Category: Music

If Pungent Stench played last night…

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

And no one went, did they play a note?

Wow. These guys are like heroes to me. And including me, there was six paying people left by the time they went on. Who booked ’em in Concord (armpit of the Bay Area) AND decided not to flyer? One fan I met there only came in because he was filling a prescription next door and heard the noise. He was lucky! They still played a good set for all six of us. The played “Viva La Muerte,” “Blood, Pus & Gastric Juice,” “For God Your Soul,” “Got M.I.L.F.,” some other old songs I can’t recall right now (one off the split LP!), and a bit more off of Ampbeauty. They didn’t bugger out either, just cause there weren’t enough people there. Bowels Out, the band they were playing these shows with, were good sports too.

It was real cute to watch the openers play and then leave with their 15 friends before Pungent Stench even set up. These guys helped write the book, you n00bz. I guess it was past your bedtime, school was tomorrow, and you musta been tired from doing all them cool karate kicks and breakdowns.

Sad. Worst promoted tour ever. If anyone reads this from outta town, here’s the rest of their dates…

16.05.2006 RocknRoll Pizza Portland, OR USA
17.05.2006 Studio 7 Seattle, WA USA
18.05.2006 Samarui Duck Eugene, OR USA
19.05.2006 Boom Ogden, UT USA
20.05.2006 Grove Street Boise, ID USA
21.05.2006 Illif Park Saloon Denver, CO USA
22.05.2006 Hairy Marys Des Moines, IA USA
23.05.2006 Station 4 St Paul, MN USA
24.05.2006 Melody Inn Indianapolis, IN USA
25.05.2006 Elvas South Bend, IN USA
26.05.2006 1123 Evansville, IN USA
27.05.2006 Amvets 40 Roanoke, VA USA
28.05.2006 Maryland Deathfest @ Sonar Baltimore, VA USA
29.05.2006 Peppermint Club Norfolk, VA USA
30.05.2006 Trocadero Philadelphia, PA USA
01.06.2006 Downtime NYC, NY USA

Tragedy show

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

Tragedy show review, April 7

So, early Sunday show at Gilman. Those bastards… don’t they know these kids all have school the next day? How are they going to learn cursive if Gilman keeps having shows on school nights? I think this is not really supporting the education of the punk community.

I got to the show right before Born/Dead played, so I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that the first three bands sucked and all sounded like Nickelback meets Tom Jones.

Born/Dead played a really good set, as was expected. They continue to incorporate a lot of d-beat into their set, and I like it. I could be wrong, by they seem to sound harder than when I saw them years ago. Wyatt was strong as always, and I’m still amazed at the sound he gets playing with his fingers. It sounds like a pick. Maybe he has leather fingers like Tony Iommi. Josh laid down some awesome tom work, but it was really hurt by a lackluster sound. Was there a sound guy? Was there even a PA? Gilman needs to invest some of their trust fund into some unbroken equipment.

Tragedy came on and instantly pummeled the crowd. Towards the beginning of the set, they went straight from one song directly into “Vengeance” and it sounded killer. I wish some more punk bands, hell, more bands in general, could get stuff like that down. Instead of sitting around tuning at full volume, or mindlessly blathering, or drinking bottled water… it really keeps the flow of the show going. Unfortunately, Tragedy suffered when one of their guitar amps was cutting out. So much for the flow of the show.

Todd, the guitarist and vocalist, was really in good form. I’m a super huge fan of his vocals, and he’s got the rock moves to back it up. Fist pounding in the air, pointing at the crowd, and god damn that vein bulging in his head… he looks ready to kill. Kudos to him for pulling off those moves and managing to look tough, as opposed to a big ball of fromage. He really pulls the show together.

The sound, again, seemed lackluster. Not Tragedy’s fault. Their new songs, however, were their fault. Actually, I’m not 100% sure they were new songs, or if I just missed out on some b-sides. I only have their albums. Anyway, at least one of the riffs I was unfamiliar with sounded like a heavier distorted Green Day. The inspired breakdowns just didn’t seem to be there, though one song I really wasn’t enjoying did have a great coda in a minor key that was fairly epic. I know they were recording recently, so I’ll just have to wait and see how the material sounds from the studio.

Tragedy audience review:

To the little barrel of a girl who was running full speed into everyone… sorry about the tit grab, it was an accident. And gross. I just wanted you off of me. You stank, you looked like hell, and I hated you. Don’t run into people for no reason, or yank their damn shirts. Look at your fellow moshers… they were having fun, occasionally losing balance and falling into people, but generally respectful and just beating the snot out of only each other. I’m not sorry about the second time when I hit you in the neck. I wish it had been harder.

