Tour Blog, weeks 5 and 6.

Finishing this thing up, 3 fuckin months after being home.  Shit gets in the way, my bad. Thanks for reading.

Day 29, a day at the doctor:
So we wake up at Josh's place and start packin' up for our drive to Birmingham, AL, where we're gonna hang out with Gibbs from Dead Heroes, since our show in Sylvania got canceled. Pat gets up, and is hobbling around on his feet, complaining about how much they hurt, which he'd been saying since week one. At first we thought he had a minor case of athletes foot, but he swore up and down that that wasn't it. He starts saying he needs to go to the doctor. I take a look at his feet, and agree. It looks like his feet have been soaking in water for 5 weeks, and where the skin has withered away there are little pockets of pus everywhere. He can't walk flat-footed anymore. So we look up the nearest doc-in-the-box, and head out. We take him in and wait around for about 3 hours. 

He finally comes walking out, with bandages all over his feet. The verdict is: trench foot. For those of you that don't know, trench foot is a medical condition caused by prolonged exposure of the foot to damp, unsanitary and cold conditions.The use of the word "trench" relates to trench warfare from World War 1, where soldiers were stuck in the trenches and couldn't keep their feet dry. Skin starts to soften and fall of the body, leading to necrosis, and eventually gangrene and amputation. Fortunately it hadn't gotten that far, and the doctors just lanced his feet, drained them of fluid, gave him some prescriptions, and told him it was up to him if he thought he could play drums for 2 more weeks, as long as he followed a daily regimen of washing his feet and using special creams, he should be okay. So that was a relief, as we wouldn't have to cancel the rest of tour at the furthest point away from home that we could possibly be at.


We stop at a Wal-Mart to grab the prescriptions, and finally head out to Birmingham at around 5pm. We get to the spot Gibbs is living at, which is a recording studio, and him and a few people have pizza and beer waiting for us. What an excellent end to a shitty day. Some bro-band from Pensacola is recording and staying at the studio, they're all playing "Wise-Wizard", and everyone is already 3-sheets to the wind when we get there. Some of us play catch-up, but Morgan goes to bed in the van, because he's starting to get sick and he wants to try to catch it before it kills his voice. He probably caught what I had, which isn't great. 


Day 30, Vicksburg, MS:
We wake up and get moving at a fairly decent hour, and say our goodbyes to Gibbs. I don't recall much of the drive. Whatever. We get to Vicksburg and meet up with Jesse, the guy who set up our show. He's got a cool spot called The Doom Room. There was some miscommunication about the show, and until a few weeks prior, Jesse had thought it was canceled because Dead Heroes couldn't play the show any more. So it was just us and his band, Black Pussy. We played first, and as soon as we started playing, Morgan knew his voice was gone. The cold had gotten him. Bummer. We got through the set fine, albeit without a whole lot of vocals. People dug us anyways though, which was cool. Black Pussy played afterward, and they were rad. Jesse is a stand-up dude. He took us back to his pad, and we watched some DVD's he had of southern metal bands, and crashed.


Day 31, Baton Rouge, LA:
So this was a show that we found out a few days prior had gotten double-booked. We had the show locked down back in June, I believe. It was one of the 1st shows we booked. I don't know when the double-booking had occurred, but we never got told about it. Usually not a huge deal, if the other band is cool. I'm not gonna name names, but this other band had a $200 guarantee, and demanded that pizza be given to them when they got to the venue. So the promoter had to go buy them pizza. Real cool, rockstars. Some of us were hanging out by the merch tables, and one of the dudes in the band had the audacity to tell us that they were a DIY band. This, we knew, was an outright lie. They had a booking agent. Their shows required a contract. Their records were label-released. They paid for their merch designs. They weren't on any labels at that given moment, but were still operating through a 3rd party. NOT DIY. Don't try to capitalize on an idea that you don't understand. It affects those of us who truly are, and misrepresents your band. Not being DIY is fine, if that's the route you choose to take. But don't lie to your audience, and don't lie to bands who really are.

A couple locals played, whose names I can't remember, and we went on. Earlier in the day we decided that instead of canceling because Morgan was too sick to sing, we would just play an instrumental set. For the most part, we cleared out the room. A couple people dug us, but that seemed to be about it. The other band with the guarantee couldn't meet the guarantee that their contract outlined, and the promoter Matt had to go pull out money out of his bank account to make up the difference. He shot us $20, which was what he could afford to give, which was awesome of him. He also found us a place to crash, and bought us a few burgers to munch on, which was even more awesome. Matt was really apologetic about the whole double-booking situation, which wasn't his fault to begin with. No worries dude. At this point I came to terms with the fact that the promoter I'd been talking to in El Paso was punking out on us and not answering any of my phone calls. So we came up with a re-route and found a show in Amarillo instead. At least I caught it a week ahead of time. Not much, but better than the day of the show.


Day 32, Houston, TX:
Houston was a hard city to get booked. I had to find a venue to play at and book it through the venue myself, and then try to find bands to play the show. Basically had to act as a promoter in a city I'd never even been to. If you're not a grindcore band, it makes things pretty rough. A dude named Jonathan helped me out as much as he could, which was awesome of him, and was way appreciated. We booked the show at a place called Walter's on Washington, and I found a band named Ese to play with us. When we first arrived, we thought the show wasn't happening. Nobody was there, the doors were locked, etc. We hung in the parking lot for quite awhile. I got on the phone and tried to make sure the show hadn't fallen through, and then tried to follow through on the rest of the shows of the tour to make sure we wouldn't lose any more shows.

Eventually the sound guy showed up, and we loaded in. Eventually Ese also howed up, as well as another local who would open the show, named Killing Clover (if I remember correctly). They played first. Morgan was still sick, so tonight was another instrumental set. It went fairly well, the people that were there dug us. They told us after the show that if they knew we were a grindcore band (which we aren't) they would've had us play with some of the local grind acts (which I tried to talk to and got no response). Ese played after us and they fucking killed. They were so good. In a nutshell, they sounded like Motorhead. Really good band.


One of the guys from Killing Clover let us crash at his house, but made sure to let us know that if we stole anything, he was a gun-owner. Welcome to Texas, I guess. We went to his place and got really drunk. 


Day 33, San Antonio, TX:
This show was interesting, but fun. It was at The Ten Eleven, which is a very cool venue. Our friend Matt from Illustrations booked it for us. What made the show interesting was that another promoter in San Antonio got involved and booked the same "DIY" band that we played with in Baton Rouge. He also put locals on to support them. On top of the show that Matt had put together. So there were quite a  few bands playing. We backlined our gear and watched quite a few of the locals. There was a bar there, but we didn't get any free drinks, which was a bummer because I ran completely out of money that morning. Oh well. We don't expect a tab when we play at a bar, but it's always nice. Morgan felt better about his voice, so he was with us again, which felt good. We were pissed about this same "DIY" band being on our show again, and it showed when we played. Probably the most furious I've ever seen Morgan. He kept yelling "FUCK YOU" in between songs, and punching whatever was near him. He made a little spiel about DIY-ism and how some people lie about it and co-opt it for their own benefit. He never named names, but I'm pretty sure the audience knew what he was talking about. We're not a preachy band, we don't talk about ethics or morals or choices in between songs, but this time it felt very appropriate. I also found out this night that our show in Austin the following day wasn't happening. The guy who ran the space wasn't returning our contact's phone calls. More good news in Texas.

