Category: Music

Just three weeks had passed by since we finished the GWAR tour. We left the van in Richmond, VA with our stalwart new merch/monster Jim. While we were away, he took the van to get checked out, and there were no issues other than a busted lock. It appeared we were in the clear as far major mechanical failures were concerned. The costumes were left clean, the gear ready to go; basically we jumped back into a tour that was already organized, packed, and ready to go.

We flew pretty cheap outta San Jose and got to DC where Jim met up with us. Three weeks of our personal lives had pretty much just flew as well. The flights in and out of the East Coast for five of us ended up cheaper than trying to drive back and forth across the country. It was a wise move and way easier.

We stayed in Richmond that night. The next day we had off, so headed to the King’s Dominion theme park with some new friends and some of the GWAR guys to get our socks knocked off by some rolly coasters. The band that rides coasters together, stays together.

After all the fun, we headed to the jam space of Occultist, the band we would be touring with. They let us set up on their gear and get in a much needed jam session. We hadn’t played together in three fucking weeks! Despite Dino having toured for two weeks with Noothgrush in Europe as their new vocalist, he didn’t miss a fucking beat. We added a bunch of songs to the set and felt pretty good about our chances.

Sean was actually digging pretty hard on Occultists Sovtek Mig, which sounds a lot like a good ’80s style cranked Marshall. New tone someday? Maaaaaybe.

We headed to Pittsburgh the next day. Belvedere’s Ultra-Dive was kinda just that… a big fucking dive. The show room look like a 70’s dad had expanded his man cave with wood paneling and weird wooden shades that divided the room. The staff was super cool and the promoter Josh did a good job. It was a Monday, and apparently we did very well attracting folks on a shit night of the week. We played with some excellent bands, like Ratface (loved it!), Anthropic (grinded hard), and the curiously and unfortunately named (because they fucking RULE) Oh Shit They’re Going to Kill Us.

Occultist was awesome and nice to finally see at the beginning of our tour. Then we played, and people were god damned animals. It was basically use kind of playing, but more so resetting our microphones as people raged and danced on and off the stage. These punk nerds were left bloodied, beaten and beaming.

Speaking of microphones, I finally bought my own. I was so sick on the last tour. I’m sure we were all trading diseases from sharing microphones. I bought yer typical Shure SM58, because that’s what I could find quickly on craigslist. I’m hoping to up that to a Beta 58, which apparently has a bigger magnet inside, or something, so it captures more high end and clarity. I think. I’m an idjit when it comes to microphone knowledge, but I’m trying to learn. I’ve had more than a couple sound guys tell me to get a Beta 58 for my low, rumbly vocals to help ’em pop in the mix. In the meantime, the SM58 it is cat approved.

We stopped by my dear friend’s house, Meliora Angst, and she fed us some much appreciated pasta and veggies. Alas, we had to leave quickly and drive all night to the next show. I fucking hate night drives. Even if I’m not driving them, it’s not real sleep. Still, Mr. Dan Randall stepped up and did almost the whole drive till sunrise himself and got us safely to Boston. From there, we unsafely had to deal with Boston drivers. You are all assholes there. Seriously, learn to drive.

We ended up at Great Scott. The stage was a bit tiny, so we had to switch up some of the elements of our show a bit. Someone asked me on Twitter how we’d fit a robot on stage; the answer was we couldn’t.

I don’t think anyone minded, though, as the show packed in and was amazing. Razor Maze and Ramming Speed are never again allowed to play with us, because they shredded us new assholes. How can we compete with these fucking amazing young bands? Answer: break their fucking fingers. Look out, boys.

Occultist had a great set, and we again, too. Blood flew, feet flew, and there was lots of jokes at the expense of a little regarded ban on moshing and Boston culture in general. Everyone seemed to take in stride and we had a great time at a great bar. I also got to eat again at nearby Spike’s, my favorite hot dog restaurant in the world. Amazing buns, veggie dogs, and fried onions on top of scallions on top of green onions. I’m sure my breath was regal to anyone around me.

