Category: Music

Irun, not Iran

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

Yesterday was Raul’s and JJ from Vile’s birthday. What’re the odds on that one? 


Everyone, and I do mean everyone, seemed totally dead on their feet when we pulled into Irun. Colin made some comment to me, Sean, and Jason, saying “I suspect it’s you guys who are stinking up the bus.” See, Colin has this funny habit of trying to deduce things like he’s Sherlock Holmes or something. Well, that pissed me off righteously. I said we’d all had showers, and Reno added “Well, you also have to change your clothes, Ross, don’t you think?” You know, come to think of it, maybe Reno was being sarcastic. I thought he was joining in with Colin, but Colin has been wearing the same clothes for three weeks now. The same ribbed black tee. 

Holy crap, I wish I’d caught that yesterday. That was fucking hilarious. 

Instead, I started out in a bad mood. I decided to talk less. Then the club owner admonished me after I tried to dust off a rug that Mike from Deeds had handed me for the drums. Apparently, they had another rug, and I should ask. Then he also told me their wifi and internet connection was private. Dude… it’s already paid for. It’s not like every keystroke is gonna cost you a penny or something. 

All clubs should have wifi and a computer to access. It’s relatively cheap, and it keeps drunk alcoholics layabouts entertained and mellowed out until they have to play. Everyone is happier in the end. 

I shut down. I put on my tunes, and just sat there. For a very, very long time. This was a boring fucking neighborhood, no internet, nothing to do but sit there. I couldn’t even eat for entertainment as there was only dried meat, basically. 

I was prepared for a bummer of an evening. But it actually turned out okay. We got a pretty solid response. We got a timid Mike from Vile to try flan and he loved it. More importantly, during the headlining set, Mike took us up and we did shots for Raul’s birthday (they’d already done it for JJ). This started a pow-wow, and all of a sudden, a lot of us were laughing, joking, talking shit. It was a much needed break down. Oh whiskey, is there any problem you cannot solve?

April 18

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

You know what’s fun? Being on a bus that has to pull over every 10 miles to restart. There was, but more likely is, a big problem with this bus. The fact that the driver seems completely unconcerned about is not doing anything to ingratiate him to his passengers. I think we were all stunned when the bus finally made it to Vigo, and he yelled at the promoter and Brovar, the tour manager, and said “Your problem! Your problem! Not my problem!” because he couldn’t get down a street. Uh, no, your job is to deliver bands and equipment… it is therefore you problem, Yurgen. 


Then the bus wouldn’t start, anyway. Weeeee!!

I grabbed all my shit, knowing full well I would not be seeing this bus through the evening. Sean, Jason and I took off to the club, grabbed some snacks from the lunch catering, and headed off to Vigo. Having never heard of Vigo, I thought it would be some small town. Instead, it felt like walking around San Franciso with better weather. There was even a bay. I have to admit… it kinda bored me. City sightseeing is pretty blah. More bars, more stores… always the same. 

We keep hearing about the amazing food in some of these places. People must think it’s amazing because it’s god damned impossible to get any and if you do, you’re so hungry already you’d eat shit and call it pate. We went into a cafe, and the nice waitress got us drinks… and never returned. Ever. No food to be had, and no check to pay. I eventually found the lady to pay, and we left, hungry, dreaming of what must’ve been an amazing meal. 

We walked along and met up with some of Deeds and JJ from Vile. JJ took off with us. Up the road, I saw a massage place. “Fuck this noise” I thought, and decided I wanted a god damn massage. The fact that it was under 10 Euro clinched it. Yes, it was all to get rid of my stress and work on my neck. It wasn’t just to get an incredible Spanish beauty to lay her hands on my neck. That was just a happy coincidence. For me, not her. Man, I smelled bad. JJ stayed behind with me and fell asleep in the lobby. We must’ve been a sad looking pair to those masseuses. 

Quick unrelated note, as I drink this delicious 7-Up… it’s got actual sugar in it. And it’s wonderful. Yesterday I had a Coke and it had real sugar in it. So amazing. I can see why these “soda” drinks took off originally. When they’re not all filled with high fructose corn syrup, like in America, they scrumptious. Fuck America, at least in the high fructose corn syrup department. 

JJ and I got back to the dead bus and the equipment was being moved and driven up to the club by an 80 pound girl in a hatchback. The bus eventually moved, however, and left… with some people’s drum equipment, stage clothes, and guitars that were not stored in the trailer. Once we found that out, the other bands got the same girl to drive them some way out of town to the bus and pick it all up. Nice girl. 

