Potsdam

It's been a few weeks since the last lot of shows. I haven't written anything in that time. I haven't really had the energy to, although there is plenty that I want to write about. It's been a hot summer so far and the heat in the bar has been really exhausting, so the eleven shifts have been taking it out of me more than usual, leaving little energy for sitting indoors writing on my days off. I've been entrenched in Ian Glasper's superb book, Trapped in a Scene, UK Hardcore 1985-1989. Well worth a read I can assure you! I'm now nearing the end, and have started to feel a little more inspired to start writing again. And with this weekend, plus a tour of the States coming up in August, there are plenty of tour diaries on the way..

Not much has happened since we played the Leipzig show, although we played a show in Stockholm with Terror, which was organised by the people at Stockholm Straight-edge. There wasn't really much to write about that... I sat at home, played Pro Evo Football on the Playstation, walked the dog, played a pretty cool show and went home.

There have been a couple of things of note, footnotes if you will, since the last time of writing though:

After Leipzig we flew home from Bremen. It rained most of the journey and I slept for most of the time in the van. We flew with Ryanair, which is the first time I've flown with them in a while. At Bremen airport Ryanair has it's own “terminal”. It's a grey, steel hanger, with barely any lighting and a welcome mat by the door that was covered in dog shit! After checking in we walked through to the main terminal where we were almost blinded by the glow of light bulbs in the ceiling. We attempted to buy some food from a restaurant, which was ran by a middle eastern looking man with a face like a smacked arse. I don't know why but he seemed to hate us. Andy and I ordered pasta with cheese sauce, and when we got it there was pork all over the plate. We returned the food and were greeted by a mere grunt. We tried to explain we didn't want meat, but were left standing around as he completely ignored us. We left for the darkness of the Ryanair terminal and flew home.

The show we played with Terror was pretty good. The show took place at a nondescript square room with a small PA, the sound wasn't great but there were plenty of people there and although it wasn't our crowd, we had a good show. Strange playing a show without even one beer in the system. At one point during the show Jon made a quip about the fact that he was normally drunk by this point of the night (he's actually not, he's actually good about restraining himself, but I enjoyed his taking the piss out of the crowd), and then asked if he could get a cup of coffee on stage, adding he's like it with “real milk”. Johan, Andy and I seemed to be the only people in the room who found that funny. After our set we packed down and packed out into Johan's car, before going to the local bar for a quick drink with a bunch of friends that were there. I was surprised to meet a couple of the guys from Terror there., sat at the bar drinking alcohol free beer and alcohol free wine. They sat there complaining about the fact they weren't allowed to drink at the venue, that you weren't even allowed in the venue if you had been drinking. I spent about five minutes talking to them as I was waiting to be served, trying to work out if they were joking or not. I thought they were straight edge...

And finally, the people from the Crowbar in Groningen have been in touch and said they found Johan's jeans, or at least, they've found out who has them and it is indeed the person they had suspected...they are currently trying to work out the best way of re-obtaining them! Fucking weird! I'm guessing there is some local hard-nut punk who is known for stealing clothes from shows...

So the first show of this weekend is Potsdam. Our good friend Loffie was the promoter and his band Cyness were supporting us. It's always great to see Loffie, another of the many legends of this great scene we're involved with. It's actually my first ever time in Potsdam. I've been around Germany fuck knows how many times but for some reason never made it to this town. Strange really considering it's one of the bastions of the scene. There are a load of punks in Potsdam as well as some great squat venues. Tonight, we're playing a place called Black Fleck, which is a tiny little squat. It's going to be another packed and sweaty show by all accounts. Victims have played Potsdam a few times and it's always been really good shows for them. I'm looking forward to my first Potsdam experience.

Another bonus tonight is that our friends Hårda Tider are also playing with us tonight. They too, like us, are playing Fluff Fest this weekend, although they're playing tomorrow and not Saturday. There was talk the last time we were out about them playing the show, and thankfully it worked out.

We flew in to Berlin quite late today, so when we land, it's in the van and straight to the venue. Stachel has already been to the venue and loaded in our gear though, which makes things a hell of a lot easier for us. We get to the venue around seven pm. and the only thing we need to do is set up merch.

I'm in the mood for a couple of beers tonight. There is a good feeling about the small venue, what with Loffie and our fellow Swedish friends here. I have a couple before we play whilst we watch Cyness and Hårda Tider play their sets. The crowd is packed in by the time Tider play and they're already kicking off. It's going to be a good night. The best thing about playing these squat venues is that they almost always have sleeping quarters for the bands, as is the case tonight, which means, no packing the van, just play the set, cool off, after-party and then go to bed when ever you need to.

When I opened up my guitar case upon arrival tonight, the first thing I noticed was that my strings are crusty as fuck, completely doused in the sweat of the Zoro in Leipzig. We don't have any backup guitars with us on these fly in/fly out shows. I don't have time to change the strings tonight, so we'll have to talk with Peter from HT and see if we can borrow his guitar as a spare for the show. There is not a chance in hell I'm going to make it through the set intact. Peter, being the nice guy he is, happily lends us his guitar though. I just hope Jon isn't going to break a string, because that's going to put a serious delay to proceedings.

By the time we get on stage to set up, the sweat is already dripping from my brow. There are over a hundred in the venue tonight, which has the place pretty fucking packed! It's a low stage, that just about fits me and Jon either side of Andy's drum kit, but Johan is on the floor. And it's into V5 we go. We blast through the first block and the place goes berserk. Johan is going to well to avoid eating his mic tonight.

It is extremely hot on this small stage tonight. I have next to no room to move, which is probably just as well since my normal monkey having an epileptic fit routine would most likely have me puking up about half way through the set.

