Glasgow Party; Zachary Pukes on Himself

First things first: Nathaniel’s bag went missing the evening of 26 October in Glasgow. This is the bag in question.


Although the two were having personal differences at the time of its disappearance, Nathaniel now wants the parcel back, and swears to never ever let it out of his sight again. The bag contains certain irreplaceable personal items of the singer, and the loss has been devastating. Rewards for its return include free admission to every the Blood Arm show for life for the bag’s finder plus a guest, plus a certain to-be-disclosed monetary reward. Please email info@thebloodarm.com with any information that may lead to its whereabouts.

Now a brief explanation for how this separation came to be: There are fireworks in Scotland every time we pass the sign that says “Welcome to Glasgow.” (Not literally. There is no sign that says “Welcome to Glasgow” as one enters the city, and I don’t think foreigners are allowed to carry fireworks in Scotland, either.) But a good time is pretty much guaranteed from the second the town is added to our itinerary.

After the show (which was phenomenal), our dear friends from the Matchsticks (formerly known as the Flying Matchstick Men), Sons and Daughters, and Franz Ferdinand took us to the Capitol Karaoke Bar, where Zachary only relinquished the microphone long enough for people to sing the first few lines of the songs that they requested. (For the record, Zachary can sing very well.) From there, the whole of our massive party reconvened with the fabulous lads and lasses of Au Revoir Simone and We Are Scientists at the Art School Bar for some more heavy drinking, from where—and from here on everything is only alleged—we went to two more house parties and Dyan met a dude from Snow Patrol.








When I awoke in the morning, Zachary was being delivered to our hotel lobby in a police car, Nathaniel had a bloody head, and the singer’s bag was missing.


This is what Zachary looked like in the van on the way to the ferry to Belfast the following morning. Try to guess what that is on his legs. Also, try to guess if he still wearing those trousers today, two days after whatever it was happened on them.


Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. That’s vomit on his legs, and yes, he is still wearing those trousers. This was about the point where Iannis, our Greecian sound technician (who will soon be given a blog entry all his own), began referring to the drummer as it.

The ferry to Belfast was well fast, and now we are sitting in the dressing room, waiting for the show to begin.

Au Revoir for now,

Ben Lee Handler

Revelations, Like in the Movies

On the journey from Aberdeen to Glasgow this afternoon, we of the Blood Arm posse held a screening of the excellent Robert Rodriguez film From Dusk Till Dawn. In addition to teaching us that teenagers grow up a lot faster when abducted by murderers and forced into Mexican drinking establishments filled with blood-thirsty vampires (which, coincidentally, is how the Blood Arm came to be), the film also cast a keen light on George Clooney. To be precise: He talks exactly like Keith Murray, lead vocalist and guitar-man of We Are Scientists. And they look somewhat similar to boot.

Observe. Here’s George:


Now here’s Keith:


It’s uncanny, really.

Also Uncanny, the fun we had in Leeds, Newcastle, and Aberdeen. Some Highlights:

-The University Refectory, where our show took place, hosted some other legendary performances as well.


-We managed to get our dear friend Robert Willey kissed by a real-live girl.


-Dyan found me the best scarf ever on the ground in Newcastle. (Not the best ever: the neck lice that hitched a ride on the scarf.)


-The Aberdeen Music Hall is so beautiful we cried.


That’s all for now.

I love you,

Ben Lee Handler

Manchester!

Manchester! Mancunia! Birthplace of Morrissey! The show at the Apollo was a little intimidating at first as the venue is so fucking huge, but fortunately the Blood Arm's sound is big enough to fill the most gaping of holes, and the show got off without any delays owing to flaccidity. (To parse Zebastian, innuendo is my crutch, especially when I'm drunk. (I'm drunk.) But what is music without sex? And what is sex without music? (I'm asking you this earnestly... as a practicing virgin, I don't know???))

The show was so hot that we all had to strip down to our nothings in order to recuperate afterwards.