The venue was rad at first, with these overhead walkways. Then it sucked, when we found out they didn’t have enough power for all our amps. Brovar, after the bus incident, was about to flip his lid and cancel the tour. Luckily, cooler heads prevailed, and a power source was found outside the club. I was not about to let the show get cancelled. Yanich, the sound guy, says to me, “Is no problem, they must pay no matter what.” I explained that’s fine for the other bands, that actually MAKE money, but our share disappears right back into the bus. We only make money if we play and sell shit. 

Of course, after the show and I saw how we did, we could’ve just cancelled. 

Before we went on, I had to actually go outside and yell “Ocho minutos para el concierto!!!” The people just sat there. They fairly obviously didn’t give a shit about us. The real pain lies in that Raul actually asked me about the speed of the songs, and I told him yes, he should slow it down more. And we played one of the best sets of the entire tour. It sounded fantastic. No one cared, so we just started laughing. Sean dedicated a song to Raul for playing well. I dedicated a song to Sean, and told everyone how we met in an orphanage twenty years ago. Sean sent a song to Jason, the “six-string maestro.” Then Sean sent a song out to me for “teaching” him how to love. This show was for us, because we’re a band of friends out having a good time. 

Later on, I was grabbing a beer, and Mark from Monstrosity made some sarcastic remark about “oh yeah, get your drink on.” This was after hearing about me being a mean drunk from Brian. Alright, Monstrosity apparently thinks I’m a huge drunk. Well, they’re kind of right, I guess. I decided to prove them righter. I grabbed a couple extra brews and downed ’em. This drunk, however, is still the one who came on stage during their set to help them get the bass amp working when I noticed it went out. Took a drunk to find the plug had fallen out. 

I was having a good time yelling at people backstage and joking, and everyone was laughing. I tried to put a picture of my asshole on Brian’s digital camera, but the stupid camera wouldn’t work. When Mark came up from their show, I think I yelled something about “Yup! Time to go pack up the equipment, cause it RULES when you’re drunk! Only drunks move equipment!” Weeee!

So I did pack the shit up, and was able to talk to some nice chicas in my broken-ass Spanish. Back in the band room, Raul’s digital camera bag was getting beer spilled on it. I came in and got to hear him yell at everyone, rightfully, that we need to respect each other’s gear. I can’t blame him for that. Reno, however, came up and said “I’m sorry, Raul,” and Raul started yelling at him for empathizing. It was irrational. I tried talking to Raul and then he started yelling at me. Then we yelled at each other outside. Then Reno came up to tell me how he thought I should handle the situation, to which I explained I’d been in a band with Raul for 8 years, I think I understood the situation just fine. I told him to stop lecturing, so then me and Reno are ALSO in a fight. 

Fuck it. I got drunker. Raul came up like 5 minutes later, said “I’m gonna kill you!” Why? “Because I don’t have a beer!!!” Ah, fight over, good times again. Reno and I spoke again as soon as we sat in the bus. Sometimes that steam just builds up, and the actual nice and well-meaning people can start yelling at each other for no reason. Because we’re all dumb as bricks.

Portugal

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

Hola to Portugal! Or whatever the hell you say. Portugese is a weird language. It sounds like one half Spanish and one half Russian. Mostly I just said “Beer!” and made a drinking motion with my hand. They understood me well enough. 


The first show was in Corrois. Well, that’s what it says on our tour shirt. It was lovingly pointed out by the owner of a rock shop there, where we took our shirts in to possibly wholesale some, that it was actually spelt Corroios. As you can probably guess, we didn’t make the sale. 

Upon arrival, the crew at the club were awesome. They helped us move shit, and then once finding out we were supposed to get lunch as part of a rider they did not receive, they took us out anyway. One of the fellas, one “Bruno” from the band The Firstborn was even nice enough to get me a salad from a separate restaurant. I was just in awe of his chops, which wholly put mine to shame and threatened to eat me with their vast choppiness. 

Next to the venue their was a football pitch. Soccer, for you uncultured non-world travelers (looks down nose at you). There was some kind of amateur tournament on the open field. Some of us from Deeds and Impaled took in the game while drinking warm beer along side a wall on the sidelines. We felt very authentic and cultured. Sean felt even more authentic when the ball flew out and missed careening against his face by about an inch. 