To the girl pogoing in the pit with the army hat and black dreds… nice moves! Pogoing is highly underrated and you looked like you were having fun. One piece of advice… I know you’re kinda hippyish, but seriously… a bra, honey. Get one. You’ll thank me in 20 years.

The guy in the upside-down Burger King hat… it’s not irony. It’s not an ingenious comment on consumerism. It’s not even cute. It’s dumb. But you danced funny, so points for that.

The crowd-walker… crowd walking is cool, but if you’re the only one and you go up more than once… more than twice… three or four times, you’re just showboating. Boost someone else up, ya jerk. Also, lose the tiny, khaki short shorts and look into some pants. If I wanted to see that much leg on a guy… actually, I just don’t want to see that much leg on a guy. And there you were, presenting it as high as you could for all to see. At least shave.

To the kid in the blue shirt with a David Cassidy haircut… lose it. You look like Prince Valiant, but without muscle.

To the black guy growing your hair out and straightening it… I don’t know. It looks weird to me. Dreds are way cooler. Or a mohawk! Go for a mohawk. As it is, you look like a young James Brown, and it’s creeping me out.

To the couple in matching leather motorcycle jackets… you two are fucking precious. The guy’s all short, but protecting his lady from the pit, and then they were all making out and junk, and I thought it was cute. You probably thought I was being creepy smiling in your direction. I guess it is kinda creepy to be watching a couple make-out while a band was playing. What can I say? I’m a punk rock romantic at heart.

May 1

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We took it easy that morning in Dresden. Conny and I walked out to the local shop street while Raul showered and picked up cheese at the cheese shop. It was something so utterly charming, I nearly puked. The cheese lady, as she is known to be referred to, gave Radonski a slice of cheese, then joked with Conny in German, fed us many slices of cheese until we were happy with the selections, and was just all bubbles and smiles. It was like something out of Leave It To Beaver, except with a lot more “sch” and “zje” sounds.

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Back into the Chainsaw and off to Berlin. Conny’s sister and her boyfriend were moving from there, so their apartment was utter chaos, but that’s where we were to stay. Their Canadian / London immigrant friend Ewan was there and fed us some amaretto immediately. Delicious amaretto. We grabbed some beers at the local store and began drinking earnestly in public. It’s really weird, and the Germans found it funny that I habitually kept hiding my beer in my vest. We got into the train going to the Macabre show, and still, the drinking continued! GOD DAMN! Germany is rad.

Continue reading “May 1” →

In the Chainsaw, too

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

You know there is a zero tolerance law for drinking in the Eastern republics in Europe? I didn’t know that either. Conny informed me, after I gave her some vodka, she could not drive. I certainly couldn’t. It was up to Raul to get us from the venue to our place to stay, because he’d only had a few beers. We decided he’d had less, and that it was best to lie to ourselves and hope for the best. 


Our guide and host was Shamo, at least I think that’s how you spell his name. We drove to his flat in Katowice. Well, his brother’s girlfriend’s flat. She’d had the final say on whether or not we could stay, and luckily I charmed the hell out of her. Okay, I actually probably just inspired pity, but whatever works. Though she was nervous, I think she warmed up soon, and we had a really good time. We’d brought a case of beer from the show, and I think there is no more universal a gift than more alcohol. 

They were friendly enough at night, and the next morning, even friendlier. I woke up to crepes with jelly, coffee, and a shower. So nice! Then they started giving us gifts. Red absinth, dried coffee for the road, even two pairs of really nice studded gauntlets signed by their favorite bands. We uh, we… we hadn’t much. Raul gave them one of his stage shirts that wasn’t stinky and I gave them my tour pass. I figure it sucked, but dammit, I was unprepared for such generosity. 

We took our leave around noon and Conny decided the plan was to visit the Polish, formerly German, village her grandfather grew up in. The fun thing was, she had the name of a nearby village, but the one her grandfather came from had been changed. Okay, so we went to the one she knew about, and then… drove. And drove. And drove. Endless adorable villages with nary a sign of the one we searched for. We went down dirt roads with farmers giving us quizzical looks. Chickens ran on the roads. It was really a whole different world. We think we must’ve made it the village, but who knows. 

We headed out in the Chainsaw to Prague. It was fun, because Raul and I got to drive and it was just such an experience to go down a rural road that is basically the only freeway around and see countless tiny villages, churches, and just weirdness. The strange part was seeing an abandoned building, a burnt out tractor, then a new looking house with a satellite dish attached. You’d go buy a broken down old farmhouse but outside would be a woman who was so beautiful, she could be America’s Next Top Model. Wow, I really hope that show has been cancelled in my absence. 

