I write to you today from another form of transportation. Somewhere in the middle of Rhode Island, on my way back to New York from Boston, do I write feeling slightly nostalgic….

Two years ago this week, Tristan Clopet & the Juice was born.  And while I'm so proud of the great progress we've made in such a short time, and even more thankful of the people who've supported me and the band this whole time, I can't forget how it all began…on a soaked Friday night in Miami.

****

The barrage of rain slamming against the roof of my little one-story house on Aguero Avenue was almost as loud as we were.

The Birthplace

Ironing out the last few kinks of our set, just an hour or two before we were due on stage, we ripped through the practice, song after song, simulating as close we could what we were to perform in front of a mass of people just hours later.

After slamming the last note of the rehearsal in my living room, I looked at Sean, who looked at Colin, who looked at Phil, who looked at me and together, we each silently agreed in unison that we were ready to make our debut…

Up until that point, we romanticized in between rehearsals on how great playing live music would be. What should the band be called? How should we dress? It was all very exciting. But in our innocence, we were certainly caught off guard by one blinding aspect of 'band life.'

The schlepping.

I could write about how the next twenty minutes unfolded. The numerous repositionings, the calm(ish) arguments about in whose car and how the massive kick drum could fit. Looking back it was all very comical but to say that the anxious knot in our stomachs wasn't effecting us would be lying.

Phil rode with Sean. Colin was my navigator. We set off on the twenty-five minute drive to downtown. None of us had been to Tobacco Road before. But we had heard the they booked new bands.

A few days before, I showed Phil an advertisement in the New Times for this massive festival that was happening at the venue. Something like 40 bands. It seemed excessive.  We both agreed that we would call and ask to play, you know, just in case someone dropped out last minute.

That afternoon, I called the place and asked to be in touch with someone in charge of booking. I got a sharp answer back.

"He's not here. Call back tonight."  So I did and had better luck this time.

"Yo, this Oski."

"Hey Oski, I'm Tristan and I have a band and we want to play this Friday at the Colossal Festival. I was just wondering if there were any last minute openings."

"Today's your lucky day. I just got word that one of my favorite bands just dropped out because of a family emergency. What type of music is it?"

I gave him my best sales pitch.

"Oh ya'll are UM kids?" Obviously impressed with our school's music department. "Alright, you're on at 2:30 a.m. on the Burlesque Stage. I'm trusting you to show up. Don't let me down. And you better be good 'cus the band you're replacing is one of my favorite bands."

Oski - A Good Man Who Gave Us Our First Gig

Anybody in their right mind would need less than a second after hearing the words, "two-thirty" and "burlesque stage" together to turn the gig down.

But we were young.

And hungry.

And completely naive.

****

To Be Continued On Monday!

Here's a preliminary track list, not in any specific order. Some of these you might recognize from previous shows. I know number 9 has been requested a time or two.

1. An Introduction...

2. ...To Forward Thinking

3. You'll See

4. A Summer in Sussex

5. (Don't) Need Your Love

6. Hold on Lover, Hold on Girl

7. La Naissance Du Jour

8. Fife and Drum

9. My Man

10. What is Real?

11. Scenic Observations

12. The 4:45 Through Remembrance

Also, check out the new pictures. They're not on the site yet (thanks to a server error) but can be seen at:

http://www.facebook.com/TristanClopetAndTheJuice

While you're there, please "like" us.

Makes us feel so liked.

So I was sitting in my aisle seat on my way back from my buddy's bachelor party (you can imagine my state...), and thanks to "The Office" replays above my head, unsuccessfully attempting to read.

Upon landing, I heard a voice to my right say, "Excuse me, are you Tristan?"

Immediately, I perked up. Confidence rushed to the surface. Morale bloomed with vitality. Finally! A fan who doesn't share my last name! In fact, I don't even know this person. My music is spreading far and wide, reaching the masses. Even the children of the masses!  It will be filed in the Library of Congress, inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, played at every Presidential Inauguration for the next twenty years!

"You went to Sanderson High School, right?"

Alright, so maybe scratch the Hall of Fame...

--------------------------------------------------------

Hope all is right with everyone. It's been a while since the last entry, which is thanks to my submergence into this next album (due in the Winter.) And how's it going? What's it sound like? What's it even CALLED?

I don't know if you got a chance to read this article. It's a review of mine written by a friend who works at MTV.  Now, Purple has received a lot (seriously, a lot) of reviews. I'm very proud of what a lot of people have written about my work. It's nice to know that there are folks out there who like the music. But it's even more rewarding to hear knowledgeable opinions on my heart and soul. My friend at MTV is one of those 'knowledgeable opinions.'

I read a lot about how much 'potential' I have. Thank you. I also read a lot of words that looked like 'Anthony Kiedis,' or 'Jeff Buckley.' I've said this before (even in interviews, I think), I take being compared to those two guys as a great compliment. But my friend wrote particularly one sentence that really resonated...

"Tristan hasn't mastered Tristan yet."

So I can't tell you what it's going to be called yet. I can't tell you who will produce it. I can't even tell you when it will be finished.

But I can tell you what it sounds like...

Me

Man, I was like a little girl the other night in Raleigh.

Determined to see my new favorite band, the Arctic Monkeys for the third time on their 2010 tour of America, I made a lightning quick trip to NC and caught the show with some good friends.  It was the best of the three (the other two being in Boston with Rich and in Miami) and because after the show we took our time leaving, we noticed that the road crew were almost finished loading the gear. So I begged my buddies Chase (whom you already may know) and Tom (whom I think you'd love to know), to stay and meet the band.  They obliged like any great friends would, knowing full well that I have quite a thing for this band.

Well...forty-five minutes later, once all the cars and vans were packed and some of the crowd had been dissuaded, the guys stumbled out and all of a sudden, it felt like my knees turned to jelly and I had mouthwash in my blood.  For whatever reason, I don't get starstruck often but man was I nervous when I saw Matt Helders. Probably the greatest 23-year-old drummer that I'd ever heard of, - labeled by the UK press as the best drummer of our generation - actually turned out to be a nice guy despite seeming extremely tired (at least I think that's what he was feeling...) I politely bombarded him with four or five questions in two minutes (though I might've sacrificed a limb for ten more) and had a picture together.

Then Alex came by and muttered a few words.  Seemed very nice but also very out of it. He had someone directing his attention to people waiting. Chase got a wave from Alex's famous supermodel girlfriend Alexa Chung and then some douche ruined our picture with him.  Still didn't spoil a fantastic evening.