Category: Touring

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

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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

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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.

April 5

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The show last night went pretty awesome. Germans are rad. They know how to party right. We got on stage, and the headbanging commenced. A whole row of them. Arms over each other’s shoulders, headbanging like maniacs. It was pretty cool, and a nice break from the ennui and apathy we’d been receiving. Also, this show only had eight days to be promoted, and the guys did a good job. They play in a band called Mynd Crimes, and they’re pretty damn good, too. 


Unfortunately, these guys also told us about the bus we were about to be traveling on, and the driver. Apparently, it breaks down often, they had four days without heat in the winter, and the driver is a fan of she-male porn who smokes joints while driving. He looks like an old, creep, too. 

The disaster for this evening was the trailer. First, the driver, not being Thomas, the bad assed driver we did have, said he could back the trailer out, so we had to turn it around with manpower before we loaded it. So we did that. Then the lock got lost. So Christoph, the vocalist from Mynd Crimes, drove us to four different gas stations, the only thing open in Germany after eight pm. None of them had locks. So my idea was to move the trailer against a wall. We did that with relatively little help, only, my the guys from Poland, and two from Deeds of Flesh. I crashed out hard after laughing hard at some dumb, drunken antics from some other members of the tour trying their damndest, and failing, at scoring. 

At some point in the middle of the night, Jason’s puking seemed to have transfer to Sean and Reno (the drummer in Vile). They looked like complete shit today, but to both their credit, they played. 

Well, we get to the gig the next day in Trier. And the promoter was late. Five hours late. That meant no food for five hours, which is no biggee, other than the WHINING!!!!! This place is cool, some weird youth club. I got to play soccer with some tiny German kids. Two boys and two girls. The two girls, probably about age 10, kept giggling and whispering in German, as if I could understand them. They started to climb a wall and push each other trying to maintain control of the ball, and that’s when Sean and I took our leave, so they’d stop before hurting each other. Apparently, the only word they knew in English was “bye” cause they said it about 1000 times. 

Sean, being sick, handed over song announcing duties to me, but he still turned in a great performance, considering. The crowd was very nice, but again, pretty “polite.” Still, I thought we did well, and I had some fun. Now, I’m showered, talking to some friends I really miss online, and doing pretty okay. Cheers!

beware the 4th of April

Doktor Ross SewageLeave a comment

After waking up in London, I went to Starbucks. I know, it sucks, but goddamit, it was an internet hotspot. So I traded support for globalization for a little internet time. Funny thing about Starbucks in England… they don’t have coffee prepared in the morning. We had to wait. That makes sense.


Onwards to Brighton, where I just about had a heart attack. Our amazing bus driver was stuck in some of the shittiest traffic I’d ever seen in my life. Tiny one way roads, with a two story bus and trailer. When he went down one blocked road and had to make a u-turn, I was freaked out. His normally calm demeanor turned into an angry German schweinnehund. Don’t make Germans angry. You won’t like them when they’re angry. 

Then he turned down another bad road and tried to make another turn, and BAM! We lost one of the tires on the trailer. The wheel and everything. Luckily, the backup got us to the club, once he got proper directions to it, but the spare was already balding from overweight. 

Once we got to the club, there was nowhere to park and loads of tourists from London as it was the first sunny day in Brighton in a while. We had to jam the gear out, change the tire and get him out of there. It’s funny when you run into a room and say “We gotta load out fast!” and watch who comes to help and who scatters. Bastards. 

I was helping the driver change the tire when a cop came up to ask “What’s all this then?” We explained, and it was then I noticed he had a pentacle ring. So this cop was either satanic or wiccan. Either way, he was nice and let us be once we explained. Then I had to help the bus get out and block two lanes of super backed up traffic. At least when they cursed me, it seemed so polite and English. 

Finally, my friends Sarah and Andy made their way down, and it was super cool to meet them in person. I’d bought some eye patches and found a scimitar and we firrrrrrred it up like some pirates. Yarrr!

I’d have had some more friends at the show, except the bastard was vacationing with my family in America instead of being in Brighton. What lousy timing. 

The show went pretty well, despite us finding out that Jason had his fly open for the whole show. Afterwards, some English lot made their way into one of the backrooms, which weren’t really backrooms, but side rooms. Anyway, I was cool with it until some members from the other bands started giving the stink eye. I asked them to leave, and these foookin coonts wouldn’t leave. I guess that’s how the British got India and Hong Kong. 

When we headed out, I had to go to bed immediately, so I wouldn’t feed off anymore stress. I have a habit of that, and we had a trailer with a low tire, a bald tire, no spare, and an eight hour drive ahead of us. I actually did go to sleep, had a wonderful dream about smashing in one of the tour party’s head, but was awoken by vomiting. Come to find out, Jason chundered the whole ferry ride back to France. It was just not his day. 