But then as soon as the sweat dried we sped off to see Little Barrie at the Manchester Roadhouse, and they had us hot and bothered again in no time. Little Barrie is one of those bands you have to see live to believe, and I'm not just saying this because they invited me to guest MC. I expected the show to be good, as Chalkie--our Tour Manager and Spiritual Guru--is a big fan, but their soulful precision and Dyanmic awesomeness simply blew me six ways from Tuesday, and Tuesday is not until tomorrow. This is some future shit, with a healthy dose of retrosexual. It was one of those shows that one doesn't forget, even after a massive headwound. (I wouldn't type that if it wasn't true. Like, literally.) Fucking amazing.

Barrie is like two guitar players in one--we were asking each other where the second guitar man was hiding for the first half of the set--Lewis, the bass player, drives everything along so effortlessly it seems as if he could be blindfolded and handless and still carry a tune, and if there was ever any question that the drummer was born to play, his God-given name is Billy Skinner.

Okay, time to type about us again. Look how small the band looks from the back of the Apollo:


And this is what Dyan looks like with her morning breakfast:


And here is Zachary giving a fifteen year-old boy a hickey:



More tomorrow, including a special guest entry from We Are Scientist Chris Cain.

I love you,

Ben Lee Handler

Thing Get Awesome in Norwich, Sheffied; Pete's Corner, Installment #1

Our first show was in Norwich (pronounced Norrich, as its residents are quick to point out), and we quickly fell in love with the beautiful ladies of Au Revoir Simone, who are opening for the entirety of We Are Scientists Tour. (Their name is not random jibberish, apparently it means something in French. “Simone Birthed an Beautiful Sandwich,” or some derivative of that.) They are so hot that they quickly became my favorite band ever, and then I saw them play. Now they are my favoritest band ever. If Dyan were to part ways with the Blood Arm and join their camp, their collective hotness would sear a hole directly to the core of the Earth, altering our planet’s orbit, placing it on a collision course with the Sun. Totally apocalyptic. So it’s a good thing Dyan is staying with us.

One of the best things about shows at Universities is that the majority of the kids at the shows are in University, and after the shows we get to party with them. In Norwich we found ourselves in someone’s dorm room along with Au Revoir Simone and the We Are Scientists, and we were Golden Gods. For one, most of us are older than the typical University student, and for two, the bulk of us aren’t virgins anymore. This makes us fucking cool. We spent the majority of the evening spreading our wisdom, dancing, and signing our names on young skin. The awesomeness overflowed. (The above is basically a ploy to get you to invite us to your parties, because our parents didn’t hug us enough as children, and we crave the attention. (TBA parents: I was just kidding about the not getting hugged enough thing. (Mom: I will call soon, I promise!)))


Also awesome: Crazy Pete of Stealer, our part-time lover, full-time favorite Scouser. He came to the show (which was bad ass), then proceeded to drink us under the table. In the meantime, he started a serial novel starring us (which he will hopefully add to again in the near future). In fact, I’m going to make it a Fucking Feature, with an emphasis on fucking, as Pete is so fucking awesome. It’s called Pete’s Corner and the following is the first installment:

Hello alrighty you beautiful lovely people. The Blood Arm asks for your assisstance. They have lost their pet Great White Shark in Sheffield & are desperate to receive it back as soon as possible. Their concern is that the Shark itself was not the property of the band. It was on loaned from a close family friends after many strong arm tactics and Chinese burns. The performed a séance to contact the erstwhile spirit of Abraham Lincoln. In order to a. find the whereabout of beloved Great White Shark and b. to find out what colour the underwear he was wearing was.

After being sidetracked by The Blood Arm, Abraham began to reveal the secrets of The Great Biscuit Connection. A shortcake conspiracy. This was an attempt to sieze power from the almighty biscuit hordes of Superworld leaders of whose constituency was the pensioners of the world. After a tsunami disturbed proceedings slightly, the black market collapsed and Crazy Pete could no longer subsidise his humble band to perform with his earnings as Blackpool’s leading ventrilioquist. He was unable to even make Cheeky Derek talk while drinking a glass of fucking water.

This was a result of his hands being blown clean off by the blast of the wave. After this his act was not in the slightest inspirational or critically challenged, although he did admit to having trouble masturbating.