After the show we stayed with our friends from the Whore Church that we met and stayed with before in Boston while out with GWAR. These are great guys, and now I can fully endorse their amazing mix movie that I’ve watched many times since meeting them. If your a fan of the ol’ style mix tapes, with weird-o shit, disgusting porn, and horror movies, you’ve gotta get a hold of these guys’ DVD.

The final stretch, the final act, the big ending, the showdown, the finish line, the curtains drawing, the… end of euphemism. As we drove out in the morning from Poughkeepsie to Hampton Beach, our touring with GWAR was drawing to a close. Our brakes are squeaking and burning just a little, but there’s just no time to take care of it. We have to hustle for there are faces to rock off.

blog posting last tour, I’m still always amazed at how GWAR crafts a stage. Here’s Jim, Germ, and Gibby during the unload at noon.

The shit just unfold on stage after a quick assessment by Bob and Matt on the where’s of each piece of the set.

And then there exists the Castle of Death that GWAR will be spending an evening in.

I myself was given a special gift by GWAR for this final performance of the tour… I was to be decapitated onstage!

In the morning, Mr. Gorman had sprung it on me… I guess the rest of my band knew the surprise coming. Pretty much every GWAR show starts with a decapitation, and this tour cycle was no different. The first character to get decapitated was Death’s assistant, the deed holder (for lack of a better name). Bob told me I was going to be inside the suit this evening. No lie, it put butterflies in my stomach. What an honor for a geek like me.

Before the doors, I tried the costume piece on… holy shit, it sucks. It’s basically like being rolled up inside of a mattress. Foam on all sides, I couldn’t hear anything and my vision was cut down to two tiny slits. I could barely see in front of me let alone on either side. I was supposed to navigate my way to the front of the stage in this thing and NOT fall off? Holy shit. And I thought wearing some dipshit hood was hard.

The show began, and our band performed and had a great time to a totally insane audience. It was a nice ending to an amazing run with GWAR. After loading all our shit in the trailer, I headed to GWAR’s backstage and prepared. A spew hose was run through my pants making it even more nerve wracking that I might just fall over and bumble the whole thing. I put the upper torso on and everything turned into a muffled mess.

photo courtesy of Maclyn Bean Photography

I got the cue and managed to make my way to my mark. I emoted with my arms as best I could and then got just the barest glimpse of Oderus Urungus swinging a sword to my “head.”

photo courtesy of Maclyn Bean Photography

SPEW!!! I bent over to unleash a torrent of blood on the wanting audience. I really couldn’t see anything. I just tried to jiggle like a newly slain victim and get the blood everywhere. Maybe I saw some people dancing turn red, but it might have been hallucinations. I was breathing so hard under all that foam I nearly passed out. The sound of my own suffocation was louder than the music. When my part was over and the appliance was removed, Bob said I looked like a 16 year-old, grinning ear to ear. Confirmed bohab.

I took leave of the stage only to return for the encore with the rest of our band. Two of us, along with Laura from Kylesa, were unfortunately fed to the World Maggot. Sean, Scott, and I got to partake in beheading the beast. I can’t lie, I took great delight in shoving Dan and Dino into the hands of the slaves to become maggot food. That’s revenge for letting me be eaten at the end of the last tour in Portland, OR.

photo by Nicole Roberts

Finally, the last performance of The Road Behind. I took my place near the front of the crowd to get spewed on myself during the epic dedication to fallen scumdog, Flattus Maximus aka Cory Smoot. He passed during our first tour with GWAR in one of the most difficult times I’ve ever bared witness to for a band. This whole tour was dedicated to his memory. I think they handled it with class and decor, an odd compliment for a band known for being so vulgar. It was an impossible task but they met the challenge to get through it.

After the song, as every night, lighters were held high during a playback of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way.” I ran back to the stage and held my lighter aloft with the rest.

Photo by Nicole Roberts

As the song ended, the lighters were lowered. I grabbed MX2’s hand and gave it a hearty squeeze as I wiped my eyes dry. Dave Brockie kissed Cory’s guitar goodbye and then held it up for the crowd. Finally, it was taken off stage for the final time…

And that was that. Our second tour with the scumdogs was over. We’d been there for a most difficult time along with one of our favorite bands and their amazing crew. We walked away as family and friends. And after all the people had left, the gear packed, and the onslaught was over, naught was left but a very, very dirty floor.

