Geissen

It just wouldn't feel like a real tour without a little bit of van trouble.

We get up, all of us pretty groggy from the lack of sleep. We're heading to Geissen today to play a show with Burial, since the Municipal guys are having a day off on their tour. The drive ahead of us is at least eleven hours so we've got time for a quick breakfast and then we have to get going.

Reproach also have a gig of their own in Frankfurt, which is roughly the same distance we have to travel. We had arranged to meet them at 7am so they could help us get our van started. We don't really know what the problem is but every time the engine is turned off it needs to be jump started by another cars engine. It seems to be taking longer with each attempt and soon enough the van is just gonna refuse to start all together. If we stall the engine in traffic or worse, on the autobahn, we're really fucked. It's a worrying thought considering the lentgh of the journey today.

So after some more help from our Belgian touring mates, we get going. It takes us a while to find out which road we're supposed to be on since even our GPS system seems to have a problem with Italy. We finally find the road towards the Alps and we settle in for the long journey. Me and Ronnie are up front, armed with cans of energy drinks. I really have to fight hard to stay awake but I don't want to leave Ronnie up here on his own. We do our best to keep each other awake by recounting old tour stories.

When we get to the Alps, once again the weather lifts and the sun comes out and lightens the mood. I sit in awe at the surrounding mountains and the amazing scenery around them. There are small churches dotted around here and there, seemingly carved out on a ledge in the rock. As I'm wondering about who actually to goes to church service around here and how the hell they get there, Jon stirs behind me, telling us to let him know when we reach the Austian border. I wake him a short while later as we drive past the sign announcing we are now enetering Austria and leaving Italy behind us. He says ”Skål!” as he opens his bottle of Fernet and takes a swig.

We soon get to the point where we need to fill up on gas, which obviously means turning off the engine and then finding some kind soul to help us start it again. Jon elects himself to find help. He tells me that he wants to help out when he can, instead of just sitting in the back. Jon actually does more than his share for this band. He's a great song writer and without him I can't imagine Victims existing. It's a sweet gesture of him anyway.

We fill up the tank and Jon says he has found someone to help. Some grumpy old guy starts coming towards the car parked beside us as Jon stands there expectantly, holding the jump leads in his hands. Jon only manages a few words before the old bastard shouts something at him, waving him away before getting into his car and speeding off. Leaving us standing there like a bunch of wankers. We burst out laughing. Johan reflects that maybe we haven't sent the most suitable candidate to find help. Soon enough though, we do get help in the form of two young guys who are more understanding of our situation. And once again we're away.

We repeat this procedure later on in the day when we're again forced to stop to fill up, but not before another run-in with our favourite public service. Not long after we cross the border to Germany we get pulled by the cops. They pull us off the autobahn and we follow them to the nearest police station. We have to tell them that we can't turn off our engine unless they help us start it again. They let us keep it running whilst they go through all the usual routine bollocks. After another half hour wasted they let us get on with our day. We do eventually get to Geissen.

The venue we're playing today is a punk/hardcore collective ran by really good people. It's a converted apartment building by the look of it. It's plump in the middle of a housing estate on the outskirts of the town centre. The set up is great. It looks pretty similar to Kafe 44 back home. They have hot food waiting for us when we arrive. It turns out to be without doubt, the best vegan food I've ever eaten. We get loaded in and chill out for a while, chating with the Burial guys and the people from the venue.

Our old friend Stachel from La Familia Records is here tonight. He's travelling with us to Hamburg tomorrow and he's been busy making calls today to help us with our van situation. He really is a great guy and a true legend in DIY punk circles. He is also hillarious. When he's drunk, which he is tonight, he get's really mischeivous and brutally takes the piss out of anyone in his vacinity. You can't help but the love the guy though, due to the constant smile on his face. He's a rather small chap, so it's easy enough to retort to his abuse. At one point Andy chases him, threating to pick him up and shake him upside-down, although he can't catch him. The pair of them giggle their way throughout the process.

Stachel is constantly on my case. Not only am I the ”new guy”, he also seems to love the fact that I'm English, he takes delight in mocking my land and does everything in his power to get a rise out of me. I hear it all from him...emo boy, gaylord, pretty boy. I think secretly he has a crush on me haha!. He takes delight in mocking me about my blog too, saying I'm doing it because I want people to love me...Hmm? I personally don't see the difference between writing a blog and getting up on stage and playing a show, or putting a record out. There is absolutely no point in trying to get this point across to him, so I just hug him and tell him that I love him. The little bastard at one point comes running into the room and throws a snowball at me, whilst we're sat around talking. It hits me in the chest and he's laughing like a cheeky adolescent. Just exactly as he's joking with me that it's yellow snow, I throw a pile of it back at him and it flies straight into his mouth, leaving him choking and the rest of us pissing ourselves.

We play the show on the floor tonight and it's a lot of fun, although the sound is interesting at best. Burial play. They are fucking awesome but the sound at one point just turns into mush since it's so loud. The room is pure concrete and the sound is bouncing all over it. Nobody seems to mind though and everyone has a great time. I love playing floor shows in tiny places. There are around 60 people here tonight and it's pretty packed. It's a great feeling playing and having the crowd in your face, literally.

It's pretty obvious the sound is not working though. We get to the end of the second song and when we stop, the vocal PA is just screaming feedback. The sound guy either doesn't notice or doesn't care because he does absolutely fuck all about it. We play the next block of songs and the feedback is actually taking over the sound of us playing. I happen to break a string so when I'm changing guitars between songs, Johan disappears into the crowd and takes charge of the sound desk. He scrambles back through the crowd, back to his bass and we carry on. It is a lot fun.

After the show we take our bags to the appartment up stairs where the people who run the place live. We sort our sleeping areas out and then I grab a quick shower, which feels wonderful, before joining the rest of the guys in the kitchen for a beer. We hang out with the incredibly nice people who run the venue and chat into the early hours. It's very relaxed and just what I need. One of the guys who runs the place, Hannes, turns out to have a good friend in common with us. Zach, the guitarist from Black Breath, who we toured the States with last summer, is together with the singer in Hanne's band, Glasses. It's a small, punk rock world we live in.

The rest of the guys go to bed around 3.30 whilst myself and Andy stay up a while longer, chatting away with one of the guys from the house. I eventually climb into my sleeping bag and onto the matress I'm sharing with Johan just after 4am. Tomorrow we're gonna have to work out this problem with the van. At least it's Monday tomorrow, so garages are open again and hopefully something can be worked out.

It's good we have our little German friend, Stachel with us.

Treviso

Wake up this morning feeling human again.
We eat breakfast with the Reproach guys at the hostel. We sit around chatting about whatever over sweet bread and coffee. It has to be said that I haven't found a decent cup of coffee since we crossed the Italian border. I thought this was supposed to be the land that took such pride in the quality of its coffee? All I've been able to find thus far is this horrible, sweet crap that comes out of a vending machine. I doubt whatever it is I'm drinking at breakfast this morning has ever seen a fucking coffee bean.

We have to check out of the hostel by 10am and the drive we have ahead of us today is only a couple of hours. My boss at work told me before I left that, he'd actually been to the venue in Treviso and that it's in an industrial estate in the middle of nowhere. Surprise surprise... So we figure there's no point hanging out there all afternon. We think about going to Venice for a couple of hours but eventually decide on checking out Treviso.