READ THE REST OF THE BLOG WITHIN YOUR MIND IN THE STYLEE OF JAMES EARL JONES.

And Now We Are in the UK; Detour Festival Picture

Most people don’t know this, but a gallon of jet fuel weighs about six and a half pounds. Over the course of the flight we are going to burn about 15,000 pounds of that fuel… An interesting bit of trivia: Because of all the weight lost during your trip, the plane will actually be moving faster at takeoff than when we land. Tell that one to your friends, heh, heh, heh…


By some blessed stroke of luck, we flew from Los Angeles to London with the Smartest, Most Sensitive Man in the Universe as our captain. We learned about the Woolly Mammoth fossils recently discovered in Utah as we passed over them. As we flew over New England, we learned about Bostemic, the Bostonian pidgin of English that developed because an excess of fluoride in the region’s water supply in the 1800s swelled the residents’ nasal passages and caused them to speak kind of retarded. We learned about the captain’s abusive mother and alcoholic father because he needed to vent, I guess. It was his informative commentary that enabled us to stomach American Airlines’ insufferable inflight entertainment—they were showing Adam Sandler’s Click—and sparse vegetarian fare—they served Nathaniel and I cold water bagels for both meals—that made the flight bearable. (A quick aside: Save for that captain, it seems the entire American Airlines institution has been infected with some sort of generational malaise that makes them suck at just about everything. On the three flights we have taken on the airline, we’ve witnessed bickering stewards, the worst in movies, lost luggage, and when our luggage hasn’t been lost, the baggage handlers have tried to convince us that it was. Just a big corporation committed to sucking hardcore.)


Now we’re in Norwich for our first of ten dates with the We Are Scientists. We usually only put out after the third date, but if they play their cards right, they might get laid tonight. (Chris is awfully cute.)

That’s all for now, stay tuned for frequent updates.

I love you,

Ben Lee Handler

Oh yes, at the Detour festival Nathaniel and I met My Name is Earl.

Lie Lover Lie Out Today!

Friends, Lovers, Countrymen,

Very rarely does one have the opportunity to stand up for something she/he believes in, something greater than the sum of her/his parts, something greater than the sum of a great many peoples' parts, dreams, and aspirations.

This Monday, 16 October, you have that opportunity.

This Monday, 16 October, Stand Up! for the Blood Arm's debut album Lie Lover Lie by purchasing it at your favorite record store, or via any of the following links:

HMV!
Amazon!
Play!
Record Store!
iTunes!

(If you're at all hesitant about Standing Up!, preview the album here.)

Once you've memorized all the lyrics to Lie Lover Lie, Stand Up! and sing along at any of the many upcoming live dates this October, November, and December. (You can always read along with the tour right here if you can't make it to the shows.)

Stand Up! and be counted! Stand Up! for Lie Lover Lie!

Ben Lee Handler
Master of Ceremonies
The Blood Arm

DETOUR Fest; Good Will Hunting; A Miss Carriage of Justice

A full synopsis of what I can remember of our DETOUR festival experience coming soon as well as a few words from 'Suspicious Character' video director and Lie Lover Lie co-producer David Kleiler... if you have any pictures of the festival - preferably of us at the festival - please email them to info@thebloodarm.com. All photographers will be duly credited, and karmically paid via seven years great sex. Also, good will.

A tangent: Is 'Good Will Hunting' not the most obnoxious title for a film ever? Who exactly is hunting for good will in that movie? Certainly not Will Hunting, the main character. He doesn't want anything to do with anyone trying to help him, except for the love interest. He's not that 'good' either. Why not just call it 'Horny Will Hunting,' or 'Lonely Will Hunting,' or 'Will Hunting Not Living-Up to His Potential?' It'd be a lot more honest... but then maybe Gus Van Sant, Matt Damon and co. aren't really after honesty? Maybe they just really want to make overly-sentimental films with stupid titles? (Or maybe they intended it to be, like, all the people in the movie are hunting for the good in Will. Or something?)

A pitch: a romantic drama titled 'A Miss Carriage of Justice,' about a widower named Miss Carriage living in the town of Justice, South Carolina. Morgan Freeman, or some other noble looking old guy, can court her.