We experience small technical difficulties during the early part of the set. Jon seems to be having problems with one his leads and I of course break a string during the first song of the second block. Peter's guitar does indeed come to the rescue. It works out well for me though, he's got a lovely SG, which is exactly the same as the one I have just purchased for the States tour, so tonight is almost like a test drive. It plays beautifully...

Despite a stop/start start to the show, the set goes down really well. From the third block onwards it flows, and such is the atmosphere in here a couple of technical difficulties is not going to bring the energy down. Since my movement is a little confined, I actually manage to catch some glimpses of the crowd tonight. I feel a surge of euphoria rush through me when we play Lies, Lies, Lies and I see what feels like the entire crowd on top of Johan, singing along into his mic. He can hardly get near his mic to sing at times, with members of the crowd taking over instead.

We get to the end of the set, but there really is no point trying to escape from the stage and out through the crowd, since they want to hear more and they most likely won't let us leave. We pick our guitars up for one last song and blast through Scars. And then we're done. Great show, job done.

It takes a while to cool off after the show, the sweat is simply pissing from every pore. I take a cold beer from the bar and head out for the street, where most of the crowd have adjourned to. I hang out for a while, stood on my own, enjoying my beer and the fresh air in the company of about one hundred of Potsdam's finest citizens.

Once cooled down, I pack my gear down from the stage and leave it in the back room, ready for pick up tomorrow morning. I head to the bar with the rest of the boys, where we hang out with Stachel and Nico, who is driving us this time around in Micha's place. Nico works for Micha at Punk Distro too, so once again those boxes of records are with us, my wallet as usual itching in my pocket.

I don't know why, but I'm in the mood for some shots tonight. I feel like getting a bit drunk and partying. I know, I know I will regret it in the morning because I am a weak, weak man, but that has never stopped me in the past. Johan starts buying the shots in at the bar, they cost a mere Euro each (the beer we get for free), and by the time the third Jagermeister has gone down, I'm starting to feel a little tipsy...

At some point Johan has gotten hold of a permanent black marker pen, and since the venue is called Black Fleck, meaning Black Stain, Johan thinks it's funny to draw black marks on everyone's face. He gets me in the nose, the annoying fucker. At the time I don't realise that it's permanent marker, or at least, I'm too drunk to really compute the fact, so I think a simple rub of the nose will suffice in removing the stain. Not so it turns out.

We hang out for an hour or so with Loffie and his crew before moving upstairs to the band flat. I'm in a very happy, giggly mood and I have that loving feeling. We hang out with the guys from HT in the big living room area of the band flat, drinking beer and laughing over a few old stories. They are a great bunch of guys. I think I head to bed around three am, still in a sound enough state of mind to brush my teeth before doing so, although that is about the last thing I remember, that and frantically scrubbing my nose with a nail brush trying to get ridden of that fucking stain!

I only have a hazy memory of climbing a somewhat shaky wooden ladder up to the row of punk made bunks, that are built into the ceiling of the bedroom. I'm fucked if I wake up in the middle of the night needing a piss.

Head down, no pillow, just Stachel's sleeping bag and a dirty mattress.

Leipzig

With three bands sharing the band apartment there is an almighty cue for the toilet and the shower, both located in the same room. By the time we stir from our beds it's almost eleven am. and it's time for breakfast in the club. I decide I'll leave the shower until after breakfast, the need for food and a piss being more important to me at this moment in time.

After breakfast, which takes place in the gig room of the club, I finally wash away last night's sweat and grease in the shower. And then we load out the gear. Whilst we're stood around on the street loading the van we make enquiries into what happened last night. Three things in particular need to be ratified.

One: Stachel wants to know who's leg he was grappling with in the club last night and indeed what lead to the “pushing incident”.

Two: How did Micha manage to climb over Johan and out of the bunk this morning without disturbing him. Johan is truly confused by it. Micha is a pretty big guy after all...

Three: Where did Micha go?

Stachel states that some guy in denim shorts from one of the other bands kicked him in the balls. I can't remember exactly how or why this happened but it did. I'm guessing Stachel must have been attempting to wrestle. Stachel took offence to the ping in the balls and grabbed a hold of the guys leg whilst deciding what to do with it. As he stood there considering his actions Johan then intervened and pushed him away, albeit a little too excitedly, catching Stachel off guard and sending him into a crowd of people stood behind him at the bar. What Johan hadn't realised is that the leg Stachel had been holding was guilty of kicking him in the balls. Johan had wrongly assumed Stachel was just being a drunken asshole. So that worked out, and all forgiven, we still don't know who's leg it was.

As we're pondering this riddle, the guitarist from Gust comes out of the venue wearing cut off jeans. Stachel asks him if it was his leg he was holding last night. The guy looks at Stachel and asks him what he means, “My leg?” Stachel tries explaining to him the trail of events and says he had someone's leg and was close to doing it some harm. The Gust guitarist is by now really confused, “What did you do to my leg?”. By now me and Andy are pissing ourselves laughing. That particular mystery no closer to being solved, we continue with the load out whilst Stachel mumbles something about his hangover.

After a while Micha appears and quickly clears up mysteries two and three.

After Johan had crawled into the double bunk besides Micha, pissed as a fart, he started snoring as loud as a mating gorilla. Micha quickly understood he wasn't going to able to get back to sleep in such circumstances and opted for the van instead. Johan asked him how he managed to climb over him and down from the bunk without disturbing him, to which Micha replied, “I woke you up and asked you to move!”. We once again piss ourselves laughing. When Micha has gone back into the venue Johan says he actually has a vague memory of crawling into the bunk and trying to watch his new favourite tv series that he's downloaded on to his Iphone, I can't remember what it's called but it's about knights and seems to have a lot of fucking in it, and he'd propped the phone up against Micha's feet in order to get a comfortable viewing position in which to watch said knight-porn. Poor Micha, now wonder he fucked off and slept in the van!

