iSewage uNot – foot switchable iPod controller

Impaled’s first national tour was with Nile in the year 2000. Nile controlled a bunch of oogey-boogey Egyptial style samples from a PC tower on stage. I was sure they played Tetris between songs to relax. On another tour with Origin, we thought they’d upped the D.I.Y. by burning a CD with samples on it to play through a Sony Discman, the height of technology. Then came the iPod: relatively cheap, small, and it worked pretty good. For Impaled, Jason hooked up a series of samples and would walk back to his amp to push the “forward” button. I did the same thing a few years later while touring with GWAR. I thought, “There must be a better way.” And there is. But I had to invent it.

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Behold! The iSewage uNot!

Well, I didn’t actually invent shit. I did put together a bunch of other already invented shit in what I think is a pretty novel way. The iSewage uNot incorporates an iPod, a DI box, a stereo-summing circuit, and a momentary foot switch. A musician can control an iPod with his foot for use as a sampler while playing music. Apple plugged in all the technology you need to make it happen, but they forgot to include the instructions.

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From Creepsylvania to Cascadia

Or, from the Great White North to the Great Black Circle.

I’d been clamoring for some time to take another trip up North. It’d been a good god damned YEAR since we’d been there for the Revelations of Death fest back in 2012. I missed the amazing coffee. I missed the greasy spoons. I missed Fred Meyer. Ah, Fred Meyer… if God opened a Wal-Mart, it would be called Fred Meyer. But I digress. We were headed to play a show in Vancouver, British Columbia on the Friday, August 9th and the Black Circle Fest in Portland the next day.

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A beaut from our own Scott Bryan

People had work, so Thursday night we loaded up the van and made a run for the border… for Poutine Bell. I really, really hate making this drive at night. The I-5 through the Oregon mountains is no joke for some sleepy headed band in a big van. I always try my damnedest to avoid night drives, let alone one on a road that has taken actual musicians’ lives.

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Half the Amp I Used To Be

I had gotten about half way through a really great post for this week over the last few days, but disaster struck. My Ampeg V-4B went SNAFU. I smelled something smoking at practice. I thought it was my strings from some awesome bass licks. Nope, I had a tube red plating in the back if my amp. It was about to blow. I turned everything off and had to figure this shit out. I had a show in Canada to play and no back up amp!

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Over the next couple days, I checked shit out. I tested all the tube socket voltages with the tubes out, in case it was feeding my tubes too much voltage or not draining enough. This is dangerous territory here and not for the inexperienced. We’re talking leads getting 560V. That will kill you. Long story short, everything tested fine. So, WTF?

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Ghoulunatics and Bako Bits

When people think of California, they think of something like SNL’s The Californians… a bunch of woven patio furniture lounging, iced-tea-drinking, bottled blonde, surfer types. And of course lots of gay orgies, vegetarians, and PETA protesters forcing tourists to smoke pot and listen to lectures by Noam Chomsky. Then, there’s Bakersfield. This is the real California. It’s a large agricultural town with an infrastructure not updated since the ’60s and maybe a rolling meth lab or three. This is the side of California that passed Proposition 8. This is the bulk of the Golden State. It was about time we played a show outside our Occupy Oakland and Hollyweird bubbles.

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We rolled into Bakersfield after a five hour drive at about four o’clock. The temperature outside was above 100° and climbing, well above some Bay Area pussies’ comfort zone. On our way in, what few people were in downtown were evidence of the city’s lack of support for the homeless, drug addicted and schizophrenic. Hey, maybe this place is more like the Bay Area than I thought!

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Entartete Kunts: The Exhibit: The Book: The Blog

BUY THIS BOOK! As an international taste-maker, when I talk, people listen. And I’m telling everyone now: Entartete Kunts, curated by Dennis Dread and featuring works from me and 41 other talented artists, is a must have book for lovers of art, the underground, underground art, and books about art from the underground.

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Where to buy it? That one is easy; you buy it from the publisher, the Ajna Offensive. You won’t find another deal like this, what with 340 full-colour pages for only half a Franklin. Why should you buy it? If you’re reading this blog, you should already have your answer; you’re a patron of all things excellent. If you don’t, well, you’re dumb. So let’s go back six years and maybe we can get it through your thick noggin.

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From the Ashes… B.C. Rich Ironbird

Musical instruments, good ones, are often compared to one’s children. Well, how many children are thrown in a case, plucked, hammered on, plugged into, or hanged? Don’t answer that. (Please, really, don’t.) Without these precious musical items, though, it’s hard to call oneself a musician. That is, lest ye fortunate to have the talent of Susan Boyle (hopefully not the face). My favorite, my child, my baby, my fifth limb… my B.C. Rich Ironbird. This thing is a mother fucker.

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photo of moi © http://www.nandoonline.com/

It’s an American made (or at least assembled, I dunno) classic, with the big “R” inlay on the headstock indicating its origin in the land of the free. Birthed sometime around THIRTY FUCKING YEARS AGO, it’s got neck-through construction, a rosewood fretboard, and a simple one-knob configuration. Because metal don’t need a fucking tone knob. I scored it over a decade ago at a used-music shop in San Jose for a meager $300, during a period where “metal” was a dirty word and Prodigy was the band of the future (where are they know?). It’s been with me on countless tours and tons of recordings.

Imagine my heartbreak when the neck broke.

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Sewage 2.0, or Number Two is Poo

It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything, but I’ve been heaps busy. Though I’m forlorn to have starved the masses of my keen intellect and barbed wit, it’s been a necessary evil to hurl forward with a veritable slew of projects. Prepping for my wedding, a string of album layouts, recording, art… this website is but one of those projects.

No longer bound by Google (“do no evil, unless the NSA or the Chinese ask you to”), I’ve moved doktorsewage.com entirely onto a private server. I’ve rolled up my sleeves and gotten my itty bitty typing fingers dirty in the guts of WordPress, the amazing free and open source platform for building websites and blogs. Thank Bejebus, because I’m sick of hard coding html while I should be making art. Instead, now I can sift through CSS. A lateral move, really, except for the final result is far more satisfying.

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European Bluntkrieg 4

The Bavarian pigs sure had thrown us for a loop. On our way to Tilburg in the Netherlands, they’d made us leave our back line and our Scott behind. What bungling! We showed up for a show I’d booked just four days previous with no back line. Because I only have Skype on my phone and no international plan, I had to wait until we found a McDonald’s with free wifi one hour outside of Tilburg to inform the staff at Little Devil of our predicament. Need I have worried? To paraphrase my friend Luuk running the whole thing, “Hey man, you’re in the Netherlands. It’s all taken care of.”

 
In one hour, give or take, Luuk and friends at the Little Devil had organized an entire back line, including a five piece drum set, cymbals (which we stupidly left behind), two Marshall cabs, a Marshall 2000 TSL, some Line 6 guitar head, and a decent Trace-Elliot bass combo. This show was going to happen.

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