First Show

First show with Diagnosis? Bastard! It had hit me a few days earlier that this would be the first time I've played a “first show” with a brand new band since 1998. My first show with Victims a few years ago didn't really count because although it was a first for me, Victims had been around since 1997. I was a little nervous that night because it felt like I was on trial in front of the Stockholm punk rock elite, but today was a whole other kettle of fish. I was fucking shitting myself! Although I did my best to hide it from the rest of the guys.. I rarely get nervous before shows and it was pissing me off that I was nervous now.

Hometown shows are always a little special, but add to that playing with a brand new band, playing songs most people have never heard before, with the crowd containing a fair contingent of friends and band mates and you've got a recipe that will make your ring-piece quiver. By the time the night came around I was just looking forward to having it over and done with. I tried to shake the nerves from my system, telling myself to get a grip, that this isn't like me, but it was no good. The butterflies continued to flutter...

I started this band with Viktor the day after Andy told me that he and Kristin were having another baby and Victims would have to scratch plans for a west coast States tour we had in the pipeline. As happy as I was for Andy and Kristin, I had an overwhelming feeling of panic, a panic that was screaming my touring days were numbered. Of course, sense would soon prevail and I'd realise I was being stupid, that Andy would still want to tour when things had settled down, albeit with a smidge more planning, but at that time I knew I had to get in touch with Viktor and ask him to play in a band with me. Besides, playing in bands with good friends is far too much fun to restrict yourself to just the one.

I'd been thinking about asking Viktor to start a band with me for a while anyway, since he'd become a good friend and is a great drummer. Of course he was still playing in Nitad as well as Pig Eyes, but I had a feeling he might be up for starting a straight up hardcore band with me anyway. When Viktor told me he was in, I then thought of Bloody Kev, since we'd promised ourselves upon leaving Raging Speedhorn that we'd get another band together one day. Although he still lived in London and practising would take some organising, I knew he was just looking for an excuse to visit Stockholm on a more regular basis. So a simple text message back and forth and Kev was in too. With the three of us sorted, all we needed was a bassist. I had a couple of ideas but Viktor had already made his mind up. Our Brazilian friend Lucas was living here and hadn't been in a band since Avalanche back home had split up. He'd always been a guitarist but Viktor knew he'd jump at the chance to play, bass or whatever it was, it wouldn't matter. Weirdly enough, Lucas told us later on that he'd actually been thinking of asking me and Viktor about a band but we'd beaten him to it. So Lucas was in too..

When I started writing songs I was just wanting to come up with some simple, straight up hardcore somewhere along the lines of Totalitär mixed with a bit of old UKHC stuff, thinking that when Lucas began to write we'd get a good mix of things. So I wrote a couple of songs along that line but Viktor had other ideas. From the start he began playing the songs about three times as fast as I'd planned and it kind of stuck. When Kev turned up and started screaming on them we'd become something completely different to what I'd first thought we'd be.. but I was chuffed all the same.

From that first practice things moved along pretty quickly and within four months we'd recorded our first seven inch with a couple of labels in place to release it and we'd booked our first show, with P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S. and Kvoteringen. Ironically, Jen was now expecting our baby and all of a sudden my life was going at two hundred miles an hour... Still, Jen plays in Black Whitesnake and although we're both delighted about having a kid, neither of us intend to stop playing music. So now, I'm in three bands with a baby on the way. Funny the left turns life continues to take.

So before we head to the gig, we squeeze in a quick run through of the set at the practice room. The set is only twelve minutes so it's not a problem. We turn up at Kafe 44 and hang out with Bengtsson who is at his usual piss taking best. He puts me at immediate ease with his gibing. Sikas is with us, who's decided he's selling our merch at every single show we play. He's up for selling some “blouses” as he puts it and partying with us. He's travelled up from Göteborg just for tonight, the crazy bastard. Another friend, Grind Ove who works at Trash Palace record shop, is also hanging out. Sikas and Ove are discussing the haul of records Sikas purchased at Trash Palace earlier, a usual occurrence when Sikas is in town. It's said that Sikas owns something like sixteen different versions of Scum by Napalm Death...And that he owns nothing by them after From Enslavement...

We sit down at one of the tables in the café and ease ourselves into the night with a couple of medium strength beers, mellanöl as it's called in Sweden. I don't dare get too drunk before the show... Another friend hanging out is Christoffer, who used to play in Sonic Ritual with Viktor and now plays in AC4. Of course, the punk scene being the incestuous merry-go-round it is, Christoffer also played in a band with Kelly from P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S. and Andy from Victims, but those guys haven't seen Kelly for a long time since he moved back to Portland from Germany. Unfortunately, Christoffer's in a bit of a sorry state since he's broken his toe, or foot or something and won't be able to hang around for the show tonight. Good to see him all the same. It's funny, I remember the first time that Kev set eyes on Christoffer was at Punk Illegal a few years ago. He was wearing this black pin striped suit and some ridiculous Kim Jong Il/Paris Hilton sunglasses. I have to say, I've always admired the cut of Christoffer's jib, he's not afraid to “go there” if you know what I mean... I could see the look on Kev's face though and I knew he was thinking, “Who's this posing cunt?”. But before he could express his thoughts Christoffer had turned around and there, sitting proudly, covering the entire back of his suit jacket was a Gauze patch. Gauze being Kev's all time favourite band, the look on his face was priceless. They seem to have gotten on well ever since.