Some good news is that Monstrosity’s Sam got his guitar fixed. The boys in Corroios really knew how to take care of shit and found him new tuning pegs. The fun part was watching the argument about who was going to have to pay for them. 

When the show was scheduled to start, it was grim. There was about 9 people there. Bruno told me that a big football match had started and would be over in an hour and a half, and that we were “fucked.” Oh well, we got on stage and just went for it. It’s always fun playing a huge hall to 1/900th its capacity. Well, as it turned out, our show didn’t go that bad, as Bruno headed down one block to the local cafe to pick something up, and there was a grip of people in there in black metal shirts. “The concert has just started” he said, and they all took off to go. So about half way through our set, it just filled in. So… yay!

There was one big bruiser in the pit. This old guy who was working the club, but decided to get really drunk and bully people. Maybe in his head he thought he was being funny, but he annoyed me. I told Sean, “One hit this guy goes down… he’s so big, no one’s ever tried.” Sure enough, this guy pushing around people, scaring girls, took one accidental smack to his face and he sat there like a kid who’s favorite truck got stolen. I love karma. 

I went to bed early this night before the show even ended. When I got up the next morning and headed to the downstairs for a wicked pissah, I noticed two sleeping bodies I had not seen before. At first I was like, “Who the FUCK are these people?!??!” Then I noticed one was a girl, and I was like, “Awww, who are these people?” Then I found out they were a couple and I went back to “Who the FUCK are these people?” Apparently, they’d come on the bus at the invitation of Raul or Brian, drunkenly said they wanted a ride to the next show, and Brovar the tour manager approved. They could not remember doing this the next day. 

We got to the third day of a three day fest. I wish we’d gotten their on the first day and seen Driller Killer and Extreme Noise Terror. FUCKERS!!! When we arrived on the scene, we all noticed the camping metalheads and then the crusties emerging out from their squat spot underneath a truck. I ran out. I REALLY couldn’t wait to talk to some people who weren’t just metalheads. I scored some awesome homemade wine, heard about the fest, and found out we all knew a shitload of the same people. Oh, I also lost about 10 cigarettes to the drunken jerks. 

At some point during the two openers, some people, you can probably guess who, thought it would be hilarious to give the alcoholic punkers two bottles of whiskey and force them to pound it so they could laugh at them after they had been poisoned and feel better about themselves. Genius. True, true genius. So yeah, this one punker, who had been really nice to talk to early, had to be dragged out of the club after a few really nasty spills. I headed over to see if they needed water for him, fuck, if he was even alive. I also apologized, for Americans in general, though it wasn’t the majority of us who partook in this jock/fratboy behavior. By the end of the night, the guy was up, I spoke to him, made sure he was okay. The perpetrator saw me as I walked by and said “At least he’s alive” and I responded, “Yeah, at least.” Woulda been even MORE hilarious if he’d died of alcohol poisoning, huh? 

Another nice moment early on was when some guys were making fun of the “dumb fat broad” who was hanging out with the punkers and playing recorder. I got to tell them that dumb fat broad was a linux programmer and expert in open-source programming, as Jason had found out. Didn’t hear much being said about her after that. 

Our show went okay. Afterwards, Sean and I headed down to the creepy little village to see if it got any creepier at night. During the day, we’d headed down the windy, cobblestone roads, gone in some abandoned buildings, played with stray dogs… very, very old world shit. So we head down at night, and in the tiny town square, there’s three old men taking a piss in the street. We walk by, and then they catch up to us and start gabbing at us in English. They want to walk with us. Oooookay. There one friend didn’t want to, but they force him anyway. They say they want to take us to the cafe, and I mumbled to Sean “Is this really the right way?” Turns out it was. We told them we couldn’t stay long, and they said something about “complicados.” Complications? What complications? What the fuck were these guys up to? 

In the bar, it was like stepping into a Lucio Fulci movie. This place had stopped moving sometime in the early eighties. Old men in old suits. Out of date haircuts. It would’ve been awesome if Sean and I weren’t so sure these guys wanted to turn us into white slaves and sell us in Istanbul. They bought us beer, chorizo, and olives, despite us telling them not to. The one yelled at me about my bull ring, so I took it out and listened to their argument about me in Portugese. I was looking at Sean and saying “Uh, yeah, you gonna drink any slower, chum?” At the worst moment, Sean couldn’t slam beers. These guys had nothing to talk about with us. It was terribly awkward, with awkward stares in this creepy little bar in the creepy little village. We said, thank you, and tried to leave. The one said he would accompany us. WHY? I went outside to meet up with Sean, and while the guy was distracted, we fucking ran. This WAS a Lucio Fulci movie! We took a wrong turn, a dog started barking, ran as far as we could, and then started laughing balls at ourselves. 

