[22:47] Matt Yohe: I get to exit interview with [FORMER HEAD BOSS]

[22:47] Matt Yohe: wanna start on a list of things I should bring up?

[22:47] Matt Yohe: I will get to

[22:49] bill.latham: Just throw a brick at the sign in the parking lot and make sure you ’splode the bulbs.

[22:51] bill.latham: or shave [FORMER MANAGER]’s back with [ANNOYING PSYCHOTIC EMPLOYEE]’s teeth to the soundtrack of everyone who is fucking somebody else in that building fucking.

Here’s something from Lazy-I:

‘There was a time when a number of local musicians were doing this sort of Woody Guthrie-esque folk. Now it seems there’s only Latham, who has more than enough story-telling firepower to fill the gap by himself. Energetic, funny…. and smart. After one of his political numbers, he turned to the crowd of a dozen people or so, many of them his friends, and said, ‘If any of you sign up (for military service) I’ll fucking kill you.’ Who needs Conor Oberst for pithy political commentary?’

This entry was also posted to the Dream Blog.

Number One.

I was sitting in the living room of the house that I grew up in, when suddenly the front yard was full of blaring police sirens and they had the entire house surrounded. Over their loud speakers they were demanding that I come out and surrender myself. Terrified, I ran into a hall closet and found a gun (one that my parents never owned in real life). I ran back out to the living room, stuck my head out the door, screamed ‘you’ll never take me alive, mother fuckers!’, and fired two shots.

That’s when my mom walked into the living room and asked ‘what are you doing?’

I was suprised of her reaction because of the sea of policeman on the front lawn. But I looked back outside and they had all disapeared. The realization sunk in that they had never been there.

‘Mom, weren’t there a bunch of cops on the front lawn a few minutes ago?’

‘No. I’m taking you to the hospital tommorow.’

Number Two.

This strange creature- kind of like a cat, kind of like a small bear, and sounding kind of like Yoda- came to live with me. We went places. Drank beers and smoked joints together. Halfway through the dream, I started calling him Ed for some reason. I don’t know why. In the end he tried to claw me and I threw him off my back and his batteries fell out. Batteries? Huh?

Number Three.

I went to a party at the bottom of a well. To get to the party you had to freefall 25 feet and land on this waterbedlike surface at the bottom. As soon as I hit the surface and got back up to find the keg, I saw a flight of stairs.

I asked the nearest person, a guy I went to high school with and haven’t seen or talked to in years, why we didn’t just take the stairs.

‘They don’t go anywhere,’ he said.

One of our favorite hobbies here at I’ll Probably Die Here and Other Midwestern Stories is listening to records. One of our other favorite hobbies is taking the time to write a little bit about those records. Today, I’ll be writing about a record I picked up back in 1999.

I look back very fondly on the punk rock bands that were still active and awesome around 1998-2003. American Steel was one of those bands. They had that perfect blend of whiskey vocals and musicianship and breakneck speed guitars that those of us who love that particular genre appreciate. The Hot Water Musics and Dillinger Fours and Leatherfaces of the world’s genre. The single from this album, Every New Morning, had artwork on it that became the basis of the second tattoo I ever got. But I digress- this is just background information.

The album starts off with Loaded Gun, a wonderful side one/number one song if there ever was one. Explosive chords right from the start and lyrics not only critical of government and government operations, but our parents who used to be peaceniks. It runs right into the single Every New Morning next, which tells us ‘I slept off the signals and got fuck all for warning. I was I was back in the drunk tank- every new morning.’ Both songs grab two popular themes, and if you spend as much time in bars as I do, you’re already well versed in both of them: bitching about yr politics and drunkeness.

Whiskey, Women, and Black Guarding (Ain’t No Cure For A Broken Heart), we’re reminded, and that’s true too. ‘Hard knocks, hard luck, hard living.’

The band ended in 2002. Their last tour was spent with Botch and the Murder City Devils and I was privileged enough to see it. Also got to see a couple other AmSteel shows in Iowa City prior to that, which were killer. Apparently though, the guys in the band liked each other enough that they became a new band together, called Communiqué which I have regretfully not heard.

I can’t speak for Communiqué, but American Steel was tops.