Friday, November 15, 2013


I have to admit, I’ve been feeling the burn a bit this week. It’s been a bit much recently, practising with three different bands/playing football/working/being a dad.  I’m certainly not as young as I used to be and the lack of a night at home in the week takes it’s toll.  Of course, apart from the work part it’s all good fun and I don’t mean to sound like a moaning bastard, it’s just, after last weekend’s drunken escapades in Stavanger I could have done with this trip to Copenhagen being delayed by a week.  That said, as I sat on the short flight to the Danish capital I began to feel the first pangs of thirst… The temptation to buy a beer from the trolley as it rolled past me was great but I refrained.  There would be plenty of time for that later on.  I could wait a few more hours.

I’ve been to Copenhagen many times but despite that fact, I know very little of the city.   Apart from a couple of venues and a couple of bars near them I’ve only ever really explored the city centre and Freetown Cristiania.  Funnily enough Copenhagen was the place that Jen and I officially became a couple and we’ve been back once together to commemorate the occasion but even then we ended up at a hotel in the city centre and didn’t explore too far afield.  Strange really, not usually our style.  This weekend I was looking forward to righting that particular wrong.

Something else I was looking forward to this weekend was playing the legendary Youth House, being that it’s a staple of the punk community in Europe.  Of course, it’s a different place now.  The famous building in Norrebro that was the scene of the riots a few years ago has since been flattened by bulldozers and wrecking balls and all that’s left is a gaping hole surrounded by a yellow, plywood fence.  The new building is a little further down Norrebrogade in the area of Bispebjerg, something that took the punks sixteen months of weekly demonstrations to obtain.  It might well be a different building but the foundations are the same and I was thrilled by the prospect of adding our mark, no matter how small, on it’s history.  

Once again we were all on different flights.  I was hooking up with Kev later, who had been in K Town since the day before with the rest of the BUGS gang who were playing tonight, but Lucas and Viktor would be meeting up with us tomorrow since they had other plans.  The fest we’re playing is a two-dayer in honour of a friend of Kev’s, Charlie, who is celebrating his birthday by putting on a host of predominantly grindcore bands.  My previous experiences with Victims playing grindcore festivals have been positive so I was relatively sure we’d go down pretty well with the crowd.  I figure that most grindcore has punk in it's roots anyway.

We were originally supposed to be playing tonight but we’d since been moved, although only after we’d booked our flights.  A night at home with the family would have been nice after a hectic week but I’m here now and looking forward to a night of partying with the BUGS gang.  I figure I may as well just get on with things...

I arrive at the airport and decline any attempt at conversing in a mixture of Swedish/Danish whilst purchasing tickets for the train in to town.  Norwegian I can handle but the dialect the people use in this country is way beyond me.  When I hear the Danish tongue it always reminds me of the dancing man from the Black Lodge in Twin Peaks, the little guy who talks backwards.  No offence to my Danish friends intended.  It’s a quick ride into the city and I arrange to meet up with Kev and Jamie at Norreport, the major station on the northern side of the city.   Not entirely sure of where I’m going but I head off in search of a coffee shop since I’m a little ahead of the guys who are making their way on foot from Cristiania.  I find nothing to satisfy my needs though.  A little disappointed I settle on some rank 7 Eleven coffee and stand about amongst the thousands of parked bicycles by the station entrance waiting for the boys, the glare from the sun stinging my eyes as the chill in the air bites at my bones.  I should have taken a thicker jacket with me.

The guys arrive after twenty minutes or so and the first thing Kev tells me is that he’s hungover to fuck.  They’d had quite the night apparently.  We jump on a bus that takes us up Norrebrogade to Anders’ house. I’ve never met Anders but heard a lot about him and seen countless photos of him wearing DB t-shirts.  He and Kev met whilst Kev was here at some gig a couple of years back or something, their drunken minds finding each other in the haze.  Anders has since stopped drinking because as Kev puts it, he’s crazy enough without it.    

