Tony Hawk’s Son Riley Is a Stoner
What does your dad think of your music?I don’t know. He’s usually out of town when we’re being loud, just because when he’s here we don’t want to play loud and bum him out. But whenever Figgy and those guys are playing it sounds just as good as any other band these days, so it’s not a bummer to hear good music.
He told me he’s bummed on it. He said you guys suck!Really? I guess we need to step our game up.

He said the first minute sounds good but after that it sounds like the same shit over and over and over again.Yeah, those guys go for like 20 or 30 minutes straight on the same song; it gets kind of gnarly.
On one tune? You’ve got to be high to play the same song for 30 minutes. Who’s your inspiration, Phish?Who’s that?
They’re like the even shittier Grateful Dead. They keep playing and don’t stop.I’ve never listened to them. I’m not too big a fan of the Grateful Dead. I don’t listen to them.
That’s good. They suck. Usually stoners listen to that crap.No, I couldn’t really get into that.
Your dad also complains about the parking and the dog shit. Is it actually dog shit, or is it dude shit?No, it’s definitely my dogs. He just hit me up the other day saying I need to be more on top of the dog shit. It’s hard because my dad’s backyard is huge. There’s so much grass, it’s hard to find where my dog is going every day.
Do you wipe your dog’s ass with the toilet paper you keep stealing from your old man?No, definitely not. There’s just a bathroom right in front so if there’s none in my room I go in there and grab some. But he just showed me this closet area where he keeps all the rolls, so I stopped stealing his.

I like the vision of Birdman finding out the hard way that there’s no toilet paper on the roll. Your dad is pretty rich, does he just use rolls of $100 bills to wipe his ass?No. I think it’s just like whatever, standard stuff.
Like 20s?No, like fives, I think. I’m just kidding. It’s just standard toilet paper like everyone else.
Read the whole interview

Tony Hawk’s Son Riley Is a Stoner

What does your dad think of your music?
I don’t know. He’s usually out of town when we’re being loud, just because when he’s here we don’t want to play loud and bum him out. But whenever Figgy and those guys are playing it sounds just as good as any other band these days, so it’s not a bummer to hear good music.

He told me he’s bummed on it. He said you guys suck!
Really? I guess we need to step our game up.

He said the first minute sounds good but after that it sounds like the same shit over and over and over again.
Yeah, those guys go for like 20 or 30 minutes straight on the same song; it gets kind of gnarly.

On one tune? You’ve got to be high to play the same song for 30 minutes. Who’s your inspiration, Phish?
Who’s that?

They’re like the even shittier Grateful Dead. They keep playing and don’t stop.
I’ve never listened to them. I’m not too big a fan of the Grateful Dead. I don’t listen to them.

That’s good. They suck. Usually stoners listen to that crap.
No, I couldn’t really get into that.

Your dad also complains about the parking and the dog shit. Is it actually dog shit, or is it dude shit?
No, it’s definitely my dogs. He just hit me up the other day saying I need to be more on top of the dog shit. It’s hard because my dad’s backyard is huge. There’s so much grass, it’s hard to find where my dog is going every day.

Do you wipe your dog’s ass with the toilet paper you keep stealing from your old man?
No, definitely not. There’s just a bathroom right in front so if there’s none in my room I go in there and grab some. But he just showed me this closet area where he keeps all the rolls, so I stopped stealing his.

I like the vision of Birdman finding out the hard way that there’s no toilet paper on the roll. Your dad is pretty rich, does he just use rolls of $100 bills to wipe his ass?
No. I think it’s just like whatever, standard stuff.

Like 20s?
No, like fives, I think. I’m just kidding. It’s just standard toilet paper like everyone else.