When we got to the border we had a bit of a scare. See, the Chainsaw only has two seats, and there’s three of us. We thought surely they wouldn’t care, they’re border patrol, not cops. Wrong. We sat there arguing for what seemed like an eternity before we convinced the lady Raul and I just caught a ride and would be going to the train in Prague. LIE! Whatever, it worked. 

I was in the back with Radonski, after discovering Raul didn’t really have a good time with him slobbering on his pants. My pants had not been changed in 34 days or so, so I bit the bullet and promised he wouldn’t have to sit in the back again. 

We stopped off first in a town called Hradek Kralove. Don’t even try to say it, you’ll hurt yourself. Conny couldn’t remember why her sister said we had to go, but we did, and never found out. So much for that. It was nice enough, we got some real Czech food, but didn’t stay long. 

Once in Prague, Conny started talking about staying in a hostel. Side note… a Slovakian kid told me about that movie, Hostel, which I will not see. The premise of American’s being tortured by Europeans instead of the other way around breaks my suspension of disbelief. The kid told me it was a bad movie for Slovakia and I agree. Slovakia is a nice country, and I can honestly say I was never tortured there. Maybe some blue ball, but I think the Geneva Convention allows for that. 

Back to Prague. We walked to one hostel that wasn’t open until May, so we decided upon visiting another one that was situated on an man-made island in the middle of the river under a bridge. Fucking rad. Problem: Raul. He, like I, had never stayed in a hostel. He, unlike I, had a super expensive digital video camera. He wasn’t so stoked on the idea of staying with other people and wanted to find a hotel room. Luckily, Conny gets what Conny wants. We ended up at the hostel around 2 am, asked about staying to the just awoken person working, and it was a go. Raul had little choice. We headed back to the car, put Radonski to bed there, and we got back to the hostel maybe around 4 after organizing, walking, getting lost, and picking up local money. The lady was not answering the bell. Aw shit, I thought, not only have I gotten Raul wrapped up in an adventure to a hostel, but now Conny was talking about sleeping in the park. Raul was talking about heading back to the truck, and I think there was a moment of tenseness. Eventually, after ringing the bell for about thirty minutes and drinking in the cold night, the lady answered. We got in, and Raul’s camera was secured in safety box. I think that allayed much of his fear, and we ended up really enjoying our hostel experience. Except for when they tortured us. Fucking Czechs. 

The first plan was not to see Prague, per se, but a town called… holy fuck, I can’t remember the name. It had a lot of consonants in it, I’m sure. Anyway, it was about an hour outside of Prague, and in this town is a treasure I’d wanted to see for years. The Ossuary. The Bone Church. See, about 800 years ago they’d had to dig up a cemetary. Then another. This half-blind monk collected the bones into the bottom of the church. Then another guy, some artist years later, said, “Hey! That’s fucking rad! I bet I could totally do some shit with these bones!” I think that was the quote in the brochure, anyway.

The Ossuary was located in town, something I hadn’t imagined. I always thought it would be on some scary dirt road into the middle of rural Europe. Nope. This was a tourist town. Weird. Well, 70 kroners each later, we stepped in… and saw one the most amazing things I have or ever will see. Bones. So many bones. The bones of 40,000 humans stacked, arranged, put together in such beautiful artistic ways as you can’t even imagine. There were four probably 10-12′ high pyramids of just bones. Nothing holding them together, just stacked perfectly. There were columns of skulls from eye level to the ceiling, probably about 15-20′. An entire huge chandelier made of human skulls and hanging from interconnected jaw bones. Across the ceiling, ropes made of skulls and femurs and tibias and who knows what else. On one wall, an 6′ tall family crest made entirely of human bones. It was sunny outside, but we could see our breath made cold in this basement sepulchre. Of course, we took loads of pictures, but also just looked. Tour group after tour group came, but none stayed for long. Conny, Raul, and I had a lot of alone time, whispering, pointing things out… it was pretty indescribably and left me high on death. 

Eventually, we decided to head back to Prague, because there was so much to see. The first thing we did was see the TV Tower. This is Conny’s favorite building. It’s a huge tower on three legs with giant bronzed babies with television heads fixed in crawling positions up and down the side. Eastern Europeans are god damned weird. I realized the next day from a different vantage point that the TV Tower was the highest point in all Prague. In European cities and villages, traditionally, the church is always supposed to be the highest point. I pointed out this still held true, at least in a way. Think about it… cause that’s about as deep as I got before hitting the booze. 

We were going to go see Nile in Prague, but missed the time it started. Conny was really only interested in the supporting band, and Raul and I had no problem missing one metal show. We’d seen plenty. Instead, we went on a walk about around the city. 