It's only an hour until doors and there is no sign of either Kvoteringen or P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S. so it's up to us to sound check. I was only too happy for the chance since I was hoping it would settle my stomach. It didn't start well though. At Kafé 44 you never know who you're going to have doing the in-house sound for you since it's a DIY schooling ground for young people finding their way around a sound board. I know a few people who worked here early on in their sound-engineer careers, Johan Victims being a prime example. It really is a great thing that the institution that is the Kafé exists and young punks get the chance at a self supervised apprenticeship, doing sound for all types of DIY bands that come through. That said, I don't know if it was this particular guy's first punk gig or what, but when Viktor started checking his snare drum and the guy asked, “Are you really going to hit it that hard during the gig?” I had a sinking feeling we were in for a rough time...

Not like I'm a fucking expert or anything... The Kafé's guitar cab I was using had no ohm indicator by the speaker input. Now I couldn't even tell to you what a fucking ohm is, it doesn't matter how many times Johan has tried to explain it to me..so I asked the sound guy if he knew how many ohms the cab was at, but he told me he had no clue about such things. Well that makes two of us.. I actually had to call Johan whilst bent over the fucking thing, contorting my torso into the slither of space between the back of the amp and the wall, hoping he could help me out. He told me that if the cab doesn't have a marker on it then sixteen ohms from the amp is always safe. He went through the whole explanation of how ohms work, again, but he may as well have been talking Chinese to me. I thought to myself that the next time I get a tattoo done I'll get a 16 written on my arm somewhere...

We eventually went through a couple of songs. Sikas, and another friend; Jamie, who plays in I LIKE BUGS with Kev and had flown in from London to hang out for the show, listened in while we played. The sound guy had been having a bit of a struggle with the P.A. but things seemed to be progressing ... I guess it didn't really help that the speakers in the P.A. were pretty shagged.. He asked us to play through a song once we'd eventually got the different sounds up. He was pretty thrown though when the song was done after thirty seconds.. After pissing about with another couple of songs we finally arrived at what Sikas and Jamie though was a decent enough sound. We packed down the gear and went off to meet Jen and grab some food at La Neta.

It was Saturday night and it was one of Kafé 44's party nights, meaning they had beer for sale. It's usually an all-ages place where they sell coffee, soda and vegan food. There are both positives and negatives to them selling booze on these occasions. Obviously, they're selling beer and the atmosphere is in that case a lot looser and people tend to hang out at the venue and party a lot more, but of course they can only do this by making it over eighteens, which is a shame. The problem being when they don't sell booze all the older punks fuck off to the pubs around the block between bands, leaving the place desolate for long periods of time which kills the atmosphere completely. And it usually means that you start playing to nobody and hope that the room slowly filters in people as you play through the set. Still, without doubt, Kafé 44 is still my favourite place to play in Stockholm. When you play a packed show here there is no beating it.

Anyway, when we get back, having filled ourselves on great Mexican food, the Kafé is indeed starting to fill out. Sikas is sat at the merch table where we're selling all of one t-shirt design and a badge, with a huge grin on his face. He's surrounded by a gang on young, blonde girls and he's lapping it up, sat there looking like a right slick bastard! “What the fuck is going on ére!?” exasperates Kev, “Fuck bringing Sikas along to every show if this is the crack!” Me and Viktor piss ourselves laughing.

There are a large amount of friends here tonight and I'm beginning to feel more settled, the nerves finally starting to subside. There are some work mates that have come along to the show too, which is always fun because they come from a completely different scene and it's always interesting to see their reaction to this music we play. There are even a couple of old boys who regularly hang out at Snotty who no doubt tagged along when they heard that the beer was only twenty kronors here...

Before I know it the clock says eight-fifteen and the time for the first DB set has arrived. On in fifteen minutes. It's time to play the first “first show” in a long time. I'm now back to shitting myself! So nervous my legs are like fucking jelly. I fucking hate this. I haven't felt like this since I was a kid treading the stage for the first time at Channel 2 in Corby with Sect. I forgot.. It is so much worse when you're playing to a room full or friends. As soon as I'm on stage and plugged in the feeling subsides again though. Well almost. I can tell Lucas is nervous as well since he's pacing back and forth across the stage checking that everything is in place. The room slowly begins to fill. Here they come.. Ok, let's get this thing going. Just twelve minutes and then we're out of here.

We're all set, ready to go. But... No sound from Lucas' amp. My amp actually, my Marshall JMP . Got Lucas going Lemmy style. I see him on the other side of Kev, banging away at his strings, confused as to the lack of sound coming from the amp, a look of mild panic on his coupon. I have a feeling I know what's up though. I walk over to him and my suspicions are confirmed. I turn the standby switch to “on” and voilà. We give each other a nervous laugh. Ok, let's fucking do this!

