M.D.I.Why. the art, gear, music, filth, depravity of Ross Sewage
Some word about gear… Obviously, Ludicra has gear issues. Why? Because we are a poor working man’s band buying our own stuff in used shops. So of course, our used shit takes a dump on the regular. The trick is to make things work while on the road.
At home, we have John’s amp sending out AM radio, mine blowing tubes, Christy’s with weird plug issues, and Aesop’s drums doing what all drums do… break. Now we are in foreign lands, so it’s anyone guess what’s going to happen on stangers’ gear.
You know what I hate most about Roadburn? The absolute lack of anything to bitch about. My usual default of claiming points in my life with a flag from the Kingdom of Dissapointment does not work here. If I have to deal with one more happy attendee or another smiling and helpful crew member, I’ll fucking puke rainbows and unicorns!
I learned about this festival when I was on my last stint of filling in on bass for Wolves in the Throne Room. They said, “Ross, it’ll blow your mind.” Sure, guys, I’ve been to some metal fests in my time, I think I can handle it. I was wrong. It’s the best. This has been a dream since to get Ludicra here, slay, and share the entire fest with my compatriots. Dream: realized.
The promoters were nice enough to arrange our hotel stay for extra days at the Formule 1 for all the days here, which is kind of like hotel and a hostel, but mostly like a prison. Every morning felt kind of like a Lifetime rape movie and we expected Brian Dennehy to be peering in our window with a sinister grin. We found out later about some cabins available for the same price with more beds at a campground that was actually close to the city center. It would’ve paid to do a better search online for cozier accomodations before arriving here. Noted. Compare and contrast:
The first day we got our passes and jumped into the mix. If I’d had a drink token for all the friends named Jan I ran into, I’d have had alcohol poisoning. We also made plenty of new friends, from Spain, Germany, Belgium, France, even the United States. It’s weird to get to know a neighbor from Oakland via the Netherlands. Maybe the lack of gunfire in the streets helps.
The first band I really got to see was Ghost. There’s a lot of buzz about this band. I’d call them the GWAR of Sweden. I guess it’s more arty though if you dress like a priest instead of fuck one with your cuttlefish. Decent Mercyful Fate meets BOC music.
Wovenhand was my next viewing, and no gigantic stack of amps can compare to the intensity David Eugene Edwards can put out with a combo. Talent before gear, the opposite of moi. Sure, he made some mocking cock star moves making fun of metal, but from a place so insane I respected it.
The last notable thing for me on the first day was Godflesh playing Streetcleaner in it’s entirety. By notable, I mean I nearly broke my body headbanging and dancing wildly. I love the Dutch, because they’re so polite I can easily force my way to the front using skills honed from growing up in America. The Sewage Surge.
More revelrous carousing later, and John said I entered a specific drunken state whereupon I passionately pound my fists on tables as punctuation, dance to no music, and fall asleep in the middle of saying, “Life is shit.” What a party, or so I have had to be told.
On Friday I was distraught to have missed most of prog-dark-doom band Aluk Todolo of France. What I caught at the end was amazing and really brought members of our traveling party to tears. Earth switched stages, to my dismay, so I was subjected to the Circle / Pharoah Overload circle jerk. What a waste of 15 guitar players on stage.
I took in some Sunn O))), but felt it was time to leave after I saw their slow-mo high five on stage. It did inspire me to start my new band, Crate. It’s awesome, because the amps never sound good and stop working before you are bored of the joke. Hooded Menace and Grave Miasma were more to my taste, but it did make me ponder why some new bands can make it with this kind of more alt, stoner crowd, but legendary Incantation is definitively for death metal fans only. Youth? Gimmicks? Maybe it’s the ‘stache they can’t see past.