God damn cynical Americans. These were just some nice folks in a tiny little town trying to show some hospitality to strangers. They didn’t want to hurt us… or DID they???!!?!?!? Moo HAHAHAHAHA!!!

Spain

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

Spain is ruling. That’s it. Well, actually, I don’t know about the ENTIRE country, though it seems okay. I mean, at least they let people have their boobies out at the beaches. That seems pretty righteous to me. Well, most of the boobies were righteous. 


No, I mean the scene. This has been some of our best shows so far. Then again, maybe we were sucking before?

We got to Barcelona, and everyone seemed very excited to hit the beach to see, and I quote, “Some bitchs’ tits.” At least, that’s what one said. Raul and I took off to the beach a bit later, just to see something other than the inside of a bar, and it was indeed beautiful. You could see through the water. Lovely blue water. I love clear blue water. When we walked back to town, we laughed about how we’d see some of the chumps eating at the McDonald’s we were passing. Sure enough, they were there. I was determined to find something a little more authentically Spanish. 

We headed back to a tiny little sports bar with Eric from Deeds of Flesh. Apparently, they were serving wolf, which put everyone a little off, though I told Eric he should eat it. Fucking wolf! He’d eat you if he could! Turns out later it was just hamhocks, or something. Anyway, this tiny little bar served an awesome meal of Rocquefort mac & cheese, a meat dish (for the meat eaters), dessert, and then coffee, all in courses. They like courses in Spain. 

So the show… we were scheduled to go on in 20 minutes, and the doors had not opened. In addition to courses, apparently promoters like to take it easy in Spain. I had to go encourage them to open the door while our tour manager was busy checking Myspace upstairs. It turned out okay, everyone got in, but when you’re opening, you have to stay on top of that. No lines WHILE we’re playing, thanks. 

The show was smashing. Tons of headbangers. We are learning also that if you put old material on early, even if people haven’t ever heard it, even if you just say it’s an old song and it’s not, they love it. So my advice to any band is just to introduce every song as “Here’s another old one.”

Apparently, my fire breathing raised some neck hairs of the promoter and club. They seem to have strict rules in Spain, and they went and yelled at all the other bands about it. But not me. Heh heh. 

At the end of the show, we met some really cool folks, including a girl who’d played guitar with Sodom on stage once. Hells yes! Then the drunk guy… everyone was having fun with him. He wouldn’t stop yelling and moshing. It was pretty damn funny. Well, apparently some folks in the bus didn’t think he was that funny. They taunted him, and one truly inspired individual gave him a beer, so he could knock it out of his hands, start a fight, and ended up pushing him into a moving vehicle. It was really fucked up, picking on the drunkest guy there who had just enjoyed your band. Reno broke it up and the majority I would say walked away with a little less respect. To the drunks credit, he chased the bus and was ready to throw down even after being slammed into a moving car. I think I know who would’ve eventually won. 

Onto Madrid, and I was super excited because I would finally meet my longtime penpals in Haemorrhage. The weird thing is, the promoter didn’t want them on our guest list. That pissed me off. Raul took care of it, but apparently this guy held a grudge against Haemorrhage. Sorry, pal, I don’t know you, and they are our friends. Also, the club had this weird rule about not putting banners up over the club banner on stage. What the hell? This was getting to weird, so I asked for clearance on the fire and was denied. Fuck it… I don’t want to screw over the whole tour package and be an ass, so I put it away. But if Haemorrhage didn’t get in, I was gonna raise holy hell. 

When Luisma showed up, he didn’t recognize why this ugly jerk soundchecking was pointing right at him. I gave him a big ol’ hug. We played our set later, and it was loads of fun, but I was more excited about taking off with Haemorrhage. I’d been waiting for 10 years to hang out with these guys. Raul, Sean and I accompanied, Luisma, guitarist Ana, and vocalist Lugubrious to a local dive after telling Luisma that indeed, we did not need McDonald’s. NO!!! Local food, por favor!

