Cole Whittle - Semi Precious Weapons Print E-mail
Written by Cole Whittle   
Wednesday, 05 August 2009 20:41

semi_precious_weaponsSemi Precious Weapons released a trashy work of art when album 'We Love You' was released last September. Bass player Cole Whittle didn't disappoint when I asked him if Hell really was gig shaped and he turned in this classic tale.........

".....Extra Extra !!!!  Semi Precious Weapons accidentally plays a white power bar in Las Vegas (this is already a disaster).

It's the first date on our '07 West Coast tour, so we are bright eyed, bushy tailed, and ready for a party. We load in our borrowed gear and wish the bartender a happy birthday. He looks like Yosemite Sam and would pay our pussy East Coast hearts to stop beating. It's only 7pm, so we kill time on the strip, get food, and check some mma fights at the Hard Rock. Returning to the club was a poor choice. A 100 year old man cards us and says there are no microphones. We find the opening act, a one man band who looks like Springsteen dunked in a prehistoric vagina, and ask if we can borrow his mic. He declines.  Naturally, we load our shit out, and get ready to get a jump on LA.  "That gig would've sucked anyway" we thought to ourselves.

Suddenly, the 100 year old finds a microphone under an old nacho machine that's under a dead hooker in the cellar. We deliberate in the parking lot on whether to stay or not. Meanwhile, the opening act has begun and his voice is identical to what it sounds like when a badger climbs into an exhaust fan. The first song has ended, and we hear some banter about "those pretty New York kids trying to play rock 'n' roll". We load our gear back in with clenched teeth. Immediately, our (former) manager BP Fallon strides up to the dance floor (there is no stage) and gets nose to nose with dude as he sings. BP, who is just over five feet tall and nearly sixty, begins filing his fingernails as he stares the man dead in his eyes.  Dude starts screaming all of his after another....refusing to stop.  Ed Note: the bar is filled with twenty skinheads who are friends of dude and our singer wears stilettos.

After an hour and a half of this, we say fuck it, and start setting up drums and amps behind dude.  He finally fatigues, loses a brief profanity battle with BP, and we begin cole_whittle_SPWto play. Things are going well, considering we aren't brawling yet. All of a sudden, some meth bitch from the crowd charges our singer and tries to rip all his jewelry off. Things get awkward. Justin performs a textbook hip toss and lands on top of her as she begins to bite. Cue the self defense guitar solo.  We all notice that several bikers have jumped out of their seats to bull rush us. What happens next is a landmark in human history.

Justin Tranter (American icon) seamlessly transforms a male-versus-female-streetfight into the raunchiest make out session of all time. The murderous bikers skid to a stop, in sheer awe that a man in high heels is basically fucking their girlfriend on the floor. Slowly they begin to smile, cheer, and high five frantically. The crowd is ours and we kill the rest of the set, thanking god we are alive. We sign tits, take pics, and pack up.

The End............not.

Things didn't stay good. Two of us end up lost in the mountains where the coyotes live, while the other two are stranded at the hate club . Every time the bartender walks by us, he screams "Get the fuck out !!!!!"  He walked by us like twenty times. The night ends at a murder hotel with no heat or hot water in the middle of the desert in December. Being in Semi Precious Weapons rules !!!!!!!!!"