Black Top Demon

Booking : JoeTy@rocketmail.com
For Cd's and Tee-shirts Same as above



back to the story.
So there we were in the 74' charger, the drummer sitting in the backseat, the vegas sun illuminating him like an angel. An angel with a beat-to-shit drumset crammed in the seat next to him. Joe driving, still wearing the Gucci sunglasses he had stolen from the damaged goods stripper. I was in the passenger seat. Sober. Wrong for me. Wrong like the day would end up, but we didn't know that yet. Having just left Levi to his own devices, we figured we could continue the journey into Califonia and on to Mexico. TJ had our name on it. Unlucky for us, misfortune did as well. We had recently purchased two new front tires, as the breakneck non-stop pace of our trek into Vegas had worn out old tires down the the cables. When I say we, I mean my credit card and I. Smooth sailing is what was ahead. Right through the desert into the sprawling metropolis of LA. Smooth sailing.
The sign read -
Last gas for 165 miles
I looked at Joe. The drummer slept.
"Should we stop for gas?" I asked, thinking perhaps that would be important, as our gas gauge had caught fire within 10 minutes of leaving Olympia(as well as our temperature and oil pressure gauges) and we were now heading into the fucking desert.
Joe looked at me. Ill-begotten designer sunglasses making his face appear mischevious, to say the least.
He smiled. And continued to drive into the desert.
120 Miles after-
The car sputtered. Joe looked at me, sternly.
"I asked if we needed gas!" I stammered.
"Oh. I didn't hear what you said." replied Joe, with the same faux-innocent grin stuck on his face.
This, of course, was only the start of our pitfall laden course across the Mojave desert. In summary, Vegas really was bat country and it was at the edge of the desert, in barstow when the shit really hit the fan. Or the bathroom. All over the bathroom.
-as told by Sheldon, recounting one of many tour stories on the trip into, through and out of Las Vegas.



Black Top Demon is a four(sometimes three or even two) piece rock n' roll band from Aberdeen and Olympia, WA. They have the best damn live show you will ever see and if you don't like it, they will punch you in the face. Then the bartender will give them top-shelf drinks because they are so bad-ass.