Till the next time… our journey with GWAR, Municipal Waste, Kylesa, and Legacy of Disorder may be over, but after a few weeks rest at home, WE will be back on the road… it’s no lie. And you stupid fucking humans WILL pay money to die.

Check for upcoming tour dates at creepsylvania.com

Doktor Ross Sewage

postscript:
check out Maclyn Bean Photography for more awesome live photos
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Back in Baltimore at the Sonar… as close to a stomping ground as we have outside of the Bay Area. For once, we were going to play this stage outside of MDF. We were excited because it always seemed this was the biggest stage with a gnarly backstage where we felt kinda like rock stars. Upon arrival, it felt kinda small. We have been spoiled.

That is going to be weird getting used to again after six weeks of V.I.P. treatment. Once again, I’ll have to leave the Leatherman at home when going to a show. I’ll have to check my wallet chain or studded belt. Bollocks.

Continue reading “Ghoulection 2012: Transmission Six” →

Dateline: San Antonio. There was something I was supposed to remember in this town. Something someone said to remember. Whatev.

This was the first show of the tour with Kylesa. No lie, I was worried about their gear set up and staging everything in some of these places. Two drummers, keys, a theremin… what with our already full set up, this could get messy backstage.

I shouldn’t have worried. Kylesa are total road dogs and eminent pros. I’ve known Phillip and Laura for some time and they know what they’re doing. The rest of their crew is also top notch dudes. The shows are going to go smooth.

It was fun to surprise at least Laura with my appearance. I’ve surprised her before, showing up with Wolves in the Throne Room. With this band, she didn’t know I was one of the goons with a bag on his head. What a proud life to lead.

We headed to hot and humid Corpus Christi next. It was like driving into an old Voivod record cover, what with all the oil refineries. The downtown also was kinda like a ghost town. Maybe Körgull had laid waste to the citizenry. Nah, once it was show time, they all came out and we had an amazing show.

At this show I had to acquire a fan for my amp. I’m stunned how hard it is to find a clip-on work fan these days. See, Beefcake’s head broke, so he took Jase’s from Legacy of Disorder. Unfortunately, the GWAR stage set up requires things to be strapped down. So now Jase is using my old-ass Ampeg V4-B, which he apparently digs the fuck outta. But in this climate and running twice as long, I’ll be damned to blow out a transformer from overheating for lack of a $20 fan.

One girl in the crowd unwittingly showed us how to do the Graveyard Mosh. We’ve been playing that song since the beginning, but no one ever though about how it was done. It was awesome. Stick your arms out, head down, and start goose-stepping like Boris Karloff as the Mummy.

This guy also came out with the best unofficial GWAR costume yet. Beef-fake the Mighty. We were trying to figure out why he would wear something so heavy to a show in this hot place. Then I noticed every girl in the place wanted a photo with him. Smooooth.

The next day we headed to New Orleans for a one-off show away from tour. We were headlining a punk show at Siberia, the best metal / punk dive in NOLA. Maybe the only one?

It was a lot like a show back home… plenty of cavewomen and crusty dudes outside spanging and not coming in, and then plenty of punks on the inside. Some of the GWAR and Legacy of Disorder camp came out on their night off (to see yet another show?) and we had a great time. Total anarchy. Sammy from Goatwhore and Dez from High on Fire also attending was an awesome surprise. We headed to the French Quarter and drank away.

best shirt ever

Our troupe got separated as we headed to the van. I called Balzac, who’d been with him last. In hushed tones I heard, “yeah?” “Is Dino with you?” I asked, which he quietly confirmed. “Why are you so quiet?” I questioned. “We hopped the wall into the cemetery. Bye!”

The next day we drove through the ghetto in the lower ninth ward. Boarded up houses, closed schools with signs that hadn’t changed since 2005… Meanwhile in the French Quarter, lotsa white folks were walking round sippin’ on $5 lattes and buying tees that said “I got Bourbon-Faced on Shit Street”. Oi vey. NOLA, you’re a sad ghost of your former self.