Fuck me, the songs feel fast. The first block of three are all connected so that there is no pause in between them and by the time we get to the end of it my forearms are cramping with tension. There was one little sloppy exchange between the first and second song, something we all notice but hopefully nobody watching could tell. How could they? They've never heard any of this shit before. I look down at Jen, who is stood at the front, protecting her pregnant belly by hiding away in the doorway to the corridor that runs along the other side of the wall from the gig room, smiling away as we play, but I can tell she can't really make out much of what is going on. She's heard me jangling about with some of these riffs at home but now everything is all going so fast that it's a bit of a blurrrrrrr. It hits me then that, to the rest of the crowd this must sound like utter chaos. Of course, that's kind of what it's supposed to sound like, but maybe the choice we made of linking the songs together when no one has ever heard them before wasn't the best idea.. The idea was that since most of the songs are less than fifty seconds it would be better to do it that way, so the set wouldn't just be a load of gaps filled out with some noisy music, but now I just see a look of total confusion on most people's faces.. Thankfully there are some smiles around too.. Thankfully they're not of the piss taking kind either..

Fuck it. By about half way through, around about six minutes later, I feel myself truly beginning to loosen up and I'm even starting to enjoy it. The couple of breaks there are in the set are met with generous applause and cheering and the songs are tight enough, despite the nervous strain on my muscles. Everything is still way fast, but it always is live. I learnt that pretty quick when I joined Victims. Record speed. Practice room speed. Live speed. Three completely different things..

And then it's over. Thank fuck for that. First show done. I think it actually went pretty well. Lucas seemed to have a great time, he'd really been going for it the whole time. It was his first show with any band for three years and he'd been missing it. It was Kev's first show actually singing for a while as well, since he's been mainly “playing bass” for the last year or so with I LIKE BUGS and Shit Filter. Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd utter. I'm drenched in sweat and relieved that it all went well enough. The other three seem pretty chuffed and if they're happy then I'm happy. I pack up my gear as soon as I can and chill out. The guitar player from P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S. grabs me in the corridor, “That was fucking brutal man!” Cheers, I gasp between breaths. I can tell the sound wasn't so great, something confirmed to me by a couple of honest friends shortly afterwards, but fuck it. What pleases me most is that Johan Victims is smiling broadly, chuffed. He recorded a couple of demo songs that would later be on the first seven inch, so he recognised some riffs amidst the chaos. He has a beaming smile when I see him afterwards and he's waxing lyrical about his admiration for Kev and the energy he still manages to display in his golden years. Not everyone is of the same opinion though. Another friend of ours, Jenny, is a bit drunk and shouting in Lucas' ear that he should do all the singing and not Kev, that Kev is just screaming all the time and Lucas' voice is much better. Lucas just laughs. We're fully aware that this band is not something everybody is going to understand.

On the other side of things there is a guy who is talking to Kev out in the café, somewhat in awe of the fact that Kev was the Hard To Swallow vocalist. He actually can't believe it for a while and stands there looking at Kev, jaw dropped in amazement. Sikas joins in, being that he's also a fan of HTS. It's all going well until the guy makes the mistake of labelling Hard To Swallow as an Iron Monkey side project.. Kev hastily puts him straight.

I see Viktor hanging out with our buddy Modde, the Nitad singer and Jenny's girlfriend, who's steamboats and telling Vic that he loved the show, slurring into his ear a couple of bands who he thought we sounded like a mixture of. Vic is chuffed with the assessment what ever it is. It's always like that when you start a new band, people try and work out who you are a mixture of, which of course is there to be worked out because every new band is a mixture of some older stuff. There is nothing new under the sun, as they say. Someone else tells me that they thought we sounded like D-Clone covering Totalitär songs, and that was just fine by me.

A little while later one of the old boys that usually hangs out at the bar I manage approaches me. Jorma, a chuffed, Finnish pisshead. I can't quite believe he's tagged along tonight. He grabs a hold of me with a huge smile on his face and gives me a bottle of beer. I thank him gratefully. “I used to work at a steel plant back in the day, I recognised that melody from that place on stage!” He then pisses himself laughing and then gives me another hug. Good old boy.

It's a relief to finally be able to relax and enjoy the night. I watch parts of the Kvoteringen and P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S. sets but spend most of the night chatting to different friends and acquaintances, as you always do on these occasions. The beer soon runs dry in the bar though, which of course coincides with a large chunk of the public disappearing. No beer, no punks. By the time P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S. are done the place has emptied considerably and Bengtsson wants to close the place as quick as he can. I get chatting to the guitarist from P.R.O.B.L.E.M.S. for a while who seems to be a really nice guy. He tells me about how their tour has been going and how their show in Oslo the night before had been a bust since there had been a big ruckus between some punks and Nazi skinheads in town and when the punks at their show got word of what was going on they'd all fled to aid their comrades. What are you supposed to do? The punks had to go and stand up to those assholes but the band went from playing a packed little show to playing to pretty much no one. Tough break. Fucking Nazi's...