The night was taken from Michelob and was firmly in the possession of Voivod. I have never seen a band smiling so much and having such a great time. It was infectious. I’ve seen Voivod many times, from the Outer Limits tour on, but I’ve never seen them with one of my all time favorite bassists. I was not let down. Blacky is not only über-talented but funny as hell in stage. Sir, I am firmly heterosexual, but I would suck your bass God dick. Snake churned it out even singing songs Eric had recorded and doing it justice. The new guitar player nailed it, and Away… Not only the nicest guy to ever play rock ‘n’ roll, but every drummer should get a lesson from him. By far, this was the best band of the festival.
Saturday, the day we would perform. Would I see a single band? I wasn’t counting on it. We unloaded our gear earlier than we were supposed to, and this started my relationship with the extremely sarcastic ginger lady who runs the backstage. This woman was so friendly and nice and managed to insult me every time I saw her and make feel like a moron. I loved it. I’m sure dealing with so many musicians all day, who are all also morons, it takes this kind of motherly dressing-down to make it all work. By the end if the night, when I, as a moron, had missed the appointed time to get paid which was posted everywhere, a got one wry eyebrow raise and she said she’d been so mean making fun of me through the day, she’d let this pass. Godflesh made me feel 16, now I felt 8.
The crew at Roadburn were amazing, duh, again. They had all the merchandise areas ready to go, so even bands showing up late had their spot. In America, if you don’t show up early, you’ll get your merch area in Fonzi’s office. They brought water around for people selling, even. Dammit! I’m afraid this is going to leave me spoiled. Not too spoiled as at least we did sell our own merch. Not to disparage those that hired on staff from Roadburn, but I think it’s important for a band, at least on our meager level, to sell some merch. The tigers can ask questions about stuff, and the band can get some much needed ego stroking on a face to face level. Pay your dues, younglings.
When it came time to play, the staff again was beyond reproach and helped us set up in record time, negotiating our gear through the tiniest room of the fest that was already filling up. We had been given an hour, more than we had initially planned for from the original contract, and we hoped we could fit in our best set in that time if we just didn’t fuck around. Everything was zipping along until Aesop’s jackhammering once again took it’s toll:
Our set was finished and we did it all in 59 minutes. Much success. Honestly, I don’t remember much more of the night. I’d been so wound up about this, planning this trip for near a year, stressing, and now this show was done and I could fall into an eerie dream like trance for the rest of the fest. I’d seen many of the upcoming bands for the night, so it was more about time for good visiting and wrapping up business.
It was amazing seeing old friends from all over, and finally being able to play Ludicra live for them. It’s been a long time coming. Toby, Darcy, Chad, Olivier, the many Jans, Davey, Ashley, Artur, shit, so many others… And I must thank Walter, the father of Roadburn.
We stuck around on Sunday to see Afterburn. Laurie and John took it easy at the campsite we moved to while Conny, Christy, Aesop, and I were looking for a reason to go drinking. I really didn’t see much of any of the bands as we missed Spindrift, the only one I knew I wanted to see. I did see some Dead Meadow and their dancing ball of fur. What a pile of shit. It was pretty much hippy jams, so it was time to go drinking with friends that I wouldn’t see again in a long time.
Apparently there was a big textile industry here back in the day. The workers would save their, “water,” as the polite shop keep explained to me. She meant piss. They collected this in stone pots and they would take it to work. The urine was used to dye wool white. Go Tilburg innovation. A statue dedicated to this:
Doktor Ross Sewage
www.doktorsewage.com
dispatched from Die Struwwelpetra Ludicra 2011 European Tour
I’ve already written this entry once, and the blog application I’m using lost it. Shit… I got a tad discouraged, so this promises to be a long one to catch up to Ludicra’s exploits, adventures, journeys, and hijinx. Note to self… Save often.
It was a fun night at Il Hammero du Lucifero playing with Acid King and Carlton Melton. The Bay Area meeting in Mezzago was a hit with the two Lauries playing dueling divas of doom. A fun night was had by all, except maybe the local drunk mustachioed wonder of blubber who didn’t get to rape me. Oh, I’m sure he meant well. Meant to rape me well. Porco Dio!