On the way into Florida, I got one of my favorite regional treats. Mostly found in Georgia and Florida, so far as I can tell… boiled peanuts. I wish these were EVERYWHERE. They look like the inside of a teste, and they taste as good as one, too! Seriously, these are amazing.

We had a great show in Pensacola, FL that night and then drove all night to Orlando. The show was a bit of a cluster, having two venues run simultaneously side-by-side with largely the same crew. Three tour buses had to find parking, along with all the openers’ vans. All the spare tables for merch had been used up, so I jerry-rigged one for us and Legacy of Disorder out of a broken bathroom stall door I found in the back. That other show had a bunch of fancy hair cuts, tight jeans, and that new breed of hardcore tee that looks like it should be on Pauly D. from Jeresy Shore instead of at a “rock” venue. I wanted nothing to do with that.

The show went fine. As fine as it could while I took center stage because of the shallow space. My feet were literally up to the edge of the stage with Dino’s cymbal stands in my back. I proceeded to get drunk. Very drunk. I also had the best veggie dogs of my life from this dear street vendor. I ate four or five, I can’t remember. I just know I couldn’t stop.

Gerrity, who’d done merch for Municipal Waste, came to the show and by the end was unofficial caretaker of me and our van. Dan and Dino split with GWAR while the others went to lodge at a condo that Jim, (our merch guy) had secured with his sister. Gerrity DD’d my ass over to his friends’ place. Daniel, guitarist for Possessed, and his lovely girlfriend Lyndsey, put me up and made sure our van was safe in their driveway.

Sean, Scott, Jim, and I met up the next day to head to Jacksonville Beach. Having arrived early with GWAR, Dan had acquired quite nice looking sunburn while surfing, or whatever hippies like him from Santa Cruz do at the beach.

The show went great, and we drove all night (again) to Asheville, NC. I was impressed, never having been here, by the amazing cross-over of latte-sipping liberal hipster and gun-toting redneck, livin’ side-by-side. Kinda like Portland, but more rifles.

Asheville really is beautiful, too, with rolling hills and lush, green foliage. And monuments to the Confederacy. Well, ya can’t win ’em all. Anyway, the Orange Peel, where we played, was awesome with a huuuge stage and much ass was kicked. The next morning, we woke up to a flat tire in the hotel parking lot. It made us a little late, but I’ll thank my lucky stars it wasn’t a blow out.

We headed out the next morning to North Myrtle Beach for another House of Blues, Inc. gig. Nothing says down home southern blues like a chain of corporate interest held music venues decorated with the same kind of dedication to homogenization as a Starbucks. The super cool part about was any entertainer at the House of Blues got a free pass to the park next door, Alligator Adventure!!!

I can’t say enough about how cool it was to be able to hold a small alligator. I think they’re fucking cute buggers. All full of hate and cold blood. And the chinese alligators, the albino alligators, the amazonian crocs, the malaysian crocs, the 20′ croc… Holy snap. It’s geared to families, obviously, but I made the lone reptile showman give me, Laura, and Matt Maguire the full-on reptile lecture he’d give any school group.

Afterwards, I headed to the beach. It was beautiful at sunset, but a little depressing that all but one entrance for miles around was private. This is a beach for rich folk, and I got many funny looks as an interloper.

The show was as ridiculous as we’ve had yet. I’m pretty sure everyone was a little sauced as we bantered the night away. The playing? I don’t recall. I headed over to the Olive Garden to see my family, as advertised, and then passed the F out.

I woke up in Richmond, VA. We had stopped at Jim’s for a visit on the way to Baltimore. He went to his doctor. Turns out he’s had walking pneumonia. Shit. I’ll bet he’s not the only one as the sickness has been passed through all the bands this our. Ugh. I always wanted our metal to be the sickest, but this is ridiculous.

On April the Sixth, we returned. Our port of call was San Francisco, the homeland. We were to play the fabulous Regency Ballroom, where I’d seen GWAR a number of times before. Now, I was gonna share the stage with them for the best audience of all: family.