After we're done loading out, and with last night's mysteries kind of solved, and Stachel being in a far better mood today despite his hangover, we head off into town and meet up with Daniel. There is a big flea market in the St. Pauli area of the city which only takes place once a year. There are a lot of record stalls there as well as some other cool stuff.

As we're parking the van it starts to rain. Micha is attempting to pocket park the van into quite a tight space on a main road. There is a large truck behind us. He fails at the first attempt and then again at the second. You can sense he's getting annoyed when he shouts fuck off in English at the van. At the third attempt he makes it into the space but then there's a bit of bang at the rear of the van. We all go quiet, Micha simply puts the gear stick into first, as if he hasn't heard anything and straightens the van up. We get out and inspect the lorry behind us and Micha assures us it's nothing. I guess he hasn't seen that the lorry's bumper is cracked. Either that, or he simply doesn't give a piss. I find the whole thing thoroughly amusing.

We spend an hour or so walking around the street market, the atmosphere almost carnival like. It's really nice hanging out with Daniel for a little while. He seems pleased with the show last night, as are we. I pick up a couple of lp's of course, an original Gang Green lp released on Taang! and a Violent Femmes record I've been looking for for a while.

Whilst we've been walking around checking the flea market out, Stachel has met up with some friends who have their kids with them and they've been hanging out in the playground in the park which is in the middle of the market area. It's really fun to see how much the toddlers love Stachel. He would make a great infant school teacher. The kids just can't get enough of him and they all take turns in saying goodbye to him as we make to leave.

Just as we're heading back to the van the sky turns black and in turn starts to piss down on us. We run for cover under a marquee that belongs to a bar and we stand there waiting for the rain to pass. With the rain coming on so quickly and so strongly I guess a lot of the stuff at the market has been ruined... When it finally lightens up we carry on in the direction of the van. On the way there we meet Litty and his girlfriend who are stood taking cover under some shelter outside the door of a supermarket, each drinking what looks like a Caipirinha. I then remember that the last time I'd seen Litty was across the bar at the Cobra, he was stood with a ridiculously large looking shot in his hand, pissing himself laughing...

The drive to Leipzig takes about four hours and we pull up outside the venue around six-thirty pm. The Zoro. One of the best, if not the best, squat venues that I've ever had the pleasure of spending my time in. This place is amazing, and as usual, ran by a wonderful group of people. The venue is huge, it looks like maybe it was a school previously, although they have been squatting this place for years now. There are three floors. The top floor is where the kitchen and eating area for the bands are, as well as the big sleeping dormitory. On the second floor they have a record shop where our friend Frank is working, and the bottom floor is where they have the gig room, which holds around four hundred people. Across the hallyway from the stageroom there is even a cellar which homes a cocktail bar. The bands merch as well as Micha's and some other distros will be set up on the lagre hall areas that are halfway up each stair case. The place is quite simply stunning.

There are two touring doom/sludge bands playing with us tonight. A band called Thou from Baton Rouge, Louisiana and Moloch who are from Nottingham. It's a pleasant surprise to find a guy we know called Henry, who used to play in Army of Flying Robots and who booked a Victims show in Nottingham last year, is playing drums in Moloch. He's a really good guy as seemingly are the others in the bands and with of us all hitting it off straight away I know tonight is going to be a really fun show.

We all share gear for the night so there is no messing around with change overs. The Moloch and Thou guys are sharing guitar amps and we're all using our cabinets and drum kits. Simple and very easy. Whilst the Moloch guys are sound-checking we hang around upstairs in the band flat and the record shop. I pick up a vinyl copy of Gorilla Biscuits Start Today which for some reason I've never owned.

The food that the people at Zoro make for the bands is legendary on the touring circuit and this being my first time here, I'm dying to experience it. I'm absolutely starving by the time food is served, and I'm by no means disappointed. They have prepared a quite superb vegan buffet for us. I'm so hungry I make it through two plate-fulls and even have room for vegan chocolate cake afterwards. In the space of thirty minutes I go from being famished to so full that I feel sick. Thinking about the fact we're on stage in a couple of hours time, I quickly regret my gluttonous ways...

I go down to check out Moloch when I hear their set starting down below in a storm of feedback. The place is packed. There must be at least three hundred and fifty people here. It's also hot as fuck in here, the sweat almost dripping from the stone walls and ceilings. I flit in and out of the gig room during both Moloch and Thou sets since the heat is almost too much to take, I need to save some energy for our set. I also seem to need a shit about every thirty minutes. Tour guts are a real fucking nightmare. Of what I see of Thou, I'm really impressed, especially with their bass player who is phenomenal! It's nice to have a couple of doom bands on the band to mix it up with what we do. Playing a show with a bill full of crust bands can sometimes get a bit boring...although that seems to happen less these days.

I get on stage to tune up both my guitar and the guitar I've lent from Steve from Moluch and even before I'm done with that short task the sweat is dripping off of me. The room is packed out and there is a real buzz in the air, as well as a lot of condensation. A quick line-check and into V5 we go. It feels great from the get go tonight.