Bengtsson eventually clears the last stragglers out and it's time to head off. Andy Victims, Kev and I end up taking the train over to Brooklyn Bar and meeting the rest crew there who had taken a cab. The place is packed when we arrive but Sikas has procured a table so we park ourselves. There is beer a plenty and no one goes parched for the rest of the night. My old work mate Frasse is stood behind the bar taking care of us. Lucas is buzzing from playing his first show in a long time and seems to be well on the road to inebriation. Viktor is sat beside him with a broad smile on his face, looking like he's on the same journey. Andy's got that look I know that tells me he's half pissed as well and Kev is cosying down into one of the big armchairs, gently nodding off into the land of sleep, something that happens all the time with that fucker. The first time I saw Kev in this state was at an impromptu party that Speedhorn played in the basement of the King George by the Astoria in London, long before he joined the band. I clocked him from the stage, stood propped up against the bar, full pint in hand, stupid grin on his face, fast asleep. I've witnessed it many times since, tonight being just another such occasion.

There are a shit load of friends hanging out and the atmosphere is buzzing. Now that the first show is done and we survived it, I find myself wishing we were on tour and that we were heading off to another show somewhere else tomorrow... It seems that everyone sat around our table is pretty pissed up, everyone except myself and Jamie, but that's fine with me. I'm having a great time anyway. I had a pretty rough ride a few weeks ago, and I have no need to experience that again any time soon.. It was the previous time Kev was over and D-Clone were playing 44. The day after I suffered the worst hangover I'd experienced since I was a teenager. Total sprawled out on the bog floor, cuddling the pan and praying to God for mercy stuff. Fuck that crack! I don't do hangovers very well.. Thankfully I don't do them very often nowadays..

Andy heads off after the one beer, he's got a new baby at home and I guess it's not really the time to be getting fucked up. The rest of us shuffle out when the lights in the bar come on a little after three. Lucas is shouting “After party”, and doing some sort of tropical dance. He only lives around the corner so we head there. Fuck it, it's not often I'm out this late and I'm sober. The band and Jamie end up sat around at Lucas' place passing a bottle of cachaca around whilst Lucas runs around his flat hysterically, playing air guitar to the Crazy Spirit album spinning on the turntable. Like a kid, I put the bottle to my mouth but don't take in any of the spirit, fooling the others in to thinking I'm drinking. Ridiculous really, don't know why I don't just tell them I don't want any. Jamie has a few drops as does Kev, who is now falling asleep on Lucas' couch.

Lucas is in great form though. Between running around and drinking cachaca, he makes us some grub. I get him to put the kettle on. So at the “after party” I'm sat drinking tea and eating cheese on toast like an old man. All I'm missing is the tartan slippers and the cardigan. Jamie is vegan, so Lucas makes him a bit of toast with a carrot on it. I find this hilarious but Jamie seems chuffed enough. We end up staying an hour or so until I feel the sudden urge to go home. Kev, Jamie and I depart leaving Lucas dancing about the place and Viktor taking good care of the cachaca. We jump in a cab back to my place, getting home sometime around four thirty.

Funny thing is, now I'm actually in the mood for a night cap and offer the boys a drop of whiskey. I make the sofa bed up and then the three of us sit there watching some inane late night tv, nursing a glass of eighteen year old Talisker. Me and Jamie are chatting away, enjoying the peppery taste of one of my favourite Scotch whiskeys whilst Kev is slumped with his glass resting on his chest. When he eventually takes a sip he shunts the glass in my direction, “Fucking minging!”. Cheeky bastard. Me and Jamie share the rest of Kev's and leave him to sleep, before eventually calling it a night ourselves.

When I climb into bed beside Jen, I'm now glad that we're not on tour, because if I was then I'd most likely be getting up again in a few hours to drive all day and right now I couldn't be fucked with that. Right now, crawling into bed with my pregnant wife will do just fine. And besides, there will be plenty of tours in the future...   

New York/New England

Rochester, New York... One of those places I'd never heard of before coming here, and if it wasn't for this tour then I'd probably have spent the rest of my days ignorant of it's presence on this planet of ours.

Americans often get the piss taken out of them for their geographical ineptitude, for that they don't know things like Sweden and Switzerland aren't the same place, or what the name of the capital city of Belarus is, as an example... But in truth, such piss taking is a little unfair. A little.. Obviously not all Americans are this inept, at the same time it's not like all Europeans know what the state capital of Kentucky is, or where Rochester, New York is on the map, as an example.. One thing I've learnt to appreciate more and more each day on this tour is that the USA is a big fucking country! Indeed, it is almost the same size as the entire continent of Europe so maybe it's not so weird that a lot of it's inhabitants horizons don't expand past their own borders. To be fair, a lot of people I went to school with probably couldn't tell you what the capital of Belarus is either...

Anyway, I'd never fucking of heard of Rochester, New York before. And that's shameful in itself since apparently after New York City and Buffalo, it's the third largest city in the state...

Of course, when we pulled up to the venue in the van, we could have been anywhere. It was mid afternoon, it was grey and it was cold. We were on the shore of the lake, it's water so still and dark it looked like it was in the throes of depression. The city must have been far from wherever we were right now. All there was here was the lake and a few lonely streets lined with houses in varying degrees of regress.