Once again our van is refusing to start. It's becoming obvious that we have a problem. With the help of the Reproach guys again, we get the van going and head to Treviso.

It's a pretty silent drive. Everyone is showered and clean and had a good night's sleep. Even Jon, who seems to have been on one for a few days solid, is quietly sitting behind me, reading a book.

I have to explain something about the history between Victims and Italy. It isn't a happy one.

Before I joined the band, they'd had some pretty rough times on the road in old Italia. The most damaging experience of all, and one they all still hold a grudge over, happened in the autumn 2007 when they were on tour with Another Breath. They were near the end of what had been a very fun and succesful tour. That all changed when their van was robbed whilst parked up in Genoa. It was the middle of the day and they'd gone to get pizza. When they came back they found some cunt had smashed one of the windows and took most of their personal belongings. Their bags were gone, their laptops, ipod's, everything. Worst of all though, pretty much all of the money they had made on tour had vanished. Maybe it was a little dumb to leave the money in the van but that's easy to say in hindsight. One would think the van would be safe parked in a busy city during the middle of the day.

Myself and Ronnie have thankfully both had happier times on our travels through Italy, so as much as we empathise with the rest of the guys, we don't have the same bitter taste in our mouths when we say the word Italy, or Shitaly as the guys call it.

Anyway, we find our way into the small city centre of Treviso and look for somewhere to park, which ends up taking quite a while. It's a pictoresque little place though and we get to check out most of it whilst searching for somewhere to stop. It's only noon so we have a while to relax here. I have two missions. Pizza. Strong, black, sugarless coffee.

Once parked up in a busy car park in the middle of town, we all hop out of the van. The sun is shining, the air is brisk and things feel good. Then Ronnie thinks to give the engine a quick try just to make sure that the battery is charged from the journey we just made. Not a sound. Nothing. It was at least spluttering and making an effort this morning. It's now completely dead and we have a problem. I'm sure I hear Jon grumbling something about Italy...

Johan tries calling the guy we hired the van from back home, but it's Saturday and he's not answering his phone. We leave a message and decide there's nothing else to do than go and get some food. Jon decides he doesn't trust anybody in this country and says he'll stay behind and guard the van. I tell him I'll pick him up some pizza.

We manage to find some extremely good pizza and even better, some coffee worth drinking. We discuss our options over an espresso. We finally get in touch with the van hire guy and sort some things with him. It's the weekend so there really isn't much more we can do than try and find some sympathising Italians to help us jump the battery every time we stop the van, until Monday at least, when we can buy a new battery from somewhere.

We put that plan into action and head to the venue. We get there early. It is indeed in the middle of fucking nowhere, but it's much warmer than the place we played yesterday. The atmosphere is also a lot friendlier. We head inside and just chill out for a while. It's a big place again, though more like a standard club as opposed to the warehouse that was yesterday's venue. The first thing I notice when I get into the dressing room is that the people from the club have already set up a real pot of coffee. Things are looking better already.

This place really takes care of us. We get great food, set out on a big long table for all the bands. We all sit down to eat together. Johan even manages to fix a bottle of red wine for us to accompany dinner. We sit and talk with Scotty, the Municipal merch guy, who tells us about his youth growing up in and around Detroit. It seems like a pretty fucked up place. It's interesting dinner conversation though.

My friend Lorenzo comes to the show tonight. I first met him when he put on a show for Speedhorn when we had a day off on tour. It turned out to be one the best shows I ever played and we've stayed in contact ever since. He's really funny and just hearing him laugh, which he does constantly, cracks me up. We catch up as much as we can in the short time we have. We have to leave as soon as the show is done tonight. We have a monster drive to Geissen tomorrow which requires us to get up at 6.30am and be on the road for 7 at the latest.

The show tonight is probably my favourite so far. My stamina for the shows has generally been improving over the last few days and tonight my strength lasts through to the end of the set. We all have plenty of energy this evening and it's refelcted in the crowd. The venue is again full and the place is buzzing. I notice Dave and some of the Reproach guys watching from side stage, all of them with big smiles on their faces and nodding along. The support of our fellow tour mates always gives me an extra buzz and I routinely spazz out on stage. God knows how my guitar is still holding up. After years of abuse, it is mostly held together by glue and steel rods nowadays. A couple of times during the set I feel the waft of a fixed object somewhere in my immediate vacinity as I flail my guitar about like an idiot. One of these days that guitar will eventually bite the dust and I'll be gutted I'm sure. I know it sounds like bullshit but I just seem to stop thinking whilst we're on stage playing.

After the show we chill out whilst Municpal play. From what I can hear they seem to be having another great show. I spend a bit more time chatting with Lorenzo before the time comes to pack up and get out. We load the gear off stage and when I go to get my bags from the dressing room, Lewis, Municipal's always friendly tour manager, gives me a couple of pizzas to take with us. What a great guy.

We have our stuff packed down on to the dancefloor and we're waiting to exit the building. Johan has gone off to find the Reproach guys to help us with the van. It seems like he's gone for ages. It's probably no more than ten minutes but the fact that the DJ at the club is playing horrible, horrible music by the likes of Pantera and System of a Down makes it seem like hours. I'm tired and probably getting a little bit bitchy, but the sight of a gang of Italian metalheads playing air guitar and screaming at each other makes me want find the nearest flame thrower and set fire to the dance floor and everyone on it. I put it down to tiredness and one too many bad memories of idiots at Speedhorn shows. I'm generally a very easy going guy.

We eventually get out of the building and load the van. Before we hop in the van, Lorenzo brings me the bottle of red wine he had previously promised me. The bottle is freezing cold and half of the cork has snapped off and is now floating inside. I give him a hug for his kind gesture and assure him I'll enjoy it once I've managed to defrost it.

We get to the hotel around 1am. Of course tonight we get a four star hotel! Fucking ironic. Andy, Jon and myself are sharing a room. We share a pizza and then take turns in the shower. Jon has found some really nice looking, black and white, Japanese samurai film on the tv, that I wish we had the time to enjoy, but unfortunately it's now 1.45am and the alarm is set for 6.20.

The lights go out and I lie in bed for what seems like an age, waiting for sleep to take me into its arms.

Bologna

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Somebody's wakes me at 9am. It literally feels like I've been hit by a bus. The other two bands have already left for Bologna. It's pretty much straight out of bed and over to the gig room to load out our gear. The rest of the guys look pretty fucked too. Johan looks particularly red in the eyes. Ronnie looks as fresh as a daisy though and I think to myself that I would do anything to be him right now.

Somehow I make it through load out without being sick and afterwards I force a coffee and a sandwich down my neck that we pick up from a small bakery beside the venue. We get in the van, I sit up front next to Ronnie and try not to think about the six hour drive ahead of us.

It's grey and foggy as we leave Munchen behind us. My eyes feel heavy and my head is banging like a drum as we head for the Austrian border.

A couple of hours later the sickness has passed although I still feel completely drained. With the Alps fast approachng ahead of us, the sun starts to break through the clouds and everything starts to feel a little better. The guys are sat behind us and are watching the second season of The Office. Me and Ronnie are listening to Neurosis' album Times of Grace, which is of course a masterpiece. The scenery is amazing and the sun is now shining proudly in a bright blue sky. Neurosis provide a fitting soundtrack to the journey. My hangover feels a lot more managable now.