We got to borrow Acid King’s gear and finally get some full stack action. It’s not about more dBs, it’s about fullness of tone. Those stacked speaker move a lot of air and the sound gets around. Oh, the blessed Ampeg 8×10… No one can touch your 1969 design. I get sad seeing you go, and back to some 4×10 stacked on a 15. It’s just not the same. Hell, I also borrowed a Peavey 8×10 later in Antwerp, and this couldn’t compare. This is not an endorsement, so much as a command. Anything less than an 8×10 style fridge box from Ampeg is a waste of space on this Earth.
We stayed at a great B&B; in Mezzago. Poor Acid King and Carlton Melton had to leave 2 hours after we arrived in the night. They missed the petting of horses, the soccer, the leisurely sun bathing… All too nice of course, compared to the parking lot campsite. Juxtapose us at the beautiful villa:
That’s us in the median of a parking lot somewhere in France. What a difference a day of driving makes to turn one into a feral wreck of a person. The thing is this… France. I don’t want to say the French aren’t industrious, but you never likely to buy a “Les Girard” brand television. We took side roads to avoid the outrageous French highway tolls, and the gas stations on the way are manned approximately 2 hours a day for cash customers, hence we had to park until they opened. If they worked any harder, I suppose those baguettes would just over run the country, uneaten in leisure.
We made the show in Soudan France after 2 days drive. We dubbed it “Les Caliope” after the farm of our friends in Wolves in the Throne Room. A similar good time was had as we always have in Olympia, mainly drunken crusties dancing wildly. That’s our jam.
This night, Aesop broke a spring on his drum pedal. This was beginning to be a curse, as Christy broke a string the night before in Italy. Could we not get through a night without breaking something in the middle of our set? I was sure I was next.
We managed to fix the thing mid set by stripping the other drummers pedal that was sitting there. I breathed a sigh of relief when said drumme walked up and saw what I was doing without asking. NEVER do that. Lucky, he was a nice Belgian man. They don’t have a rep as a very fiesty people. Good for skinny ol’ me.
My gauge for when a night should be over is when people start throwing chairs. It’s a crusty punk gauge that says to me, “you’re probably not far behind… Time for bed”
The next day, Aesop was worried about the freak accident of his pedal and getting to a music store. Needless to say, there wasn’t one on the farm and Paris was far away. I called the promoter, a lovely lady named Emy, and asked if she could acquire what we needed and she totally came through. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to have a promoter get some gear in emergency, and I bless the tour book I printed out with all contact info before leaving home.
We played La Miroiterie in Paris, the last squat in the city of lights. Driver Conny made a ballsy move and decided to just leave th hazards on and park, really, in the street, as opposed to driving and looking for parking for 3 hours. The gamble worked, with police ticketing properly parked cars with expired time and leaving us alone.
This night, I was sure I was going to break something. It was my turn. Instead, we just blew the power out. Oi vey. We are running a combined 570 watts for our backline, which is ridiculous amount of power for some of these tiny venues, but Ludicra are tube junkies. Maybe we could take tubes out and run at halfpower, a tricky thing to set up, but not possible with rented gear. Ill go over that some other time. We still finished our gig fine, only having to swith the fuse box to “on” one other time.
I think sight seeing is important on tour, but some prefer to sleep. There was a lot we couldve gone to see, but as I’ve gotten a good run around Paris before, I let my wee Ludicrans opt for sleep without protest.
We next headed to Antwerp. Belgium… the real home of the french fry.
Our show at Trix was joined by Cough, Liturgy, and White Hills. Obviously, we were nearing Roadburn country. We decided early on to combine gear with Cough for some nice full stack action. Everytime we do this, there is massive confusion about Ohms and what we are plugging into. Christy’s amp is a Mesa Triple Rectifier, with about fifty different ways to plug out of it. John’s is standard speaker outs on the 6550, but still confusion occurs. Ohms are not actually that hard to understand. You don’t even need to understand them to plug in correctly. Let me see if I can make mnemonic for all to remember and never have to ask about speaker Ohm outs to me again… If you have two on the road, use half the load. That is, a full stack, with two cabs at 16 Ohms, will halve the parallel signal when both are plugged in to the amp, so it’s set at 8 Ohms for a match. The math just continues in that direction and… I’m. Bored. Just remember the mnemonic and don’t ask questions. Electricity is weird.
