The problem is that I’m scared of music and of performing, so a few bandmates that you know and love will join me on stage. Which means it’s not quite a solo show and not quite the full ‘Kingsley Flood.’ So what are we? Kingsley…Trickle? Kingsley…Stream? THESE are the important questions of our day.

(1) The Burren is a gem. It was such a blast last year.

(2) There may or may not be skeletons hanging from the ceiling

(3) there will be new tunes

(4) there will be guests

(5) there will be an awesome band kicking things off, Magen Tracy & the Missed Connections (if you couldn’t tell, that’s not us in the photo).  Check out this song!

(6) skeletons.

In saying different things to different people over the years, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when an old friend texted me a screenshot of his question to ChatGPT “what is the origin of the band name kingsley flood.” Here’s the response he got: “Kingsley Flood, an American indie rock band, derived their name from a small town called Kingsley in Iowa…” It goes on from there.

I love Iowa and everything, but that’s just not correct. And so, these ChatGPT shenanigans make me realize: the good people of the world deserve an explanation.

Before we get to the not-fake news

But first, we should report on some not-fake news: shows!

• We’re getting pumped for our DC show in a few weeks at Pearl Street Warehouse. Right after Labor Day, come cap off your summer right DC. Get your tickets here.
• We are very excited to announce our annual Boston show back at the Burren on Saturday, October 19. Like last year, it’ll be early (parents, you’re welcome). And we hope like last year, the skeletons will be out of the closet and hanging from the ceiling. Come in October and find out. Last year it sold out, so get your tickets here!

The not-fake news

Okay good people, the explanation: There are exactly two moments in time when I became a Springsteen fan. The first was after a friend insisted that “Born in the USA” was not necessarily a patriotic song. To which I said “you mean that jacked dude screaming about America and pumping his fist in the air and Reagan telling us to listen to him” to which he said “just listen to the lyrics you dope.” I listened to the lyrics and realized that I was, indeed, a dope. And I was intrigued.

The deal was sealed with the second moment: August 21, 1999, when I saw him live for the first time (of many) at the garden in Boston (or whatever it was called then). It was telling to me that I was hugging the dude next to me two hours into the show. Did I know the dude next to me? Nope. I was hooked after that.

​
Springsteen matters because he figures in the real story of our name. Thing is, it’s kinda boring: I lived in Allston, MA right near a street named Kingsley. And I heard that Springsteen liked to race cars on a street named Kingsley in Asbury Park, NJ. I loved that connection. I also liked the word ‘flood’ and the connotation of some sort of reckoning it carries. So, Kingsley Flood. Nothing more than that. No guitars floating down the street.

I like our name. The only problem is the occasional head-scratching moment when I receive a Google Alert about a flood somewhere, where a local official is named Kingsley. (Fun fact: I have learned that Kingsley is a popular name in some African countries. Less fun fact: I have also learned that there have unfortunately been floods in said countries).

Let this all be a lesson to you: the next time someone asks you about your name, or really anything about you, just tell the truth, even if it’s not the most exciting. Otherwise, be prepared for ChatGPT shenanigans.

-naseem

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7​
​with The Beanstalk Library
​8pm (7pm doors)
Pearl Street Warehouse: 33 Pearl Street, Washington, DC (on the Wharf)
​Tickets here​

​
​SATURDAY, OCTOBER 19​
​with Magen Tracy & the Missed Connections
​Early show! 7pm (6pm doors)
The Burren: 247 Elm Street, Somerville, MA (Davis Square)
​Tickets here

That show was on October 6. The day after, the world – for many, and for me – changed. Yeah, my parents are Palestinian, so there’s that connection to the Middle East. But maybe more significantly, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a big part of the work I do during my days, as I’m trying to get people – sometimes Israelis and Palestinians themselves, sometimes Jews and Arabs, sometimes people who just disagree – to fight better.* Since October 7, that’s been quite a task.

And it’s been hard to just be around it. Of course, I have the luxury of distance; I don’t live there and worry about whether I’ll survive the night. But, I’m close to it, and the steady stream of miserable news has been hard. Particularly in the context of every other crappy thing out there: the earth is clearly warming, our political system is a mess, and we’re facing an election where it’s not hyperbolic to say democracy is at stake.