Yes, that’s Ma, Bro, and Sister Sewage in attendance and doused with a tidbit of blood. Pa couldn’t make it, he was watching over the littlest Sewage, my niece. I seriously have the best family ever.

We also had an amazing show. We’ve honed our act, tightened our chops, and delivered one of our tightest sets ever for our beloved Bay Area. We got to see a lot of friends and loved ones.

Sadly, my poor girlfriend was eaten by the World Maggot. She will be missed, until I can sift her outta the pile of maggot poo I collected. Here’s the tragic video. Try to guess which one she is! (hint: it’s not the dude)

It was hard to leave the next day, sleeping for just one night in my own bed. Alas, Reno waited! Reno, the biggest little shitty in the world. Reno is what Las Vegas would look like if it retired, lost its pension because its former employer declared bankruptcy, and then had to work as a Wal-Mart greeter so it could afford arthritis medication.

I was starting to feel under the weather AGAIN this night, maybe that affected my ‘tude. Still, we had a fun show and hung out afterwards in the casinos. I didn’t win anything, but I was gifted some much needed new socks for the rest of tour! Viva la différence.

We charged out of Reno into the Nevada desert towards Las Vegas. There were ghost towns galore, run down Indian reservations, and so many crumbled buildings with no one left to tell their stories. It’s no wonder the Air Force could hide something so well in plain sight out here. When I entered it into Google Maps on my phone, though, it just pops up. Area 51.

At least I think we saw Area 51. Or one of the gates to it. Who the hell knows, really? It was a long drive out of our way, dodging free range cows that sat in the middle of a darkened highway. Down a dirt road for twenty minutes, and we found an ominous fence. A door was slammed as we approached. I guess this was it.

And that was that. We headed out but not before stopping by the Little Áléinn for some souvenirs and completely average grub from one of the most foul mouthed line cooks I’ve ever encountered. Dino: “$7? That’s a lot for a cheese sandwich.” Cook: “It’s a fucking good god damn cheese sandwich.” Etc. A scene from the movie “Paul” was also shot here, but that’s hardly interesting because that movie wasn’t good.

We made it to Vegas that same night and met up with a small faction of the GWAR camp at the Double Down, Vegas’ filthiest bung hole punk dive. I highly recommend the “Ass Juice.” It’ll fuck your shit up good, as it did me, exacerbating my sickness further.

The next day I holed up in our hotel room. My throat felt like I’d gargled razor blades. Writing this days later, it still feels rough. This tour, though so amazing and maybe the best I’ve ever been on, has been a petri dish of communicable diseases from the get go. I wasn’t too sad to miss Vegas in the day, though. This town is full tourist douche bags. It’s built on artifice and vice. I don’t like to gamble, I can’t afford the shows, and so the whole artificial oasis sucking up so much energy and water in the desert is entirely lost on me. That said, we had a great show, though my personal worst due to feeling like I got mauled by a tiger in a magic act. Too soon?

Sadly, we would become bereft of Cartel Brownbuzzardepicbeard. He was doing sound for us and Municipal Waste, as well as tour managing for the Waste. He was leaving the tour this night, the first casualty of the Waste’s limited time on this tour. This was dose of reality that the magic would inevitably come to a close.

Tuesday reared its ugly head and our drunk asses had to be woken up for a drive to Salt Lake City. We were playing at the Great Saltair, which we thought was the location of filming for the classic flick Carnival of Souls. Unfortunately, it was not. The original location burnt down. Still, the place is cool, located on the Great Salt Lake itself. It smells like shit walking towards it, with scores of dead birds who’ve apparently tried to drink the over-salinated water. Stupid birds. According to those who swam in it (I did not) it was refreshing… until the salt starts to tingle and then burn your skin. It’s quite a sight to watch people walk for hundreds of yards in the shallow yet enormous lake and still only stay waist deep.

Thursday was the final day for Municipal Waste on the tour as we headed into Fort Collins, Colorado. The club was tiny tiny, and the security barrier was gone. Ruh roh! To add to the chaos, Mr. Tony Foresta was suffering more of the illness that was besetting the whole tour. Unfortunately for him, a sore throat seriously impinged his raison d’être. As a consequence, the night before in SLC, he’d made a sign up sheet for Municipal Waste karaoke. Lots of folks on the tour joined in, included a couple hooded menaces.