He’s one of the main guys involved with the fest and sings in a couple of the bands that are playing, one of which is called Märsvin, the Scandinavian word for guinea pig, named such in acknowledgement of the cute little animal that Anders loves so much.  We jump off the bus about ten minutes down the road and head to his flat.  As soon as you walk in the smell of weed smacks you in the face.  I follow Kev and Jamie into the living room and find Wayne, Clara and Kiwi Chris lying about on a patchwork of old mattresses, a haze of thick smoke hovering about their heads, curtains drawn shutting out the daylight.  The wall behind the door is lined with cages that house the guinea pigs.  I wasn’t previously aware of any allergy I have to them but felt my eyes burning as soon as I walked into the flat.  I’ve slept in far worse places than this in my life and I really don’t want to be that guy but I know that there is no chance I can sleep here tonight.  Apparently Hannah had crashed here last night but that had proven enough for her and she has since booked herself into a hostel with Viv and Misa who came in today.  The fact is there are rooms at the Youth House for bands to sleep in and this place will be far too crowded for us all anyway so I’m taking my chances on there being a bed for me there.  I’m just hoping that the fact I’m not playing until tomorrow will have no bearing on the matter.

Kev, Jamie and I leave the other three there and head up to the house.  We arrive as they’re checking the PA.  A familiar scene.  Not much to do except hang about.  The place itself looks great although I’m immediately struck by the size of the stage and the room it’s in.  The building adjacent this one, just across the courtyard, feels like it would be a lot better since it’s way smaller.  The thing that’s mainly playing on my mind is the fact the Hårda Tider have a huge release party in Malmö tomorrow and Copenhagen’s brilliant Night Fever are playing with them.  Being that Malmö is just across the water it’s generally expected that a huge chunk of the scene here will be heading over there.  Just can’t help feeling that they should have moved this gig to the smaller stage… As I’m thinking about this one of the guys from the venue, who happens to be smoking a comedy sized spliff at the time, then tells me that Dogmatist have pulled out of the show tomorrow.  Fucking gutted about that.  Without wanting to sound disrespectful they were the band I was most looking forward to seeing.  Apparently they pulled out yesterday citing the fact they haven’t rehearsed for a while as the reason for their withdrawal.  If that’s so then it sounds kind of weak.  I can’t help wondering if they’re going to that party tomorrow...

This place is great though.  I can imagine the courtyard between the two buildings would be a fun place to hang out in the summer, with the cocktail bar and barbecue area.  It must have been a blast here at the K Town Hardcore Fest in June.  I was the only Bastard not in attendance at that particular event.  It seemed like fun.  We have to try and get on that next year.

They seem to check the PA for hours.  And then they check the drums for ages when they’re done with that. I’m chuffed to find that there is a bed for me in the band dormitories upstairs anyway.  I pick a mattress in the corner of the bottom row of bunks and throw my bag on to it so as to lay claim to it.  It seems safe enough to leave our gear here.  There are signs all about the place asking others to be respectful of those sleeping and the band names allocated to each room are clearly marked on the door.  I think respect is a big thing here.  It feels good like a good environment.  Along the corridor from the dormitories are some band rehearsal spaces and a studio, as well as an office area and toilet and shower room.  In the building opposite, above the small bar stage is the kitchen and dining room where they have “People’s Kitchen” every Thursday, an event where they make cheap food for anyone who needs it and where a lot of people meet and share ideas,  This whole place is quite an impressive set up.

Whilst waiting for dinner to arrive a few of us sit outside in the courtyard nursing some beers.  As much as I’m in the mood for a pilsner I have a hard time truly enjoying the one currently in my hand due to the fact I’m both freezing and hungry.  After a half hour the eternal soundcheck comes to a halt and we take ourselves into the relative warmth of the stone building.  We find Anders tucking into what looks like some superb food and we make our way excitedly towards the kitchen.  The grub doesn’t disappoint.  The guys have put on some delicious bean chilli with tortilla breads and a guacamole to fucking die for.  All vegan of course.  I notice the sign on the kitchen door warning that anyone bringing food into the building of the non-vegan variety will be told to fuck off immediately.