The whole night was great. While we played, I noticed a group of folks headbanging like mad and thought, “Oh, maybe the Belgians aren’t as reserved as I remember.” Turned out these folks were from Madrid on the way to Roadburn. Spaniards… it figures they were the ones partying hardest. I decided to compliment their endeavors by plying myself with wine to a dance frenzy. Aesop joined in. I don’t think Hunter was too stoked, though, for he refused my requests that he should dance. C’mon, dance is transcendental as shit.
I just may have been still drunk when I woke up in the van and kept dancing in the street while jamming some Karp in the iPod. I’m pretty sure I got some hard Belgian looks from the passing traffic. The rest of Ludicra stayed in the hotel, but local parking wasn’t too be had. So, beer was drunk underneath some train overpass until passing out amongst my own stench. This is the life.
Roadburn is happening now, and I should get back to it. Full entry to follow in the whole grand event.
Meanwhile, here’s the faces people make when drinking the worst beer in The Netherlands:
Doktor Ross Sewage
www.doktorsewage.com
dispatched from Die Struwwelpetra Ludicra 2011 European Tour
It’s more than just the best Jane’s Addiction song, it’s also the amount of time it takes to feel decent on tour. We have played three shows, all with my neck aching from headbanging, and this morning I forgot that it ever did until someone asked how it was feeling. Okay, that probably means some vertebrae is liquifying, but what’s a few neck surgeries in my old age?
This is why I hate short, 2-3 day band trips, i.e. what Ludicra called a tour for the first six years of our existence. It’s just enough time to feel like shit and then head back to work.
3 is a special number. Christy might say, “magical,” because she believes nonsense. Who knows? 3 is the number of guitar amps we should have had at the show in Leipzig. When John’s borrowed head crapped out during line check, there wasn’t one to spare. Kudos to John, however, for having spare fuses ready to put in this boutique Marshall clone. Oh wait! This “boutique” designer decided to use a non-standard fuse. You can’t possibly argue about fuses affecting tone, so I deem this amp retarded. Superkronik superpromoter Kristoff came to the rescue and acquired us a Marshall 900 lead in 10 minutes, and we had a great show. Check one list against uncommon gear and alway pack some standard replacements like fuses for tour.
3 is also the number of amps I thought was too many to take when we finally picked up our rental amps from Nomads of Prague. This is the best gear rental place in Europe. Walking into their warehouse is depressing in that you’d rather spend a month playing with all their reams of insanely classic gear instead of tour. It’s the place to go to get exactly what you need for tour. Plus, they loaded us with a back up head for guitar and bass. I thought we didn’t need a big heavy back up to cart around. When we did soundcheck, Sir Cobbett’s 5150 sounded dreamy. Come time to play, it took a crap. So I was wrong. It happens… But not often. It’s making me think of playing around more with some of these prissy little modern solid state numbers a bit to find one that I can stomach to bring around for when my beautiful beast of a tube head invariably craps out at the worst possible time. Hmm…
The show in Prague went well enough, making some new fans and playing through the hangovers that we brought with us from Leipzig. One personal skill I never thought would be handy in the Czech Republic surprised me: knowing some Spanish. Turns out the 1 Spanish speaking Czech was at our show and he didn’t know a lick of English. I felt reasonably good about our long exchange considering I feel like an idiot when Impaled goes to Mexico. Maybe I rely on Raul too much there, but it’s just so fun to make him have to baby his gringos.