About half the audience dug us, which was cool. But again, "DIY" band couldn't make their guarantee, and the promoter had to pay out of pocket for them and their pizzas. Matt gave us some money out of pocket, which was fucking awesome of him. Nico from Illustrations put us up for the night at his parent's house, and we talked about what we were gonna do the following day.


Day 34, San Antonio, TX (again): 
Nico started working on putting together a last-minute show for us that night, as soon as he woke up. He was pretty much on the phone all day long. Morgan had also gotten a guys number that was at the show the previous night, who said he might be able to help us out. We got in contact with him as well and let him know what the situation was. We watched Machete, and his mom cooked us some food, which was awesome. We did the dishes. Finally, Nico found us a house show, and we rolled. The band Botfly, whom we were supposed to play with in Austin, was gonna play with us that night as well. We got to the house, and nobody was home. Somebody finally showed up, and it turns out it was gonna be on their back porch. We started loading our gear. Neighbors showed up, and said no. At first we thought, "fuck it, let's do it anyways" then the person who lived there didn't really wanna do it. Nico kinda pressed 'em a bit about it, but we decided it would be better to not put the people who lived there in a shitty spot where their neighbors might call the cops. We ended up following through on our backup plan that Morgan had put together with the guy who was at the show the previous night. It was a bar show, and we would play after the house band had finished their set. Most everyone who had rolled to the house wasn't 21, so we said our goodbyes and took off. 


The bar was cool, and the bartender gave us a decent sized bar-tab. So we watched the house band, who was called Bob Gnarly and The Gnailers, and had some drinks. A drunk Native American tried to sell us peyote, and necklaces made from buffalo teeth. Bob Gnarly was more of a chill band, but they were pretty good; yet totally opposite of us. We tore it up; Morgan was climbing on tables and rubbing the contents of ashtrays all over his face, and makin people really uncomfortable. Fun show. Some people dug us, and we were able to make a bit of money. Bob put us up at his place, where we slept in his "man cave", which was a building behind his house where his band practiced. It was late and we were half-drunk and tired, but I remember Bob hanging out for a few hours, smokin' everyone out and telling stories. I didn't want to be rude, but I put the pillow over my head and tried to go to sleep, we had a decent sized-drive to Emory, TX the following day to headline the night a fest.


Day 35, Emory TX:
We got on this fest through our friends Dead Heroes and Caulfield. Both bands were supposed to play with us, and both bands had to cancel. We were really looking forward to meeting up with our old tourmates Caulfield, so that was a bummer. This fest was mostly put together by some dudes from Dallas, and it happens once a year about 30-40 miles east of Dallas, out on a nature reserve that somebody's dad owns, I believe. Because of the other bands canceling, we were set to play last, as we were the only out of town band playing that night. So about 5 or 6 bands from the area (Austin, Dallas, etc) played before us. Some of 'em were pretty cool. 


We ended up hangin' out for a good 6-7 hours before we played. Apparently it was a donations type thing for the touring bands, so I found a cup and got one of the promoters to go around and try to muster up some funds to help us out. There was some miscommunication about how many bands were set to go before us, so we were really antsy to get playing by the time we finally got to go. Since it was out in the woods, there was a stage made out of a flatbed trailer, and everything was running off a generator. We started playing, and for some reason, I just fucking lost it. A lot of anger just flew out of me. The week prior had been somewhat disheartening, with cancellations, double-booked shows, a sick singer, etc. I was feeling really confrontational. I remember grabbing this dude by the hair inbetween songs and screaming in his face; nothing personal, I was just furious in general. I remember spitting a lot. People were off at their tents, and I wanted to make an impression on those of us that were watching.


While playing I think our 4th song of the set, Morgan jumped down offstage and some people were getting rowdy with him. I remember somebody throwing him down onto the ground. My remembrance of this is kinda hazy, and I was half-drunk (when you get bored in the woods, what else is there to do but drink?), but I kicked somebody in the head a few times, and apparently it was a case of mistaken identity. I had the wrong guy, I guess. All of a sudden I've been drug off the "stage", and I'm underneath a pile of people, or at least a couple of guys. All I know is that I need to get my bass off of me so I can get some mobility and get out from underneath these people hitting and kicking me.

The rest of the guys in the band had jumped off the stage and pulled people off of me. Apparently Kasey Liu-Kang'd some guy when he jumped off stage. I'm finally able to get out from under people, and the guy who put the fest together has shoved me up against the side of the trailer, and is yelling at me. Next thing I know, I'm in a daze. Apparently someone ran up behind him and cold-cocked me in the cheek. They got a good one in, and I wasn't prepared for it. It put my tooth through my cheek. Everything gets broken up, and some I remember some people yelling to keep playing. Morgan tells me to get back up and grab my back-up bass, as my main one has had the faceplate torn off and the guts of it are hanging out. I climb back up on the stage and open up the case, but I'm told "fuck no", and the guy is breaking down the PA. We get told to pack up our gear and leave before something really bad happens, and to watch our asses if we ever come back to Dallas. I find some of the dudes involved and try to make amends, I apologize and try to explain the situation, but I'm still dazed and bleeding and I'm not fully aware of all the details of what happened. I try to hash it out with the promoter but he won't have it. We pack up our gear and take off and find a cheap motel to crash in for the night.


There's 2 sides to every story and this one can't possibly have all the details, but that's what I recall and have pieced together from the rest of the guys' accounts of what happened. Nobody was in the right, of course, and I'm not really proud of what happened, but it happened and that's that; I did my best to apologize and hash things out, and some people wouldn't reciprocate, which I can't do anything about. I'm sure we'll be back to Dallas at some point, but probably won't be playing with any of the bands that played that fest.


Day 36, Lubbock, TX:
Long drive to Lubbock. My jaw hurt. A cool dude named Mike hit us up and asked us to come to Lubbock, so we did. We played an all-ages spot that had a bar in it, with a band from Amarillo called Cannonball, and Mike's band Throne of Iniquity. There was a good size crowd there, which was awesome to see. People were way into Cannonball, lots of pit-monkeys; but it was actually cool to see that they were pretty respectful of everybody else. Rare thing, in my experience. Show was fun, no fights happened, and people were into it, some folks even knew the words, which was awesome to see. We rolled to some friends of Mike's place after the show and had some beers and hung out. A dude in a gorilla suit showed up, which was the highlight of the evening. We went back to Mike's place and crashed for the night.


Day 37, Amarillo, TX:

Short drive to Amarillo, so we took our sweet-ass time in the morning, grabbed some food, and got into town around 6pm. The show got put together by a dude named Jacob, who offered to take care of us on the day our El Paso show got canceled. Originally we were supposed to go to El Paso and then to Phoenix, but the Phoenix show suffered the same fate as El Paso, so we figured we'd go up to Amarillo, and then take the following day off to make the 19 hour drive to our show in Vegas. It was in a basement that was underneath a Lion's Club (or Eagles Lodge, or something like that; one of those places for old men to go hang out and wear weird hats).


We hung out for quite a bit, fully believing that nobody was coming to the show - we were the only band playing. Eventually around 10pm, Jacob and some friends showed up, and a few more people rolled out. Apparently there had been another show going on that people were at. So we eventually loaded in, and played the set. the people that were there dug us, bought merch, hung out afterwards and everything. We found a Waffle House, grabbed some grub, then went back to the same basement we played in, and went to sleep. 