We were a little early so we decided to go down to the lake and check out the views from a closer vantage point. We didn't last much longer than five minutes though, such was the cold. We headed back inside the venue and “hung out”, by which I mean we sat around and did the sum of nothing for about an hour. All this free time on tour and all you do is sit around and wait for the fun of loading in the gear. The venue was basically a large bar with a high stage up against the back wall. It was a good size place. If experience was anything to go by then it should make for a good show tonight.

Nile and the other bands turned up in dribs and drabs over the course of the late afternoon and by the time we were loaded in and set up there was still another couple of hours to kill before doors. There was no food on offer at the venue so we decided to go to a local bar for some grub, check in with the locals. There happened to be a place only a couple of hundred meters down the road, so most of us headed there.

It was an old wooden building and the door creaked as we walked in. It was like a scene from many a film, where the out-of-towner's walk into the room and meet the glaring eyes of the three locals sat at the bar as the music abruptly grinds to a halt. Well, it was almost like that. At least, that's how it felt under the weight of the hangover we were all carrying on our backs. We shuffled to the bar and were taken a little by surprise at the friendly tone of the old guy I assume was the landlord. We ordered some beer and some food, all of us taking burger and chips. To the delight of Lasse and Kev, they actually had a veggie burger on the menu. As we paid the man and took our beer to a table against the opposing wall, the gaze of a haggard, middle aged looking woman who was sat at the bar, followed us all the way to our destination, and stayed with us for quite some time afterwards. The two bikers playing pool couldn't give much of a shit about us, thankfully...

We sat there drinking the standard American lager and chatted over the hushed tones of the standard hard rock on the jukebox, the lady at the bar looking over and smiling every once in a while. When the friendly old landlord came with the grub, the woman followed him and sat down at our table, cosying up to Kev. She was fucking boats. We all grinned as Kev got a chatter-full of bad teeth in his ear. She was cackling whilst babbling something barely comprehensible, the whole while her hand flirting with Kev's thigh. Kev's laughter barely disguised how nervous he was, ours barely disguised how chuffed we were. Eventually the landlord came to Kev's rescue and ushered the old drunk back to the bar, where he duly poured her another drink. Weird scene.

The food was good anyway, just what the hangover needed. Everyone seemed to be in better spirits by the time the plates were taken from the table, except Lasse, who's hangover seemed to have a tighter grip on him than the rest of us. He was complaining of having a pain in his guts, that he was desperate for a turd but dared not go to the toilet in this place. By the time the second and third beer had been drunk he could no longer hold out and so he slurked off to the bog. He was gone a while, maybe ten minutes or so. I imagined how he must be suffering in there and needing a piss myself, I decided to go see how he was getting on.

I walked past the bikers at the pool table to the door with “Gents” scribbled on it. I almost pissed my jeans with laughter when I walked in to find Lasse sat on the toilet in the middle of the room, kecks around his ankles, a woefully sad expression on his coupon. After a quick glance, I realised that it was one of those classic American set ups. The toilet was in the middle of the room, completely in the open, no door or even cubicle around it. On the wall beside it was a single urinal and there was of course no lock on the one and only door, the door I was presently holding open as I pissed myself laughing at his sad, little face. I scurried back to the lads and assured them they had to go check Lasse out.

By the time Lasse was back with us, the lady had rejoined the group, and she was now working her way on to Daz. It soon came to the fore that we were a band, playing down the road. She obviously wanted to come along. Daz told her he'd put her on the list as we were fucking off out of there. She never turned up. Well, maybe she did but she didn't make it past the beef head security guards on the door at any rate.

The place was pretty packed by the time we played, maybe three hundred people in the place. It was certainly more people than I ever imagined I'd be playing to in Rochester, New York. It's amazing really, because I never thought we'd end up here with this band. We never thought this far ahead in the beginning. I certainly never thought we'd ever play outside of the UK. So to be stood there on stage to three hundred people in a city in the States I'd never heard of before was really quite mind blowing. Shame that almost everyone in there hated us.

It was a bastard as well because it was one of those high stages which made the crowd feel all the more comfortable in giving us shit. We played as hard as we could, which with our short hair and non-death metal clothing really seemed to piss the crowd off all the more. One great thing happened on stage tonight though. Actually two great things happened, although they spawned from the same incident. Brian from Soilent Green/Eyehategod got up on stage and played EHG's 30$ Bag with us. The same song we would later do a cover of on the tribute record Chris was releasing. I've rarely been so buzzed. I felt like a fucking kid up on that stage, a kid getting to play with one of his heroes.

The other great thing that happened is that what I was thinking John said aloud as he introduced Brian on stage, namely that we'd stick it to the crowd, who obviously were into Soilent Green but hated us. With great pride John announced that we had a “very good friend” coming up on stage with us and then he grandly gestures the arrival of Brian from Soilent Green. If we were expecting this to win us over a few punters, we were sadly mistaken. “Yeah, you're still shit though!” comes an immediate reply from some wise ass. Most of the band cracked up laughing, partly due to the cheek of the bastard in the crowd and the genuine appreciation of the quick wit with which he delivered his response and partly because we usually found it funny when one of us was made to look a cunt.