3 is also the number of times poor Sir Cadbury Cobbett has had problems on stage so far. Our show in Črnomelj, Slovenia was not so well attended, and we’d driven about 11 hours to get there. John normally changes his trusty GHS Boomers before EVERY show, and then, when he has Internet access, he tweets a photo of his guitar to let you all know how awesome and dedicated he is to the craft. Surely, for this little show and after the drive, he could skip this ritual, Christy and I assured him. Turns out we were both wrong. Don’t skip your rituals, or the guitar gods will be angry.
3 is the number of instrument cables I should have brought. 3 is the number of times Rambo, the simple-giant of a Slovenian who had a bike accident, freaked me out. 3 is how late we were walking around in beautiful Prague before 3 of us took a taxi home. 3 is the number of people in this van divided by 2.
The point is you can see something anywhere, anytime you focus so hard on it. This can also include focusing on having a good time. Even though last night for us wasn’t so spectacular, we had good time and got this amazing picture of three people at the hostel: John, Aesop, and the old Slovenian man who dozed off in the common area while watching pornography.
Doktor Ross Sewage
www.doktorsewage.com
dispatched from Die Struwwelpetra Ludicra 2011 European Tour
I was on a highway to hell. That is to say, on my “non-stop” flight to Germany, I ended up on three different planes. The first never left San Francisco, having electrical problems, so I was put up in a hotel not 20 minutes drive from my own home. I paid $30 for a taxi to a liquor store because the bar was closed. The next day, our flight did leave, and I had just enough time to finish a masochistic viewing of the Yogi Bear movie before we made an emergency landing in Chicago because the toilets wouldn’t flush. The third plane made it. I would assume “barely.” This is United, the biggest airline in the world. They’ve bought up a shit ton of all the old planes from all the defunct airlines and this bullshit keeps happening everytime on United, not to mention their stewardesses are less than. Viva consolidating corporate interests. Who needs market competition, anyway?
By contrast, I was able to book the rest of Ludicra on a Lufthansa flight. They got to the airport late, and the friendly Lufthansa staff, which Aesop assures me was all hot chicks or hot gay dudes, ran them through security so they could make their trouble free flight. A few Xanaxs later, and those bastards arrived looking well rested and cheey. I hate my friends.
Initially, I was to get a ride from Frankfurt to my final destination. In Germany, it’s common to schedule ride shares, as hitch hikers are not typically killed here. The website to check out, as my my fellow United victims from Germany told me was http://www.mitfahrgelegenheit.de/ Rescheduling last minute didn’t work out for me, because all the available ride shares filled up fast. Or maybe it’s better if you don’t tell the people you have a giant suitcase full of records and tee shirts and a stupidly huge bass guitar. Instead, because United got me here 24 hours late and I missed my ride, I had to pay 88€ for a train.
Both I and the rest of Ludicra had zero problems with customs. Unlike all the English speaking countries, one does not need paperwork in triplicate to enter most European countries. In fact, after the initial passport stamping, no one was even there to check our bags. Quite a difference from the retinal scan and thumb up the ass one receives in the States.
Pack your merch carefully, weigh your suit cases, organize who can check what bag and you can save a lot of dough on shipping merch to Europe.
Everyone arrived a day early to avoid any problems with late flights and to hopefully get rest before tour. We got a small apartment / hotel room, and this morning all our old bodies are well rested and ready to grab our walkers, hobble to the show, and show these kids how black metal is made. Gray hair metal.
Doktor Ross Sewage
www.doktorsewage.com
dispatched from Die Struwwelpetra Ludicra 2011 European Tour
April 1, and it’s no fooling, I’m starting the first day of my tour with Ludicra. This also the first day of my new blog. I have in the past done tour journals and blogs on MySpace, giving away my free content to NewsCorps. Not to mention, it got creepy with all these folks knowing the ins and outs of my brain, so I quit. Now, I’m doing it again with a focus in mind. The focus is music… Making it, recording it, touring, and a basic ethic of DIY how to do it. What better time to start than another tour? It’s the school of hard rocks. It’s a hard rock life. GET IT?!