Day 38, Driving, NM & AZ:
That's all we did, all day. 50mph headwinds through New Mexico. Spent like 250 bucks on gas. No offense, but that section of I-40 is my least favorite part of the country to drive through, without a doubt. Fucking BORING. We got to Vegas around midnight, and crashed with our friend Thor. We watched that Predators movie, which was almost as fucking stupid as the drive we just got done with. Fitting end to the day.


Day 39, Las Vegas, NV:

Didn't go to the strip. Who cares. Rolled to the show about 7pm, played for 6 people. The venue had some security dude there whom I could swear was a white supremacist. I talked to him for awhile, tried to slyly get him to admit to it, but wasn't successful. There was definitely some veiled racism. Merch-Guy Mike sold him a t-shirt; I hope he never fucking wears it.


Day 40, Pocatello, ID:
Another long drive day. Sort of a homecoming show; Morgan, Phil, and Kasey are all from here. Kind of a small town, with a small scene, but the last couple times we've played there the shows were awesome. We spent our last dime getting to the show. The show had a decent turnout, especially for a Wednesday night. Friends came out, and everything went off without a hitch. It felt good to play the final show of a 40 day tour, and know that we were able to do it as a DIY band. The last several days were pretty rough, but we survived, nobody crashed the van, and we never got pulled over, and we were able to make it home without having lost our asses. All-in-all, a successful tour. Oh, and the burrito I bought in Portland that I mentioned in part 1 of the blog? Yeah, it sat on the dashboard the whole time. It never molded.

Here are some stats:


6 guys
40 days
33 states
10,400 miles
7 canceled shows
3 last minute reroutes
1 radio show
1 trip to the doctor
1 case of trenchfoot
7 cases of the flu
1 accidental drink from a piss-jug
2 brake pads replaced
1 $722 rear differential and brake shoe repair
3 shows without a vocalist
1 brawl between the band and the audience
Countless $5 Little Caesars pizzas eaten
1 wallet lost
1 instance of band money being stolen
5 noise bands
4 pop-punks bands
Shitloads of awesome bands
10 t-shirts stolen from Patricks suitcase
30 hours of porn watched on a phone
30 minutes spent in Canada
1 gorilla costume
1 cross-country dashboard burrito
33 very generous people who gave us their floorspace
Countless friends made
3 ounces of weed smoked
3 pipes ditched
12 condoms bought
0 condoms used

Updates and shit

Been too busy lately to finish the tour blog, sorry bout that. I think I'll post the last 2 weeks in one post. But for now, some quick news.

The Snakecharmers EP is finally seeing a vinyl release through French outfit Prototype Records. We've just sent the masters off to France, and artwork is completed. We're doing a small run of 300 one-sided 12 inches, with a limited amount on mixed black and white vinyl. We'll have pre-orders up soon, and we've got a shirt design that our friend Anthony from Gaza is doing for us that we'll have in conjunction with the release. Hopefully we'll see a release date in March. Here's a preview of the cover art:

Secondly, we've got a 3-way split release with Divider (Long Island, NY) and Plebeian Grandstand (Toulouse, France) coming out later this spring. This will be a vinyl release as well. Plebeian Grandstand has just finished tracking, and so have we, Divider will be finishing up their contribution later this February. This'll be seeing a stateside release through Mayfly Records (Former Thieves, Pianos Become The Teeth, Deadhead, Canyons), and a European release through Throatruiner Records (As We Draw, Pariso, Nesseria, Birds In Row), with cover art by Chilean artist Daniel Campos. Really fucking excited about this split, everyone involved is amazing. Look out for this humdinger around April.

Any parties interested in releasing this split on CD, get in touch with us.

Tour Blog, part 4.

Here are the previous 3 parts, in case you missed them:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Again, sorry if I forgot your name. It's been over 2 months now.

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Day 22, New Brunswick, NJ:

Since New Brunswick was so close to New York City, we didn’t need to leave until around 5pm. We slept late; I went to the store to try to find some cheap medicine so I could try to shake this fever. At this point my throat was killing me. We hung out at Matt’s place for a bit, got some lunch, and watched a documentary about the World Air Guitar Championships. Pretty funny shit. Eventually 5o’clock rolled around and we headed out to New Brunswick. This was a house show, and there was a damn good turnout too. I’d heard things about how New Brunswick had a bitchin’ house show scene, and it seemed like what I heard was true. The lineup was Black Kites, Divider, us, and Sick Fuck. Even though I was feeling a somewhat better by mid-day, the fever had come back worse than ever by the time we had to play. I spent the whole set concentrating on playing and trying to not vomit everywhere. People seemed to dig us, so that was cool. Divider ripped, as usual. Black Kites was getting ready to load in when the fuzz started creepin’ by the house. The guys running the show decided to play it safe and end the show, so unfortunately, Black Kites didn’t get to play. Bummer, I would’ve liked to see them.

After gear was loaded up, Divider dudes wanted to go out to a bar for a bit before heading home. Originally, the plan was they were going to play for 4 days with us. But we couldn’t get a show booked between New Jersey and Virginia; some band called Ruiner was having a final show in Baltimore, and it gave us what I call “tour leprosy” – nobody will touch your show because it’s interfering with something else going on around the same time. Since it didn’t make sense for them to continue on, this ended up being the last night we were playing with them. So they all went out with the rest of the band; normally I would have been game as well, but I felt like such a pile of garbage that I went and slept in the van.

Day 23, Day Off, NJ:

I slept like shit all night in the van, if it wasn’t people getting into the van to grab their stuff, it was the drunk college kids screaming and shouting outside of the van after the bars had closed, and if it wasn’t that, it was me coughing up parts of my lungs all night. But, I must’ve coughed up something important, because I was beginning to feel better. A day off on tour always sucks, especially after having had so many in the previous week, but this is one I was glad to see. We stayed at Robert’s house (the place the show was at) all day, watched shitloads of bad action movies on his huge VHS collection (Total Recall, Robocop, etc.), relaxed and recuperated. Robert was kind enough to let us stay at his house while he was at work all day, so we spent some time cleaning has place up as well. Can’t thank you enough, dude.

Day 24, Harrisonburg, VA:

We got moving fairly early, so as to not overstay our welcome, and also so we could get an oil change. We took care of that and got on the road for the 6 hour drive to VA. Nice scenic drive through Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and a little sliver of Maryland. The show that night was another house show, at a place called Crayola House. A very rad dude by the name of Michael set up the show for us. We got there early and chilled, watched some football, shot the shit with Michael and his roommates. Eventually people started showing up for the show. It was supposed to be a 3-band bill, but with Divider dropping off it changed some things; the local band was a metalcore band called The Typist, and at the last minute another band jumped on to fill the empty slot – I can’t remember their name, but they were a tech-death kinda band and it was pretty damn sweet. I was beginning to feel much better today, with only my throat giving me any real trouble. It hurt like fuck to swallow, to talk, and especially to cough, which I was doing a lot of. Show was sweet, people got into it for us. I don’t know how many girlfriends hung out outside while we played, but I have a feeling it was a lot.

Day 25, yet another day off:

I can’t remember why this was a day off. I think it was one that we had planned for. At any rate, it was a shitty one – I counted our band money after the show the night before, and I counted it in the morning when we needed to gas up the van. Money was missing. Somehow, someway, money ended up being stolen from the van. Not all of it though. Just big bills, i.e. the 20’s. We had a selective thief, apparently. To this day we can’t figure out how or why it happened. But oh well. There’s not a fucking thing you can do about it except get fucking pissed and keep going. So that’s what we did. We drove to Greensboro, NC and crashed with Rob from Torch Runner for the evening. He made us an incredible dinner and we watched the Chilean Miners get rescued on the Spanish channel, where they had it split-screened with the futbol game. I made everyone watch Home Alone and crashed out. Oh yeah, and Rob didn’t have any toilet paper so Merch Guy Mike wiped his ass with his bare hand. Fucking gross.