We blast through the set and although I feel my energy level dipping at points I seem to keep finding another wind from somewhere. We're all bang on tonight. I have to admit it's always a bit of a buzz for me to see members from the bands we're playing with amongst the spectators, it's a good feeling to have that support. Tonight the guys from Moloch and Thou are at the side of the stage and they seem to be enjoying themselves. Steve, the guitarist from Moloch who so kindly lent me his guitar as a back up, is right down the front of the crowd and he's really getting into it, he even seems to know the songs we're playing. I'm glad that the necessity to use his guitar doesn't arise. It's never comfortable to play on someone else's guitar, especially the way I normally play. If I use someone else's guitar then I have to be far more careful with what I'm doing on stage and that takes a lot of the fun out of it. I don't actually mean to throw myself around like a bollock on stage, it's just that playing this kind of music is such an outlet.

Anyway, the set goes through without any major hiccups and the crowd really move with us the whole way. When we're done with Circles and Scars I'm soaked to the core with sweat, but the buzz from the show is enough to overcome any tiredness I feel. We head upstairs when we're done and cool off, hanging out with the guys from the other bands and once I've had enough water in me, I enjoy a cold beer from the fridge.

Janne, our friend and singer from the brilliant band, Herätys, is here hanging out. He's actually together with girl who was doing the sound for the show. He's looking pretty pissed and has that look on his face that all Finnish people seem to get when they've had a few. It's good to see him. When we've wound down from the show we go downstairs to load out the gear into the van. We're leaving around eleven am. tomorrow to get to Bremen airport for our flight home so it's better that we spare any pissing around in the morning. We all agree that tonight probably shouldn't be a late night...

Nonetheless Johan and I decide we'll head down to the cocktail bar for one drink. Another friend of ours, Helene, has travelled down from Berlin and we hang out with her for a while. Her friend lives in an apartment in the same house as the squat, which she has pretty much built herself. Helene asks us to come along and check it out since there's a bit of an after party going on there. In all honesty, I'm not in the mood but it would be rude not to at least go and have one drink with Helene since she's travelled a way to come and see us.

We all head over, along with Steve, and hang out with the Helene and her girlfriends for a while. I just have the one beer, although the girls are drinking some really good cocktail made up of fresh raspberries and white chocolate liqueur. I have a taste and I could easily be tempted to have one but I hold strong. Steve, Andy and I stand over in one corner of the living room, allowing space for the girls who have started a dance floor, to do their thing. It turns out Steve and I know a bunch of the same people from Nottingham and Boston and we stand there chatting about things back home, and what's going on in the scene right now.

When the beer bottle empties, the clock is nearing four am. Fuck, only six hours of sleep as it stands right now. I could really have done with more. Andy has been saying to me all night that he'll most likely be taking it easy tonight, but he's had a few by now anyway. The three of us head back to the band flat, leaving Johan, Jon and Stachel at the party. When we get back we bump into Andy from Thou who has just blagged a crate of Budvar beer. We start chatting in the kitchen and before I know it, it's almost five am. and we've all drank a few more beers. I'm far from drunk though, and even the the hour is so late, I'm not really that bothered since it's been really nice hanging out and chatting with the other guys tonight. And besides, I can sleep in the van for a few hours in the van later on.

The four of us head to the dormitory. I've only been lying in bed five minutes when the rest of our lot come back. Johan is kind of giggling a lot and looking mischievous so I'm guessing he's had a few drinks.

Micha, most wisely, has decided to sleep in the van tonight.

Hamburg

Why the fuck is the music so loud? What is that, a Kate Nash song? Lilly Allen? I don't know what it is but it's fucking loud and it's doing my head in! I open my eyes. Broad daylight fills Pelle's living room, Stachel is asleep on the sofa beside me, or at least, his eyes are closed. I'd be amazed if he's sleeping. I put the pillow over my head and try to drown it all out.

I lie there in for another song or two before realising that I need a piss. I struggle up to my feet and make my way to the stairwell towards the toilet, checking the time as I go. It's seven am. Jon and Pelle are sat at the dining table, drinking beer and talking. Jon looks like he's in quite a state.

After taking a piss I head back downstairs to the sofa bed, put the pillow back over my head and try to regain the ignorant bliss of sleep. It's not happening. Another couple of songs go by before that stupid song by Shaggy comes on the stereo, Mr. Bombastic, or whatever the fuck it's called. That's fucking enough! I can't take any more of this shite. I get up again and walk over to the table where Jon and Pelle are sat drinking. Pelle tells me that he doesn't understand why I'm not sleeping in one of the bedrooms upstairs. I don't really know what the fuck he’s talking about. He tells me there is a bed upstairs with nobody sleeping in it and I'm more than welcome to it. Ok, thanks, I will take that offer gladly. As I leave the living room, Pelle explains to me that he's having a very interesting and intense conversation with Jon. - “I bet you fucking are!” I tell him as I head upstairs.

I get up to the bedroom and there is indeed an empty bed waiting for me. For some reason, Andy is stretched out on the floor beside the bed. It's all very confusing. I lay down in the bed and breathe a sigh of relief. Within minutes Stachel has joined me. He grumbles something and goes to sleep.

I wake up a few hours later, and apart from a slight headache, feel pretty good. My alarm goes off just as I'm stirring, Journey as usual heralding the new day. After only a few seconds Stachel starts moaning at me to turn it off. This is all the encouragement I need. I sit beside him on the bed playing air drums to the song and singing along to the words. I finally turn the song off but then sit there talking to Stachel for the next ten minutes, trying to get a rise out of him. It's easy enough. He continously tells me to fuck off.