Jon once again has decided to blow off the whole hangover thing with the help of his bottle of Fernet. He's behind me swigging from the bottle and laughing insanely at the genius of Ricky Gervais. Me and Ronnie are giggling to ourselves as Jon weeps with joy behind us.

At one point, somewhere near the top of the Alps, we pull over and grab some coffee. It's actually pretty warm now and we take in the sights and the much needed fresh air. Jon is with us, standing in his old man pose, still with that jacket on, with the hood up. He looks hillarious. ”And people say she's just a pair of tits!” he mumbles to himself before screaming with laughter, a line from The Office which he has quoted to me around fifteen times this last hour.

We stop again around two hours later to fill up on diesel. Jon gets out of the van and walks off without saying a word. I get out and go for a piss and when I come back I spot him stood shaikily on the other side of the courtyard, smoking a cig and staring at a tractor type machine. He just stands there looking overjoyed, like this yellow machine is the best thing that he has ever seen. I look at him and then look into the van and the half empty bottle of Fernet lying in his seat. We need to get him to sleep again. It doesn't take long. We're on the road and he's behind me with his ipod on, he mumbles something about the new Kent record being the best album in the world, ever, before drifting off.

We finally get to the venue in Bologna after what seems like the longest six hour van drive of my life. I'm still not right. The venue, as is normally the case in Italy, is way out of town. The place is literally a huge steel hut in the middle of some field. We walk in and notice immdeiately that it's fucking freezing inside! It's a big room and the stage is really high. We catch the end of Municipal soundchecking. They look just as hungover as us.

They're soon finished and as they leave the stage commotion seems to break out. There are loads of stage hands and one particulary stern looking woman in the centre of it all, who seems to be conducting the chaos on stage. Before we can explain to her that we're Victims and playing on the middle of the bill she barks at us to get up on stage to soundcheck. We're trying to explain that we normally don't need one, that Reproach get a full soundcheck and we can just line check later before we play, since we use the same drum kit. But no, ”Drummer! On stage, you play two songs!” I'm trying to work out if I like her or not. She certainly scares me a little bit, although she has a certain charm.

We get through soundcheck with her off to the side taking care of monitors. She barks the odd thing at us whilst we go through a couple of songs. Amidst all this she does manage to get a really good sound up on stage for us, so I guess there is a method to her madness. I thank her after soundcheck to which she simply replies ”Yes” and ushers me off the stage. I think I do like her.

We head over to another building to get dinner. This building is also extremely cold. We sit there waiting for some food whilst Jon is at the bar trying to communicate to some old guy that he wants some heat putting on. He comes back to the table and tells us for the hundredth time that he fucking hates Italy. He's actually starting to get his point across because I'm starting to agree with him.

The Reproach guys come in a while later and tell us the crazy monitor woman has just balled them out because she thought they were Victims, and we had just wasted her time. She's apparently pissed as hell. We all laugh about and sit down together to eat. Jon mumbles something about fucking Italians as we tuck in to some good food.

We decide to head back to our van as it's the only place we can possibly get warm. We get in and turn the key to the engine. Nothing. It seems the cold has even killed the van. The Reproach guys help us get it started with the help of their van and some jump leads, and finally we get some hot air blowing. As we're sitting there de-frosting, someone comes and knocks on the driver's window. Johan looks confused for a second before realising it's Putte, the drummer from Burst! His girlfriend is from Italy and he is here visiting so he'd decided to show up and surprise us. He's brought a couple of crates of Perroni beer with him too. I decide to take one as nothing else seems to be working today.

The show is another good one. It always feels weird playing a big stage but the crowd are good and after playing the first couple of blocks with my hooded top on, I finally start to feel warm for the first time today. One mean looking skinhead guy in the crowd is getting the crowd moving by simply picking other audience members up and throwing them at each other. Nobody seems to mind though and we play a good show. When we're done my head is banging, but luckily I find some headache tablets in my guitar case, so I bang them down and grab a beer. I start to feel human again.

The Municipal guys had promised us a few days ago that the Italy shows would be crazy. They were right. I stood by our merch table with a beer in hand and watched a truly insane show. The room was now packed and there wasn't five seconds that went by before someone from the crowd was up on stage. Some people have brought foam surf boards with them and they're getting passed around as people are literally ”crowd surfing”. Me and Ronnie have a really good time watching the show from our great view by the merch table. The Waste guys certainly know how to put on a fun show.

When they're done I head over to the side stage room where the beer and food is kept and we hang out with the guys for a while. Dave has been given a big bottle of fine wheat beer by someone and he shares it with us like the gentleman he is. He's a real easy going guy who is a bit of an ale conniseur and he seems to have friends in every town who bring a bottle of the finest local beer. He's very chilled out and likes to relax after each show with a bottle or two, and that's it. I think maybe he's got the right idea.

A short while later we're packing our stuff down and the monitor woman comes up a pats my arm and tells me she thought the show was great! I'm taken aback a little by this. I chat to her for a while and she's actually a nice lady. I thank her for her steller work behind the monitor desk before we head back to the hostel we're staying at, which is just down the road.

The hostel looks like a fucking concentration camp. In fact, the whole area looks depressed. Our room does indeed have the interior design of a prison cell but I'm too tired to care. I'm just glad to have a shower and a place to lay down and close my eyes. The journey tomorrow is a short one and I'm looking forward to not being hungover.

Lights out. Sleep.

Munchen

Despite the bed, I woke this morning feeling somewhere close to healthy for the first time since we left. Amazing what eight hours of sleep can do.

The journey today was a short one, only two hours or so. I was looking forward to getting to Munich in good time. It is one of my favourite cities in Europe and one of my very dear friends Michaela and her boyfriend Marcus were coming to the show. I had the feeling tonight was gonna be a party.

We left Stuttgart and headed towards Munich around noon. The journey out of Stuttgart is something to see. The city is based in the middle of a valley, so the place looks like it has sunk into the ground. The views as you climb out of the city are beautiful.

We get to the venue in Munich a couple of hours early, so we head in to the city centre to get some air. I really do love this place. I think every time I've been here I've treated myself to one of the huge beers at the world renowned Hofbrauhaus. A couple of years ago we had a very messy gig with Speedhorn here, due to the ales at that beer hall. Today we skipped it, which was a bit of a downer, but it was really nice just to get the chance to have a walk around and take in the sights of Marienplats for a while.

We headed back to the venue after a while an we set up our gear. Well honestly said, the rest of the guys did. I managed to miss load in since I went off in search of some reception for my wi-fi, and when I returned the guys were gone and I had no idea which room we were playing in. I hadn't really thought about the fact that this venue has three different stages spread about different buildings and we weren't playing the same one we'd played with Speedhorn a couple of years ago.

I walked around for about fifteen minutes looking for the guys and eventually ended up in some really small gig place. I walked in and bumped into a band I didn't recognise. They immediately started telling me about the set up of their band and some other details that I might need to know as their sound guy. They were obviously just as confused as I was.

I eventually found the rest of the guys and apologised for my missing load in. They were ok with it. Jon was in a particularly good mood. I think he's been on the booze again. To be fair, I was in the mood to join him.

Michaela and Marcus turned up shortly afterwards. It was so good to see them! It's probably been a couple of years since I seen her, and she is truly one of my favourite people on the planet. We had some really fun times partying with Michaela in Germany over the years. Unfortunately they were both working early the day after so it wouldn't be a party for them tonight. We had a couple of hours to chat and catch up over a couple of beers though and that was great.