Day 26, Greensboro, NC:

Long day of hanging out. Phil and I walked around downtown Greensboro forever trying to find a damn liquor store. We finally did, and I bought everclear in a mini-bottle, which I thought was hilarious yet practical. Who needs a huge bottle of everclear anyhow? The show was across the street from Rob’s house, so we didn’t even have to go very far. It was just us and Torch Runner in a teeny tiny basement. I think people liked us. I definitely loved Torch Runner, that band fucking destroys shit. Check ‘em out if you’ve got a minute. Afterwards, someone took a shit on the front doorstep of the house, and the guy who lived there stepped in it – we heard him yell about it several houses down the road. Good times!

Day 27, Greenville, SC:

Greenville, Greenville, Greenville. Holy shit, we needed you.

We arrived to the venue, a DIY spot called Suite 8, a few hours early. Didn’t feel like exploring the neighborhood we were in, so we sat in the parking lot and drank tall-boys. Merch Guy Mike broke our trailer lock by dropping it with the key still in it – the key snapped and got stuck. Good thing we got there early so now we could go try to find a hardware store to buy a replacement. So that was lame thing #1 for the day. Lame thing #2 for the day was receiving a text from Josh from the band Dead Heroes saying that our show in Sylvania, Alabama had to be canceled because of extenuating circumstances. That was a huge bummer for several reasons.

1: This southern part of the tour was supposed to be with Dead Heroes, but tragically their drummer Jake passed away over the summer in a car accident. Even though the tour was no longer with Dead Heroes, we were all looking forward to being able to see the rest of the guys at the show; a reunion would’ve been really nice.

2: Another friend of mine lived in the area and I was looking forward to seeing her as well.

3: Now we were gonna have to reroute in order to just have a place to crash on our way from Georgia to Mississippi.

4: No fucking show, and nothing anyone can do about it.

The show itself was double-booked with 2 touring pop-punk bands, and the local support was a pop-punk band. First reaction to that news: “Fuckin…goddammit.” It’s no fault of anyone’s, by any means. These things happen from time to time, and Trey who does the shows at Suite 8 is an awesome dude. But you want the situation to be advantageous for your band, of course. Our music isn’t for everybody, and you can count pop-punk fans in that group along with tuff-guy hardcore kids, metalheads, girls, and more. So I wasn’t expecting much, and I couldn’t have been more fucking wrong. People went fucking APESHIT. By far the best show of the entire tour, maybe even the best show we’ve ever played. Our energy was high – after a week-and-a-half of canceled dates, days off, money getting stolen, being sick, etc, we were fucking hungry. We listened to ‘Get In The Van’ during the drive to Greenville, which I’m sure had a part in getting everyone in “fuck, kill, eat” mode. The show even got a circle-pit going, and to that kid whose shirt I ripped in half and tore off of him while we were playing: Sorry dude! I tried to find you after the show and I couldn’t. I would’ve given you a new shirt for free, too.

What a night, it was awesome. We met these dudes in a band called Miles Apart after the show, who found out we needed another band the following night in Augusta. They were game to play. Cool. Lukas was down to let us crash at his place, so we followed him there, played with his dog Murphy, and passed the fuck out. That show wore us out. Thanks Greenville!

Day 28, Augusta GA:

High point of the drive to Augusta: We saw a high-speed police chase. The dude on the run almost hit our van. Low point of the drive to Augusta: Taking a wrong turn onto a toll road, and missing an exit on said toll road, which in turn lead us to having to pay a toll on the same 2 mile stretch of road 3 times.

I knew the show was gonna be a house show. That’s what Josh, the guy who booked it, told me. What I didn’t know was, that it was gonna be at his grandma’s house. We thought we had the wrong house when a little old lady came out after we pulled up. But no, she said: “Ya’ll playin’ here tonight? I swept out the garage for ya’ll!” We introduced ourselves, I felt awkward because I don’t really understand southern hospitality and I don’t trust the elderly; she showed us where we were playing and told us we could pull the van around when her grandson got there. After Josh showed up we pulled the van around and loaded our gear in to the garage. I was having some issues with some gear so I set everything up and tried to figure out what was going on with that. People slowly started to show up, Josh told us we could wait for awhile. We set up merch on her back patio, and hung out with Josh, Josh’s grammama, and his buddies. Grandma turned out to be pretty damn delightful. She made sure to let Josh know that he needed a roach clip or he was gonna burn his lip. My favorite thing she said was in reference to one of our shirts, the one with the snake-handling Holy Roller on it. She said “If God told me to handle a rattlesnake, I guess I’d have to do it. But not right now. Because he isn’t here.” I don’t know if she meant it the way I took it, but I thought it was genius; she’s the next Cormac McCarthy.

As the sun started to go down, we decided it was time to play even though the Miles Apart dudes hadn’t arrived yet. Apparently they got lost. They arrived just as we got done. I felt kinda weird playing that night because someone over the age of 70 was watching us. Like I said, I don’t trust the elderly. Miles Apart played their set, we hung out and shot the shit for awhile before they had to call it a night and head back home, and we went to Josh’s house and partied for awhile. Patrick complained about his feet. Patrick had been griping about his feet since the 1^st week of tour. And they’d been getting worse. We all swore it was athletes foot and he’d been taking care of it wrong. He didn’t know what it was. In actuality, none of us knew what it was. Tomorrow we’d be going to the doctor.

Keep Christ out of Xmas.

Here's our little holiday gift to everyone... just us doing our part for the war on Christmas. Live recordings of 2 new songs: "Conniver", and "West". We're going into the studio at the beginning of the year to lay down these tracks for a split that we will be announcing very very soon. Big thanks to our buddy Sir for recording this for us; it was recorded at our tour kick-off show in September on a small Tascam handheld 2-track recorder, so it obviously can't be the greatest quality, but we were all pretty surprised with it. Crank your volume.

Tour blog, part 3

Day 15, Chicago, IL:

We got up fairly early, eager to get to Chicago to hangout and sightsee – last time we came through Chicago we couldn’t get a show, so it was just a day off for driving there and crashing at a friend’s apartment. We didn’t check out a damn thing except the hipsters in Wicker Park, and if you’ve seen one you’ve seen ‘em all. Thanks Vice. So we got into the city and drove immediately to Wrigley Field so I could scope out the gregariously creepy statue of Harry Caray they’ve got out front. It’s fucking awesome; it looks like Wrigley Field is on fire, the smoke is made of the laughing faces of children, and Harry Caray is growing out of the maelstrom. My prediction is that this will actually happen on December 21^st, 2012.

The sun is the king of planets.

After crossing that shit off my bucket list, we went up to the waterfront park, checked out that angry lake (the waves were crashing up at about 10 ft, on a damn lake! Pretty impressive), tossed a football for a minute, but we had to bounce pretty fast because it was pay parking, and we took up 5 parking spaces and didn’t pay. Not trying to get a $600 parking ticket. We cruised over to where the venue was in order to orient ourselves, parked, and wandered around the neighborhood trying to find cheap eats. Mostly just got tossed around by the wind – I’m sure it was an exceptionally windy day, but no offense Chicago: your weather sucks 8 times out of 10. We found a cheap Middle Eastern restaurant, I got some falafel, and the owner thought Morgan was Arab because of his moustache. Hey, even middle-eastern dudes racially profile people.

