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Blog posts
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Nov 09, 10:08 AMHalf Acre Day & RadioliciousHey neat! Half Acre Day has been selected to have our own radio station on
Radiolicious all this month. All Half Acre Day, all the time.Normally this would run a band a cool ten bucks, but today, we are kings, and it won't cost us a thing. You either.
Radiolicious is an internet radio service. Users are able to search and listen to terrestrial radio stations. While listening, users are offered the ability to send in song requests to DJ's, enter contests, bookmark favorite stations, post wall comments, share the station with friends, and access social networks such as Facebook. Radiolicious currently has over 400 AM/FM radio station affiliates spread out across the country. The app also has over 6000 internet stations.What's more: Radiolicious is now offering a smart phone app - Download the app for free in the app store on your iPhone and iPod Touch or listen live at
www.radiolicious.fm. - do check it out if you are so inclined. It's the coolest.Hugs,
half acre day
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Sep 15, 09:17 AMHalf Acre Day, Valu Pak - Thursday at SkylarkCome join us for a free show as we are reunited with our old pals, rok gods Valu-Pak.
Thursday, September 17, 9:00 pm
w/ Doctor Doctor, Valu-Pak
FREE, 21+
Skylark Cafe & Club
3803 Delridge Way SW
Seattle, WA 98106
206.935.2111 -
Aug 31, 10:52 PMHalf Acre Day - This Thursday @ High DiveCome join us for an impromptu "Back to School" show this Thursday night! Yes, it's a
school night - you are big kids now. You can stay up as late as you want. We'll even
write you a note for the morning if you need one.
details:
Thursday, Sept. 3rd - 9pm show
HIGH DIVE
w/ Fun Fun Fun and guests
21+ $6
Have a swell week everyone. See you soon!
love,
Half Acre Day -
Aug 21, 01:43 PMTonight: Throwing the Pop Over InternationallyEveryone should come to this. Seriously, I mean everybody. Just go right there from work. If you don't have a job, go there from your home. If you don't have a home, go there from wherever you are.
Take the train, run really fast, ride a flying em effing dolphin, whatever you have to do.
Be sure to gather followers Jesus-style until you descend upon the Mars Bar en masse like a swarm of music-loving bees, devouring the sweet nectar of Half Acre Day. Then pollenate with us.
Tonight, Friday, August 21, 7:30 - 8:30 p.m.
Café Venus/Mars Bar
609 Eastlake Ave E Seattle, Earth 98109
$8, Also starring:11:00 SHAKE SOME ACTION (http://www.myspace.com/shakesomeactionband)
10:30 The Knast (http://www.myspace.com/theknast)
10:00 Lund Brothers (http://www.myspace.com/lundbros)
9:30 Shotty (http://www.myspace.com/shotty)
9:00 The Orchid Highway (http://www.myspace.com/orchidhighway)
8:30 Central Services (http://www.myspace.com/centralservices)
8:00 Half Acre Day (http://www.myspace.com/halfacreday)Love, HAD
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Aug 19, 10:53 AMHalf Acre Day @ International Pop Overthrow SeattleFriday, August 21, 7:30 p.m.
Café Venus/Mars Bar
609 Eastlake Ave E Seattle, Earth 98109 -
Aug 12, 03:59 PMAh, Seattle HempfestSeattle Hempfest, we heart you, and we will heart our little hearts out at you on Sunday afternoon. (Myrtle Edwards, Main Stage, 12:30 pm). Go Hemp!
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Jul 10, 03:24 PMWrong NumberHere's what happened: Last night my phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but I pick up anyway. "Hello?"
"Where do I call for complaints?" says a voice I don't recognize.
"Complaints? Hell, I got plenty, if you want to hear some."
"No, I mean I want to complain. Who should I call? God?"
I pause. "Do you have His number?"
The voice and I both laugh like old buddies, though I still don't know who it is. "So who am I talking to?" I finally ask.
He sounds a little pained that I don't recognize him. "This is Robert [Something]... Isn't this Frank [Something]?"
"No, I'm Matt," I say.
He reads my phone number to me, asking if that's correct. It's my number all right, I say, but no Frank here.
Robert was still not quite convinced. "Huh... Are you sure?" Yeah, I say, I'm pretty sure I'm not Frank and that Frank doesn't live here. I don't even know a Frank.
"Well, that's too bad. I just got out of a five-year coma, and I was just going through my wallet to try and get in touch with old friends again. This is the number I have for Frank."
A coma? Jesus!
"Yeah. I'm paralyzed."
Holy shit, that's terrible... What happened?
"I don't know," he says dismissively. It's clear he doesn't want to talk about it. "Man, me and Frank had some great times! We used to hang drywall and party together. Drywall and beer! That was me and Frank."
Wow, That's awesome, I say lamely. I can't think of any other response.