New York? Fuck New York. San Francisco? Total crap. Chicago, New Orleans, Miami, Los Angeles, Seattle, Boston, London, Paris, Berlin, Barcelona… I’ve seen all these places and I hold up one-thousand middle fingers to all of them after seeing Prague. 

Every corner is a new wonder to behold. Fantastic old architecture, cobble stone streets, beautiful pubs… oh yes, the pubs. Did I mention this town is cheap as shit, too? The first night is so hard to remember, because we just walked so far and saw so much. The tourist center, the Charles Bridge… I think when we hit the city center, Raul and I just exploded. “Come on! This is too fucking much! What the fuck? This doesn’t exist!!!” Conny had a good time watching us scrape our jaws off the ground. The cathedral that looked like what Disney only wishes it could come up with, the giant bronze statues, the mystical clock with astrological hands along with mechanized characters. It’s just unreal. 

We stayed out well past the other tourists and walked around completely silent city streets. We drank in the middle of the road. Did I mention that? Europe lets you drink in the middle of the road. Also, they let you take in a giant English Mastiff into restaurants. I enjoy all this, and think harshly about going to back to Oakland. Yarrrgh! Push it out, it’s not for a few days yet. HAVE FUN, SEWAGE!

So anyway, we ended up drinking Branik, the best of all beers and authentically Czech, drinking in the cellar of a pub that looked like a dungeon. I was wasted, Raul and Conny were wasted, even Dr. Radonski was wasted in his own way. We put the doctor to bed in the Chainsaw, and headed back to the hostel. Conny was in quite a mood, as we sat drinking more, and she grabbed a plant and started eating it. I headed to bed, and she and Raul sat around drinking in the women’s shower, so Conny could smoke. Raul, drinking in a women’s shower, til six in the morning, with a crazy German eating a houseplant. Ah, only in Europe!

We got up the next morning at 10. VERY reluctantly. Have you ever had to rub sandpaper across your face, wash it in lemon, and hold your eyes open over an electric range? Me neither, but I imagine it was similar to how we felt. Still, there was so much Prague to see. And we had less than a day. 

We walked to the castle, saw the cathedral of St. Vitus (FUCKING METAL!), shot a crossbow, and I remembered after looking in a bookstore, Prague is home to the Golem, the mythical Jewish monster! COOL! Just one more reason to love this town. Any town with a monster is cool. 

Again, totally indescribable. Just amazing architecture, rich history, and then weird things like the 40′ high dripping black wall dedicated to a general from the 30 Years War. You seriously cannot turn a corner without something catching your eye and dragging it a few yards. I’m pretty sure Raul broke his index finger taking so many photographs. 

We walked the Charles Bridge again, and yes! We even got a crazy lady running down the street screaming things! Could this place get any better? The normally calm and relaxed and coolest dog ever, Dr. Radonski, freaked and lunged at her. Good dog. Get the Christian crazy. 

At the sex toy museum, I found out there was a fetish called “impaling” in the nineteenth century that became so widespread that women started buying fitted iron underwear to keep from getting “impaled.” This explains a lot about my life, actually. 

I think we were all sad to leave Prague, but alas, Dresden awaited. And Conny’s abode, situated in an old butcher shop. This time at the border, we opted to have Raul and I act like hitchhikers and meet Conny on the other side. This was… interesting. We were walking, and headed into the outdoor bathroom between the two borders with our backpacks on. We came out and some army looking guy comes and flashes a light in my eyes, so I can’t see him, and starts screaming something in one of these scary sounding teutonic languages. I would’ve shit my pants… good thing I’d already shat. After showing my passport, they guided us to the building where they were incredulous that we would be hitchhiking, but stamped our passports anyway. I think it helped that I have a goofy smile and stupid expression in my passport that the cute girl border guard laughed at. If you can’t charm them with words, charm them with stupidity. 

Conny picked us up, literally, about twenty feet away. No problem. What a silly waste of time. We headed to Dresden. I was super excited to share Conny’s home after she’d stayed in mine. The first thing we did was stop in old Dresden. We walked around, again, drinking beers in front of Police(Europe RULES) and she showed us her old art academy, the opera house, the old king’s palace… then she apologized because it wasn’t as cool as Prague. This place was beautiful as well, stone statues everywhere, art, big cathedral, and the girl who I showed Oakland to is apologizing to me. What’s wrong with this picture? “Here’s our local liquor store with the funny Pakistani guy, here’s People’s Park, with a bunch of homeless crusties… nice, HUH???!?!”

We got to the Butcher’s Shop after Conny took the time to steal a “Hilton” sign and walk around with it for about 30 minutes. We planted the sign in the middle of her floor, our Hilton for the evening. Her art was all over, all beautiful. We dressed up in her presents to us, three surgical gowns, and drank the night away while dressed us pathologists and listening to metal. And here I thought Prague was the shit! It just keeps getting better.