The gig tonight was absolutely awesome. I really feel like I've reached the auto-pilot stage of the tour now. It normally takes around four shows before the gig starts to take care of itself and I can just go up on stage and truly enjoy it. The crowd was great and circle pits were kicking off all the time, everybody sang along to This is the End and we once again sold a shit load of merch. Perfect.

Jon was in great spirits again. A friend of their's who works at the venue had given him a jacket that has been lying in lost and found there for a couple of months. It was a really expensive, brown snowboarding type of jacket. Not exactly Jon's normal style but he was truly chuffed with it. He had it on the entire night, zipped up with the hood up, so his beard was pointing forwards. His good humour certainly is contagious as everyone around him, including myself, are laughing and partying to Municipal Waste.

The beers start flowing pretty rapidly after that. I hang out a while longer with my friends before the have to leave. They really enjoyed the show and I really enjoyed seeing them. I feel a pang of sadness as I say goodbye to them.

A minute later I'm back at the bar and we're all hanging out throwing them down. We're staying at the venue in the apartments they have in the other building and their friend from the venue is having an aftershow party for his birthday, so nobody is sober.

I also met another couple of people from the past tonight. A couple of people back from the Speedhorn days who had no idea I was playing in Victims now. It was fun bumping into them. And then there was this other young girl who I'd met when we played Fluff Fest last year in the Czech Republic.

I say met. We were playing the show and there were loads of people hanging out on stage, including her. She made her intentions towards me pretty obvious by shouting ”You are sexy!” constantly between songs. I didn't know where to look most of the time. She was right behind my amp during the gig so I couldn't really escape her, flattering as it was.

Well, she was there last night. Her name turns out to be Maria, I think anyway. She actually turns out to be a sweet girl, if not a bit mad. She said she's been looking for me all night and the Jesus guy in the band had pointed her in my direction. I piss myself at this as I understand directly she means my old drinking companion Jon. I explain to her that I am indeed happily married and not interested in anything but making friends with people. She offers to buy me a beer anyway which I accept of course. I'm pretty drunk and we chat for a while, me nervously laughing most of the time. She tells me she loves me at one point which is obviously ridiculous. She must be pretty drunk herself I guess. She ends up leaving pretty suddenly.

Anyway, the rest of the night gets a bit hazy from there. I remember that all three bands were out in full force on the dancefloor for what seems like quite a long time. People I call my friends know it's a sure sign I'm pretty drunk if I'm giving it the old Mick Jagger on the dancefloor.

Myself, Jon, Johan and Ryan end the night in the kitchen of the apartment we're staying at, sat around the table drinking and recounting stories. What a difference a few days make when you're on tour. Only three nights ago I was stood outside Dempe's place in Malmö, in the freezing cold, depressed about my amp, wondering why the fuck I still tour. Nights like tonight is the answer.

I head off and collapse on to the bed sometime time in the early hours, leaving the rest of the guys to it. They are pretty fucked as well and I guess they won't be far behind me.

Stuttgart

The dreaded alarm clock went off bang on time. Steve Perry singing ”Wheel in ther Sky” greeting me out my short lived slumber..

I actually didn't feel too bad considering the lack of sleep. I wasn't hungover so that helped. I think the other guys in the band, except Ronnie, were probably a little worse off. The first thing I see upon waking is the sight of Andy climbing down from his top bunk in nothing but his kecks, which are half way down his ass. He seems to be attempting to climb down from his bed facing forwards. Just as I'm thinking that it seems like an unneccesarily difficult way of getting out of bed, he indeed trips and falls right into a set of steel lockers that are stood against the wall oppostie his bed, making an almighty crash in the process. This gets my day of to a laughing start.

I force myself out of bed and into the shower and then head downstairs to tuck into the breakfast we'd smelt being made a few hours earlier. We sit around drinking coffee, trying to wipe the red out of eyes. It's another long journey today, so I'm hoping for sleep in the van. That doesn't happen though. For a start trying to sleep bent double on half a van bench is not so easy. Secondly, Jon, who has quite obviously awoken drunk, is up front in the van and being very vocal. I'm lying in the back listening to him rabbiting on. I love him dearly, but the boy is mental at times.

We're snaking our way out of the Berlin early morning traffic. We get to a junction and realise we have to make a right turn and we're in the wrong lane. The lights are on red and it's jam packed with cars and nobody seems to want to move for us. Jon winds down his window and starts shouting in Swedish at some miserable looking bastard in the car beside us. The guy obviously doesn't understand exaclty that Jon is telling him we need to get in front of him. He doesn't look like he gives a fuck either. The lights turn green and Miserable Cunt goes to shoot forward to block us, but his cars jerks to a halt as he's obviously stalled his engine. It looks like he gets quite a shunt too! We all piss ourselves laughing whilst Ronnie cuts in in front of him. Better still the fucker then gets stuck again as the lights quickly go back to red. I'd like to think we ruined the guys morning.

Jon continues to make a racket as we make our way out of the city. He's decided that instead of facing the impending hangover, he's just gonna drink through it. He'd cracked open a bottle of beer before we even left our room this morning, and now he's drinking Fernet straight out the bottle. He must have a fucking stomach made of steel. At another stop in traffic I notice he's spotted a man with his young daughter waiting to cross the road. He winds down the window and screams ”Deutschland!” at them. Johan and Andy tell him to shut the fuck whilst I've hidden by laying down on the seat. He's indeed off on one.

I decide to stay in the fetal position I've climbed into and try a fight myself into sleep. I'm not sure if I catch a wink or two, but if I do I'm soon awake again. We're on the autobahn and Jon is playing the new Funeral Mist album, is in great spirits, and is trying to convince Ronnie it is the best album in the world. Indeed he actually wants Ronnie to agree with him and wants this confirmed by Ronnie telling him so. Poor Ronnie. Jon gives up after about twenty minutes. He just gets on with pulling his black metal poses and screaming along to the songs. I give up on sleep at this point, as it's simply not happening, and instead focus on getting Ronnie to stop at the next service station so I can get some coffee into my system. I promise him I'll swap places with Jon.

When we make a stop, everyone wakes and we head in to the services. I follow behind Jon who is now walking like a decrepid old man. He's got this thing, where he seems to age with every drop he drinks. When he gets to the point of being hammered he takes on the physical appearance of a tired 70 year old man. You have to see him in this state to truly appreciate it, but it's fucking hillarious. Anyway, I follow him in, chuckling to myself, as I spot some other straight people in the cafe area who look completely freaked out by him. One young guy in a business suit looks particularly disturbed.

On the way back into the van, I notice Andy and Jon off to the side of the courtyard, smoking a cig and seeming to have some sort of arguement, although it doens't appear that serious. Soon afer Jon falls on his arse into a pile of hard snow and we all piss ourselves laughing and put him into the back seat of the van. Within seconds he's fast asleep.

The show tonight was again really good. The sound for Reproach was a lot better out front than it was yesterday, and I really enjoyed watching them. The room was pretty small and compact, with the bar off to the side in another room and the merchandise tables in the foyer area. The place had a bit of a school hall feeling to it but the atmosphere was good all the same. The stage was ridiculously hot though, not helped in the slightest by three piping hot spot lights that were at the side of the stage and pointed right in my face. By the time the gig was done, I was soaked to the bone in sweat and completely fucked. We played well though and the crowd moved plenty during our set. It doesn't normally make much sense for us to do a support tour, but Municipal Waste's crowd seems to working out pretty well for us, and like I said the guys in Waste are all really nice, so the vibes are good.

