Towards Disastour Blog Vol. 6: Loco in Cocoa

On this tour we played a handful of dates in Florida, but the one town that stands out in my mind is when we spent a couple days and debauchery-soaked nights living within the depths of chaos and depravity in a bar called the 321 Local in Cocoa Beach. It all started when we pulled into town the night before our gig. We had nothing to do, and nowhere to go. So we decided to go to the venue we were going to play the following night and start our night that way. To kick things off, we had ourselves a tailgate party complete with beer, BBQ grilling and George Thorogood cranking on the stereo in the parking lot of a Baptist church around the corner. We went in to check out the bar and met the owner Kevin and the booker David. We had nowhere to sleep and couldn’t afford a hotel, so the owner of the club offered for us to just party all night long and fall asleep on the floor of the bar. We heartily obliged. The next few hours are a blur of air drumming and table dancing until late the following morning.

I found a hot piece of floor beside the pool table and time traveled to the early afternoon the following day. The hot Florida climate has a way of just drying you out. Nothing makes you feel like less of a winner then waking up next to a bar-sports apparatus with pool chalk in your hair, feeling dry as a wine cork.  I was so dry that I pissed sand. I was so dry, only British people thought I was funny.  I was so dry, I found a bunch of camels traversing my beer gut.  Oh, if only I had the foresight to grab myself some morning water and rest it beside my soon-to-be unconscious body lovingly. That’s a real treat isn’t it? When you awake from a late night of liquored-up lunacy only to find that drunk you left hung over you a chilled Snapple or a 2-liter Fresca?  If you can find someone that does that for you, you marry that person and impregnate them immediately to pass on that trait to future generations.

I waddled over to the men’s room to freshen up and saw Adam sleeping on the stage, snuggling up to the subwoofer. The other dudes begrudgingly arose from whatever man nest they created for themselves and we began talking about heading to the ocean for a quick splash just to wake up and get psyched before we needed to perform later that evening. We went down to the beach with the club owner Kevin as our tour guide, and he pointed us in all the right directions and made sure that we had a beer in front of us at all times. He had us in stitches with his wild sense of humor and stories, as well as his positive and earnest attitude towards living the life he loves to live. “It’s a hard life, but it’s our life,” he kept saying to me.

It’s amazing how a nippy dip in the ocean can set your mind straight. After playing in the waves like a pack of soft-minded imbeciles, we brought a ton of food back to the bar to cook in the massive kitchen and to get our powers back to full strength and play a power set. About an hour after we played, I felt so loose that I decided to go back up on stage and play a last call jam session with Eytan and Mason with me on bass. We took requests and jammed out until it was time for another well-earned pool table nap.

Be well friends,

Spencer “it may be time for an orange” LeVon

Be sure to follow our tour podcast! Recorded by myself and my brother Mason here.