In the Chainsaw

Doktor Ross Sewage

It’s hard to write when you’re not sitting around in a bus being bored out of your mind, or listening to your mp3s to tune out some inane conversation about searching for weed. Instead, I’ve been in the Chainsaw traveling around Europe seeing amazing sights.

So, it’s been a few days. To keep this a proper tour journal, I’m breaking this up from the end of tour to the beginning of the next tour… the one where I wasn’t having to play anymore shows.

In the morning, we decided to take a happy trip to Auschwitz. It was about an hour or two outside Katowice, so Yanich, the sound guy, suggested the trip and the Yurgen the driver agreed… after he was guaranteed his gas money. We arrived early, which come to find out later on, was a very good thing. It seems Auschwitz turns into Six Flags Death Camp later in the day.

When we got there, Sean, Jacobi and Eric from Deeds of Flesh, and I took off ahead of the group. We missed out on the guided tour, but we also missed out on some choice comments apparently made by some of the still drunk members of the tour package. Note to all: Auschwitz is a pretty bad place to make jokes about showers or flirt with girls.

With all due silence, we passed the gate with the marking “Albeit Meicht Frie,” which means “Work is Freedom” or something. It was of course ironic at a forced labor and death camp, but I wondered about the irony of the wage slaves working the museum. “Capitalism Meicht Frie” or something. Anyway, the Execution wall was pretty heavy, as were the standing cells, the gas chambers… pretty much everything was depressing. Some American said to me in the gas chamber “Shocking, isn’t it?” Yeah, well no shit ya numbskull.

When leaving the first part of the camp, we encountered the throngs of tour groups. It was weird. Eric and I wondered if their was some kind of Space Mountain ride or something we’d missed. The weirdest thing was this Jewish group, carrying in a HUGE Israel flag. As the obese group leader of the students went off about how he was disgusted it was called a museum and not a death camp (no one was currently dying there, I think), I wondered what would happen if a gay tour group came through with a big rainbow flag to remember the scores of homos killed. Sean caught a really good bit when the teacher asked his students about a contemporary statue on display. “And what, ironically, is this statue of a victim shaped like?” “A swastika,” replied his droll and bored students. “Yes, ironically!” No, you dipshit, it’s metaphor, not irony. FUCK I hate that!

We went to Brikenau the second part of the camp but with very little time. It was then I was in the bus with the whole group and I nearly went mad. Not everyone, just a few people, were being complete idiots. Complaining about getting McDonald’s, and singing “America, fuck yeah!” First off, McDonald’s sucks in any land, secondly, if they were making reference to the liberation of Auschwitz, that credit would have to go the Russians. “C.C.C.P., fuck yeah!” Then when Colin said, “Can we just be quiet and get on with the tour?” mirroring most everyone’s loss of patience with the whining, one guy actually threatened him. Colin is an alright guy. This other guy, well… I think about 15 people on the bus would’ve been really happy if he’d tried to do anything.

The time at Brikenau was blessedly short and free of most incidence. Oh wait… except for when the Hebrew text in the lookout tower was referred to as “monkey language.” How sensitive.

The last show was in Katowice. I kind of dreaded this show a bit, we having fucked up our first show in Poland so bad. It was especially embarassing to this in front of Mariusz, the tour promoter. We want to come back, after all. Apparently, we didn’t do as bad as we thought, because there seems to be an opportunity for us next year. Hopefully it pans out.

Earland, Sean from Deeds, and I walked around for a bit. Poland can be a bit depressing. Turns out we went the wrong way. Earland wanted to go titty watching again, which we thought would be unsuccessful until I sniffed out a college. Well, we sat, politely took in some of the beauty, and got to have some pleasant discussion about our mutual lives. What we missed was the real town center that wasn’t totally depressing. Oh well.

The coolest thing about this show was my friend Conny was showing up to take us in the Chainsaw (her truck, with chainsaw stickers on the side) afterwards. I was on the roof when I spotted her and her giant dog, Dr. Radonski, and ran down to greet her. We took a walk back the Chainsaw to repark it, and upon viewing, I realized Raul, Conny, Dr. Radonski, and I were going to have a hell of a time traveling thousands of kilometers in this thing. From my coffin on the bus to an even smaller dwelling. Fuck it! It’s adventure.

Derrek, the merch guy, shared with us his real love, cherry vodka. God damn… Then there was the high percentage beer we found. Then there was drinking vodka in the back room. If this show didn’t start soon, I was going to end up obliterated before the first note was struck.