After a shower, an Ipren and a antihistamine I feel ready for the day. I head back downstairs. Jon is passed out on the sofa previously occupied by Stachel. I head to the kitchen in search of coffee and am surprised to find Pelle there, still awake. - Do you ever sleep? He tells me he got his head down for an hour. Amazingly, he looks no worse for wear. He's still wearing the impish little grin that he's had on his face since I first met him. He insists on making me a cup of tea and giving me some oat cookies to eat, since I'm an Englishman. Who I am to argue? The Earl Grey goes down a treat.

Within the space of ten minutes, Jon rises from the sofa looking like he's been pulled through a hedge backwards, sits down at the table, smokes a cig, has a clunk of beer from an open bottle left on the kitchen table and then heads back to the sofa and passes out again.

Pelle then kicks the stereo back on and starts a relentless barrage of various punk and crust songs. After about five minutes, Jon, now hidden under a blanket of quilts on the sofa, shouts aloud “I fucking hate hardcore punk!” This is followed by a series of other randomly spaced exclamations. I guess he's not feeling too clever...

Michel, the promoter from last night's show, turns up around eleven- forty five with some breakfast for everyone. We hang out for a while, eating and drinking some pretty foul instant coffee before heading back to the venue to load out the gear. When we get there and start packing out, we soon realise that the jeans Johan had on during the show last night, that he'd left hanging on his amp to dry off with the promise that they would be safe, are gone. We pack out everything whilst searching for the missing jeans. They're nowhere to be seen. Fucking weird. Of all the stuff on stage that the punk piece of shit could have stolen, why take a pair of sweat sodden jeans? The real bastard for Johan is that he had his specialised ear-plugs in one of the pockets. Michel feels understandably bad about the situation. Not that it's his fault. I'm just happy that they didn't take a pedal, or worse, an instrument.

Not the best start to the day. Stachel is pretty pissed off about everything this morning it seems. He's in a real grumpy mood. Lack of sleep and hungover probably the reason being. Not to mind though, he has plans for today before we head off to Hamburg. He's been told about a micro brewery that is in town somewhere and we're going to pay it a visit. Michel has given him the address and with that we head off. I like that Stachel always plans some extra tour-curricular activities for us.

Unfortunately it seems that there is construction throughout the entire city of Groningen, so the GPS is being outwitted at every turn. After the fourth or fifth attempted route we think we've finally cracked it, only to be confronted by a closed road bridge. We decide to get out and walk, since the brewery is supposedly close, and some fresh air wouldn't do anyone any harm.

We spend the best part of the next hour walking through an industry estate that is under construction. We finally find the address that has been given to us by Michel. Nothing. Just warehouses and units. There are a couple of old boys driving forklift trucks around. Stachel stops them to ask about this mystery fucking brewery. They look at him confused, although they kindly offer to go in to their office and check it out on the internet. We wait around for a few minutes before one of the old boys comes out laughing, telling us that there is no brewery anywhere near here. Never has been. Great. We head back to the van. Waste of fucking time.

The drive to Hamburg takes about four hours. It's raining and dull and Stachel seems to be in an even worse mood now. He doesn't like it when his plans don't pan out. It's not like we really care, he's more bothered about it than we are. The failed brewery expedition just offers up a good chance to take the piss, but he's not taking it too well. We leave him be, sat up front in the navigator seat, feeding his fish on his aquarium app on his Iphone (no shit!) in silence.

I sleep in fits and starts during the journey and by the time we get to the wonderful Haffenklang in Hamburg I'm feeling pretty good. This venue has to be one of my favourite places to play in Europe. The atmosphere is always really good, there's always a good party afterwards and the place has it's own band apartment. And most importantly, the people here are fantastic. Daniel, the promoter, is one of the scenes real good guys and it's always a pleasure to meet him.

We load in the gear and say hello to the other bands, who tonight are Gust, a young band from Sweden and a metallic hardcore band from Dortmund called Remember. They're out playing some shows together in Germany. They seem like nice group of chaps. We decide that Gust can sound-check and we'll just have a line check before we play. The sound-girl here always does a great job so it's no worries. Perfect. Dinner time. Today it's a vegetarian curry with soya meat. It's spot on.

We spend the next couple of hours hanging out, drinking a couple of beers, hanging both inside the club and outside. The venue is right next to the docks and there is a square across the road on the water-front where you can sit and have a drink. Some other punks are hanging out there. Whilst hanging out in the venue I'm inevitably drawn to Micha’s distro. If there is a table with boxes of lp's on it in front of me then I will end up flicking through them, out of habit as much as anything else. Nothing like browsing through a box of records. I pick out a few for purchase, a Ripcord and a Lärm record amongst others.

Besides looking through Micha's distro, I help Jon start his own blog. I was telling him about a funny email interview Jay Speedhorn did once, where when asked the question, “Which band are you currently listening to the most?”, he had written, “Not your band, baby!” Jon thought this was absolutely wonderful and told me that that would be the perfect name for the blog he was considering starting, a blog which would be solely based on explaining the wrongs of every band out there today.

By the time Gust go on stage the place is filling out. They play a good set, kind of old school hardcore. Jon seems chuffed, especially when they do a cover of Strife's song, Overthrow. I don't know if Jon is getting drunk again but he seems to be in that special mood of his. I stand in the crowd with him and Andy watching Gust and Jon is chuffed as fuck with the Strife cover. And then at some point between songs, he shouts at the stage, enquiring of the boys in Gust if they've cracked open a can of deodorant. The singer in the band looks at Jon confused, as do Andy and I. Jon then proceeds to start sniffing the girl in front of him. Time to get the man some water.

I watch the Remember set from the back of the room. The place is by now pretty full and the sound from stage is big. Remember play a solid show with a lot of energy. They play metallic hardcore and do it well and dersvedly get a good reaction from the crowd.