We reminisce a bit more about the good times he and Frank had, then we hang up.
Best of luck, Robert Something in Bellingham. Hope you get a hold of Frank. Keep fighting the good fight. -
Jun 30, 03:22 PMMarathons, Aneurysms, Sunburn and HoweWell, it was a little touch and go for a bit there, but we did get to perform at the Rock-n-Roll Marathon.
In the brochure, our location was listed as "SB99 at Northern Import." The reason no one has ever heard of this location – no one in the history of the world, including Johnny Google and the Internets – is because it doesn't exist.
On top of this, we did not have parking passes. For whatever reason, we never received them in the mail, nor were aware we were supposed to (I told you we were fucking geniuses).
Turns out that finding any given place is exponentially more difficult when that place is surrounded by police officers who've been instructed not to let anyone through without a parking pass, and you don't have a parking pass.
In a process that nearly resulted acute thrombosis for each of us in the band, we acquired said passes and arrived at the stage with minutes to spare before the fastest runners started to flow by. The last of the baker's dozen-or-so cops we had to talk our way through admonished us from around a mouthful of blueberry bagel to be very careful not to run over any runners in the hundred yards from her post to the stage. I was personally grateful for the warning, because I had been under the impression that we were SUPPOSED to hit runners with our cars... Wasn't that part of the fun of a marathon? Boy, would my face have been red or what?
The band with whom we shared the stage, Goldie Wilson, very courteously switched time slots with us and proceeded to rock for the next two hours as the sun got hotter and the runners more numerous.
We took our turn, and with the exception of some moments when our lead singer (me) went deaf and drifted into his (my) own key, it wasn't too bad for our first time out without Marty and Aaron.
The runners, as it happens, were a terrific and appreciative audience, particularly the ones in the middle, the median-dwellers in the bell-shaped curve, who were neither focused on winning nor having cardiac arrests after 17 miles. These people were often smiling, waving, cheering. They were beautiful people, all, and I commend them for their insanity.
But in addition to learning that Marathon runners rock, or that marathons didn't necessarily HAVE to involve human-vehicle collision to be fun, I learned something else that day: When playing two and a half hours in direct sunlight, bring along sunscreen. To paraphrase my good friend Steve Damm: Dumbest. Sunburn. Ever.
Fucking geniuses, I'm telling you. -
Jun 25, 10:35 AMSaturday's gonna be SO WEIRD.For one thing, it's our first show with Big Steve on drumbs, which means it's also our first without Aaron.
For two, Marty's out of town, which means we're down to a four piece.
And C, it's the Seattle Rock and Roll Marathon, which means the audience will be running by the whole time. We'll be at mile 17 of the 'thon, about the point where someone like myself would be disgorging parts of his respiratory system.
And fourthly, load in is at 6am. In the morning. Now, I don't know much about that early, but I do know that even early risers like finches, farmers, five-year-olds and the Sun are not up at that ungodly hour. Not with electric guitars, anyway.
Will the runners even hear us over the sound of their thudding hearts? If they don't, will we even make a sound at all? If they do, will they use any of their precious breath to cheer? To boo? Will the Doppler effect render our carefully-honed harmonies moot? What does coffee taste like with a couple shots of vodka in it?
The answers to these questions and more this Saturday. Peace unto you all. -
Jun 18, 05:18 PMH.A.D.'s Canadian TripletThrough the process of trying to smooth out the rift between Half Acre Day and H.A.D (See our earlier blog, "H.A.D.'s Evil Twin"). We have made a shocking discovery.
There is (or was, at least) another H.A.D.
A French Canadian one.
Our H.A.D. profile - which was automatically generated by garageband.com without our input - is littered with links and elements erroneously pertaining to this now-defunct group.
Absurd though it may seem, eight years ago we were offered a tidy sum of money for the name H.A.D., by the management company of the unfortunately-named-for-late-2001 New Zealand band Shihad (think "Jihad" and falling towers). They wanted to change their name to The Had, and we - li'l ol' us - were all that stood in their way.
We turned them down. Something about integrity and brand recognition and other such bull shit. We should have taken the damn money. Especially since we switched back to Half Acre Day less than a year later.
Actually, come to think of it, when we got the call from Shihad, we had just pressed a CD under the name H.A.D. and were preparing to release it, which we ultimately did. Still, we should have taken the damn money.
This wikipedia article [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shihad talks about Shihad's name troubles. Though their specific dealings with us don't show up here, we swear this really happened. Seriously, only some really messed up people would make this shit up, right?
I should edit the wiki article myself. Only some wiseass would say "citation needed." Hey, I got your citation right here. I WAS THERE, MAN.
For Shihad's part, they ultimately changed their name to Pacifier, which, I must say, really sucks. They must have thought so too, because not long after they switched back to Shihad.
All of which just goes to show, changing your name ain't worth it. Don't do it, kids.