The show was weird. The stage is set over the stairway to the way up. There was a load of railing around us, with a roughly 7×5 square of empty space in front of Sean then 6 feet of stair until people could stand. The only place for dancing was in front of me, and on Jason’s side, nothing, as that’s where the band gear was kept. Odd. About halfway through the set, I screamed out, “This is not right!” I grabbed kids out of the crowd that we’d been talking to before the show, plus whoever else would come up, and put them in the empty space in front of Sean. The end result was about 8 headbangers right in front of Sean rocking their everloving hearts out. That lasted for about three songs before security pushed them back out. Still… a unique experience for all. We had a cool show.

After the show, I spoke to some folks about a place to stay. It was that or sleep in the Chainsaw, something I could tell Raul was not so into at the time. I found us a place to stay, but we would have to leave early. Time to jam, get our shit together, and make brief goodbyes. It kinda sucked, leaving the tour early. Quick hugs all around, got a few emails… I felt like a dick, but dammit, more adventure awaited! Especially by the end, I got really close to some of these people, so I can only hope we get to see each other again. One never knows.

We loaded in the Chainsaw, said goodbye to the tour, and started a new one.

April 23

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

You know, being a pessimist and a cynic, I actually love being proven wrong. Hope for the best, but I always expect the worst. 


The show in Austria was smashing. I mean, not like the end all be all, but I was fully expectant it should suck. Apparently, no one else in Impaled realized that it was starting at 7. I had to run to the bus and wake up Jason. “Jason, we’re on in 9 minutes!!” He was none too pleased. 

We went on and there were three people in a room built for hundreds. At some point we got a good sense of humor about it. Sean said, “Are you two and you ready to ROCK?!?!” They replied in the affirmative. As soon as the intro started, though, the room filled up! Some kids were singing the lyrics, there was a row of headbangers, and it just went really, really well. For an opener, anyway, on at 7 on a Saturday. 

Eventually, we cleaned up, and headed out to mingle. We ended up hooking up with a group of Austrians who bought me and Sean beers and we talked about how good Impaled was. Yeah, fuck you. It felt good! 

Eventually, all the band wanted to head out, so Impaled hit the streets with a group of crazy Austrians. First, we saw them roll the fattest joint I’d ever seen. Too bad none of us smoked, because I bet if we liked it, it would’ve ruled. It laid one of them out so hard, he couldn’t talk for the rest of the evening. I got it in me to go back to the lounge in the middle of the river, so we headed there and got probably way too expensive drinks. I’ll never know for sure, because they wouldn’t let us pay. After that, they took us to pizza. Well, me, because the other guys took off to the club. But I had a good time eating Turkish pizza with corn on it with some drunk Austrians. Yes, they put corn on the pizza out here. It’s not so bad. It was fun slamming on Arnold Schwarzenegger. Except for Commando. That movie is the shit. 

The next day, we headed to Slovakia. I had a weird exchange with a bathroom attendant at a gas station. This isn’t so much as funny as it is informative. See, here, the gas station bathrooms are actually nice. This is because there is a guy or girl waiting there to get a tip who cleans the bathroom all day. Seems weird, but try shitting in a U.S. bathroom and you’ll see the benefits. Anyway, I bought a coffee, so I could have change to pay him. I threw a Euro in, and he slammed the door in my face. I was like, “WTF?” Seems he didn’t want me bringing my coffee in! Why not? I just gave you a fat Euro. Well, he watched the coffee, and I wanted my Euro back. When I left, he stopped me, and gave me money back. Apparently, I’d tipped too much. Who gives money back when someone tips to much? I guess he was nice after all. That, or a weird old guy who hangs out by bathrooms. Maybe he was both. 

Finally, we got to Slovakia, and it was fun watching our bus driver drive a single lane country road at high speed like a maniac. Fun because I like watching the other people be uncomfortable. More fun was to be had by me and Reno having weird conversations with him asking about shoving things up our asses, him lighting his farts on me and him asking about transsexual blowjobs. No one was happy. Except me. Because no one was happy. Awkwardness is fun! 

The venue was nice. And I was delighted by the presence of Branik! I had this Czech beer once before on tour here, and it amazed me. It’s not so amazing now, maybe because the fridge in the band room doesn’t work. Yay, warm beer. 

Erland from Vile, Sean, and I took off to see what this shit hole of a town held for us. Turns out, we’re just in a shitty part, and it has a beautiful city center. Not only that, but it holds a race of super models who make you want to gouge out your eyes for fear of never seeing such beauty again. It’s seriously insane. I asked our tour manager why he would torture us so by bringing us here, and he replied that he is convinced the Bosnian / Serb war was started over Slavic girls. I believe him. 