We all warmed right up, they were too kind and bought us all beer and food, swapped tour stories, talked about mutual friends and mutual house guests, talked shit, joked… it fucking ruled. Lugubrious is god damn hilarious and slightly nuts. Probably why he’s so good live, apparently. Luisma was rad and brought me their new CD, and I felt kinda bad for not having it already. Then again, it’s just out. Oh, and it FUCKING RULES!!!! 

I had a dilly of a time asking Lugubrious what his name meant. We were both drunk, and eventually I understood his name meant “sad.” I started screaming “No triste!!!” and bear hugging the Spaniard. We ran into Jason and his friends, and heard a great story about how two of them had a falling out, but had come together to see Impaled and were friends again. Awwwwww!!!

I was sad to leave Madrid and say goodbye to Luisma. Just means someday we gotta fucking play with Haemorrhage someday. My goal, dammit. 

Side note: playing “throw the full can of beer down a street” is not a good idea, as we all ran when Eric threw one sideways and nearly beaned a guy coming down some stairs. Lesson learned. 

Sevilla was the next day. Sean and I were entertained by Reno from Vile and Mike from Deeds jovially going for each other’s jugular. These two drummers need to start a sitcom. The driver got lost, and in fact, is not very well liked by most people on the tour. It’s kind of sad, he’s just doing a job and dealing with 21 smelly guys and bus that doesn’t work quite right, gets way too dry and hot, and the shitter stinks up real quick. Then again, he’s made some questionable moves, like hitting a car in Madrid. Well, we’re managing, but I think the quote from under his breath was “I vant to go home.” 

Sevilla was a long fucking day, but the show was awesome. Some of the kids were barbecuing and drinking in the parking lot for five hours before the show. It’s Holy Week here, so while some weird nutters are walking around in what looks like KKK outfits for God, these kids are fucking off. Awesome for us. At one point, some people on the tour and these kids smashed the windows out of a seemingly abandoned car with no tires and were laughing about it. Sean and I were lucky enough to see the owner of the car come up and retrieve what was left of his vehicle. See kids? No one benefits from vandalism. Unless it’s Impaled tagging “EB ZOMBIES” on a wall. 

There was some grief when one guitar player decided he couldn’t stand the bass being on his side of the stage. Of course, he didn’t offer to help move the enormous and heavy cabinet. He also didn’t recognize how ridiculous he would look alone on the much larger side of the stage. For everyone else, the placement works, save me, but I recognize I’m not the only person on the stage, and that we have to work together. I also realize that a guitar player who can’t play his parts because there’s a bass cab behind him isn’t worth a whole lot as a guitar player. Jason had some choice words, which I’m pretty sure he caught, about being a capable musician. 

The minor disaster of today is that Mike from Monstrosity knocked over Sam’s guitar when they descended from the stage and now his tuning peg is completely busted. Apparently, the guitarists of Impaled were the only one to bring spare guitars. What the hell else are these other guys going to do when they break a string on stage? It’s gonna come down to us lending them a guitar, which Sean has already graciously offered, or getting Sam’s fixed. It’ll be interesting to see who actually takes care of this.

April 12

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

There’s only so many days of this tour left. We’re “short” as they like to call it. 


That’s only so many days left for the humbling of Impaled. At least, that’s what happened in Toulousse. Well, in all fairness, in lots of places. 

Not that we weren’t humble to begin with, we are. We know our status is pretty small and the wild and wooly world of death metal. But going on at 7:30 with about 10 kids watching in a club made for near 1,400 can be especially humbling. 

Ah well, we’re here, and that’s what is important. All I can say for sure is I wish there were more locals opening. Going on first in a four band bill in strange French towns with ridiculously early curfews is a bit of a drag. 

Also a drag is waking up on a bus with no power, at a truck stop, with the knowledge that if our bus driver hadn’t spent his evening getting stoned, we might be at a beach in Barcelona right now. 

If only I had Internet, I could post these damn journals that have been piling up that aren’t all depressing. Anyone reading the last posts I was able to get up must think I’m a jerk, or that we’re about to all slash our wrists. Not true, we’re having lots of fun. I swear. Look at my smile. Look at it. It’s so big and grand. My lips are ripping off my fucking head.

April 11

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

When we got to Lille, France, it was great. I got out of my coffin, stumbled downstairs, and sounded like Barry White. Sean and I went for a walk, and there was nothing and nothing open. Fucking Sunday in Europe sucks. 