Feeling completely recharged we head back downstairs to the now open venue, ready to give the bar the attention it deserves.  They have a bunch of different beers and shots on offer, none of it costing much more than a couple of quid.  Anders asked me if earlier if I’d wanted my DB beer tickets today already but I think for these prices I can save my coupons for tomorrow.

The place has barely been open an hour when I see some fucked up punk kid, very fucked up actually, being dragged out of the building by two of the house residents, each taking a leg, the punk so wasted he’s completely out cold.  They just drag him across the floor and out the door, his hands trailing above his head behind him.  I guess the beer is pretty spicy in this place.  It’s going to be a long night.

It’s going to be an even longer night for Kev and the guys though, BUGS aren’t playing until one twenty in the morning.  That in mind, Kev does a pretty good job of staying sober for the early part of the night.  As usual, I start to feel drunk after a couple of beers and by the time Viv, Misa and Kiwi Chris turn up I’m well on my way.  I go through the assortment of beers and each one just seems to get stronger.  After polishing off what must be my fourth I make an inward agreement with myself to take the foot of the gas a little but before I can raise my hand in polite refusal Misa has bought me another.  She, as always, is carrying two for herself, one in each hand, chuffed as fuck.

Most of the bands on tonight go by me without grabbing much attention, but there are a couple who stick out.  Slow Plague open the day, Kev laughing about how they always seem to open these fests on a big stage, referring to Fuk Reddin a few weeks back.  There again aren’t that many in the place to see them but I enjoy them as always.  Preggy Punch, despite the frankly ludicrous name, play a really nice set of punk influenced grind.  What grabs me more than anything though is the guitarist/singer, who looks like a computer science student and wears this mischievous grin on his face the whole time.  He marks the end of each song with a two thumbs up signal.  I don’t know what it is but I love him.

Anders’ first band, Ajuna, are for me the band of the night though.  It’s not my favourite style of music by any stretch, but the atmospheric/epic/melodic black metal doom they play, sounding like a cross between Envy, Neurosis and Burzum is executed so expertly that you can’t help being blown away.  And I don’t know how they do it but their sound is ten times louder and clearer than everyone else’s which just fucking floors me.  But all this being as it may, what truly astounds me is Anders’ voice.  To look at him up there with his crustlocks, Bermuda shirt and Adidas jogging pants you’d never imagine he’d be capable of delivering such a thing, but his high pitched screaming sounds like the fucking Devil himself.  He starts the show on his knees, rocking back and forth to the slowly building music and then it just comes out.  Some of the screams he exposes the crowd to just seem to go on forever without the slightest hint of breaking.  I’m at exactly the right level of tipsy to enjoy Ajuna to the fullest and by the time their half hour set is done I’m left completely buzzed.

After Ajuna the night really starts to take off and with each beer I let go a little more.  Märsvin, Anders other band play a little later and as good as they are, and as entertaining as Anders is once again, I’m a little too fuzzy to appreciate them fully.  Something that has not helped is the horrible drink I’ve just bought that I’ve had to give to Viv, who is only more than happy to accept.  I’d come out of the bogs and noticed that at a table located behind the sound desk appeared to be a food stall, indeed they had a sign advertising Langos, the deep fried bread infamous at Gröna Lund tivoli.  Drunk enough to convince myself I’m starving, I order one.  I’m therefore shocked to the very fucking core when they then pour what appears to be some sort of moonshine substance into a plastic glass and ask what soda I want with it!  Completely confused I manage to answer with, “Errr...the red one I guess”.  It tastes fucking foul.  I manage to drink about a quarter of it before giving it to Viv, who wolfs it down.  I guess Langos is something completely different in this country.
It’s around one thirty when BUGS play and amazingly Kev has stayed sober for the gig.  They whale out their noise for about fifteen minutes, Wayne flying about the dance floor, the rest of them battering it out on the high stage.  The crowd, most likely as pissed as I am, look pretty scoobied.  And the sound guy is obviously a bit lost.  This is most noticeable when Wayne notches up the delay on his voice pedal, building it up into a whirlwind of chaotic sound and the guy immediately cuts it out of the PA, as if he’s scorning Wayne for being a naughty little boy.  I love watching BUGS all the same, I always do.  Hannah is entertainment on her own behind the kit and it’s always great watching Kev play Street Bass.  I fucking pissed myself laughing earlier when I saw his setlist written out, it was nothing but numbers, which of course denote the frets on his bass he is to follow.  Punk by numbers.  Genius.