Then there’s music. This is the part of this note where you might think I’ll pivot, and say something like “that’s why we should forget all that and RAWK OUT with us at our upcoming shows!” and then I’ll pitch you to come to shows in DC and Boston. But that annoying pitch makes a big assumption: that music is a distraction, or an escape. Something you can run to and forget about all the world’s troubles. Where you can just sing about red solo cups and Margaritaville and only worry about how hard we’re partying Saturday night.**

Music plays a vital role in my life, not as an escape but as a release. As a way to not avoid the crap, but to embrace it head on. And in the process, maybe we can take that energy from all the crap in the world, and steer it towards something better. There’s still nothing more therapeutic than getting on a stage and screaming something into a microphone. And it’s only therapeutic when the thing you’re screaming about has meaning.

I don’t mean to say that screaming about solo cups and margaritas isn’t fun – obvi it is. I mean to say that, for me, it just isn’t that helpful. When the cup is empty and the hangover sets in, there’s still crap out there, and I have no good way to deal with it (Advil alone won’t cut it).

So, yes, we do have shows in the Fall, and we’ll be debuting some new songs (photo is from the studio, and here is a teaser of the new tunes). And yes, we would like to see you there. And yes, I know we are going to have a good time. But also, in addition to the pure joy we’ll all get from being in the same space together – singing and yelling and making bad decisions – I also know that there will be a bit of therapy happening. That singing these songs – sometimes with heavy lyrics about dictators and income inequality and untied shoes*** – is actually, dare I say, helpful. I’m so excited to hit that crap head on. So that I’ll feel better, and so that we can all be a little better prepared for whatever happens the day after.

naseem

* I don’t mean physically. I’d be very bad at that.

** This is why we’ll never have the success of a mainstream country band.

*** See how many times you can spot ‘shoes’ in our songs. It’s a problem I’ve got, I know.

After many years together as a band, we have come to a harsh realization: we are very bad at social media. Back in the day when music muckity mucks would demand we “post more content!” we would typically respond with a poorly framed picture of a crappy van.

Maybe one reason we’re so bad is because we don’t really get that personal on here. Today’s post is kinda the exception to the rule: today my wife Sarada and I celebrate our 10th anniversary. Our hand was forced last month, when Sarada came out of the shadows and joined us on stage to sing and play upright bass on a few tunes. We were playing at the beautiful Millennium Stage at The Kennedy Center, and there’s some really high quality video of it here. So, something personal and a high quality video – we’re getting better, right? Right??

(More photos are here. Thanks to Cicie, Liz, Tony and our own Nick for them)

Snakes aside, this is exciting for other reasons: it’s an all-ages show, and it’s early. In other words, bring the kids. Oh, and it’s free!
If you’re in the DC area, we’d love to see you there. If you’re not, we’d love to see you online, where they’ll be streaming it. Snakes be damned.

And then, sometimes, that doesn’t happen. Sometimes, muscle memory fails you, and there’s a big ole blank space in your brain. So you end up making things up. One time, you were so thrown off trying to remember lyrics, failing, and then making things up about the first thing you could think of: cereal. There was a whole tune about cereal. Thankfully, totally wasted dude is totally wasted, and you’re not that articulate, so no one could tell anything was amiss (maybe). But you go to bed that night knowing you pulled the wool over some folks.

Totally winging it?

It gets even more complicated when you’re recording, which we happen to be doing right now. You’re so invested in totally new songs, and then when you have a show, you have to remember the old ones. It’s cognitive whiplash.

All of this is to say, I have no idea what’ll happen when we play a few new tunes and a bunch of old tunes next week at the Burren in Somerville, MA. Will I remember the lyrics or make shit up? Will I remember the story I was trying to tell – obviously the most important story in the world when I wrote it in the bedroom or the subway – in the moment, or sing about Frosted Mini Wheats (the best cereal, fwiw).

Whatever happens, we are psyched to hit the stage once again. DC a few weeks ago was amazing (no songs about cereal, unfortunately). This’ll be the first time we play Boston in a few years, and the only time we play Boston this year.

New songs, old songs, our great friends the Shang Hi Los opening, and an early show so you have time to go home and eat cereal at a reasonable hour.

-n