Morgan Freeman: Care for a stroll through the park, Miss Carriage? It's a lovely day for a stroll.

Miss Carriage: I'd love to, Mister Freeman. It's always a nice day for a stroll in our tiny town of Justice, South Carolina.

Of course, the town would be filed with quirky characters; the neighbor who is always inventing wacky Rube Goldbergian contraptions that almost work (Robin Williams could play this guy), a few merry, mischevious-yet-loveable young boys who are always blowing up mailboxes and stealing Miss Carriage's pies, the young mother with the cheating salesman husband who occassionally beats her (Miss Carriage will eventually take the woman and child into her home and give the evil man a piece of her mind)... it has Oscar written all over it.

How's about some audience participation here? Please list your favorite stupid movie titles in the comment section below while you're waiting for the DETOUR synopsis, and, you know, living your life.

(Does this post read a bit too much like the Edith Bowman show on Radio 1? Sorry, I'm a little addicted.)

I love you,

Ben Lee Handler

We Get Letters; Caption Contest Winners!

Before I post the long-overdue winning captions to the caption contest, a quick word from our dear friend Tyson, who is always on tour with one band or another.

Dear The Blood Arm UK,

This is your friend Tyson, writing from AmsterDAMN! I am lucky enough to be in the third week of a 7-week European tour playing piano for Casiotone For The Painfully Alone and thought I'd relay the following story:

Two nights ago I was in the Gay City Of Lights, Paris. It was around 1:30 in the AM and I was just returning from a tour of Amelie-related spots when a man accosted me saying, "Come in for beautiful girl!" I said, "No thanks" and kept on walking until I realized I recognized the music blasting through the walls of the strip club within. It's the verse of The Blood Arm UK's new hit single! I stuck around long enough for the chorus, when the door dude was freaking me out too much and wrote "The Blood Arm" on my hand so I would remember it the next morning. I figured if there was one thing you'd all appreciate, it's your music fueling Parisian men's boners as women danced nakedly to it. Congratulations!

By the way, I don't know if you guys have played much outside of the UK, but you get treated so much better everywhere else! Scandanavians treat bands like they're Golden Gods.

Love,
Tyson.

Now, what you've all been waiting and waiting and waiting for:

1. I see dead people.

2. Silly emo, razors are for shaving.

3. Our waitress that night, Ladonna, was a captivating
woman.

4. 'I've had it up to here with these muthafuckin' snails on the muthafuckin' toast!'

5. I KNEW the BLOOD ARM were lying about having a U.K. tour. I found this photo of Ben Lee collecting change while the others busked near Paddington station.

6. Good times with Colonel Sanders brother.

7. No matter how much he pleaded, the girls WERE NOT going to 'Go Wild.'

8. No, I didn't say you could eat my Kashi, but
whatever. What's done is done.

9. Ben Lee gives Sex Ed talk at local highschool.

10. Quoth Nathaniel: 'I can pout better that you and look more dandy in my pink shirt.'

11. 'Remember when I told you I was wearing underpants? I was lying!'

12. OH MY GOD, a manatee!

Cheers to everyone for being patient, and especially to our winners: Siane, Brennan, Sean, Boadwee, Douglas, Kim, and Dan. If you haven't already, please email your addresses to info@thebloodarm.com so I may send you the spoils of victory!

xxxooo,

Ben Lee

Me and You(lio) Down by the School Yard

Dyan, Nathaniel, myself, and our dear friends Christine, Grant, and Hannah engaged in a heavy bout of competitive drinking at the Paul Simon concert last night. Conversation topics included how his honky-tonk version of 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' did not work, 'the Boxer' was definitively lacking in its cannon blasts, he's so small!, and how much we love that song from the National Lampoon movies.

Also discussed: I still haven't posted the winners to the caption contest.

It'll happen later tonight, I swear.

xxxooo,

Ben Lee

Secret bonus update: Myspace links are included above, and a shitload of tour dates are about to be added to the "SHOWS" section. Shhhhhhhhhhhh.