After BUGS, the rest of the night turns to mush.  Kev and the guys seem to go into turbo mode and they’re all seemingly as pissed as I am within a half hour of their set ending.  I don’t remember a whole lot from this point on except having a pointless conversation with Luk, who was as drunk as I was and in another part of the city with his old college mates.  We spent about five minutes repeating what the other was saying, like a couple of pissed up parrots.  The other things I remember is some guy hooking up with our crowd and sharing a bottle of Ballentines about, and I remember Kev break dancing to the last band.  Funny thing is he wasn’t anywhere near the stage at the time but rather at the back of the room by the bar.  And what always makes me laugh when Kev break dances (he does this regularly when pissed) is that he puts his cap down on the floor like an Eighties disco dancer would her handbag, and dances around that.

It must be four in the morning when we head up to the beds.  Me and Jamie are pretty fucked but compared to Kev we’re dancer.  We throw Kev into his bed which is one of the two campers that are placed in the middle of the room and then head down to the toilet for a piss before lights out.  When we get there the door is locked.  It stays that way for about another ten minutes, until Jamie opens the lock from the outside by some measure or another and we find Anders inside, sleeping on his knees with his head resting on the bog seat.  As soon as we open the door he jumps up and walks off like it’s nothing, bidding us goodnight.
I wake up, or I should say I’m awoken, at around eight am.  It’s daylight outside and the room is brightened by the white sky peering through the thin curtains.  It’s not this that has awoken me though.  What’s awoken me is some cheeky fucking punk kid who has crawled onto the mattress beside mine and simply taken my fucking quilt!  I roll over, amazed to find the cunt snuggled under my cover.  I rip it back off of him and turn over again.  The fucker takes it back again.  I shit you not, we spend about two minutes in a tug-of-war over my quilt, neither of us once saying a word to each other.  He finally gives up and fucks off and I roll back over to sleep wondering if I’d been dreaming.

I wake up for good around ten.  Kev is furious.  He was disturbed a little earlier by two or three guys hanging out in the room having a loud chat, one of them had actually been cunty enough to park their arse on Kev’s bed.  So much for the signs telling people to respect those wishing to sleep!
Kev is in a rough old way, he looks like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards.  Pablo and Raquel are up and about and inform us that breakfast is ready.  Jamie and I do our best to get Kev out of bed but he’s a mess.  He tells us he’s been up in the night vomming.  We finally get him up and he spends the next ten minutes walking about in just his t-shirt and pants, looking confused.

I’m not that hungry and in all honesty feeling a little shit myself, it’s only the state of Kev that makes me feel any good at all.  We sip on a bit of breakfast coffee and chew some sarnies before heading into town for a bit of air.  The shower seems to be broken so we all head out stinking.  We find a decent little café on Norrebrogade opposite the site of the old Youth House.  The cappuccino I order hits the fucking bullseye and I immediately feel a lot better.  I’m recharged and ready to go for a further walk now but Kev has just realised he’s got sick on his t-shirt and wants to go back to change.  “Even for me that’s pretty fucking rubbish” he mumbles to himself, a little depressed.