By the time we get up on stage it's around eleven pm. I'm once again feeling a bit jaded and in need of some energy from somewhere. It takes a while to line-check and I'm not feeling my normal self. Something tells me this gig is going to be a bit of a shift.

After about ten minutes of line-checking in front of a full room, we kick into the set. I can feel it straight away. The energy isn't there tonight, I'm going to have to work at this. The first block doesn't really kick off. Whereas normally we go straight from VIB #5 into Rewind and Forward, tonight there is a pause because we have to get some more guitar into Andy's drum monitor. We do get through the first block but I can tell Andy is struggling to hear. The second block continues in the same vain. There are a couple of dropped sticks and then Andy goes into the wrong drum fill half way through Lifetaker. It's nothing major and we recover it. It's one of those things that the we probabl notice more than the crowd. In fact, the crowd seem to be having a good time. Maybe this is going to be one of those gigs that is more about the public than the performance. I've had plenty of them over the years...

I can feel myself that I'm not playing as tight as I can do. There are some missed notes here and there where I'm just landing wrong on the guitar. I think I'm most likely over-compensating with trying to put too much energy into the performance, instead of worrying about hitting the right notes. When we get to the third block, where normally we go straight from VIB #6 into This is the End, I end up standing on the power socket that my pedals are connected to and in doing so pulling the power on my sound. It takes me a few seconds to work out what is going on before we get going again. Fuck! The momentum is refusing to build it seems...

Thankfully after that, the set finally gets going. Nowhere in Time is really solid and from there on in I start playing like I should. The rest of the set feels good and the crowd continue to voice their approval. By the time we get to the end of the set, Andy tells us that he wants to just go straight into Circles and Scars, instead of doing the normal going off stage and coming back on routine. We do just that and we end the set with a strong climax. We head off to the toilet area beside the stage to cool off. I don't think we should play another song. After a while Stachel comes back to us and tells us to get back up there. He seems to be in a far better mood now that he's had a few drinks. We head back to the stage and it feels to me like we've left it a bit late, that the crowd is sagging, but to my surprise, when we kick into We Are Dead, the crowd kicks off and there are even some people up on stage diving into the crowd. It turns out to be a really strong end to the show.

We remain on stage after the song is done and start to pack down. Overall the show feels like a success, although we had to work for it. I can see there are plenty of people over by the merch table buying shirts and records, so I guess we did a good job. After packing down we head over to Micha and Stachel and hang out for a while. A couple come over to us and ask us if we'll sign records. I tell them that of course we will. They take some photos with us too. We hang out talking for a while, they seem like a really nice couple.

Later on, Jon tells me he thinks they're are getting around to suggesting a three-way to him, which is an image I do not wish to have in my head. Although I'm not sure if he's all that far wide of the mark, the way they seem to be looking in his direction. Saucy buggers.

After hanging out at the club, drinking our way through the beer tickets we have, Johan and I trading in two each for a very strong Jim Beam and Coke, something I very rarely drink, we head off to another bar with the other bands. I'm starting to feel tipsy again.

We end up in a place called the Cobra Bar, although Stachel first takes me to a bar called Uncle Otto's. He wants to show me the place, since he used to hang here a lot when he lived in Hamburg. It's pretty dead though and we don't stay for a drink. When we get to the Cobra Bar which is right next to the Reeperbahn, it's packed out. The rest of the boys are there, as are some of the guys from Gust and our old friend Litty, who we always seem to bump into somewhere along the way when we're on the road in Germany. The bartender is a friend of Stachel's of course, he really does know people everywhere, and he tells me that we all get the first beer for free. Chuffed, I order a Staropramen. It doesn't go down all that well though and I have to concede I won't be able to handle that many more.

Stachel is drunk by now and it seems that as usual he's in the wrestling mood. The place is packed and the music is loud. There is an incident with Johan and Stachel and one of the guys from Gust, at least I think. It's all a bit hazy.. I'm not really sure what happens, but one minute Stachel has the guy from Gust's leg in some sort of hold, and the next minute Johan has pushed Stachel really hard into some people behind him. It's quite a fucking push and I'm not sure it's all that playful. Johan seems pretty drunk too. They seem to work it out, whatever it is, or at least I think they do. I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of that in the light of day tomorrow. Stachel looks a bit sad though. I think it's getting to the point where everyone is getting a bit boats. I know that this second bottle of Staro will be my last. We drink up and head out of the club in search of some falafel. Stachel is leading the way and he's drunk and grumpy again. The rest of us are laughing about the leg incident although Stachel doesn't seem to think it's so funny.

We stop at a vegan falafel place on the way back to the band apartment, drunkenly nosh down some food, Stachel saying something about refusing to come in, although when Andy asks him if he wants some food, he tells Andy that yes he'll have something to eat. When Andy asks him what he wants him to order, he just drunkenly grunts that he wants “something”. We just laugh and order him some falafel. Drunk, grumpy Stachel is quite entertaining.

The food, at this late, drunken hour tastes fucking great. That taken care of, we continue down the road, laughing again about how Stachel flew when Johan pushed him. Stachel is up ahead ignoring us.

By the time we make it back to the apartment, we all stand in line in the hallway, waiting to brush our teeth. That done, I crawl into the double bunk I'm sharing with Stachel. I'm using the rolled up sleeping bag he has lent me as a pillow, but then then he refuses to share the quilt with me. My final foggy memories are the two us drunkenly pulling the quilt back and forth and Johan snoring like a fucking elephant in the bunk above us. He's sharing that bunk with Micha, who at the moment is going through a non-drinking period and had not been in attendance at the bar with us...I'm sure he's chuffed.