This show was at another rec center for kids. I saw all these miniature landscapes apparently for the kids to play Warhammer games. I thought it was too bad our friend Eric wasn’t on tour with us… he could’ve critiqued their paint jobs. 

There was a really beautiful girl when we got there preparing our catering. Some of the people on the tour blatantly started pouring on the charm when they saw the promoter come in and kiss her. At that point, they stopped trying. This hunt is becoming more and more hilarious. 

Brian from Monstrosity came in looking like a god damned plum. He wasn’t sure he could do the show. His band members said “Either you’re in the hospital or you’re on stage.” I thought that was really sympathetic and understanding of them. Don’t you? 

There were two locals this night, one of which was Pitbulls in the Nursery. They made my head hurt. Not like they were bad, but I think they must’ve all been math students. They were figuring out quadratic equations on their guitars while the drummer was checking Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. Pretty fucking weird. 

Sven from Aborted came to this show and luckily I wasn’t wasted like when we were in his home town. Instead, he hadn’t slept in two days. Good times. It’s good to hang out with Sven though, because he’s a good guy for one, and two, he gives us four idiots a good perspective on metal since he’s just god damn smarter than us. 

We went on, and it was a little odd at first, but the crowd warmed up about half way through and really started moshing and having a good time. This was good as Laurent from Listenable was seeing us there for the first time. After we played we finally met the French Bastard, as he was introduced, and he was as cool as everyone said. At least, he bought us beer, so that’s all I need. 

We met Ghoreghouls’n’Ghosts from the band Abyssal Shoryuken. Nice guy, and I’ve never heard a better cover of the songs from Tetris in my life. It was cool, until he saw me smoking. Damn this blog. Yes, I get stressed and I can’t quite quit. But I never said I’d quit, my friend, just stop… occasionally. Anyway, I know he and his girlfriend will likely read this, so hello!!!

At the end of the night, we delighted the club workers by making fun of the Hed P.E. posters there, as apparently they came and really pissed them all off. They just pissed me off by looking like retards. 

Jason apparently stayed talking to those people about Southpark until 6 in the morning. We went to the bus and watched our soundguy, Yanich (spelling?) get incredibly loaded on vodka. Those poles can drink a lot of vodka. By the end of the night, he was spouting but three phrases quite loudly. “Why????!?!?!” “I don’t KNOW!!!!” “Nevermind…” Somehow, I thought that was the most brilliant philosophical moment of this whole tour. Then he fell down, followed by us having to stop him from pissing on the driver’s seat. 

The next day was Paris. I asked Eric from Deeds of Flesh what there was to see in Paris. He said, “Graphitti.” He was right. 

Raul left with Mike and Sean from Deeds of Flesh to go see the Eiffel Tower. They said they’d be back for soundcheck at 5. 5 came around, and no go. We had Reno from Vile play with us. By about 7, I got pissed. At 7:30, I got worried and pissed. No Raul. 

I spoke with Vile about switching, and felt really bad. Finally, it was 7:50, we were supposed to be on, and instead, Jason, Sean and I started taking our shit down. Then I heard Mike, “Raul is in the building!” He came up laughing, and Jason, normally so calm, tore into him. “Where the fuck were you!!!!” I don’t think Mike knew what to do. We almost got into a huge fight, but instead we all shut up and just started playing. We only started 5 minutes late, just by the skin of our teeth. 

I had to get out afterwards, I was too pissed, though the show went okay. Our friend Olivie took me and Sean around to Notre Dame, got some food, and we went back to the club and were finally able to laugh about the whole thing. Apparently they’d gone to the top of the tower, and didn’t realize how fucking long it would take to get down. They ran the entire way back to the club, and at some point, Raul got caught in a door on the subway. Good! The little creep, worrying me like that.

April 9

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

I just had the hardest time remembering the last two days. Could it be tour is getting to me? Could it be how drunk I was last night? Could it be I’m just dumb? Probably a combination of all. Yay!


I don’t recall leaving Eindhoven. At some point I awoke, and we were by the sea. It was really quite nice, a sunny day, the beach… The club was situated just behind a hillside next to the sea in one of the noisiest parking lots of ever. There were motorcycles driving through cones, kids skating on half-pipes, scooters puttering about, horses… a nice day in this town who’s name I cannot for the life of me spell or pronounce. It was Holland. It was club Scum. And the flier said that “Butting Europe 4” would be there. I’m not sure how one goes about butting Europe, but that’s what it said, so that’s what we did. 

