take off the bandages at some point today, and rinse the wound out, and then... well maybe a doc in the box. It's pretty swolen up. If you know a nurse practicioner in Tallahasse, email us. We (I) may need help later...

Today: Tallahassee at Club Downunder. Get it. Go.

-Shawn from the back of the van at 65mph.

Southeastern shows with BRONCHO start this week.

2012-10-15T16:43:22Z

Man, just get over the hangover caused by the freaking Growlers and now we are bach out with BRONCHO. And extra special plus: Denney and the Jets.

Check our Calendar for more info and show dates: Atlanta, Athens, Orlando, Tampa, and Florida State University.

Bands we have a crush on : Shannon and the Clams

2012-10-15T16:39:03Z

We dug Shannon soooo much as the bassist for the epic Hunx and his Punx that we knew that she didn't just fall out of Valhalla. So no. Yeah. Bad girl has her own band. For real. Check it. Shannon and the Clams.

Chicago: Confetti Guns, Lei-ing an Entire Audience at the Subterranean, and a quick Indianapolis Handshake.

2012-09-29T23:23:43Z

Magic Milk: A furious band without the need for pants. By Shawn

We're home alive (for a couple weeks at least) and all the shows and towns on this last tour were determined to get the bands in as much trouble as possible but...

Chicago wins. I can say that. The Subterranean show we will try to remember, in whatever bits and pieces our shattered little Florida minds will allow.

Be it Magic Milk, displaying some local garage rock tighty whitey prowess ... or mainly the crowd screaming at high volume from the moment we walked on stage and dancing through the entire set with the girls in the front row screaming to "Lei Them"... confetti poppers that caused an outroar (thanks Kyle) or the food, craft local beers (a seemingly endless supply) ... and definately the madness spooky beach rawk that is los Growlers making the crowd froth at the mouth and ladygardens ... and certainly the stuttering amount of tequila shots that have followed the Florida Kilos around on this tour ... and afterparties ...

And well, like any good drunken backyard brawl in good sport, it leaves you better friends the next day, but generally in a state of sprained muscles, shaky hands and even perhaps a new facial tick that you never knew you had.

That is the condition we were all in, when we and los Growlers discovered their van had been towed in the morning. And that's when everyone realized that we all had one big hangover.

Which was fine. Los G's got their van back in one piece, and the drive to Indianapolis was sobering and long, and we all got there barely in time to be greeted by neon lights, a bunch of people into psych rock and liquid light shows, cases of more local craft beer, and whisky to take the edge off and well, more damn tequila. And a cool night at the White Rabbit, Indianapolis.

But yeah. Chicago. You win. And thanks.

Jesus with Breasts in Lawrence, Kansas at the Replay Lounge.

2012-09-26T16:30:45Z

Katherine does not like cherries. "Jesus with Tits" by Katherine.

The lead singer of The Growlers has a tattoo of Jesus with tits on his right thigh above his knee. I know this because we traded pants after playing a show together a few nights ago in Lawrence, KS. There were originally three people involved in the pants trade but I happened upon the right moment and after admitting that I was hesitant to trade because I wasn't wearing underwear and then being shown no mercy from everyone involved I took off my pants and handed them over to Brooks Nielsen, crooner extraordinaire. Worth mentioning is that he politely held up the pants he was wearing (which had previously been traded and were not his own) to shelter my bare parts from the wandering eyes and frigid cold of Lawrence. Once I had committed to the deed two things happened: I loaded the rest of my band's gear into the back of our van wearing three-inch ankle-tie wedge heels, a Growler's baseball tee which showcased their alma mater, "ACID," and my new flowing, silky pair of black and white floral print pajama bottoms. The second thing that happened was that Brooks Nielsen put on my pants. They are white denim capris. A cotton/poly blend, size two. Once the worry of him ripping them to pieces had vanished I have to admit he looked fantastic - like a sexy, strung out baseball player who couldn't quite zip the fly all the way up.

It took me approximately 35 minutes to tire of the charade and want my pants back. At this point Brooks was partying and pretending to care with the locals, umpteen Don Julio shots deep and although it took me several attempts to get his attention I finally did and he got up from the bar stool and swayed a bit and peeled my pants off inside-out. I didn't notice this when I quickly put a leg through because I was too busy watching him then climb onto the bar and dig into the cocktail fruit container to pluck out a maraschino cherry. Holding it with his thumb and forefinger like a joint between his legs he squatted in front of one lucky female hanger-on who seemed excited at first but ultimately violated by the prospect of swallowing Brooks's cherry. (For the record: she did not). And after only once yelling, "eat it" he did not push the matter.

Feet on the floor and stationary but still pants-less Brooks spent a good ten more minutes in the club in his underwear. I was surprised to see that they were an unassuming and classic pair of tightie whities; not something crazy and multi-colored or bikini briefs even - you never know with these southern Californians. I appreciated the understatement which proved to be quite a turn-on. At this point though I saw the tattoo and I went in not to be closer to the undies, or even the package (which appeared substantial), but to see the inky blur on his thigh.

There, in an old school oval-shaped portrait frame was a renditiosn of Jesus complete with mysterious Mona Lisa-like grin and two pleasantly plump breasts. Nothing too flashy or pornographic. Tasteful even. I couldn't take my eyes off it. "You like shitty tattooes!?" laughed Brooks. "I love them," I replied, "but I've never liked cherries."

xoxo - Katherine