I’m at the airport getting ready for a non stop flight to Frankfurt. Lesson one: non-stop flights rule. I’ll never forget running the Chicago airport and nearly breaking my knee falling, only to miss a flight and get our luggage lost with Wolves on the Throne Room on our way to Europe. So, always get non-stop, unless it’s more than a few hundred bucks.
Lesson two: it’s lonely. I’m alone. Since I’m a functioning alcoholic, time for a beer. It’s these little rewards that make it easier.
Lesson three: be gregarious. Technically, my bass case is “oversized” and should have cost me $250 to get on the plane. Instead, I got by being friendly, chatting, and basically acting like a dopey musician. It’s not a fat stretch, really, but being stressed and super business-like wouldn’t have helped. It’s a lesson I’ve learned by traveling with Dino Sommese, who infuriatingly gets away with the most heinous comments at an airport and gets free drinks, because he follows it all with a whimsical smile.
That’s it… Next up, customs.
and Midian suck donkey dicks…
This is the story of a good band, Middian, a shitty band, Midian, and a spineless record label, Metal Blade.
Middian, as you may know, is the awesome doom band from Eugene, formed by Mike Scheidt of Yob fame. They released a crushing debut album last year, toured the country, and got rave reviews, and generally kicked ass.
I’m sure you’ve never heard of Midian. No one has (well, maybe their 513 friends on theirMySpace). The reason is they suck. Not just a little, this band is like the crusty shit stain on an otherwise fresh pair of drawers. They have a website that hasn’t been updated in 7 years, and so far as I can tell, they’ve recorded an EP sometime in 1999, played some shows in Milwaukee, and that’s it. The one thing this band did do is trademark the name “Midian.” At least, they say they did. Note the spelling please… Well, this band playing numetal that’s already old must’ve noticed that Middian was garnering some fame.
Metal Blade Records, that consummate arbiter of fairness in the music industry, got a cease and desist letter from “Midian” regarding Metal Blade’s band, “Middian.” They may have been looking for an out of case settlement to get some pay, for all the hard work they put into touring all four venues of Milwaukee. Metal Blade drops “Middian” like a whore drops a flaccid cock and gives up.
Now, the members of Middian have to start over with a new band name. no contract, and one can be sure some kind of feeling of utter disappointment. Metal Blade is free from the stigma of credibility in regards to artist relations. And Midian? Instead of any pay off, they get to keep flogging a differently spelled name to their 513 friends with the blessed knowledge that they fucked over much more capable artists than themselves. Their star surely will never stop rising.
I did the cover for Middian, and now I’d like to offer Midian some artwork, too… Here you go, boys!
The word from Middian’s own page:
So, we had a hell of a time finding a name. When Middian was suggested, we did a search and found nothing out there. So we went ahead and called ourselves Middian. However, in October, we received a cease and desist demand from Midian of Milwaukee, LLC. After checking our options, we have found ourselves with no choice but to comply with the demand. So, Middian no longer exists. We have also been dropped from the Metal Blade roster as a result of this litigation, being unable to sell our album Age Eternal ever again as well. The three of us are still going to be playing music together. It just isn’t going to be Middian anymore. We do not know what it is going to be called at this point. But we are still really into playing music with each other. Lots of folks were really good to us during the course of our existence and we really appreciate it. Please keep an eye out for us. Hopefully, you’ll be hearing from us very soon. We are too overwhelmed with the situation to respond to e-mails regarding this, so don’t take offense if we don’t reply. Trust that we are grateful for people’s love and support and ours is with you. DOOM, Mike, Will, and Scott
Indeed, the Emperor has new clothes, and they apparently consist of a Ludicra shirt. I didn’t know that old coot was so cool. I bet Darth is more into NSBM and Burzum, though. He’s racist against the sand people.
The Ludicra show last Saturday was real neat. I like the Hazmat, and I think everyone had a swell time. Rebel’s Advocate and Born/Dead both really kicked a lot of butt.