We climbed up a mountain towards this cool looking church / fortress, and ended up in someone’s apartment backyard. The three of us had to climb out on a rickety fence to some very odd stares. We sat in a park and had a good time imitating other people on the tour. Yes, we’re assholes. 

The show was fucking awesome. I don’t know what came over us, but we just got goofy. Maybe it’s tour fatigue, or maybe we’re just hitting our stride. The crowd seemed to eat it up, but my experience is Slavic crowds eat up anything loud and fast. It didn’t matter, we had a great time. 

In some ways, this was the end of the tour. I think just about everyone had a shot or three of Absinth (the real kind, with the neuro-toxin) and people got goofy. I saw Colin from Vile get REALLY drunk for the first time and made him drink from random beers people had left behind. At some point, we had a hairy leg contest, and I think I won when I pulled out my feet and everyone saw I could have been Bilbo Baggins body double. Just to push my luck, I showed how I could dred my toe hair AND shove my toe in my mouth while sitting the damp floor. I’m sure there’s some great photos of that somewhere. Brovar started playing violent frisbee with the leftover drum heads, and Mike from Vile put on a quite a show fucking the shit out of a lightpost. He literally broke it. I’d hate to see what he would do to a nice girl instead of a hunk of metal. 

Everyone is talking about being ready to go home. I’m not ready to go back. I miss people, but I don’t miss things. I told Sean, I could do thirty more days, easy. Maybe on a different tour, if you catch my drift. Despite headaches, this rules. Yay, touring.

April 22

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

FINALLY I gots me some Internet, so I can post a whole bunch. Ah, it’s like I just stuck the needle in. 


Zurich, what an amazing city. It’s really gorgeous, with rivers flowing through it, really neat buildings, cobblestone paths that wind around littered with cool shops. Earland from Vile and I took a walk and shot the shit. Then we decided, as the two marked “drunks” of the tour, to have a beer, and in his words, watch some titties. There were definitely some nice ones. We ended up grunting to each other like cavemen as a signal. 

Then came the night. We were on at 7:30 on a Friday night. We found out later, from some disappointed folks that were advertised to be on at 8. The promoter wanted to put us on later, but our tour manager, who has been awesome except for this one thing, said, “No way.” Now, my understanding was that it because we had a long drive the next day, so we would load out immediately. This was not the case later on as I had to go and yell at his drunk ass at the after party to get moving. We could’ve gone on way later, there was no rush for anything. That really ticked me off, as we played to a very small crowd.

At some point, I snapped. Running around, trying to find people to get moving after this supposed rush we were going to have leaving. Our tour manager was having a good time drinking. Slacking. I was drunk and getting drunker and more pissed. Kicking things, throwing bottles, yelling at people, bah… mood swings. Sucks. I got into a giant political yelling match with Eric from Deeds, and then after accidentally dumping a bottle near Sean’s iPod and him, rightfully, yelling at me, I went to bed saying something like “I’m outta here, I suck, I’m clumsy, fuck me…”

I didn’t get up for a long time. No hangover, just not feeling social. Finally, we get to the club in Austria, and it’s fucking huge. 1000 people capacity. This is going to suck. I took off to see the town, Graz. Holy snap… it’s beautiful. There’s a huge rolling river in the city center, and bridges down to sit and walk along it. I saw one guy surfing the river, as it’s rushing quite hard in the spring. There was also a restaurant built right into the river. I sat and listened to the white noise. 

Back at the club, now, and I’m tired, and I found out we’re going on at 7 on a Saturday night. WEEE!!!! This should suck.

April 21

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

What does one expect when one goes to another country? What are the generalizations and expectations you have that you want fulfilled? That was a question posed by the nice French man who had a lazy afternoon chat in the sun with us in his backyard beside a stone well. From France, I told him, I expected a lazy afternoon chat in the sun with a nice French man beside a stone well. My expectations for France were finally fulfilled. Well… he COULD have offered us a glass of wine. That would have completed the picture. 


I think the funnest part of our show in Marseilles was load in. Everyone got a ride into town from Olivie, our host whose house was connected to the venue. That left just a few people for load in, including myself, Sean and Jason. The other people left also got a ride into town from Olivie when he came back, sunning themselves in Olivie’s convertible. So, just the three of us loaded everything in. Well, JJ from Vile woke up on the bus eventually and helped us near the end. I tell ya… watching those folks just drive away and not look us in the eye reminds me that there may be no “I” in team, but there certainly are enough letters to spell “me.”

We were prepared for another show in France with people staring at us politely, but about half way through our set, the people went nuts. Phew… I was worried France just hated us, despite all my recycled Jerry Lewis jokes. 