Sleep.

Groningen

I didn't feel as tired as I thought I would. I'd only had a few hours sleep on a mattress on Johan's floor since I worked a twelve hour shift in the bar last night, finishing at two am. By the time I got my head down at Johan's place it was two-thirty and the alarm clock was set for six-thirty. We had to be at the airport for eight-thirty. It was going to be a long day.

I was awoken by the alarm on my phone playing Wheel in the Sky by Journey. I'm getting pretty fucking sick of that song now. I've had it as my alarm for the last couple of years, it's time for a change. Anyway, when the alarm went off Johan and Pia's dog, Sigge, a very cute little chihuahua, came running through and jumped on my chest. I lay there for a couple of minutes enjoying the massage from Sigge's little paws before getting up and into the shower. After a coffee and some knäckebröd Johan and I left for the tube and off to Central Station to meet up with Andy and Jon.

We're playing Groningen tonight. To get there we're flying down to Hamburg via Copenhagen, which is actually a pain in the arse since it's two flights that  are about an hour each and a direct flight from Stockholm to Hamburg is only an hour itself. Of course it's cheaper taking an in-direct flight and that's what we have to do, since the money we're making from these shows is going towards the flights for the US tour in August. Anyway, when we get to Hamburg Stachel and Micha are picking us up in the van and we're driving to Groningen and the infamous Crowbar pub, which is run by Esta from the band Fleas and Lice, to play what should be a really fun show.

We get to Hamburg airport and have a couple of hours to kill since Stachel had to work late today and he can't make it to the airport until three pm. Last time we were here, when we were going home from the Bremen show, we'd settled from some pretty shit airport pizza, that had so much grease on it you had to tip the pizza up to pour off the oil. As we sat there disappointed with our meal we spotted a sign advertising a sushi bar. And this time we would settle for nothing less.

The sushi was expensive, I worked it out as costing four lp's from Micha's distro, but it was worth it nonetheless. We sat there for a while, drinking green tea and chatting. By now I was feeling really tired. Last night's lack of sleep catching up with me. I felt tired in the way that you almost feel drun. I had a pain in my back too since yesterday at work was delivery day, which means lugging heavy kegs of beer around. Still, the green tea was helping my mood.

As we sat there at the sushi bar, which was just opposite the arrivals door, a young girl came running down the stairs towards a group of other young girls who were there to greet her. The group were waving both German and American flags, suggesting the girl who was running towards them with her arms out, tears running down her face as she was almost screaming with joy, had been away on an exchange program. When she reached the group she took the whole lot of them into her arms for one huge hug, before tending to them all individually, the screaming only barely dampening down into a long, squeaking sound. This scene of joy lasted for the best part of ten minutes.  I found it quite heart rendering to see that sort of joy on other people's faces. Airport and train stations can indeed be both the happiest and saddest of places...

After having  moved on to another airport café for some coffee, Stachel and Micha arrived for us in the van. Really great of them to have packed the van and have everything ready. We were on our way to Groningen, which is about a four hour drive.  

A little way down the road I picked up the book I'm reading at the moment, The Story of Crass, but I barely got through a paragraph before my eye lids started sagging and I dozed off for an hour or so.  It felt nice to get just a little sleep, even if it wasn't the most comfortable of rests. When I awake I'm feeling the better for it anyway and we spend the next hour packing records for the coming weekend. The four of in the back of the van, working in factory style, wrapping the limited editions of the A Dissident album that Stachel has pressed up for these European summer shows. They look really nice with a brown paper wrap around over the cover, which has the new version of the Victims logo that Richey designed for the album. Stachel has done a nice job on them. Packing your new lp with your band mates is a great way to pass time in the van.

We get to Groningen around eight-thirty pm. which makes us kinda late but it doesn't seem to be a problem. Stachel had sorted it in advance. We're only two bands tonight, a young Dutch band, Sandcreek Massacre, being the opening act.  According to the original schedule they were supposed to be going on stage at nine, but there's no stress with that since the place has a curfew at midnight. We park the van up outside the venue, which is a small bar in the middle of a small one way street in the middle of town. Bloody Kev and the Regimes boys were here a while ago and they'd told me that it had been a great show, so I was looking forward to playing tonight.

We load in through a small door which leads into a thin passageway which in turn leads to both a curtain at the back of the stage and the bogs just a little further ahead. It's a tight squeeze for load in but it works. The stage is small and Johan will probably have to stand on the floor during the show. The room itself is narrow with the bar running most of the way down the left hand wall, leaving a small floor area in front of the stage that would probably fit around twenty people.  I love playing these tiny places.

We get set up and are treated to some vegan lasagne and spinach pastry pie, which we nosh down in the small back room behind the bar. It's not the tastiest meal I've ever eaten but with some cayenne pepper on top it more than fulfils it's purpose.  And I'm always grateful for food.

After dinner we sit around drinking a beer next to our merch table. We're not really talking that much, just kind of starting off into space. It's been a long day for everyone. I'm gonna need to get some energy from somewhere before we play tonight. I decide to take it in the form of more beer. That first Grolsch didn't really do it for me, but as that's all we're getting for our beer tokens right now, I decide to throw back the second Grolsch in an attempt to kick start my system. I drink my way through the bottle in no time and it actually does the trick. I'm feeling better.

Sandcreek Massacre go on stage and I head down front to watch them with a third and final beer before we play. I'm now starting to feel good. I enjoy watching the band. They're a guy and girl on guitar, the two of them growling and screaming respectively, a guy on bass who also does the occasional grunting and a drummer who is hitting the shit out of our rented drum kit. They play a sludgy kind of d-beat, reminding me at times of Kylesa, although that might be more to do with the fact the girl playing guitar and screaming in a similar style to Laura. Anyway, they're good and after their show  I arrange to swap a seven inch with them.  A really nice bunch of guys.