Unfortunately, the Reproach drummer seems intent on destroying that, tonight at least. I spoke to the rest of the guys in the band for the first time earlier, and they seem like really good people. They're obviously a bit embarrased later on after the show by their drummer's antics. He's completely out of his mind. That's obviously not a problem for anyone on the tour. But he's being really loud and it gets a bit annoying after a while. All three bands are sharing a big dressing room and this guy is wankered on one of the sofa's, making sure everybody else in the room hears about how much he loves booze and cocaine. It's boring to say the least. The Municipal guys obviously know him from sometime in the past and seem to be putting up with it.

Then he gets up and moves to a chair which have Johan's wet gig clothes lying on them. When Johan goes to move them away from the guy he throws his beer bottle around his head soaking Johan's jeans in the process. A short while later, after finishing off the rest of the booze in the fridge, entirely on Municipal's behalf, he makes a further show of himself by shouting that the booze is indeed finished and then kicks over the sofa table, which has people's personal stuff on it. By this time Ryan has had enough and tells the Reproach singer in no uncertain terms, that if he doesn't get his drummer into shape then they won't be on the tour much longer. I feel sorry for him to be honest. He looks pretty embarrased, and it's not really his fault the drummer in his band is acting like a retard, though I guess somebody has to be responsible for him if he can't look after himself...

One thing I was chuffed about was that our friend Litty turned up with his distro and I picked up a few albums from him. Two particularly great finds were a couple of Graf Orlock records with the some of the greatest artwork I've ever seen.

We're staying at the venue tonight. The people at the venue hand us a bunch of fold out camping beds which are about as comfortable as a hot poker to the balls.

At least we don't have to drive far tomorrow so I'll finally get something close to a normal amount of sleep for the first time since we left.

Berlin

Today was a much better day on tour. We travelled a long way from Malmö to Berlin, which took around eight hours. During that time I managed to get some sleep on the back seat in the van and also watch the first series of The Office with Andy. We turned up at the venue and were told that Municipal were gonna be about an hour late. That worked out well since I wanted the chance to double check that my amp really was fucked, which it was.

We also had some time to sort our five boxes of t-shirts out before the other guys turned up. It took us a while, but we got through it with an asserted team effort. That soon got put into firm perspective when Municipal turned up with seventeen boxes of shirts! Glad I don't have to sort that lot out.

The venue and the show was everything you want when you're on tour. They took really good care of us, gave us plenty of beer and the food was great. And of course there was coffee and sandwiches on arrival. I mention this only because you really don't get this kind of hospitality outside of mainland Europe. In the England or the US you're lucky if you get given a toilet to shit in.

The gig tonight was much better for me personally, as in, nothing got broke and even though it was hot, there was plenty of energy, both on and off stage. The place was pretty packed when we went on. We played tight and the crowd was really into it. It's nice to play such a rewarding show when you've travelled all day to get there.

I was thinking after our show that since the gig was great and there was nothing to complain about, there would not be much to comment on in today's post. But then something amused me greatly during the Municipal set.

Firstly, those guys put on a great show! They have a lot of fun on stage whilst at the same time play hard as hell. And fuck me, can they play! I mean, for a start they have Dave Witte on drums, who is somewhat of a legend in our circles. Anyway, I was hanging out at our merch table watching their show, or trying to, the place was really packed by now. They had a projector screen behind the bar which was filming the gig, which I was keeping an eye on whilst chatting to some people. I had to break off a conversation with someone when I noticed something happening on stage. The band were taking an unusually long break between songs. There seemed to be a giant of a man, with a kind of Marty Friedman from Megadeth hairstyle, stood still, kind of hunched over, right in the centre of the stage. It soon became apparent that he had his ridiculous hair caught up in Tony, the Municipal singer's, mike lead. It took what seemed like ages for them to cut him loose, during which time Tony brutally took the piss out of him. I pissed myself laughing.

I ventured down to the front towards the end of the Municpal set. Firstly to check them out a little more closely and a lot more loudly, and secondly to make sure that no sleezy fucker stole my Cursed hoodie that I'd mistakenly left on stage after our show. Now that would have pissed me off! Anyway, I get down towards the front and the first person I notice is Marty Friedman. Well, it was kind of hard to miss him I guess.

I can hardly believe it, but he's back up on stage again. Can't imagine the brass bollocks on this boy! I would have ran for the back and hid in embarrasment if it was me..the trouble is sometimes with these people that they get up on stage one time and they get it into their head that they are welcome to intrude for the rest of the set. They make themselves a little too welcome. Friedman would just get up on stage constantly and then instead of jumping back in to the crowd as most others do, would just hang out there nodding his head, trying to look tough. He was getting right on my tits. I think the Municipal guys were starting to feel the same way. At one point Friedman is back up there, this time hanging out behind Ryan, the guitarist's, amp. When he finally decides to go for his self concieved, hotly anticipated stage dive, he not only shoves Ryan out the way without as much as looking at him, he also shoves the neck of his guitar up in the air as to make his way past him, to what I can now imagine he believes to be his addoring crowd. What an utter wanker!

I'm dying for someone in the band to take a swing at him. I don't have to wait long. The next time he goes up, he grabs a hold of Tony, a little too long. As he tries to pull Tony into the crowd with him, he kind of falls loose and into the crowd. I catch the look in Tony's eyes and see his fist clentched. He swings and misses, and as Friedman disappears into the crowd, he quickly regains his party spirit. But just for a minute there I thought it was going to kick off.

I'm sure Friedman doesn't mean any harm, and he's just caught up in the fun of the show and a little too enthusiastic maybe, but some people just don't know when enough is enough.

Anyway, the guys play out the rest of their set and afterwards we help clear the stage and I get my Cursed hoodie back. We do really well on merch tonight, I'm hoping the rest of the tour stays on this form and I can take home some money to pay my bills.

We travel back to the hostel we're staying at and after dumping our bags, head back down to the bar to hang out with the Municipal guys, and another couple of friends of ours from Berlin. They are all super friendly people. Dave, the legend he is, comes over, introduces himself to me, since he's heard I'm English, and soon enough we're drinking beer together whilst rambling on about the early British grindcore scene, that we apparently both like a lot. Sprits are high and we're all having a great time. Me and Andy get into a long conversation about records, as we usually do after a few ales.

By now, time seems to be stuck on fast forward. I notice I'm checking my phone regularly, but it seems that on each occasion, time has inexplicablly jumped forward a great length. Everyone is getting pretty drunk and in as said, in good spirits, so nobody seems to care that we have yet another long journey ahead tomorrow, and another early rise. Thank fuck our good friend Ronnie, who is driving us, doesn't drink and has had the good sense to go to bed early. We hang out until around 5 am. When myself and Johan simmultaneously catch the smell of the hostel staff starting up breakfast, knowing that our alarm clocks are set for 8.30, we both get an anxiety attack and head to bed.

Maybe I'll get some sleep in the van tomorrow, it is afterall, about a seven hour journey to Stuttgart.

Malmö

Today was the first day of the tour.