The show was at a house venue called Albion House. I’d heard of this house a lot, and was stoked when Adam from Thieves told me we were going to play there – I’d been trying to get a show at said house for a few months last time around, but with no luck. It was a stacked bill, and I was doubly excited because we were supposed to play with both Thieves and HATE. Both of these local Chicago bands tear shit up. We got there, chilled with Adam, some of the housemates and their friends, and then found out that both Thieves and HATE had to cancel. I was gutted. The rest of the acts on the bill were noise artists. 5 of 'em.

Almost all of the acts were eardrum shattering treble-bombs, so I hung out outside in the rain for the majority of the night. Gotta try to save my ears as much as I can. Some people came out for the noise bands, some people came out to see us, so it was a cool mix of people. All the noise dudes were cool – I dunno how much they dug us, but nonetheless everyone was cool with each other, which is how things should be.

After we loaded out, I took some shots with one of the dudes who lived there (whose name I forget and it's killing me because I liked the dude a lot and he also thought Morgan was middle-eastern which is hilarious), listened to some random old creep tell me about how doing coke was better in the 80’s and it’s just not the same anymore, then we took off to crash with Adam. Adam is a fucking righteous dude, he set up the show for us, and felt real bad about the bands having to cancel. No worries dude, the show was still fun. He gave me a spare bedroom and made the rest of the dudes sleep in Thieves’ practice space, so he’s always cool in my book.

Day 16, Detroit, MI:

To be honest, we were kinda unsure about playing Detroit. Detroit has a reputation. Other bands said to us, “You don’t wanna play in Detroit. Bands that live in Detroit don’t wanna play in Detroit.” As we left Chicago, Adam told us to be careful and to always have someone watching the gear and the merch table. His parting words were, “Don’t pull out a weapon unless you’re 100% certain that you’re going to use it.” Nasty! But we wanted to play; the show was booked by a guy named Brian that had reached out to us, which is always cool. He saw we had tour dates and had never heard of us before, and offered to put on a show on a Sunday night. That’s real altruism, and a sign of a good guy.

We rolled into The Motor City right as it got dark, up to a place called Comet Bar, which was a small, lone building surrounded by empty lots, abandoned high-rise buildings, and bums and pushers scurrying around under streetlights like moths in the summertime. We parked out front, got out of the van, and not 10 seconds later a bum was up in our shit asking questions. After trying to change my shoes without ever having my back to the bum or being in a vulnerable position (this was almost as difficult as taking off your underwear without removing your pants, or trying to fight someone and take a shit at the same time), I decided to go check out the bar. The front door had bars on it, and a sign that said “Armed Guard with Attack Dog Inside”. GNARLY!

Inside the place was pretty cool. A small little stage in the corner, stickers all over everything, you could tell this was the local punk bar. The bartender told us we could pull the van around back, they had a fence around the place with a locking gate. Fucking awesome, anything that eliminates having to worry about your gear so much is a good thing. We hung out for quite a bit before the show got moving, but the crowd seemed to grow and grow. Way cool for a Sunday night. Interesting mix of people too. Talked for awhile with this skinhead dude who told me he carries a gun with him all the time except when he goes to the bar because he doesn’t have the right kind of license. Some drunk crusty with shit tattooed on his chin and a hole in the ass of his Carhartt overalls (SURPRISE, he’d ridden there on a train from Portland) kept bothering me all night and insisting on showing me his picture ID. He thought it was hilarious, I thought he bumped his head when he was little.

The show went off well, except the local band who was initially supposed to play last had a guitar player throw a fit right as we started to load in, he had to go to work in the morning and couldn’t be out late. So we got bumped to playing last so this guy could go home to his own bed, eat a hot meal, and fuck his girlfriend. Playing last in a city you’ve never been to before tends to hurt you, nobody knows who you are and aren’t likely to stick around after their friends bands are done playing. This is what happened, for the most part. If the bar had 50 heads in it at one point during the night, we played last for 10 of them. Local bands: please understand this and try to help the touring band out! Let ‘em play next to last, it’d be cool of ya. You can go home to your bed and eat a hot meal and fuck your significant other as a celebration.

After the show, I went out back and found the bum that initially hovered all around our van when we first arrived. We actually ended up talking about shit for awhile, and he shared some of his plastic bottle vodka with me. I don’t know what possessed me to drink it, but fuck it, I’m on tour. Brian had us follow him to a friend’s house so we could crash, as he didn’t have any room at his pad. 2 of us slept in the van, the rest of us slept in a squat house. The shitface crusty who bumped his head was there, and he never shut up. I eventually fell asleep, with all our band-money stuffed in the bottom of my sleeping bag, and on top of the rest of my belongings because I didn’t trust the guy. I don’t think the people who were living there did either.

Day 17, Day Off:

Our show in Pittsburgh got canceled 3 or 4 days before, so we had nowhere to go. We drove all day to Buffalo, NY, and went to Niagara Falls. Very beautiful at night, even if it was pouring rain. Morgan and Kasey and I had our passports, so we went across the bridge to Canada so Morgan could take a shit in another country. Then we walked back across the bridge, soaking in the rain, and got in the van. I then found out our show in Burlington, VT had gotten canceled. More good news. With nowhere to go, we found a $40 motel room and got drunk. I know all this rain got me and Patrick sick.

Day 18, Syracuse, NY and Troy, NY:

I had the most difficult time in the world getting shows in upstate NY booked. I ended up hearing about a show going on the same day we were looking for a show in Syracuse that Tom, who used to be in the band Forfeit, was putting on in his basement for another tour. Some L.A. hardcore bands called Rotting Out and Soul Search. He said we could play for extra donations and merch sales, which was fine by us. About a week before a guy named David had gotten in touch with us about playing his radio show that night in Troy, which is outside Albany and about 2.5 hours east of Syracuse. I figured we could do both, the radio show started at 11, and we could make it there by midnight if we left the show at 9:30. We’d have to scramble and bust our asses, but it was doable.

I think at this point in had been raining in New York for 10 days. Everything was a puddle. My feet were soaked all day long. We got to the show, and checked out the basement. The floor was all wet too. We found a dry enough area and ran an extension cord from the one ungrounded plug over to where there was the least amount of water. Safe as fuck.

The only local band on the show played first, and they were really good. They reminded me of Jawbreaker, Hot Water Music, etc. Good stuff. I can’t remember their name. They were awesome though. We were scheduled to play next; we moved everything forward to get away from the water that kept inching towards all the gear, set everything up in a hurry, then I find out I can’t touch my bass without getting shocked, and the shock is strong enough that I can’t ignore it. I scramble around, find another hidden outlet, steal an extension cord, and hope that the plug is well-grounded. It’s grounded well enough, the shock is mild enough now, so we start to play. Our set starts with Morgan yelling – the 1^st scream he lets out blows the PA up. No time or ability to run and get our PA. Don’t wanna stop the set after one song to take 15 minutes to set up another PA – we quickly try to figure it out, but it’s useless. So we play without a singer. Patrick is full-blown sick at this point. We get done playing and he goes outside and pukes. I feel like our set could have been better, but it was shit we couldn’t control. Soul search plays next, and borrows my bass cab, Rotting Out brings in their bass cab and they use that as a replacement for the PA speakers. Apparently the amplifier itself is fine, just not powerful enough. Both bands shared their gear, so they played fairly quickly back-to-back. As soon as they’re done we start loading everything up and simultaneously try to hustle some merch. Nobody really cared – seems like Rotting Out and Soul Search fans don’t really like us. 