At the end, we all jumped up and let the Waste know they fucked us up… real good. Sayonara, fellas. Touring with these old friends was the amazing fun experience I imagined it would be. It’s weird when your expectations are actually met. In celebration of the tour, spew tech Germ doled out some final matching tattoo work to the Waste folks and a few of our own.

That blurry finger on the lens wasn’t a mistake… seriously, I’m not that bad a photographer. I’m blocking shit. You’d thank me.

From Colorado to… San Antonio, Texas. Fuck, that’s a long drive. We had to have a day off and drive all night to make the 20 hour trek. Plus, we added one hour for a little tourist diversion before the show that awaits us tonight. We had to see… who would survive and what would be left of them!

If you don’t recognize that building from a massacre that happened round these parts years past, then the saw is probably not part of your family.

If I have any more fun today, I don’t think I can take it!

Doktor Ross Sewage

Maybe I should’ve shut my stinkin’ trap about how smooth things had been going. Breaky brakey!

We had a four score of fun in Lincoln, NE. Lincoln was particularly fun watching all the whitest ever Ed Hardy wearing douche bags go out on the Friday night pub crawl. We got to watch one get arrested and taken down after trying to cold cock his friend and then resist arrest. It’s fun when you get to cheer for the cops beating the shit out of some one, and oh so rare.

We rocked out in Boulder, CO. Grand Junction was grand. We were all a bit zoned out from some night drives as we rolled into Flagstaff early. It was about time that we got the rebuilt transmission checked out at another AAMCO. BAH!!!!

The trailer was dropped and the van went up on the lift. And then it sat there. We watched across the street from a diner as the van was not let back down. This is a bad sign. Turns out, the front rotors needed replacing and some coolant tubing was leaking that was missed when we had the rebuild done in New Jersey. This free van of ours was costing us a lot of money.

The staff was friendly and took us and our trailer to the show over at the Orpheum Theater. They said they’d have the van done by five o’clock, and indeed they did. It cost us a bunch, but we hope, we pray, this is it. The show in Flagstaff was great and we saw a lot of friends out in force for that one.

For this tour we’ve upped our game a bit, taking notes from Every Time I Die and Gwar on the last tour. We’ve incorporated wireless systems into our rigs. This is hardly punk, but when you’ve got a robot and a proto-human fighting on your stage while trying to play, having the ability to nimbly get around becomes paramount.

That’s my new, and more expensive than my own amplifier, wireless unit. My Sansamp Bass DDI sits atop it. The wireless receiver is part of the Sennheiser ew172 G3 wireless pack made for guitar and bass. I was looking into the previous model, a G2, but it turns out that it doesn’t carry the full note frequency below 40Hz. That’s theoretically detrimental to my bass. Tuned to D standard, my lowest note is 36Hz. The G3 goes down to 25Hz. It also has infinitely more transmitting frequencies available than its predecessor. I can’t say I’m stoked on investing so much on something made after 1980, but we really needed it for these kinds of shows. I can bounce around stage so much easier these days.

We drove all night yet again to San Diego. Heading into California I was excited, until I was stopped at three different checkpoints along Interstate 8, the most fascist of American interstates. The border guards took especial delight in asking me why my face was covered in red dye. Try explaining shock rock to a guy looking for trucks full of Mexicans. It was all worth it to get to some California air and sunshine and play an awesome sold out show at the House of Blues. I even got to pull apart a fight between some dick bag and the lady security guard he was hitting! Reminds me of all those old blues houses along the delta, alright, right along with the nine dollar beers.

Apropos of little is this awesome picture of Sean at our friend Doug’s house in San Diego. Coolest house ever, with a coffin entertainment center, multiple skeletons in the wall, and secret compartments everywhere.

We made our way to Ventura the next day and more much needed California sunshine and weather. We hit the beach, looking kinda like the gang that Frankie and Annette were going to have to expel in order to save the Big Kahuna hut along the shore that all the kids did the twist at.

