After a restless night of sleep, dreaming in and out of Camp Bisco 2012, I finally rolled my Barber deprived soul out of bed. A grey sky marks my San Diego morning and the gloom that grazes the bay outside my window translates this feeling all to well. For comfort I dig carelessly through my dresser drawers in search of my spray painted Biscuit’s tee. Upon discovery I squeeze the red logo stenciled shirt and consider the next string of shows I will not be in attendance to. I start to wonder when I’ll see the Biscuits again and as I listen to one of my favorite soundboards I get lost and fall into a Buddha jam. Embracing every riff I dress on my favorite symbol and fade slowly into the floor. Delicate tears begin to fill up my eye’s reflection and as I penetrate this disheartened stare I know my Biscuit’s dream, this run around, will not come true.
If you had told me, four years ago, that I would be writing this article I would have laughed in your face. It wasn’t always a love, no, obsessive, relationship between the Biscuits and I. In fact there was once a point in my life where I couldn’t stand to listen them. The band didn’t automatically feed candy to my ears but in two year’s time I would soon become possessed by their lasers and entranced in a Spaga jam.
I first heard of tDB’s from a college friend and not their music, just their name. I was a late bloomer for a Biscuit’s kid and my journey, as a listener, only began, in 2008, at Bonnaroo. When I read through my first festival line up, I took my friend’s coolness into consideration and made my way to “This Tent,” where I would absolutely loose it to a Biscuits rendition of Rage Against the Machine’s Killing in the Name. I wouldn’t know it, at the time, but the set list from that night was dirty and I consider myself lucky, to this day, to have experienced The Safety Dance> Nughuffer> Killing in the Name> Rock Candy> Crickets.
The moment I returned to the ‘Real World’ I knew it was up to me to further investigate this band but the freedom I found, so easily, on their dance floor was challenging to discover on a burnt CD. In my car I skipped through tracks searching for that gooey satisfaction I expressed with my dance moves, but time and time again, was unsuccessful. Impatient, I gave up on the Biscuits for a while and turned to big-time, upcoming acts, like Pretty Lights during the ’09 era.
It wouldn’t be until Camp Bisco, 2010 that I would really get to know their style of playing. The jam of the Biscuits, here, hypnotized me with their skills and together Marc, Jon, Allen and Aron took me on a wild ride, through a storm of emotions, inside the land of the Disco. With six sets and a premiere of, in my opinion, the world’s best laser show, I don’t know what audience member wouldn’t find themselves melting in that experience.
From that point on I dedicated myself to understanding them further and spent joyful hours listening to their shows. As I recruited soundboards from some of my favorite Bisco enthusiasts I considered myself ready to join the band’s Phatnasy Tour. 27 shows later and I will be missing my first East Coast run since I joined the Biscuits Family. I will also not be in attendance for this year’s Camp Bisco, breaking a two-year consecutive run.
To all the fans out there, just like me, who are missing out on this upcoming tour, I hear your cry. To the fans seeking out on a much necessary fix, enjoy the hell out of yourself! To my friends, the masterminds who explained the Biscuits to me, thank you. And to the Biscuits Brownie, Magner, Aucoin and Barber your presence is needed in California!
If you, or somebody you know, may be suffering from Biscuits withdrawal please contact your nearest sparkleberry for moral support.
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