Still, it was amazing playing 30$ Bag with Brian... After the show we actually found one guy who was a massive fan of the band and he insisted on buying us all a drink. We happily accepted his offer, of course. He went on to apologise for the gig and explained that it's the wrong scene for us tonight. We explained that we'd gotten used to it by now and that it was usually a good crack anyway. The funny thing was, this guy was really into the latest record, which at the time was How The Great Have Fallen, a record that we weren't that pleased with. By the time we released the following album we were no longer playing any songs from HTGHF, such was our disdain for it. Still, it was nice to meet a genuine fan for a change. “Man, the song Slay The Coward, it's a fucking masterpiece!” Ok buddy, I don't know if I'd go that far but mine's a IPA if you're buying...

The next day we were in Poughkeepsie, which is a place I'd heard of, although all I knew of the place is that it had a funny sounding name. I'd always had the impression that upstate New York was a rich area, I don't know why exactly, I guess I'd assumed it was like the “countryside” in England, where the “elite” had their summer homes. I was in for somewhat of a surprise when we jumped out of the van in Poughkeepsie. We literally fell right into a scene from that horrible tv show, Cops. A young, “African American” in ludicrously baggy tracksuit pants and a basketball top as long as a frock was bent over a cop car with his hands cuffed, shouting at some mean looking “European American” cop who was roughing him up across the car's bonnet. Everyone stood around staring at the scene in shock for a minute or so before Dutch ushered us inside the venue. “Yeah, upstate New York isn't a great place to hang out...”

I don't remember much of the show, it was probably shit. The only thing I remember is the lot of us going for a walk after soundcheck, before the sun went down, and only getting as far as the back of the block that the club belonged to. We got to a big roundabout, which was a peculiar site in the USA, looked at that for a minute and then walked back. I also remember watching Nile from the closed off balcony in the venue, the lot of us taking the piss out of Ghost Tramp's hair... And that's about it.

The next day we were in Worcester, Massachusetts. We were there early and the venue was huge, probably the biggest of the entire tour. Aside from the venue, the part of town we were in seemed to offer nothing but a typically long, faceless street that's main point of interest seemed to be a kebab shop. Fuck that! With the whole day to kill, Lasse, Kev and I decided we'd take the train into Boston, which was about a half hour ride away. I was literally stunned when everyone else decided they couldn't be arsed...

So the three of us took off for the day. The journey was actually closer to an hour than the thirty minutes advertised but it was pretty cool riding the train all the same. It really was just like you see on tv, with the old guy in the hat and the ticket machine hung over his shoulder, shouting the stations out as we approached them. It was a gorgeously sunny day when we arrived in Boston. One day you're walking around in a thick jacket, shoulders hunched over in an attempt to keep out the cold air of Lake Ontario, a couple of days later you're walking beside the Charles River in a t-shirt...

We had a great day walking around the beautiful city of Boston, the three of us doing our best impression of the European tourist. We checked out the harbour and then went to the Cheers bar, both a tourist theme version of it and the original façade they used for the show's title credits. We had some amazing vegetarian food in China town and we took a coffee at some cosy place by City Square Park. The only thing I didn't get to check off the list was a visit to Newbury Comics, the famous record shop, but there's a limit to what you can fit into four hours. All the same, it turned out to be a relief just to break away from the rest of the pack.

We returned to Worcester around five pm, it was already getting dark by the time we made it back to the huge venue we were playing. There was a large communal dressing room where we found our boys sitting about looking bored. I asked Gords what they'd done with the day, not wanting to go full on about our pleasant excursion to Boston. “We went to that kebab shop,” was Gords' sullen reply. I left the conversation there...

The venue was a weird one. It was this gigantic town hall looking building, all tired white concrete on the outside. Inside it was basically just a large, brightly lit, elongated room that must have held about three thousand people. There was a massive stage at the far end and a bar area at the back and that was about the only features I remember.

The venue was no more than half full all night though, and even then it was another one of those occasions where the punters left in droves after Hypocrisy finished. Our show was just another nothing affair, neither good nor particularly bad, it just seemed to melt in with the rest of them. There were probably a good six hundred people watching as we played as hard as we could up on that big, high stage, but there was plenty of space for each one of those six hundred to swing the proverbial cat. Playing big, half empty venues is always a weird experience. I'd rather play a basement show to sixty people any day of the week. It doesn't help things when the huge venue you're playing seemingly refuses to turn the fucking house lights off. What can I say? We got up on stage, got the odd head nodding, the odd face sneering, kicked the fuck out of the set list for twenty minutes and fucked off again.

I remember later on in the night, being stuck in a stairwell side stage with Ghost Tramp and one of Nile's techs before they went on to play. Ghost Tramp was sucking on a cig and looked at me and grinned, “Fucking Worcester, tough crowd!” I just nodded in agreement. You don't know the half of it mate, I thought to myself. He went on stage shortly afterwards, I went over to that kebab shop to see if they had any falafel...