The show was loads of fun with lots more friends coming out again. Joel from Toxic Holocaust sang a ditty with Municipal Waste, which gave time for Tony to drive onto stage on a pink scooter with a pink sparkly helmet in an attempt to emulate Judas Priest. I think even Rob Halford would’ve said, “That looks a little gay.” But what fun!

Another night drive, and we showed up to the Senator theater in Chico, CA. Hippies abounded. Fuck hippies. Good god, there was more burnouts here than in an Oakland sideshow. The show itself was a lot of fun, though. The kids raged and we got great back stage seats to see GWAR. We’re still a little desperate for cashola, though I didn’t have any idea how much until the band tried to auction me off.

Luckily, Ross Sewage is not an in demand product round those parts. Halfway through our tour, we head home for a night in a city we all left our hearts in… and a few hearts we dug up along the way.

Doktor Ross Sewage

The best part of the last week is that there has been so little to write about. After the drama and problems of the previous week, we’ve had a largely smooth ride of it. Like the Bones Brigade, we just been rolling.

We drove all night to Toledo, Ohio and arrived early at Headliner’s. According to Jim, a terrible teevee show, but according to Jim the GWAR truck driver, he was surprised to not see us late. Yipes. Anyway, we took the extra time to get an oil change, an oft forgotten piece of tour maintenance.

Headliner’s was… interesting. It’s a place in flux. So much so that the backstage toilet was installed DURING the show. The load out was a bit chaotic as well. It started raining and our trailer was unhooked because a jack ass parked in front of our unhooked trailet. Who does that? Luckily, someone from the club, or we’d have been figgedity fucked moving the trailer to the load out area like pack of bipedal mules.

Lexington, KY was next and a total surprise at the awesomeness of it all. Not saying I expected anything less, it was just over the top awesome fun with an absolutely mad crowd. We got to hang with our friends in the Hookers and had a smashing time.

Joliet, IL was a bit rough. The entire tour took over the tiny kitchen area for a backstage. The GWAR “castle” had to be downsized to a split level apartment to fit the tiny stage. I played next to the staircase, literally menacing people headed to the mezzanine face-to-face. It was another great night, though, and we got to meet the artist of our album cover, Bill Hauser. Awesome artist and great guy!

On the way to Wisconsin, I picked up a rather important piece of new gear. See, I got sick of hacking up from being a weak addict, so I’m trying out the eCig. So far, it’s helping me cut down and I’m digging it.

One thing I don’t mind be addicted to is Wisconsin cheese. Near the Majestic Theater in Madison I had the second best ever bowl of mac ‘n’ cheese ever. First best? Unicorn in Seattle. Oh yeah, the show was great, too! Fuck, this is boring. Everything is great.

Madison was another nice night when we met our new pals Kristen and Mercedes. Kristen took good care of us and ripped it up as punk rock DJ at her pad and made sure we got fed the next day.

In Des Moines, I got to meet up with my friends Krista and Josh. Krista met Josh at an Impaled show in Des Moines some years ago and they ended up married. Impaled brings love! And G.O.R.E.! The show was great. Again. Sigh.

Next we drove into the night to Tulsa. Muggy, muggy Tulsa. This show was a bit more worrisome, being that it was earlier and I was afraid the tigers wouldn’t even be outta school before we went on. I was wrong. Another great show. Holy shit tards, something best go wrong soon or this journal is gonna be dull as fuck. Well, at least Dave Brockie finally got to meet his hero, Oderus Urungus.

Now we’ve had a day off between Tulsa and Lincoln. We’re in ghettotel and recuperating for more awesomeness to come. And some of us have decided the best way to beat a cold is to galavant about town, drinking until they puke on themselves. You say tomato, I say potato.

If this continues, I may have to just start breaking things for something to do. Time for a relaxing swim in the lovely pool.

First day of the tour, and already things were getting tense within the band. Sometimes aggression just has to be vented, and sometimes that just takes a machete to the head.

Right up to the last minute, we were working on props and running errands all over Richmond. I was pretty disappointed that we didn’t have time to see the Slave Pit. Maybe at the end of tour.

Continue reading “Ghoulection 2012: Transmission One” →