We head into town, via Assistens Cemetery where Hans Cristian Andersen is buried, and make our way to Cristiania for some lunch.  They have a great vegetarian café there and Kev, Pablo, Raquel and myself tuck into some of the best potato salad I’ve ever eaten.  The spuds are marinated in sesame seed oil and are simply divine.  Before long Jamie, Misa, Viv and Hannah arrive and after eating themselves we go for a wander before stopping at another café.  Last time I was here I watched Roddy go to space on some hash coffee, which was quite an amazing event, but there’s none of that today.  We simply enjoy a latte in the sun.
Kev and I eventually head back towards Norrebro and after stopping at Anders’ place so Kev can finally change his t-shirt we head to Mikkeller Bar to meet up with Vik and Bea for a couple of drinks.  Kev hates the place, labelling it hipster and overpriced, but at forty kronors a pint I find it more than reasonable.  And the beer is of course superb.  I couldn’t imagine Vik coming to Copenhagen without visiting this place.  I have to laugh when Kev goes to the bar to order a pint, any fucking pint will do of course, and the poor bartender starts to give him the background story on the particular ale he’s ordered.  Apparently he’d originally brewed it for his wedding.  It’s excruciating watching this poor sap tell his tale as Kev ignores him, obviously finding the whole thing about as interesting as watching paint dry.

After a while Lucas and our friend Cristiano, who is from the same city as Luk and used to sing in his old band Avalanche, turn up.  Cristiano and his wife Cristiane live here now and it’s with them I’ll be staying tonight.  We head up to the venue around seven, a few hours before we’re due to play.  By the time we arrive back at the Youth House I’m really starting to feel how bad the hangover is that I’ve been carrying around all day.  The thing is, I got a bit of a hit from the two beers at Mikkeller Bar and for a short while felt pretty good again but the hit wore off on the five minute bus journey here and all of a sudden I’m feeling worse than I have done all day.  The thought of playing a show in a couple of hours time is not all that appealing right now.

The London lot are in the house and seem more willing than I in any case.  Misa is walking around with her customary smile and two bottles of beer.  I figure I may as well give it a go and get one for myself but it doesn’t sit right, one of those that takes about an hour to go down and by the end of the bottle you’re left battling through a warm, sloshy dribble, but battle on you do, for some reason.

It’s really cold tonight, both inside and outside the house.  I can’t seem to get warm.  The beer isn’t helping.
A gang of mates have now arrived, a large contingent made up of people Lucas studied with.  Of the people actually in the venue right now we I’d say about sixty percent of them are with us.  I can’t help wishing the show was in the small bar.  The size of the crowd gradually rises as the night progresses though, if only a little.  There are probably about eighty people in the place by the time we take to the stage.
To be fair I’m pretty pleased with the amount of people hanging out to watch us but something doesn’t really feel right as we stand about waiting to play.  For a start, both me and Kev are hungover to piss, Kev had just moments before asked the time honoured question, “How the fuck are we gonna do this?” as we stood around waiting for the grind band before us to finish their set.  But it wasn’t the hangover, I’d been there before and as shite as I might feel I know that I’ll get through it and more than likely feel a whole lot better afterwards.  The nagging feeling inside me was due to the fact that we felt completely unprepared.  It can be a bit hard since Kev doesn’t live in the same country as us and that being so we don’t always get the chance to practice as a full band before a gig, but when that’s the case we have to make sure we have our shit together before we play.  And tonight didn’t really feel like we’d managed to do that.  We didn’t know if we were doing an intro or not, there had been murmured discussions both for and against, Vik didn’t have a set list and only a short while ago he didn’t have drumsticks, I didn’t have a tuning pedal that was working properly and Kev didn’t know what song was what.  All in all it was a little stressed.  And it showed, at least to my ears, when we played the intro twice and left Kev standing around on stage like a plum and then when we did get started for real, we played everything at about twice the speed it should be.  Thankfully these things are usually only noticed by the band members on stage, at least when you’re an unknown band like ours.