I walked on the beach after burning some hardcore techno from the DJ at the club. It was a nice palate cleanser, as I’ve heard so much metal every night. Electronic beats with samples of Daleks was what I needed. EXTERMINATE!!!

After that, I walked to the horses by the park and got them to come to me so I could pet the darlings. They really were gorgeous horses, and Sean came out with sugar cubes and we made some big horsy friends. That is, until their owners came and took them away without saying a word to us. Sorry! No I’m not. I’m not sure what’s up with the Dutch, but I also had some lady’s dogs run up to me, and when I pet them, she gave me a dirty look. Weird. 

I was amazed to find later that Stone Golem, my favorite band, actually finished two new songs. Wow, those guys are prolific! Everyone should for sure check out their myspace page… www.myspace.com/stonegolemmusic

Before the show, Reno from Vile walked in, looking about as much like a skeleton as Traci Gold when she was hot. He was sick as a dog, and had been for three days. Colin, somewhat understandably, was upset because Reno was begging to go to a doctor. There was doubt he could play. I had to argue with Colin, which was pretty ridiculous. The dude was about to die. Eventually Sean and I convinced him whether or not Reno needed a doctor, he needed to go because he felt he needed to. Psychosomatic? Couldn’t nurse himself back to health? Whatever, he wanted to go. Vile did end up canceling the night, but fuck it, they’ll have better nights. And Reno got pills AND a suppository from the doctor. SEXY!

Well, we played, though I’m not sure how well it went. There were people there, but then everyone I spoke to at the end of the night got there after us. So I suppose that maybe the entire crowd switched from band to band. Those wacky Dutch. 

At the end of the night, Brovar, the tour manager, ordered us all pizzas as there was no place to eat within walking distance from the venue. He’s a good guy. Sean, Raul, and I ate our share, and I took the last quarter out for Jason in the bus. This girl started yelling at me to give her pizza. I said, no, sorry, it’s for my bandmate. That’s when she informed me I sucked his dick, or should suck his dick. She was a tall Dutch blonde, very attractive, and I mention this because I want everyone to know how good I am to my band mates. I did not give her the pizza. And I told her to fuck off. And I delivered it to Jason, who was infinitely less sexy to me. 

Actually, the girl ended up being really funny, with some weird friends and her boyfriend, and talking about how they had pizza sex. Then some other girl asked for sex and to come the next country with us. That was our cue to get the fuck out, and we took our leave. We ran, not walked. 

The next day in Essen I was a bit worried. Both our label and our shirt company were coming to collect their pounds of flesh. I had never met the Century Media Europe crowd, and I was a bit worried, as we’d exchanged a few words on occasion.

The show was a fest, with four openers, which is great for us. We don’t have to warm people up, and it worked out better than I could have hoped. Seriously, it was our best show so far. Tons of stage diving, moshing, people chanting our songs, massive headbanging… we played like shit because we were having so much fucking fun. It was awesome. 

We met our shirt guy and he was super cool. I actually checked, and financially, we’re doing okay. Stay on target… stay on target… but yeah, we worked stuff out, and our shirts here are the best prints we’ve ever gotten, easily. The album cover looks like a damn photo. 

Then we met people from the label. It was a tad uncomfortable at first, but we sat down, got the business out of the way, and then it was cool. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that the faces behind the business can be super cool even if you’re a bit ticked at the faceless corporations. Melanie and Life (I think that was his name) and some other people whose names I can’t recall were really cool. They brought us a load of promos, and we talked about metal, Germany, life… good times. We got a cake from a friend who we met in Trier, and we shared it and it was delicious. 

At the end of the show, the club just stayed open. Apparently they stayed open until six. Now, I guess that’s not that weird, a lot of clubs in Europe will stay open. The difference was they just played metal. And a couple hundred people stayed to drink and listen. And instead of dancing, there were dozens of people headbanging. At first I was playing it cool, then these two girls came up to me and took a picture of me for their nephew who’d had to leave for his bedtime. They took me over to their boyfriends and they all started buying me beer. I think they must’ve though “This guy will do something stupid for us.” After a lot of beers and some shots of Yager, I did not disappoint, apparently. I recall some, but some has had to be told to me. I started headbanging like crazy. At some point, I busted out some breakdancing moves, including the worm across a floor soiled with beer and sweat. I danced around, told people they were wimps and to fuck off if they wouldn’t bang, ummm… what else? Oh yeah, climbing on this big guy’s back and screaming in German the words to Sodom’s cover of “Ahner Bitte Mitt Sahne.”