Early start, got up around 7am. Didn't get much sleep the night before. I never manage to sleep so much when I know I have to get up so early, and I usually, in normal working life, hit the hay around 4am..

Anyway, met up with the guys at the practice room at 9, packed the van and headed off. The first show with Municipal Waste is tomorrow in Berlin, but we'd arranged a show with Dempe, the singer in Sista Sekunden, to break up the journey on the way down. He's got this really great little space where he has his tattoo studio and a rehearsal room behind that. We hung out here the last time we were in Malmö, the night the cops closed down the show at Utkanten...

So we were here to try and make up for that night, it felt good to be back so soon for another gig after that last fucked up event. I was hoping this show would run a bit smoother, or at least run anyway.

Things started well enough. After an amazing home-made vegetarian lasagne at Dempe's place, we headed to the gig space. We set up the gear on the small stage. I had my new amp that I'd just bought from Jon, and I was looking forward to taking it on tour. We didn't bother soundchecking since the place was so small that there was no need to mike anything up. Instead we opened up a can of beer each and got to work on fixing our merchandise. We got a bunch of new lp's for the tour, limited editions of the Killer album. We sat around foliding covers and stuffing vinyl into plastic sleeves whilst the room started filling up with familiar faces.

By the time we went up to play, the place was packed. Around 60 people. I squeezed through the crowd, tuned up my guitars and turned on my amp. No sound. Ok I thought, this happenes all the time. I changed leads, checked my guitar, all the usual things. Ok. Now. Still no fucking sound! I felt the panic setting in. Some voices in the crowd started piping up, giving it the usual banter. Jon and Johan were over helping me, trying to figure out what was wrong. I noticed that even though the power was on, there was no glow coming from the tubes inside. I knew then the amp was dead. So much for taking some new gear on tour. Jon piped up and asked me in his usual tone why I hadn't checked the amp earlier. Not fucking now mate, I just bought the fucker from you and I don't need to be answering that question right now.

Luckily, we had brought Jon's other amp along with us for the tour. Dempe ran off through the crowd to get it for us, whilst I stood on stage feeling like a right cunt. By the time we got some sound up through my guitar, the crowd was pretty buzzed. We kicked into Scars and the crowd kicked off.

We played the set and I tried to put the whole amp thing behind me. It was a really good atmosphere and the crowd were great. After a couple of blocks Jon breaks a string so changes guitar. After another couple of songs I then break a string, so have to revert to my wife's SG. I'm a bit nervous about using it since the stage is tiny, and Jen loves that white Gibson SG! It took me a while to convince her to lend me it as a back up for the guitar, but she said as long as I take it easy and look after it I could take it. In other words, I would have to go a lot easier on it than I do on my own. My guitar is pretty fucked up, because honestly speaking, I haven't been kind to it over the years.

Anyway, I get back on with the set whilst taking it easy on Jen's guitar. As we're getting towards the end of the set, and the sweat is dripping off me like a stream of stink, I notice there's something going on with my lead. What now for fuck sakes? I play on to the last song in the set just hoping it will hold up. It does. We finish the last song and I want to get off stage. My broken amp is once again haunting my thoughts. Good show, let's get off. Except, there is no room to get off stage and the crowd is giving it the usual appeals for another song. I look at Andy and we both shake our heads. It's hot as hell up here and we're both pretty fucked. I'm hoping we're done. We're not. We're gonna play two more songs. Ok, best look at that lead then since I once again have nothing but silence coming from my side of the stage.

I think to myself that if there is anything wrong with Jen's guitar then I'm fucking off home. Not to Stockholm either, to my mum's. Haha. It's not though, it seems a lead has now gone. I fuck around a bit more, to a soundtrack of wise cracks from our friends in the crowd. I get some sound back and I'm ready to go again. I stand up, get ready to start Destroy and Rebuild, and my fucking guitar strap falls off! I look at Johan and we just laugh at each other. Fuck this! I get down and play the last two songs of the set on my knees. I think I put more energy into those two songs than the rest of the set combined. We finish, I get off stage, walk through the crowd shaking the odd hand that is offered to me, head for the car park outside and put my fist straight into the brick wall.

I stand outside for a while cooling off both pyhsically and mentally. First show of the tour and already I'm looking at losing money. I'm only now about to start paying Jon for the amp and already I've got to get it fucking fixed. Life on the road I guess. I stand outside for a while longer mulling over why I'm still here after all these years. I must really love it I guess. After a phone call to Jen, who as ever, cheers me up, I head back inside.

The rest of the night is pretty chilled out. We hang out with the Sista Sekunden and Fy Fan guys and chat for a while over a cold beer, which tastes fucking beautiful. We head back to Peter, the Fy Fan drummer's apartment, where we're staying for the night. We talk about punk rock and plans to get my amp fixed and I head to the camp bed in the kitchen I have previously claimed. I read for a while and turn the lights out around 1.30, knowing we're getting up at 7 to drive to Berlin. I lie there in the dark for a while wondering what is wrong my amp. My last thoughts before sleep are of hope, that everything that could go wrong on tour is surely already out of the way and taken care of on the first night...I'm not that naive though.

News

This time next week I go on tour with Victims.  We're supporting Municipal Waste in Europe for three and a half weeks.   The shows should be a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to meeting some of my very good friends from around the continent along the way.  The only downside is that there are some killer drives during the tour, but we have a dvd player in the van and Jon has promised me a lesson in the history of Swedish cinema, so I guess the time will be passed watching some classics.

We're also playing some shows of our own on the days Municipal have free.  We're playing with Burial one night in Germany, and we have the honour of playing with Burning the Prospect in Boston, for what will be their final gig.   I'll be keeping the blog updated with a diary from the road, so keep your eyes peeled!

So, one more week of work and then I'm done for a month.  Before we head off, our friends We Live in Trenches are playing Fritz Corner at Debaser, this Saturday.  Don't miss it!

Also, check out the new Shut the Fuck Up recording on the Keep it in the Family blog.  Great, great stuff!

Love, Gareth x

Punk Rock Stories: Somewhere in Germany...

I'm gonna recount some old stories from the last 11 years of playing in bands. Most of them, I imagine, are a little hard to believe. I even find myself looking back after all these years, wondering if I have the details right. These tales have been told and re-told by myself and others involved, on many occasions, over many a pint throughout the years though, so I'm pretty sure most of it actually happened.

Somewhere in Germany... We were out on tour with Speedhorn a hell of a lot in the early days. I think we played something like 200 odd shows in our first year as a touring band. In the early autumn of 2000 we embarked on our first European tour. We were going out for seven weeks supporting Biohazard. I didn't really think at the time that that was such a long tour, I just looked at all the cities on the tour schedule we would be going to. It was all over Europe and we were excited as hell! We'd been playing shows solely in the UK for about a year and a half. Every toilet in the UK you've ever heard of, and many you probably haven't, I can almost guarantee you I've played there with Speedhorn.

Going out to the mainland to tour was my biggest ambition at that time, looking at all those cities and knowing I was going to them to play music, was a dream about to be fulfilled. The icing on the cake was that we were also going out on a tour bus for the first time. I couldn't wait to get on that boat at Dover and fuck off for a couple of months! As it turned out, we would end up going straight on another European tour for four weeks, supporting Amen, right after we finished with Biohazard, and after that to Ireland, to play some more shows of our own. I left for the Biohazard tour at the start of September. I finally came home to Corby three days before Christmas, somewhat a changed man...