Setting up at WRPI radio.

We load everything up and leave as soon as we can back out of the driveway, run to the gas station to fill up, and scream down the interstate to get to Troy as soon as possible. We get in around midnight, meet David at a pizza place across the street from the college campus where the radio station is at. He guides us in, and we jump out and run all the gear into the studio and set up as fast as possible. Morgan helps set up the drums because Patrick has to keep going to the bathroom to puke. We do a quick level check with the audio engineer, then David gives us the signal that we’re live, after reminding us that we can’t swear on the radio. The show is running somewhat late, so we just decide to play 2 new songs that we haven’t gotten recorded yet. Things went well, for having to play with our amps facing the wall and not as loud as we’ve grown accustomed to. Afterwards, we did a short interview and then David ended the show. We loaded up, and followed David back to his dorm room and crashed out after a long and tiresome day.

Day 19, Day Off:

This was yet another day in New York that I couldn’t book. We were originally going to go up to Vermont and hang out with Jacob for the day before our show in Burlington, but since that was also canceled, we decided to go to New York City and hang out for a few days before our show in Brooklyn. Merch Guy Mike has a cousin that lives in Brooklyn, and she said it was cool for her to take up all the floorspace in her apartment for 2 days, so we did just that. First we went across the river to Jersey and hung out with some of Patrick’s family for awhile. His uncle bought us beer, grilled burgers, and we sat and hung out on the porch for several hours, talked, laughed, got drunk, and had a good time. Patrick’s grandmother thought I was him. This put the nail in the coffin of the debate on whether or not we look alike. I still don’t see it. We get asked every day of tour if we’re brothers or twins. I’m Swedish/English. He’s Cuban.

After saying our goodbyes, we head into New York City, sit in traffic forever, and finally find a parking spot in Brooklyn. We go up to Mike’s cousins apartment, say hello, and head out for a night on the town. As it turns out, our good friend and old tourmate Mike from Jument is stuck in NYC after a botched trip to Europe left him stuck in customs for 2 days and sent back to America. Mike’s cousin takes us to some secret gentleman’s club type space that she bartends at, and we hang out and drink whiskey and shoot the shit with her and Mike. A day off isn’t ever the greatest thing on tour, but this was a pretty damn good day off.

Day 20, Day Off again:

Since we’re in NYC, we spend the day sightseeing and walking around Manhattan. I saw the most beautiful girl in the world and I told her that I love her; she wasn’t interested, which figures. We went to Chinatown, Times Square (it’s just like being inside a giant TV commercial), hung out in Central Park, and met up with friends Barrie and Marianna at The Dakota Building, right where John Lennon got capped. We walked to the Natural History Museum, and then went on a seemingly endless walk northward to NYU, and where the Seinfeld Café is. What a lame thing to go see, which is precisely why I wanted to do it. Some random dude called us The Mothafuckin’ Doom Squad, and the name stuck. We took the subway back to Brooklyn, and decided that tomorrow we were going to go to The Natural History Museum until we had to be at the show.

Day 21, Brooklyn, NY:

I wake up, and I now know that I am for sure sick. My throat is killing me. After spending probably 3 or 4 hours at the museum, and paying a nickel to get in, we head back to Brooklyn and pack up our belongings and head to Party Xpo, a spot that Barrie from Generic Insight Radio books shows at.

They had Adam and Eve at the museum!

I was excited for this show, the lineup was rad – Divider, The Saddest Landscape, and a rad band called Naptakers was supposed to play, but they had to cancel at the last minute, which was a big bummer. We then found one of the dudes from The Saddest Landscape was stuck in traffic coming from Connecticut, so there was a possibility that they might not play. We met up with the Divider dudes, and everybody introduced themselves – I was excited about playing with these guys for the next few days, they’re amazing. The Saddest Landscape ended up playing the show anyhow, even though a member couldn't make it through the traffic. Good band! 

The show went pretty well, minus some weird security dude being a tightass about us going in and out of the building, and me feeling like a double-helping of horseshit after we got done playing. My throat felt almost swollen shut. After the show we said our goodbyes to Marianna and Barrie, and Kasey, Mike, and I went with Anthony, Matt, and Vic to some cool vegetarian restaurant, and Anthony bought me some vegetarian buffalo wings. I haven’t had buffalo wings in years, so this was a real treat, even though at this point I was feeling like total shit. We laughed a shitload about “nice pubes”, and I could tell the next few days would be fun. Anthony dropped us back off at the van, and Matt rode with us back to his place in Queens. Everyone stayed up late hangin’ out, but I curled up in my sleeping bag and tried to sweat out my fever. Being sick on the road sucks.

Tour blog, part 2

This is part 2 of 6. Apologies if I forgot your name - it was a long trip and I'm bad at that kind of stuff.

______________________

Day 8, Denver, CO:

The drive from Cheyenne to Denver is a short one, so we spent the better part of the morning milling around a Wal-Mart, grabbing some groceries for ourselves. As shitty and stupid as it is, Wal-Mart is a recurring theme on tour. They're always available, we're always scrounging by, and Wal-Mart is cheap/easy to steal from. So we spent awhile there grabbing cheap dried shit that you can make with hot water in a gas station. Road food that fills you up but contains more salt than nourishment. It's better to slowly pickle yourself than to go hungry, I guess.

We got to Denver a few hours before the show was supposed to start, and it was time for an oil-change, so guess where we went? Fucking Wal-Mart. On the way there, a suburban full of cougars kept staying even with us in traffic, honking, and giving us the fuck-me eyes. Too bad our balls stink and we play ugly music that you can't mom-dance to. Sorry ladies, we're gross. We drop the van off, I wander around aimlessly and observe the People of Wal-Mart, and believe me, there were some damn good ones. American Lowest Common Denominator, you somehow simultaneously always disappoint me and never fail to disappoint me. I went back outside and we threw a football around in the parking lot to kill time. 

We pulled up to the Blast-O-Mat around 5:00 or so and parked out front. Nobody was there, so we walked off to a bar down the road, grabbed a pitcher of beer and watched the 1st half of the Boise State game against Oregon State. Yes, we're citizens of The Bronco Nation. Deal with it. We watched the 1st half and then walked back down to the Blast-O-Mat. Reproacher dudes and both local bands, Colors and From Caverns, had all shown up. We hung out for what seemed like quite awhile before the show actually started. The Blast-O runs on a pretty loose schedule, as they can run shows as late as they want - it's in a commercial/industrial type area. It's a really cool venue - it's a house, and they actually run it as a commercial business, but it's operated by a collective. They have a business license in order to prevent the squares from ruining anything - they operate a small record store in the front room of the house as well. Shows take place in the garage, and out back they have a huge half-pipe and general hang-out/lounge around area. Cool venue, reminds me of the Myrtle Morgue here in town, but on a larger scale, and without any shithead neighbors.

The show went well, though we played last and it seemed like a lot of people had already decided to call it a night, which was kind of a bummer. After we loaded up all the gear we proceeded to try to find a place to stay. Reproacher guys had to head back to Wyoming that night, except for their bassist, Jonathan. He wanted us to go with him to a party, but with a 10+ hour drive ahead of us the following day, we wanted to get as much rest as possible since we needed to be up early. So that option was out. Nobody seemed really into it. We were worried it was gonna be a night of shit sleep in the van - not the thing you want when you know you're in for one of the world's most boring drives ever through Kansas the following day. That's a recipe for falling asleep at the wheel. 