Those who were in the crowd seemed to have a good time all the same, and by the end of the short set they were starting to throw themselves about.  I ended up playing the show on completely borrowed gear, except for my guitar.  This big guy with a military haircut and bulging biceps who had played in the grind band preceding us had come up to me before we played and said I could just plug my guitar into his pedals and amp and go for it.  Really nice of him.  He came back up to me as soon as we were finished with a huge smile on his face, full of praise.  “You guys were awesome!”  I thank him although I’m not overly convinced myself..

“No seriously, that was the like the best show I’ve seen this year!”  Ok, you’re actually serious.. He then tells me he’s going to buy a Telecaster, inspired as he was by the sound I had from mine.  Funny how differently you can experience a show on stage and off it.  Even Lucas’ designer friend, Katrine, was in to it, kind of,  “You guys were nowhere near as horrible as I thought you would be!”  And with that she bought a shirt.  Even Jamie said to me afterwards, "I'd like to see you guys play when you're straight since every time I see you you're complaining about feeling fucked and yet you still go nuts!"

Even so, I couldn’t help feeling nagged by the gig and the other guys were the same.  We dropped the ball a couple of times and even if no one else noticed it, we did, and that’s enough.  I know this is punk rock and it shouldn’t really matter, but I’ve been hanging out with Johan Victims long enough to know that punk rock or not, you should still play fucking tight and take pride in what you do.  That said, we’re a young band, not in age obviously, except Luk, but in historical terms and we’re still finding our way.  There’s another gig tomorrow and we’ll kick the shit out of that one.

Last night was a very fucking wet occasion and tonight, at least for myself, was never going to be the same. I tried drinking a few beers but I could as well have been drinking cat piss such was my enthusiasm for them. The London lot were having a good time it seemed though.  Viv tried to convince me to take a drink with her from the Langos stall, but I couldn’t bring myself to it.  I eventually caved into to her considerable pressure and took a shot of the filthy booze that was the core ingredient of said drink and regretted it immediately. Much to my annoyance I noticed that they actually were selling Langos, as in the deep fried bread, tonight too.  Bastard.

Luk and I spend the rest of the night taking turns at the merch stall, the pair of us a little worn out from the night before.  Him and Vik had been out with Solomon from Night Fever and that always ends in carnage. Cristiane was still in bed apparently, suffering the hangover of all hangovers.  There are a couple of other bands playing that we take little notice of and then ending the night is Agathocles. Seriously, how long have these guys been around?  They’re entertaining only in the most novelty of ways and they play for far too long, of course.  The bassist/singer ends the set by doing the last few songs without his guitar and without his t-shirt in the crowd, prancing about like a tit.  I don’t have anything against them really, just don’t really get "fun" grind.

When they’re finished we pack up and commence the ritual of saying goodbye to everyone which takes a while.  There is a metal disco starting up as we leave but I’m not all that tempted to stay.  As it seems now the party is pretty flat and even Kev is sober and talking about going to bed..  With it being already past midnight it feels too late to start kicking things off now and the thought of sleeping on Cristiano’s sofa is far more appealing.  Even so, Vik seems to have gotten himself a little sauced is talking after party.  We all nod in feigned enthusiasm and make to leave the Youth House, saying bye to Kev and the guys, but as soon as we walk out on to the street I confirm with Luk and Cristiano that we’re going back to his place to sleep, right?  They both nod, to my relief.

Vik and Bea are staying at another friend of theirs, Sander, who lives a short distance away.  Sanders is drunk and when he’s drunk he is brutal in his piss taking.  He let’s Vik have the full brunt of it, much to our amusement. Vik is asking him when the next bus is coming, a simple enough question but Sander berates him, “What the fuck am I?  Your babysitter?  Read the timetable!”  as he sways back and forth on his bike.

