Sezio

A couple months back, the elusive indie-rockers, Boomsnake, went on a two week West coast tour, escaping San Diego’s May Gray by migrating North. We hooked them up with a few disposables and let them get to work.  Check out the boozy nights of arm wrestling and beach aliens below.

First night on the road: A sweaty Echo Curio, giant Budweisers, vacation apparel, scotch, and an arm wrestling battle in which it is entirely unspoken but universally understood that it's easier in the long-run to let the alpha male remain the alpha male for the trip even if he has weaker arms.

It's safe to say that we threw stones at just about every bowling alley within reasonable reach of the west coast tour circuit--  It's also safe to say that this fine specimen is smiling because he's about to win what will become debatably the worst hangover of his life. 

 

 

Bellingham, Washington has late northern sunsets, steamy breath, creepy hotels, and really, really fun shows. A few hours after this photo was taken we left a bag of ice to melt up against Cory while he slept. We didn't even know he cared that much until Gabe found a rotten sand shark in his suitcase a couple weeks later. Golden.

 

 

Only seconds after shooting this photo of a ghost, we found a fresh and genuine wizard staff that would change our lives. Truly a groundbreaking evening in southern Washington.

 

 

'Meraka!

 

 

Noodles floating in space: Ben and Gabe take a few minutes out of a freezing midnight to appreciate the stars from the needle-blasted floor of the Olympia, Washington wilderness.

 

 

The shape of this mighty old tree and the rain sans overhead clouds perfectly explain the night to follow this scene. A house just outside of the frame provided easily one of the most fun shows I have ever played. There's something special about Santa Rosa.

 

 

At a farmers market somewhere in Washington, we find each other naturally walking this close together. Smooth shades, Gabe.

 

 

A picture says at least a thousand words. This one happened to be taken during what seemed like an eternity of silence after losing ~2 hours of driving to retrieve the bass a certain bass player left in the parking lot of a Guitar Center. Sacramento is weird, but [at least a couple of] its people apparently carry an unusually high level of integrity.

 

Lane (Hosannas) in his finest evening attire, cold lampin' in the front yard of the Fort Gallery in Oakland. Little did he know that he and his comrades would be jumped by a goon the following morning for no good reason at all. They barely made their set time across the bay at Hemlock after fleeing the hospital with broken noses and black eyes...

On a sunny morning in Oregon, Gabe levitates above us and calmly explains the future.

 

 

Just down the bluff from our friends' house in Santa Cruz, Ben becomes a sand enchilada. The 6-pack belongs to Cory.

 

 

An alien breaches the beach and wiggles a little dance on a perfectly ideal Santa Cruz morning. We later shared a simply divine brunch where Cory become our collective honorary father by consuming an additional bloody mary with enough tabasco for at least 20.

 

 

Transcending space and time with Hosannas in California. As a combined unit we make the perfect tourist. (Sidenote: those shoes Rickie is wearing are one of about a hundred pairs she brought with us.)

 

 

Rickie totally approves of the view on a hike somewhere along the California coast.

 

 

We didn't really know what we were getting ourselves into when we first decided to charge the cliffs that would lead us to this perfect little spot just somewhere north of Santa Barbara. We befriended crabs, collected crazy shells, wondered how a wave could possibly be, and then almost got hit by a train on our hike back to the van.

 

Pass it bro!: Cory drinks 3+ Joose > parties extra hard > cuddles extra extra hard > wakes up with a dooobie and an american flag tattooed on his guns in San Luis Obisbo.

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See the rest of the band’s disposables in the photo gallery below.