Finally, the dudes from Colors had an option - we could stay with them, but it was at a parent's house, and we had to sneak into the basement and be incredibly quiet. Fine, fair enough! We follow them home and proceed to tiptoe our way through the house and down the stairs to the basement. Kasey kicks over a box full of shit, sending it crashing down the stairs at what seemed to be a deafening volume. Smooooooth. 

Day 9, Lawrence, KS:

We got up at the crack of dawn and drove all day. For some, Kansas is home and they love it - we're from the mountains; that's what we know and what we like. It's hard to stay excited when you drive for 10+ hours and don't even have to turn the wheel. You can spin in a circle and the horizon will stay perfectly level.

So we finally arrive in Lawrence as the sun goes down. This was a show that had to be put together last minute - we had a person in Wichita tell us they couldn't do the show right at the 11th hour. Having never been to Lawrence before, we had to scrounge for what we could. The dudes in Cast Pattern referred us to a venue they've worked with before called Duffy's. It's a bar in an EconoLodge. That's right, the cheap hotel chain. Cast Pattern couldn't play, but they hooked us up with a band called Electric Sleuth City. So we go inside, and the crowd is this: the Electric Slueth City guys, the bartender, and 2 hotel guests who were playing pool and listening to Lady Gaga and Nickelback on the jukebox. Right on.

We sit at the bar and one of the ESC dudes buys Kasey and I a bloody mary. Thanks dude. We wait around for a bit, survey the scene, and we all come to the conclusion that it's not very reasonable to play the show. The 2 bar patrons are going to leave as soon as we soundcheck. We have 32 more days of shows to play, we may as well save our bodies and throats. We chalked the show up to being a case of too little, too late. Nobodies fault, these things just happen. The ESC dudes offer us a place to crash, but Morgan has a good friend from his past living in Kansas City now, so we drive the half-hour into KC and crash with him in his apartment. Next time, Lawrence.

Day 10, Kansas City, MO:
I love Kansas City. There's something about it, I don't know what it is. The architecture, the way the city is laid out, the whole feel of the place I enjoy. I make everyone get up at a reasonable hour, and we head downtown to meet up with Bobby from Canyons. He's one of the most solid people we've had the pleasure of meeting in our travels. We wander around town for a bit, check out the venue, grab some lunch, and head over to Bobby's friends place. I'm so fucking bad at names, I can't remember his, but I remember he was wearing cowboy boots. We hung out, watched stupid videos on a projector on the wall for a minute, people smoked their smoke, and eventually we decided to wander off and check out the sights. We went to some train station that had a dinosaur out in front of it, hoping we could catch some rad museum stuff, but everything in it was closed. Fucking lame. Dinosaurs are always a mood enhancer, in my opinion. We parked the van back down at the venue and explored a good portion of the downtown area.

Our 19 year-old merch guy, Mike

The show was at a place called Scion Lab. Not sure if you're familiar with this or not, but Scion, for some reason, has decided to market its vehicles to fans of aggressive music. They put on a lot of free shows involving bigger-name bands, always in bigger "markets" (Los Angeles, Atlanta, etc). They've opened up a small space in Kansas City that they hold shows at. They don't charge the promoter rent, a guy comes in, opens up a bar, and makes sure you don't turn the TV's playing Scion commercials off.

I'm not entirely sure how I feel about corporations like this involving themselves in underground music. I don't think anyone listening to our shit is out there shopping for a wheeled-toaster. I don't think it's a smart business move on Scion's part. I do like the idea of someone putting on free shows with awesome bands, and I do like the idea of small venues that are easy to work with and aren't looking to directly profit from touring bands without doing any work.

In the instance of this show, Scion helped us, albeit indirectly. We're not on the take from Scion. I don't care about their cars. At all. Maybe I'm holding onto some sort of horseshit crust monk integrity thing, but something stinks to me when corporations involved themselves in underground music - they don't care about it at all. They care about one thing, their bottom-line. Once enough market research gets back in their hands and they see that all this support of underground music isn't boosting their sales in the much-lusted-after 18-24 year-old male demographic, I have a feeling it will all stop. I suppose until then, everyone should just ignore the flashy commercials and enjoy the free ride while it lasts. Take advantage of 'em, I say. They're definitely taking advantage of you.

Okay. Soapboxing is done. Back to the really important shit: The show was fucking awesome. We played with Canyons, Sports, Landlocked, and Attention Seeker. All of the bands were fucking rad. That doesn't happen often; I watched as much as I could, even through the window as I was unloading gear, prepping for our set, etc. A huge amount of people came, and everyone stuck around for all the bands - people weren't concerned with hanging out outside and being seen at the show. They were there to see live music. Fuck yes. Our set was a lot of fun; I remember a kid standing next to me and he was screaming so loud I could hear him over us. That's a fucking loud scream. Take care of those pipes dude! And for chrissakes, start a fucking speed-metal band!

We crashed back at Cowboy Boots' apartment, some tattoo artist showed up and started offering free tattoos. I tried to convince Morgan to get a tattoo of a bong with a cobra coming out of it, but he pussed out. Lame. One by one we passed out while Bobby and Punch played beer pong.

Day 11, St. Louis, MO:

We got into St. Louis early and went to the riverfront by the arch. Hung out in the park under the arch for a bit, took some stupid pictures and threw a football around some more. Got to the venue, Fubar, right around load-in time. The venue has 2 rooms, and in the bigger room there was another show going on. Nachtmystium, Zoroaster, Dark Castle, and Atlas Moth. Cool. We played "Loungeside", which is basically just a smaller room with a smaller stage. We played with Everything Went Black, ((Thorlock)), and a newer local band called Strangers Now. Brandon from EWB ran the show and set it up so the bands were staggered, and people could flow freely between the 2 shows. So it went, Atlas Moth, Strangers Now, Dark Castle, Everything Went Black, Zoroaster, Bone Dance, Nachtmystium, and ((Thorlock)) closed the show out. Cool show, very cool lineup. Watching Dark Castle was the highlight for me personally, that band is really fucking good. 2 piece dark, bluesy, sludgy, stoner metal, killer guitar tone, and a fucking enormous drumkit. EWB killed it as usual, ((Thorlock)) brought the stoney jams and got Kasey really stoked with their bitchin' KISS cover.

After the show we realized we lost our main set of van keys, so we wandered around forever in the venue scouring the floor and the street around the van, with no luck. Luckily we had a set of backup keys, but it didn't have the automatic lock that triggers the alarm. So now everyone has to be extremely careful that we don't unlock the van improperly, or else the alarm will go off and we will have no way to shut it off. Nerve-wracking; our van locks are fucked up and if you unlock the back door without unlocking the front one, the alarm is triggered. If you pull up a lock from the inside and open the door, the alarm is triggered. If you fart while getting in the van, the alarm is triggered. It's weird and convoluted. Here's hoping that Merch Guy Mike doesn't fuck it up.