Read the whole interview

Remembering Dimebag Darrell, Because No One Else Seems To
Why doesn’t anyone give a shit about Pantera anymore?
Last Friday, I attended an organized tribute/toast to my favorite (dead) guitarist, “Dimebag” Darrell. Though the venue billed the event as “annual,” this was the first New York-area “Dimebag” memorial I had heard about since the Pantera guitarist’s death in 2004, and I did not want to miss it.
I own a fair amount of Pantera gear, but I decided to keep it low-key and sort of preppy that evening. I was hoping to walk in the bar and have all these metal dudes think, “Who is this fucking nerd? I bet he doesn’t know shit.” And I would be like, “Au contraire,” and rattle off a bunch of Dime facts and take a lot of shots, so the metal dudes would be like, “Holy-shit, this dude fucking rules.”
The toast took place at a bar called Idle Hands on Avenue B at 11:59 PM the night of December 7th (Dimebag was shot to death on the 8th, the same date as John Lennon). The flyer promised five-dollar “Black Tooth Grins” (Dime’s signature cocktail) and a Pantera Power Hour to begin promptly after the toast at midnight. We arrived at 11 PM, hoping to beat the crowd but were surprised to find the bar already packed with drunk people. I had never been to Idle Hands before and didn’t really know what to expect, but I was surprised by the straightness of the patrons. They didn’t seem like quintessential Pantera fans. But, then again, neither did I.
The venue was vaguely 90s hard rock themed, complete with Porno for Pyros posters on the wall and “Spoonman” on the stereo. I guess I was hoping for more of a “Duff’s”-style metal bar, but I wasn’t too disappointed. My group of friends was lucky enough to find a table, so I went to the bar to grab enough Black Tooths and beer to last us through the toast. I turned to the long-hair immediately to my left, gave him a friendly nudge on the shoulder and said, “Fuckin’ Dimebag, right?”
He gave me a confused look and replied, “Um… No thank you.”
OK, I thought, wrong dude. I turned to another guy and tried again.
"Coke or weed?" He asked. "I didn’t even know they sold dime bags anymore."
Frustrated, I headed towards a guy wearing a Morbid Angel shirt standing near my table.
"Fuckin’ Dimebag, right?"
"Darrell?" He replied. "Yeah… Pantera’s cool."
Continue

Remembering Dimebag Darrell, Because No One Else Seems To

Why doesn’t anyone give a shit about Pantera anymore?

Last Friday, I attended an organized tribute/toast to my favorite (dead) guitarist, “Dimebag” Darrell. Though the venue billed the event as “annual,” this was the first New York-area “Dimebag” memorial I had heard about since the Pantera guitarist’s death in 2004, and I did not want to miss it.

I own a fair amount of Pantera gear, but I decided to keep it low-key and sort of preppy that evening. I was hoping to walk in the bar and have all these metal dudes think, “Who is this fucking nerd? I bet he doesn’t know shit.” And I would be like, “Au contraire,” and rattle off a bunch of Dime facts and take a lot of shots, so the metal dudes would be like, “Holy-shit, this dude fucking rules.”

The toast took place at a bar called Idle Hands on Avenue B at 11:59 PM the night of December 7th (Dimebag was shot to death on the 8th, the same date as John Lennon). The flyer promised five-dollar “Black Tooth Grins” (Dime’s signature cocktail) and a Pantera Power Hour to begin promptly after the toast at midnight. We arrived at 11 PM, hoping to beat the crowd but were surprised to find the bar already packed with drunk people. I had never been to Idle Hands before and didn’t really know what to expect, but I was surprised by the straightness of the patrons. They didn’t seem like quintessential Pantera fans. But, then again, neither did I.

The venue was vaguely 90s hard rock themed, complete with Porno for Pyros posters on the wall and “Spoonman” on the stereo. I guess I was hoping for more of a “Duff’s”-style metal bar, but I wasn’t too disappointed. My group of friends was lucky enough to find a table, so I went to the bar to grab enough Black Tooths and beer to last us through the toast. I turned to the long-hair immediately to my left, gave him a friendly nudge on the shoulder and said, “Fuckin’ Dimebag, right?”

He gave me a confused look and replied, “Um… No thank you.”

OK, I thought, wrong dude. I turned to another guy and tried again.

"Coke or weed?" He asked. "I didn’t even know they sold dime bags anymore."

Frustrated, I headed towards a guy wearing a Morbid Angel shirt standing near my table.

"Fuckin’ Dimebag, right?"

"Darrell?" He replied. "Yeah… Pantera’s cool."

Continue

Read a long and semi-insane interview with surf rock legend Dick Dale

Read a long and semi-insane interview with surf rock legend Dick Dale