Sander is determined he’s going to another bar, calling us pussies and shouting “Yolo” a lot.  Vik and Bea end up taking a taxi back to his place on their own.  After a lot of farting around at the bus stop we finally head off back to Cristiano’s place, picking up some pizza for supper.  On the walk back to the flat we pass a drunk guy coming the other way.  Without breaking stride he asks us, “Have you guys seen some nigger kids?”  Before we have time to process the question the guy has gone, we look at each other a little stunned and then burst out laughing.  Random.

We end the night sat around the table in Cristiano’s flat, talking in hushed tones so not to disturb his hungover wife.  The pizza is great, the sofa even better.  I fall into a most welcome sleep shortly after curling up on it.
We spend half of the next day lazing around watching CNN and other tripe on tv.  At one point Cristiano puts on the song Land Down Under by Men at Work on the turntable, something that pricks my ears up. Nice one Cris, perfect for a Sunday morning.  I’m a little taken aback when the next song comes on and I realise he’s actually playing the whole lp, that he actually owns the lp in fact.  There I was thinking he was just putting on a novelty song for effect but no, he’s into it for real.

Cristiane arises and makes breakfast, excusing her absence yesterday and telling us how bad her hangover was.  One of those evil bastards that has you confined to your bed all day.  I sympathise.  Breakfast and coffee is most welcome and after a shower and yet more sitting around the four of us head into town for some lunch.  We end up at a cool café called Laundromat where you can indeed do your washing whilst eating, or vice versa maybe.  It’s a nice place though, right in the heart of Vesterbro, and their Portobello burger is simply superb.

Vik and Bea meet up with us afterwards, although Bea has to head back home pretty much straight away.  I feel for them, seeing them saying goodbye to each other.  I remember those days when me and Jen first got together.  Horrible and wonderful at the same time.  If you last the distance then those days apart pay dividends in the long run though.

Vik, Luk and I head to the station to take the train to Valby, where tonight’s show is being held.  It’s out in the south western suburbs and accessible only by this overground train.  I get the feeling it’s going to be a lowly attended show, given the location and the fact it’s Sunday night.  I’d spoken to Anders yesterday about when we should meet up today and he’d suggested we head out here at eleven am.  That struck me as utter madness.  Why the fuck would we want to hang out at the venue all day?  It was around six when we got there, Kev, Jamie and the rest had been here since around one.  It takes us a while to find the place, we ask a few people in the area, including the girl at the 7 Eleven but nobody has even heard of the street it’s on. We eventually find it though, not five minutes walk from the station, and there we see Viv, Clara and Wayne walking across the road a little further up.  “Oh my God it’s Diagnosis? Bastard!” Viv screams at us waving as we hurry on past.

The venue is a really cool place.  A three story community centre with a venue in the basement.  The gig room is really small and sixty or seventy people here would look good.  Jamie is taking care of the sound tonight since whoever was supposed to be doing so hasn’t turned up.  Maybe it’s just as well.  They serve up some great looking pizza but I’m not really in the mood for anything except sitting in a warm, cosy bar somewhere and having a pint of draft malt beer.  There doesn’t seem to be much on offer around here though and as it happens they have a little bar downstairs.  Anders has brought a couple of crates of Tuborg with him and as appreciated as that is I need a pint, and at twenty kronors a pop I’m more than happy to pay for it.  Kev is hungover again, turns out he persevered with the metal disco last night and ended up dancing with the Agathocles guys before going to bed in a haze sometime around five...

The first band on tonight is a local grind/metal band with a posh English guy on guitar/vocals.  There are about ten people watching them, not including our lot, that seem to be friends of theirs.  I watch on slightly intrigued as they seem to be having "technical difficulties" and whilst whatever the problem is is being solved Posh English starts telling jokes.  Not very good ones.  When no one laughs he changes tack and asks if anyone has any weed. It's a bit painful.  Also quite eye catching is the very serious looking drummer they have, a finely chiseled, Aryan looking specimen of a bloke playing with his top off, obviously chuffed with his muscles.  He looks very, very serious.  The bass player looks friendly enough.  I remember little else of their show.