Day 12, Cedar Falls, IA:

We tried to get to Cedar Falls as early as possible, so we could squeeze every minute of hangout time possible with our friends and old tourmates, Former Thieves, so we left St. Louis pretty early. We arrived just as they were also pulling up to the 1108 House. Good timing! We said all our hellos, gave hugs and kisses and walked down the street to a burrito place that Ben works at for some grub. After eating we walked back to the 1108 House and checked out the basement. Low ceiling with pipes hanging just underneath it. Somewhat cramped and dank, it’s the perfect basement for a show. The 1108 House has been doing shows in Cedar Falls for quite a long time, in part because of cool neighbors, respectful attendees, and people who live there know how to run a show at a house, all important elements that ensure the longevity of a house venue. We hung out, talked shop for awhile with Former Thieves guys, sipped whiskey, and waited for folks to show up and for the first band to start.

Phil and I walked to a nearby gas station and picked up a few beers, and headed back to the show just in time to catch the 1^st band, a newer local called Qualia (pronounced kwal-ee-uh). Really promising band, they played a lot of what reminded me of late 90’s / early 00’s Robotic Empire / Level Plane stuff in their musicianship and overall vibe of the songs, but trading the distorted and frantic style for a more somber and reflective quality. After they finished loading out we loaded in and started the set – I didn’t realize it until a few minutes into the set, but holy shit that basement was full – people were crowded along the stairwell because there wasn’t any more standing room. I remember looking over and seeing Morgan hanging upside down from the ceiling pipes and thinking to myself “A: I hope those pipes can hold his weight, and B: I really hope those aren’t shit-pipes.” Overall it was an extremely fun show to play – Cedar Falls kids are all really open to everything, supporting live music and touring bands, watching bands and not just hanging out outside.  Bands from all over have great things to say about that town’s music scene, and for good reason.

After us, Former Thieves went on to play and I swear the basement got even more full; I was stuck on the stairs. You can tell that people in Cedar Falls are very proud of that band, and there’s no arguing that they shouldn’t be. They work hard and they write incredible music, music that is all at once catchy, complex, layered, nuanced, emotionally charged, heavy, melodic, and exploratory. There is a current influx/trend/whatever of “emotional-hardcore” (whatever the hell that means, all music is emotional you fucking music critic goons) that is growing quite fast – Former Thieves may not be the most well known of these bands, but they are easily the best.

The night didn’t end for quite awhile, while most of the show-goers found their way home, plenty of us stayed up late partying; Matt really wanted one of our denim weed wolf vests, so we made him do pushups for it. Totally worth it. Some folks had to work in the morning or had various other responsibilities to attend to the following day, so one-by-one people said their goodbyes and made their way home. Others stayed up late for the long-haul. I wasn’t one of those people. I was feeling drained and sore and needed a full night of sleep, so I found a couch and called it a night pretty early on.

Oh yeah! And we found our missing keys in the trailer, I guess they got hooked on something and fell off Phil’s belt loop while we were loading out in St. Louis. And Merch Guy Mike didn’t fuck up the alarm. You just might be worth your weight, Mike.

Day 13, Minneapolis, MN:

Minneapolis is another one of my favorite cities in the Midwest, and if you’re in the downtown area on a sunny day in the late spring, summer, or early fall, you’ll also see why. You can tell that people there really don’t take nice weather for granted. The show was at a coffee shop called The Beat that opens up their back lounge area to bands at night. Nice place, they gave us free coffee and let us hang for quite awhile. We grabbed some Chipotle (still can’t figure out how to weasel our way into free shit like the Former Thieves’ dudes told us about. I guess we’re not charming or persuasive enough…), and got spare keys made so we don’t end up with any more missing keys mishaps. Should’ve done that from the get-go but I suppose we prefer to take care of shit as it happens instead of planning ahead.

The show went off well, Adam who set up the show is a great promoter, great photographer, and an overall good dude who makes sure to take care of the bands he books. The locals were all good bands – You Wretch, Mourner, and Blue Ox. We played after Mourner, and Blue Ox closed the show out. Despite being unbelievably drunk, they played really tight, which is pretty fucking impressive. After the show we walked over to an Old Chicago with the Mourner and You Wretch dudes to grab some food, and then we went over to some of the You Wretch dudes apartment. We drank a bit more and stayed up late talking about music and other shit – some trivial, some deep. Was a good night, made new friends, saw old ones, played a kick-ass show in a kick-ass venue, in a kick-ass city. All things have to balance themselves out though.

Day 14, Shit Creek, MN:

We had the day off because a show fell through in Madison, WI, so we took our time getting up and getting moving. Went and grabbed coffee and made breakfast at the apartment we’d slept in. It was time for an oil change so we looked up the nearest place. After following some lady around honking at her because she yelled at us for an imagined traffic violation, and a detour because I realized I’d left my phone behind, (last time we were in Minnesota I left my debit card at the venue and we had to double back – next time I’ll probably lose my whole wallet) we headed to the auto shop for a routine oil change.

We unhitched the trailer, gave them the keys, and then went wandered around town; anything is better than thumbing through an Entertainment Weekly and getting heartburn from burnt coffee in the lobby of a Jiffy Lube. There wasn’t much in the area except a few chain stores, so we headed back hoping the van would be ready. As it turns out, we were going to be there for quite awhile. The seals on our rear differential had worn out. They went back to assess what was going to be needed, and left us wondering why our mechanic back at home hadn’t noticed something like that. When the mechanic returned, he informed us that since the seals had gone out, oil had run all along the differential spreading out to our brakes. The pads were completely soaked, and the brake shoes were covered in oil. As you can imagine, a lubed up brake system does anything but what it’s designed to do. So he ran over our options for repair, and drew up an estimate.

Total: $750 for new seals, cleaning the differential, and new brakes. Ouch. We didn’t have that much cash in our band fund, and using it all and adding our own personal money out of pocket was just enough to cover the expense and leave us without enough money for the rest of the trip.  Now we have a rock and hard place situation. We’re only 2 weeks into our trip. We can’t spend all of our band money and start from square one in the middle of the country – from this point on we will be playing in places we have never been to before. We don’t know at all what any of the shows are going to be like. We could theoretically have 2 consecutive weeks of shows that are all a total bust, which leaves us stranded on the opposite side of the country without gas money. We also don’t know what else may potentially go wrong with the van – even with regular and seemingly thorough maintenance, American-made passenger vans are just time-bombs with wheels and seats. Total crapshoot.

We get on the phone and talk with our mechanic – after all, in our minds, the reason we’re in this situation is because of his negligence to notice this problem when we got our van inspected before we left. But those slippery fucks have a way out of everything – these parts aren’t covered or guaranteed by anything or anyone – in a nutshell, you should expect seals to fail over a period of time, and a mechanic can’t be held responsible if he fails to tell you that it’s time to replace them. The failure part is fair enough – we have a high-mileage vehicle, shit gets used a lot. I still don’t see how his fuckup is now our responsibility, but I suppose that’s why everyone hates mechanics and lawyers.

The mechanic guy works over a few things and gives us a new estimate, $722. $27 is the most he can lower it. We talk for a while and figure out how to borrow some money to cover the cost and not leave us up Shit Creek. Borrowing money is the last thing poor people want to do, and loaning it out to poor people is the last thing rich people want to do, but we work out a few things, and by the grace of people close to us, and several promises to immediately pay off the debt when we return home, we are able to take care of the van.

We ended up reading Entertainment Weekly and getting heartburn from shitty coffee until the van was finished at 5pm. We drove to some small town in Wisconsin, and stayed the night with Travis, a friend from southern Idaho who had recently moved out there. Had a few beers and tried my hardest not to think about debt and other potential van problems we may end up having. Can’t be ruining gig life with concerns of home life. Those two aren’t allowed to meet.