The next day in France, Jason looked like hell. We got him some fizzy soda, and just hoped he could stand up to play. He did, just barely. Actually, same with the audience. They just barely stood while we played. There was some appreciable applause, but after us, they just went nuts for Vile, Deeds of Flesh, and Monstrosity. It was kind of a kick in the balls for us. A big, fat fucking kick. I guess some people had fun, but it kind of made me wonder, what the fuck are we bothering to tour Europe for? I could be doing a better service for humanity going home and watching porn for the rest of my life. 

We switched buses. Which is great, because the “new” older bus outside is sitting there with a snapped belt. It will not move. I guess we’re waiting for new parts or something. Meanwhile, there’s some kids here at this rec center we are playing, and they appear to be of Arab decent, and none too happy with America. They like to let us know this by saying, “ha ha, you Bush! America go home!” This is shaping up to be an awesome day.

April 2

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Birmingham. Fucking Brum. Fucking awesome. 


Well, there was some problems. This was the one night that the promoter insisted that Impaled not open the show, but play as direct support. Duh, this was going to a problem. For months, I’d been asking this cat, Pove, if this would be cool, if he’d cleared it with other folks. He’d said yes, and indeed, he had cleared it with the tour organizer. The first night, I’d made sure to talk to the other bands about it. This wasn’t our deal, we didn’t ask for it, we were told. 

Well, we get to Birmingham, I meet this guy Pove. He was a nice guy, showed me around a bit while I waited for the other guys to wake up. He showed me a comic shop in the UK, and come to find out, it’s a lot like a comic shop in the U.S., except loads more Dr. Who merchandise. Christ, they love the Dr. Who in England. 

The show, loading up, started decently enough. The club was at the top of the stairs, but fuck it, the club itself was cool. Loads of paintings of monsters from famous movies all around. I was stoked. The only shit started was when I started getting a ration of shit about the line-up change from two guys from Monstrosity. Like I said, everyone else was very cool about it, but these two guys were relentless. Were they kidding? Maybe, but I was already sensitive about how this might go down, and it pissed me off. The only people it didn’t effect kept giving me shit despite my explanations, and wouldn’t stop even as I kidded with them about it. 

Well, I got quite sick of it, and wouldn’t go with the rest of the tour for dinner. Which, apparently, turned into quite the scene itself. The promoter had made sure everyone would be fed, but one person just had to get in his face about a soda or something. Now, I wasn’t there, so maybe this is all heresay. But here’s the thing… the promoter also doubles as a cop, so he’s not so much to be fucked with. Apparently, he put said person in his place. According to him, he made the band member his “bitch.”

Good. Some of the whining on this tour has really put me at odds. The bulk of people are quite cool, quite willing to chip in. But the whiners… ugh, how can they say they are metal when they’re bitching about the most trivial of things? How metal is it to complain about not being pampered enough? It boggles the mind. 

Right, so here’s how the show in Brum went down… fucking great for all involved. Either the promoter overjudged us and it didn’t matter, or perhaps he judged perfectly correctly and the night went great because of it. In any case, everyone did well. So great. Impaled went nuts and we just had a great fucking time. Birmingham, we love you. 

Then, onto London. I had my doubts, as this show started so fucking early in order to make way for a goth club later on. As it turned out, people were lined up and we had a really good set in front of a lot of cool people. The one guy to give us shit bought us all beers and showed us around later on, so obviously, he was just taking a piss. That’s good for laugh. 

There was some technical foul ups, but mostly I’m just glad we’re all having a good time, and yup, getting tour tight. Well, for Impaled. The other bands have us blown out of the water for tightness. 

Sean and I busted out for a few and I FINALLY got to see one of the locations I’ve longed to see for so long, 10 Bells Pub. That is, the infamous pub that Jack the Ripper’s victims all met at. God knows how we found it, because we were lost as fuck, but eventually there it was before us. I was stoked, as I was shortchanged out of seeing this place before. Come to find out, it’s a tiny little place, quite ugly, really. But dammit, I was there. 

Back, we loaded out, the goths came in, and we headed to pub around the block. Even Jason, who just drank Coke. We met up with some cool folks from around here, and one crazy Czech chick obsessing about her tits being too small (they weren’t) and her boyfriend. The only fucking bummer was when this Polish guy came up to me and said “Make your vocals lower…” which was fine. I laughed and said I’d try. Then he said “No, I’m serious, and I will smash your face in.” What the fuck? Good lord, I was ready to throw down. Threaten me? I really didn’t know what to say, he was friends with these other people, and obviously, they didn’t know what to say. I let the moment pass, and they left, but god dammit… fuck you, you piece of shit. I don’t know your name, but if you read this, stay the fuck away. You were about three seconds from getting a pint glass struck to your ugly head. 

Critique me all you want, but momma says if you got nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Enjoy the snow in Poland, I’ll be in Cali, beyotch. 

After that, Raul, Sean, Mike from Deeds, me, and this other cat (fuck, I don’t remember names) had a killer time walking around, drinking, and finding some shit to eat. Today, I’ve had awesome crepes and fallafels. London is pretty fun, for a fucked up town with crazy drivers on the wrong side of the road.