A lot of strange and funny things happened in those three months.

This particular occasion we were travelling through the night, somewhere in Germany. I can't remember exactly where we had played that night or where we going to, but we were following Biohazards tour bus in convoy, to our next destination. We were a few weeks into the tour. We'd been up, pretty much every night, getting drunk after shows and partying on that bus. Our tour bus was pretty old and knackered but we all had a bed, there were a couple of lounges to hang out in, a stereo and a tv. For us it was heaven. Being that it wasn't the fanciest looking thing, we felt we had a little bit of license to do what we wanted to it. In addition, the driver was this guy called Bob, who was this grumpy old boy that looked like he could have be our drummer Gordon's dad. Although he obviously thought we a bunch of tits, he seemed to like us. Luckily for us he put up with a lot of nonsense. We loved him.

So we're driving through the night, everyone in very high spirits. The music is blasting and we're dancing down the autobahn. After a while I feel the bus pulling over into a service station, most likely to fill up the tank. When we pull up we all hop off and head into the shop. The Biohazard guys are in there too. It must have been around 3am. The only staff at work is this one little lady stood behind the counter. We all stumble in. A pack of about 20 guys, half Brit, half NYC, all very drunk, very hungry, very dirty. Probably very loud. The old lady must have been terrified! A bunch of us head straight over to the porn mag section of course, some others to the toilet and the others to see what food they can steal. Shoplifting at service stations in the middle of the night had become the norm, especially for the likes of our singer Frank. I don't know why this felt like it was ok at the time, it just did. When you're young and drunk and on tour, you allow yourself the impression that you're above the law. And the serivce stations were always faceless chain companies. Although we were travelling around on a tour bus and we were getting a meal at each show, we didn't have much money of our own. The record label and tour support was paying for the bus, but we didn't have any money in our pockets. Any spare money we did manage to get our hands on was normally spent on booze.

Anyway, we're in this service station just milling around. Although Frank is checking out the food section whilst everyone else is flicking through magazines, he hasn't actually put anything in his pockets. I think maybe he'd noticed the old lady on her own behind the counter and got an attack of bad conscience.

I'd probably been in the shop no longer than a minute before the night took a very weird turn.

The old lady, completely out of nowhere, starts shouting and screaming at us. To my knowledge, none of our guys had done anything in particular to cause her to get so upset. We didn't look too great and we were as said, in high spirts, but even Frank had seemingly changed his mind about causing any mischief. I'm not sure that the Biohazard guys, who had enetered a few minutes before us, had done anything wrong either, they were just relieving themselves in the toilets. This woman is screaming at us in German and obviously we're a bit confused by it. I guess she wants us to get out and I can't be bothered with the drama so I go to leave and head back to the bus. Wrong. When I get to the sliding glass doors I find that they won't open. The woman is still shouting and screaming and I think she's going on about the police. I try the doors again but it's obvious by now that she has triggered something behind the counter that has locked the doors. We're all now trapped inside. And nobody has actually done anything wrong. I try to communicate with her and find out what she is doing. It's not easy. I'm pretty fucking drunk, she's very German and by now, completely hysterical!

Just as I'm thinking about how weird the whole situation is, Billy, the Biohazard singer/guitarist, comes out from the toilet. He asks what the fuck is going on and is told that the crazy old lady behind the counter has locked us in and is most likely calling the police. Without any hesitation, he walks up to the sliding doors and pulls out this huge fucking Rambo knife! What. The. Fuck? I stand there in shock and before I can even ask him what the fuck he is up to, he jams the knife between the doors and starts forcing them open. He manages to get them open a slither and then jam himself in between. He motions to everyone to go climb through the gap. We all squeeze through whilst Billy is laughing his his ass off. The lady is still screaming. By the time the last of us get out we're all laughing at the madness of the situation. We run back to the bus and start shouting to Bob that we should probably leave pretty rapidly!

We head off back down the autobahn somewhat in a state of shock. The music is off and nobody is in the mood for dancing anymore. Where the fuck did Billy pull that knife from? What turned the lady in the shop that crazy? We're about ten minutes down the autobahn, discussing the events, when I decide to look out of the back window just to check that there aren't actually any police cars following us. Hmm. There actually is a police car behind the bus. It's not flashing its lights or sounding its siren but it is behind us. "Ha ha Gaz" is the general reaction when I tell the rest of the guys. I tell them I'm serious and for them to check themselves if they don't believe me. Someone else looks and after staring through the window for a few seconds, sits back down pale faced. There isn't one police car following the bus, there are around TEN! I look again and fuck me! There is indeed a whole fucking squadron of police cars now following the bus. And now they ARE flashing their lights and sirens! I instinctivley look at our tour manager and he looks like he's seen a ghost...

I hear Bob at the front cursing and shouting back down the bus at us, asking us what the fuck we've been up to now?! He tells us he's gonna have to pull over and tells our tour manager to get ready to do some talking. Without saying a word, our tour manager gets down on his knees and starts rooting around in his rucksack. He pulls out a couple of suspicious looking plastic bags. You can't be serious?.. He then starts emptying a rather large amount of cocaine on to the lounge table. "If any of you lot does this stuff, has done it in the past, or has thought about doing it in the future, get down here with me and start fucking snorting!" I sit there in a state of shock. I don't really know much about coke, in fact I've always generally hated the idea of it. It's been offered to me a few times, but I've never been interested.  It seems to me that most people who are into coke are wankers! Anyway, as I looked at the scene before me I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was pretty comical to be fair. I feel Bob slowing the bus down. He shouts to us that he's pulling over along with Biohazards bus in front of us.

Our tour manager is on his knees throwing white powder on to the glass table on the back lounge of the tour bus. A few of the guys in the band have come to his aid and our on their knees too, circling the round table, scrambling for money notes or any other pieces of paper they can roll into a tube to hoover up the mess. They all start snorting like hungry, terrified vultures. It's pretty chaotic! The people who aren't snorting, myself included, are cheering them on as if we're watching some kind of sport. At one point our tour manager takes a huge snort. So big in fact, that when he lifts his head up, still holding the 10 Euro note to his nose,  coke just spills out the other end and back onto the table! I actually think this is hillarious. It looks fucking ridiculous! There is no way they are getting rid of it all, even though they give it a good go. The bus comes to a standstill. Our tour manager gathers himself, tells us to give him our passports and shut up. He heads down the stairs to the back door of the bus and we sit there in silence.

Around twenty minutes pass...

I hear the door downstairs open and I prepare for the worst. The police are gonna come upstairs, see this mess and throw us in jail.

To my amazement it's our tour manager. "We can go". We're all stunned. What? We drive off. Our tour manager, who looks like he's about to be sick, tells us that he simply handed over our passports, explained the situation to the cops, that we on tour, explained what had happened at the service station, how the lady had locked us in, and that was that. The Biohazard TM backed up the story. He said the police sounded very interested when he explained how she had locked us in...

We all sit up for around another hour, in stunned silence, small piles of coke still on the table. I'm too stunned to even think about how idiotic it is to travel on the bus with stupid shit like that in your bag. I check the back window another couple of times, and when I'm convinced that there really are no cop cars behind us in the dark, go to my bed. Stone cold sober.