We're still waiting for friends of ours to turn up, the need for their presence all the more vital when the ten or so mates of the first band fuck off after they've played.  Well, they head outside to smoke weed with Posh English for the rest of the night anyway.  Cristiano, Cristiane, Sander and crew eventually turn up, just as well since Sander has a bag of our merch that we need to have to sell to nobody.  There was talk of Solomon coming over tonight but I was sceptical considering they had the big party in Malmö last night.  He never turns up.  By the time BUGS play, there are just our lot, Anders, a couple of people from the venue and a couple of the first bands friends watching.  And the serious drummer is playing fussball with someone else. That's it.  Fuck it, it's still fun watching them play, and they sound good!  Between songs at one point I hear Viv, who has now taken over control of the lighting, "Would you like another colour?  Maybe a bit of blue?". Brilliant.

BUGS finish up and except for Kev, we swap places with them and start or short set.  It sounds better tonight than it did yesterday, and the tempo is a bit more controlled, but it's still not quite right.  I do feel that I have a lot more energy though and it's nice being back on the floor where we belong.  There is a bit of a fuck up when Vik starts the wrong song at one point, leading me to scream, "For fuck sakes!" but it's born more out of adrenalin than actually being that pissed off about it.  I always get a bit of a rush going when it feels like we're up against it.   After the show Anders gives me a hug and says, "Hey Mr. Crazy Guitarist" with a big smile on his face.  I guess it was a bit more of a spectacle tonight.

Following us, Slow Plague play the best set I've seen by them since that first time in Sheffield.  Fucking brilliant, they're perfect for these small, dark venues.  And the beer is tasting a little better tonight, giving me a bit of a kick to enjoy their torturous music with.  Tonight is also Pablo's birthday, which adds to the spirit of togetherness I feel with my friends here in the arse end of Copenhagen.  This might be a poorly attended show on a wet Sunday night in Copenhagen, but I'd rather be here than stood at work on a dead Sunday night in the bar.  Whether I'd rather be here than at home with my family, cosying up on the sofa in front of the tv is another matter...

After Slow Plague are done we pack up the gear as quick as we can.  As we're going about our business Kev walks over to the stage area where Pablo is packing up his pedals and stuff, "Nice one, good work this weekend mate!"

"Ah thanks, you too" replies Pablo, looking up with an expression of gratitude on his coupon.  "Not you, I was talking to Street Bass!" Kev snorts as he walks past Pablo and gives his bass a stroke.
Luk and I take care of the merch, although there isn't much to take care of.  One girl, I think she belongs to the first band's crowd, wants a shirt and inquires about the cost of them.  Luk tells her eighty kronors, she fishes around in her pocket and comes back with two, Luk bends down to the bag to retrieve a shirt.  I have to stop him.  "Mate, we can't fucking sell a shirt for two kronors when we're asking for eighty!  That's taking the piss!"

"Yeah I guess so."  He's just so eager for people to wear our shirts, it's an automatic reaction to just grab one from the bag.  I mean, we're trying our best to be a DIY punk band and keep our merchandise at good prices, but there has to be a limit.  They cost four quid to make, we can't sell them for twenty fucking pence! We end up selling the shirt to the girl for something like fifty kronors, once she's gone off and scrounged together some smash from her mates.

We don't hang around for all that much longer.  Most of our crew have already left and the London lot are staying with Anders I guess.  Vik, Luk and I catch the last train back to Vesterport and head to yet another pizza place.  We go back to Cristiano's place and eat it quietly as our hosts sleep.  Vik gets a cab back to Sander's place around one thirty and Luk and I hit the hay.  It's been a good weekend but I'm fucking knackered now and ready to go home.

We're up early in the morning for our flight to Stockholm.  As usual, I can't sleep.