Ohio

After the long escape from the van the day before in Chicago, I was really in the mood for some more sightseeing, now that we'd had a taste.  It's not even so much the sightseeing, I can spend long periods of time looking at the most banal things, it's more the chance to take in some fresh air and stretch the legs.  What a difference a day and a couple of hundred miles make though.

When we stepped out of the van behind the club in Cincinnati it was mid afternoon, although the grey sky could have fooled you into believing it was later.  We were parked up in a small, public car park that belonged to a block building that housed the club as well as a few shops.  It looked like Canada Square up the Exeter estate in Corby, and anyone who's been there will know that that particular place is a hell hole...

Still, I was up for a walk so I asked Dutch how far we were from the city, downtown or wherever the action was.  “You're in it” he replied without a hint of sarcasm.  I told him that I was going to go for a walk, he warned me not to go on my own and not to talk to anyone who approached us in the street.  “This is not a nice place...”.  He was deadly serious.  What the fuck?

Even though it was great walking around Chicago with the boys yesterday, taking in the sights and all, sometimes it is nice to break away from the pack and just head off on your own.  It didn't seem like that would be a wise choice today though so I convinced Kev to follow along with me.  I couldn't believe that the area we were walking around was the downtown area of Cincinnati, I had the feeling Dutch just couldn't be arsed with us all fucking off before load in.  I've since learned though that not all US cities are like New York.  A lot of the time the downtown area is just where the corporate district is, the skyscrapers are just tall office buildings and at night time the place is dead.  I was learning more about this country every day.  I don't know where the nightlife or the shopping was at in Cincinnati, but these streets we were walking were truly uninviting.

One thing I've learned about the USA is that behind all the gloss there is a lot of poverty.  It was there before our eyes as we walked the blocks that lay in the venue's radius, the area seemed to be bleeding poverty from it's veins.  The streets were lined with dilapidated terraced houses, the sidewalks were cracked and defeated.  It looked more like Poland during the Nazi occupation than the streets of a city that belonged to the planet's wealthiest nation.  The “American Dream” must be the biggest fucking scam a government has ever pulled on it's people.

We walked around for a half hour or so, but every corner turned seemed to reveal the same depressed expression.  As if feeling a need to at least do something with our venture we went to a petrol station and bought a snack, and then headed back to the venue.  On our way back some young guy with his hood pulled up crossed the street towards us and mumbled something about drugs.  I don't know if he was buying or selling but we got the fuck out of there without saying a word.

We'd been getting the Eyehategod song together during soundcheck and it's starting to sound good.  I was looking forward to pulling it off at a show and getting Brian up on stage with us to play it.  It wasn't quite ready yet though.  The club tonight was a large, basic room with a floor sloping down towards the stage and a long bar along the right hand wall.  I had a hard time imagining where the people would come from to fill the place but sure enough, it was pretty packed by the time we went on.  We had a pretty good show too, we didn't take a lot of abuse and there were a few hardcore kids down the front moving about.  There was of course a contingent of death metallers stood towards the back looking bored or worse, smirking at us, but that was standard by this point.  The margins for what classes a good show had been widened somewhat...

We hung out Chris at the merch stall as Soilent Green played their set.  They truly impressed every single night.  Chris is a nice guy, we'd gotten to know him pretty well by now and it felt like he'd taken us under his wing a little.  He was telling us that he thought we were a great band and that he'd be interested in helping us out in the States.  He told us that he thought we should get Bianchi to fuck and get someone else involved.  He couldn't believe we were wasting our money coming to the States only to play on a tour that was so obviously ill fitting for us.  To be honest though, we didn't fit whatever bill we played on.  We knew what we were getting ourselves into on this tour and we couldn't blame Bianchi for that.  We all jumped at the chance to travel around the States getting pissed for free.  We knew fine well we'd be fighting the audience every night.  It wasn't the first time I'd heard people from other bands advising us on how we should steer ourselves, but in all honesty, I was starting to feel lost and disillusioned.  I was sick of the fighting.  And even though we might not have been battling with each other as regularly by this stage, now that Frank and Tony had left the band, it seemed we were still fighting everyone else.  I was growing tired of it.  I didn't mind fighting the blockhead, death metal crowds, that was fun, but there were small signs that things were once again going sour with the label and that was fucking taxing.  Some of the guys seemed to be chuffed at the thought of Chris helping us out, but I was just feeling jaded.  Maybe it was just the tour, the booze and the lack of sleep taking it's toll, I don't know...

We sold a bit of merch tonight anyway and Lasse was far happier.  It was a lot easier for him on night's like this when the merch table was in the actual room we're playing and everyone is hanging out.  We had a few beers after the show and by the time the show came to a close the heavy atmosphere we'd experienced earlier on the streets of Cincinnati had washed away.  Dutch was still on his toes though.  He'd been sat in the van all night, saying he didn't trust leaving it out back with nobody to guard it.  He sure as fuck wasn't planning on staying the night and told us in no uncertain terms that we'd be leaving as soon as we were loaded in.