At the end of the evening, Jason, Sean, and I went on load out strike. People looked at us as if we should be moving stuff… ha! Eat it, jerks! 

We got on the bus, everyone drinking, when Olivie stepped on asking for the person who’d been practicing drums in his backyard. Reno got up, and Olivie dragged him back to the club and made him move two or three chairs. It was kind of excessive, treating him like a kid, but damn it was funny. He came back sulking and didn’t say a thing. Oh Reno, here’s a lolli!

The next day we got to Milan, Italy. Ah, Italia! You look a lot like Oakland, except you have toilets which are just holes in the floor, and sorry, that is fucking sick. Typically, we were in another seedy neighborhood, just like home, so there wasn’t much to see or do. Luckily, the club, Transilvania Live, had enough cool props inside it to keep us interested. Swords, bat shaped chairs, skulls on the taps, a DJ booth that used to be a church pulpit. This was done the way all clubs should be done. Apparently Dario Argento was involved in this club in some capacity, and members of Goblin had played here, so we were stoked. 

Then my friend Marco from Brainwash came. I met him in the Czech Republic nine years ago when I toured with another band. He spoke no English then, just his girlfriend Valentina translated, but we got along great. Then, when back in America, one day maybe six months later, I was leaving my house. I look down the street, and there… there was that couple I’d met in the Czech Republic, walking down my street. With luggage. Surprise!! Well, know I got to hang with Marco again for the day, swap stories about people long gone and things we’d both done. Milan may just be another city, but it’s okay when a city has a good old friend to see.

Speaking of weird disappointments, the club gave us dinner and part of it was pasta. The pasta sucked. In Italy. What the fuck? I thought that was against the law in Italy. I mean, seriously… it was horrible.

When it was time to go on, our sample had started, and Raul says “Wait! The triggers are not on!” See, here’s yet another reason to despise triggers. We couldn’t wait. Luckily, Mike from Deeds of Flesh, one of the nicest most helpful guys ever, was there for me to yell at. He ran back, and apparently had forgotten he’d unplugged the triggers after soundcheck. The clock was ticking as the sample kept going. We were about to have one of those technical stumbling moments a band always dreads. Mike is frantically trying to get the plugs in, and as the first note is about to be hit, the light turns green, and POW!!! Impaled lucks out, yet again. The show goes over well. 

Afterwards, Jason and I did an interview in the bus. There was one girl from the magazine, quite nice and pretty, and her friend, who just watched. Well, some people came on the bus and left. After the interview, I went back inside, and was asked by those people, “So, dude, you get lucky?” No, I was doing an interview. “Oh, I saw them bitches on the bus, I thought you were gonna get some.” Christ… as if there’s some girl on the bus I have to be trying to bang her. No, we just did an interview and then talked about Nip/Tuck. IT WAS NICE!! Plus, I’m ugly.

Sean would have partook in the interview, but he’d spent the afternoon constructing a glittery, gold star. You see, there’s been a running joke about Reno, the drummer, wanting things his way, and he’ll join in and say things like “Well, it is the Reno Show.” It’s fun to watch him and Colin lock horns constantly. Well, Sean made his gold star, put it on a stick, and held it up behind Reno during Vile’s set. The Reno Show, indeed!

At the end of the night, it was fun to look people dead in the eye as I grabbed equipment and watch them just walk the fuck away. AARRRGGGGHHH!!! But three more days, and I’ll never see most of these folks again. Mike from Vile brought that up with me. That’s a weird part about spending so much time together with a bunch of people. Some of these guys I really would like to see again, but you just don’t get to. You have to enjoy it while it lasts, and you can see the deadline on the camaraderie. I thought about that while drinking outside the bus with some really good people. 

I was also pissing one of our party by talking to the girl he was “gettin'” with. I couldn’t help it, she came and talked to me, and she was an art student and fun to talk to. I wasn’t cockblocking at all, but damn, it was REALLY fun to watch him squirm. I took my leave, and left the drunkards alone to their own fate.

This morning I woke up to piss, and wanted to just go back to bed. But we are in Switzerland. I looked out the window and my jaw nearly dropped. I just sat and looked. I’ve seen some beautiful things before, but this was insane. Snow capped mountain, sheer cliffs with waterfalls draining down, lusciously green hills, chateaus settled in the mountainside… it’s mind boggling beautiful. I got to enjoy it alone for a time, and just soak it in. It literally took my breath away at one point, and I got a rush of melancholia and hopefulness all at the same time. 

Then I saw the Lake of the Four Forests. And it got more beautiful. Our driver pulled over so we could look at it for a bit and breathe the air. I got out, barefoot, and curled my toes in green grass. 

I’ve been waiting to see something like this.