We were invited by our friend Shlak to play the New Jersey Death Fest 4 this past weekend. With friends like Shlak, who needs enemas? We met this crazy mother fucker some years back after we’d watched him wrap himself in barbed-wire and staple dollars to his head while bleeding everywhere during a set with his old band, Call the Paramedics. You never could imagine a sweeter, more cordial fellow caked in blood. We flew out for what was sure to be a night of steady blast beats and pinch harmonics. We wouldn’t fit in at all.
This was going to be an epic weekend. We would play the fest, stay in New Jersey, and then follow it up with a sweet show at St. Vitus in Brooklyn. It WAS going to be a sweet weekend. Some colossal shit dickery occurred between some members of our band, promoters, and bookers which led to a misunderstanding that wasn’t revealed until days before the event. We had to cancel the Brooklyn show. All I can say is, my dick remained free of any shit. As it stood, we had a lot of fun in New Jersey, despite, or maybe because of, the chaos.