We headed off with a pack of beer from Nile's van and chilled out in front of a film as Dutch drove a couple of hours down the highway.  Sean, the singer from With Passion joined us, telling us he was sick of travelling with his band.  We told him it was cool to hang out with us for the night.   Dutch pulled into a service station an hour outside of Cleveland.  We were staying here for the night since the club was in a busy area of the city and there was no parking until load in.

Of course, the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame is in Cleveland, so Dutch took us there for the afternoon.  I wonder how many times he's been there with bands?  I have to say, I didn't think I'd give that much of a shit but truthfully, it was a pretty great museum.  The first thing I saw hanging on the wall was Johnny Cash's guitar.  I guess I am a  music geek deep down because that impressed the fuck out of me!  There was a lot of other fun stuff to look at too.  What is really cool about the place is that if you have a tour pass with you, you get in for free, and free is always good.  As an added bonus, it was situated on the shore of the lake as well as right next to the Cleveland Browns stadium.  Water and sports stadiums are two things that I always love to look at, there is just something about them that brings a certain harmony to my being...  So far I was liking Cleveland a lot more than Cincinnati...

The club was in the middle of the downtown area, right in the middle of everything.  The place was buzzing.  Nice to be back in civilisation again.. The club itself was right up our alley as well, small stage in a small room that fit around four hundred people inside.  It was more a bar than a club in actual fact.  The room where the gig would take place was one of a few different rooms housed within the same complex, with an upstairs bar and a smaller games room beside.  I was looking forward to the coming evening, it had party written all over it.  I could sense that everybody in the band was on the same wavelength...

One very weird rumour doing the rounds tonight was that Will Smith and his wife would be coming to the show.  Apparently they were big fans of Soilent Green!  Fucking bizarre.  It seemed to be the subject on everyone's lips for the early part of the evening.  Of course, they didn't show... but it was funny how everyone seemed to be buzzing about it when they thought it was happening.

After load in was done and Nile were finished soundchecking, Jay had wondered into the sex shop beside the venue to check it out.  This is not something he does to gain a laugh, and it's not something he is embarrassed by.. the boy likes sex and everything to do with it, simple as that.  Hilariously whilst he was in there browsing some scud mags, he noticed Ghost Tramp from Nile shadily walking about the joint, obviously not wanting to be seen.  Jay joyfully slides up beside him as he's stood in an aisle looking at something or other and greets him, “Alright mate!  Nice place eh?”  Ghost Tramp looks mortified and for a moment Jay thinks he's actually going to pull the classic Woah, where am I?!  line, or whatever else would quickly spring to his rescue, but he doesn't.  He just puts his head down, red face burning a hole in the floor at his feet, mumbles back a hello and makes a sharp exit.  Jay is obviously delighted by this.  After picking up a couple of mags, he hurries back to the club to tell us and we all piss ourselves laughing.  Poor Ghost Tramp...

The show tonight is one of the best of the tour, definitely up there with Orangevale and San Antonio.  These smaller places normally help us out.  The room is packed when we play and the crowd kicks off.  Nothing like a small, sweaty show to rejuvenate the soul.  We've pretty much got the Eyehategod cover together by now, although it wasn't quite ready for tonight.  We're hoping it will be ready for tomorrow.  Shame, it would have went down a storm tonight.

When Soilent play I can barely get in the room to see them.  It's fucking wild in there and the wake of the mosh pit seems to be lapping all the way to the back of the room.  It really has been theirs and Hypocrisy's tour for the most part.  Ben is furious after the show since yet again Nile have commented on how many different designs of shirt they're selling.  The Nile merch guy, this big guy who looks like Sloth from The Goonies, has been pretty cool up to now, but it's obvious his employees have been on his back about keeping the other bands it tow.  You can tell as he awkwardly asks the Soilent guys to take a few shirts down.  What the fuck is this all about really?

At the end of the night we all head to the bar upstairs where there is an after show party going on.  It seems like all of the bands are in attendance and most nearly everybody is having a good time.  We're letting loose on some cocktails that we're getting at a very friendly price.  I end up pretty steaming as do the rest of the boys.  This girl called Sarah is at the party.  She used to play drums in Kelly Osborne’s band, before Osbourne was forced by her manager to fire her.  It was all filmed and shown on the Osbournes tv show.  Anyway, she's here and unbelievably Kev has hooked up with her.  It all gets a bit hazy late on in the night, but I remember Kev and this girl making out with each other in this little pink, den room off to the side of the bar.  It turns out it's some VIP booth.  We're denied access by some meathead security guys but we all stand by the entrance, pissed and pointing at Kev as he sits there with this girl on his lap, the usual stupid grin on his face.

When we get back aboard the disco bus, ready to leave for our next destination, Kev is nowhere to be found.  He finally turns up and we give it the standard “Waheey!” chant, but Kev is having none of it.  It seems he really liked her and not only that, he got her number.  He swears she's a really cool girl, despite the Osbourne connotations.  Despite his protests, we spend the rest of the night taking the piss out of him.  I can't actually recall if he ever did see her again.. I have a vague memory of their paths crossing one other time but I'm not sure..

Having had a dose of the tour blues in Cincinnati, Cleveland had provided me with the boost I'd desperately needed.  That's touring for you I suppose.