Oh yes, I had fun. I did have to take my leave around 5:30 am or so, as I knew if I didn’t get SOME water in me, I’d be in a world of hurt today. Of course, I did stop to talk to the birds. Don’t ask.

I was hanging in the bus, staying awake with the poles to drink water, when Brian from Monstrosity came down. His face had puffed out and he had hives all over. He’d been telling us all tour about his allergic reaction to onions, and apparently, he must’ve gotten some on his pizza. He looked like shit. His bandmate Marc gave him some Claritin, and I made him start drinking some milk. Eventually, we had to find Mike from Monstrosity, as it was about time to leave, and we found him outside with a “friend.” He was happy and drunk. It took awhile to get through Brian’s situation to him, but it turned out he had Benadryl, so we loaded Brian up. He said his bunk made it worse when he tried to get to sleep, so I gave him my blanket, and took his, just in case it wasn’t onion, but something in his bunk. 

I was up till sunrise. I fucking hate that. Makes me feel high. 

It seems everyone had a good time last night, and some had a REALLY good time. Ahem, we had to wait for a certain “stowaway” to get dressed and be on her way. Charrrrrrming.

April 7

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

Now I know what it feels like to be the bassist for Linda Rondstadt, or something. 


We got the show in Eindhoven, and after enjoying a morning out searching for coffee, the club opened up to us. by club, I mean palace. I should have had my first clue when they had an elevator to move our equipment up four feet. 

The stage was damn fine, a huge room, and the a control room for the lights. Everything reeked of new. We got upstairs, or rather, took the card keyed elevator to the artists’ lounge, fully decked out with food and a separate office for the tour manager. Then we got to the dressing rooms, because the huge artist lounge on floor four wasn’t enough. On floor five, there was the band rooms, a separate room for each band complete with toilet, sink, shower, and living room area. 

What the fuck? This is amazing… not only that, everyone was friendly, helpful, the meal was delicious (asian style vegetable and curry chicken I’m told was awesome), and then we heard the intercom! They paged us when they needed to let us all know something. I went to band heaven. Band heaven is apparently in Holland, where they make the best food. 

There was small concern when a false alarm went off and delayed the show by about fifteen minutes. I thought they were gonna want us to go on before letting anyone inside, but again, the club exceeded my expectations, and delayed the show until we had a full crowd to play for. 

Then, after only four songs, we were told last one. I got pissed. I played hard, and when that song was over, Brovar, our tour manager extraordinaire, let us know he’d made a mistake. Wow, cool! More good news! I Got to do one of those cool, “you wanna hear another one?!??!!” and get the yell back. And this is for the opener! Woot! How fun. Instead of one, though, it was three, to complete our set. 

That was great. I showered so damn hard. Twice. This was just awesome treatment. I imagine pop stars get this constantly, and I can see how it could make you a snot, and it’s very alluring. Alas, tonight we play club Scum, and I think maybe the most awesome treatment is over. 

Everyone did real well, we had a good time in our room with a pair of interviewers, like big ass rock stars, and that was about it. Then came the tour pussy hunt. Jason went to bed, Sean and I declined to enjoy the experience, and Raul went to watch and reported later on some pretty pathetic antics. There was cock-blocking, talking up, back stabbing, basically anything to try and get some poontang. This was not metal, this was some desperate ego trying to pretend it has a bigger penis. Fascinating. 

Sean and I went to a fry shop and figured out that yes, the same jock assholes exist everywhere. No, we didn’t get messed with, just looking around and realizing we looked like scum and these kids looked like the popular kids in High School. And there were hundreds of them. We passed by a weird sex club with nothing but a door bell, but Sean kept me from finding out what lay past. Thanks Sean, you’re my conscience. Also, perhaps saved my pocketbook. 

Back at the bus, people were drinking whiskey and getting tanked. They’re gonna have a nice morning. The stomach flu has moved on to JJ from Vile, as I’ve got to hear all about his watery stool and puking this morning. What fun breakfast conversation! 

Also, at some point, those fools managed to get some giggling ninnies with breasts to accompany them to the bus. Here’s the thing… what kind of random girl would get on a bus with 20 horny guys all loaded on alcohol? Don’t answer that… just think about who would do that. I went to sleep.