At the venue the next day John, our other singer, finds me somewhere, and tells me whilst laughing like fuck, that he's just spoken to the Biohazard tour manager. Apparently the police had phoned him that day. They called to let him know that after they had talked to us the night before and listened to our version of events, they had headed back to the service station and arrested the old lady on a charge of unlawful imprisonment! Apparently it's against the law to lock people into a building and hold them against their will.  I found the rest of the guys in both bands rolling around laughing at the old lady's expense, I just felt really sorry for her and thought about what a bunch of cunts we all are.

I also thought about how much I loved being in that band.

Trondheim - punk rock and coffee...and moonshine

This last weekend we travelled up to Trondheim to play a show with Mörkt Kapitel, at a great punk rock space they are lucky enough to have there, called UFFA.

By the time I got home, late on Sunday night, it had felt like a very long weekend for just one show, but as is often the case, more than worth the trip.

I was up before the sun rose on Saturday morning. We were flying out of Stockholm at 10.30 with a three hour stop-over in Oslo, before flying onwards to Trondheim. By the time we got to Trondheim at 4.30pm I had been on the move for almost 10 hours, all for the sake of 90 minutes flying time.

Anyway, we got to the airport and met up with Atle from Mörkt Kapitel, who was organising the show. We headed straight to the club from there. It was a cool, dingy little place, with a general hang out room up front and a gig room in the back, which was big enough for about 100 people to fill. The place had a good stage and it sounded great in sound check.

We quickly ate some food, drank a few cups of coffee and then went to hang out at Atle's place with the rest of the guys in his band. They were a good bunch of guys. We hung out at his place drinking some beer and talking about records. Atle has a distro that he runs from his home, so he had lp's all over the place. His own personal collection, which was probably 95% Swedish punk, was also pretty fucking impressive. He had loads of rare stuff that was fun to look at. Whilst flicking through, Jon found around 10 copies of a certain Totalitär 7". We started joking with him that his collection wasn't actually that broad, that he just had loads of doubles. Atle promptly showed us that the 10 copies were all in fact various copies of the same record. Different coloured vinyls, test pressings, test covers etc. We soon realised there were quite a few similar examples in his collection. In short, Atle is a bit of a record nerd! A bit like our drummer Andy. Over a few more beers we shot the punk rock breeze, Andy and Atle playing a sort of Punk Rock Trivial Pursuit with other, and then headed back to the venue. I've often thought of Andy as a kind of punk rock encyclopedia, but Atle was pretty impressive himself.

The first thing that hit me when we got back to the club was how young everybody was there. I mean, we had the idea earlier on that the crowd would be kind of young, since it's an all ages set up, but shit, I felt fucking old! The average age of the kids there must have been around 15. And the booze seemed to be flowing out of the bar...I wasn't sure how this was gonna work out. I was assured though that the older crowd always come later on, which proved to be true.

Anyway, Mörkt Kapitel played and I thought they were great. I didn't really know what to expect from them but was really put in the mood to play whilst watching them. They sounded a bit like earlier His Hero Is Gone, but a little bit darker and more epic sounding. Me and Jon were really into it.

So, as I had expected, by the time we were ready to go on and play, the young, young audience were generally fucking steaming!! When did I get so old really? I know 31 isn't really that old, but most of the kids in that place probably though we were ancient...

Well we had a really good show anyway, and there were still plenty of people watching us, a lot of the older crowd had by now turned up. Obviously some "real" punk fans too, because about half way through the set, just as I brought my head up, I got cracked square in the forehead with a full can of beer. Fucking bulls eye! I played on, wondering what had hit me, trying to show whoever threw the thing at me that I wasn't bothered, making it through until the end of the song to see if there was any blood around. There wasn't, but I could already feel tomorrow's headache..

What the fuck is that about really? I know it's been going on since punk rock started, fans spitting at bands, trying to beat them up, throwing bottles at them, whilst seemingly loving the show! It's like, "Yeah I love this band, fuck ya!" I don't know, I guess these people think they are real punks, but it's not where I'm coming from. Maybe my ethics are different to some other peoples. To some, it still seems to be about having a stupid fucking mohawk and wearing the right clothes, and performing the right party pieces. Whatever, fuck it.

After the gig we hung out at the place for a while, by the merch table, meeting and talking to some friendly Trondheim punks. The merch was set up in a little side room that had some record and book stands. All punk and anarcho stuff. At some point, our friend Atle, brought me a cup of the apparently infamous "Trondheim Special". A mixture of black coffee and 96% proof moonshine! I trepidly supped a couple of times at it. At first it tasted ok, coffee with a bit of a kick to it, but as the cup emptied the drink's original black coffee colour, became more and more transparent. By the bottom of the cup, the thing was completely undrinkable. At least as far as this poncy Englishman was concerned. The Norwegians seemed to be happily chucking it down there throats though! Atle just gave me a wry smile and I thought to myself, no more of that thank you very much. Until I attempted another cup about a half hour later, but with much the same results..

One young girl in particular, must have had a few cups. We found her lying outside the back door, sleeping in the freezing cold. We pulled her inside. She was completely out of it. We got her in and she seemed to shake herself around. She scurried off. Five minutes later we found her in the same spot again! This routine repeated itself another two times before she was finally taken care of by Alte, who I think got her some real help. She was probably no more than 15. I guess I've been there myself a few times. I guess most of us have.

After hanging out some more with the local punk people, and then a failed attempt at an after party in Trondheim's apparent equivalent to Kristiania, we found ourselves back at Atle's place, at 4am, drinking some more beers and listening to some more punk rock records. The conversation went from talking about punk rock to deeper subjects, as it normally does at that time of the morning and with all that booze in your system. It was pretty cosy though. He has a really nice place with a view over the bay. When the bottles of Fernet and Jägermeister came out I hastily bade farewell for the night and went to bed. Jon and Andy stayed up with Atle to what I assume was long into the approaching morning..

The next day we spent walking around the beautiful city of Trondheim. I was here last year touring with Mary Gauthier and I remember from that occasion how amazing the cathedral was. I was as taken aback by it this time around. The sight of the of the outer western wall with all the carvings and scultptures adorning it is spectacular.

And it's as impressive inside, which is dominated by the huge, circular stained glass windown that sits in the centre of the western wall, as well as the two gigantic pipe organs. It's a real must see for anyone visiting this part of the world.

Anyway, from there we walked around for a while, taking refuge from the cold in the form of an english pub and it's pool table. After that and then an extraordinarily expensive pizza we headed back to the club and then on to the airport.

So that was our last show with Victims for 2009. Our next shows will be with Municipal Waste for 3 weeks on a european tour, starting January 18th. Until then we'll be back to writing the new record and getting on with our normal jobs.

Next up for me is some recording with my other band Battle of Santiago. I'll be putting down some guitar tracks for a joint recording with playwrite/poet Stig Larsson. Not to be confused with the dead guy who wrote the books that became the films, but a legend in his own circles and indeed in our eyes. He wrote the script to the newly released film, Metropia. Check it out! Anwyway, we've recorded some instrumental tracks that will accompany four of his readings. We'll be releasing this sometime next year as a prelude to our first full length album. We should be out performing live with Stig at some point too.

Also, Oystein from Mörkt Kapitel has a great indie record label that is releasing some awesome bands. Check it out at:

http://www.myspace.com/untermenschrecords

And Atle's distro website is currently down, but when it's back up I will put a link on here to it. He's got a lot of great punk records there.

P.S. I've still got a fucking purple mark on my forehead...