After that I'm ready to play.

We get our shit together and everything is sounding good. Nice to be playing my Telecaster again. Jon has arranged with Sandcreek to loan a guitar from them as back-up, which I have a strange feeling I'm going to need tonight. Jon seems to be having trouble with his tuner pedal so while he deals with that I tune up the spare guitar, which is a jagged, metal looking type of guitar, something like a BC Rich Expolrer, but not. The strings are all wound up different from each other, half of them seem to be on backwards, so with the three beers I've drank and the lack of sleep from last night, it takes me a while to get my head around tuning the thing up. We finally get everything sorted though and we kick into VIB #5. The small place is now pretty full and the atmosphere is really good. It's also pretty fucking hot on stage.

We're playing tight and controlled but by the time we get to the end of the second block I'm already feeling the burn. I guzzle water down between blocks but I sense that I'm not feeling totally right. Still, Stachel is down the front enjoying himself, as are the guys from Sandcreek Massacre, and beyond that lot are a load of other Groningen punks and everyone seems to be into it. It sounds good up on stage too. It's hard work but it's a really enjoyable gig. There must be around sixty to seventy people in the place which is enough to make it look pretty packed. Good first show for the weekend.

Despite the exhaustion creeping into my system I'm really enjoying playing. And then just as we get to the break in This is the End, my bottom string goes. Pretty good timing if you're going to break a string though. I quickly whip off my guitar and grab the Metal guitar. I hadn't really noticed before when I was trying to tune it, but the strap is set pretty high and as I play out the rest of the song, coming back in just exactly in time for the last chorus of the song, I realise I must look like Dave fucking Mustaine! I can't help but crack up. The funny thing is, as soon as I put the guitar on, the young guys in Sandcreek all run at me cheering and bowing in front of me as I play their guitar.  They all look really chuffed.

I get through the rest of the set without breaking another string. By the time we're done with Your Life is Red, I'm off stage and into the marginally cooler corridor behind the stage to gasp for some air. I really don't feel that great now. I stand there guzzling water as fast as I can feeling dizzy. The rest of the guys come back and I'm happy to hear Andy is thinking along the same lines as me, as in fuck playing another couple of songs!   Before we really get around to talking about it though, Johan and Jon are heading back to the stage to appease the crowd and their calls for more songs. Fuck. I follow behind, glad at least the Circles and Scars are only about a minute each. I think I can get through that.

Before we kick in to the two encores I manage to readjust the strap on the Mustaine guitar making it much easier to play. We blast through the two songs, finding the energy from fuck knows where. When Scars comes to an end I grab the bottle of water, turn my amp on to stand by and head for the exit again, politely telling someone to fuck off when they shout for another song. This time I'm not coming back. I run out of the back door and into the side alley beside the venue. It's absolutely pissing down outside. It feels fucking wonderful. I throw up the lasagne all over the pavement...

I stand in the pouring rain for about five minutes, thanking the heavens for their kind blessing. By the time I head back into the club I'm so wet it feels like I've stood in a shower. I don't feel one hundred percent right, but after throwing up I do at least feel a lot better. I guess it must have been a mixture of the heat in the club and the lack of sleep. And probably the throwing myself around on stage like a twat.   By the time we've packed our gear down I really do feel a lot better. There is a girl who has been taking photos during the gig who now wants to take a band shot of us in front of the stage. She wants us to give the big shout on the count of three, so you know, we look all metal and stuff. God how I can't be fucked with this right now. I feel like a right twat stood there in front of the crowd. We try it once and the girl tells us it was really lame, that we have to shout louder. She's a nice girl and all but come on...I want to get the fuck away. One more attempt, we all shout a bit louder on the count of three and the girl is happy. She shows us the photo, I look like a right berk as usual.  We thank her and then I head for the bar...

We hang out for a good while, drinking some beers and hanging out with the friendly punks in Groningen and the guys from Sandcreek Massacre. I now feel really good. This Finnish girl called Jenny comes up and introduces herself, saying that she'd heard that I was a big Liverpool fan. I tell her I am, as is Johan who is stood beside me. She shows me a big Liverpool tattoo on her arm. We become good friends very quickly. It comes to light after a little while that we're both friends with Bloody Kev. Kev, like Andy, seems to know people all over the world. Jenny and her boyfriend, Johan and I hang out drinking beer and chatting about football for a while. Jenny buys me and Johan a shot which is apparently called Dropshot. It's black and tastes like Salmiac. It's actually pretty friendly and goes down well. Although, I'm glad we only have to drink the one.

After a while Andy comes over to us with a big glass of Weiss beer in his hand. It seems that we're now allowed to drink whatever we want from the bar, such is the good atmosphere in the place. I guess that people from the venue are happy with the show.

At some point during the night a guy starts talking to Johan telling him he's a big fan of the band. He says that he'd never seen us before and that we didn't look like he'd imagined. I guess he thought we'd all have dreadlocks or something. I guess the only person who actually looks like he belongs in a crust d-beat band is Jon. Maybe...

After a couple of hours we decide it's time to head off to the place we're sleeping at tonight, which is the flat of a friend of Stachel's, called Pelle. I think.. He used to play drums in Fleas and Lice. He seems to be a very friendly crust punker type of chap. Before we leave the club, we stuff some bottles of Strongbow into Jon's bowling bag (which doubles up as his suitcase) and head for Pelle's place. I'm now feeling pretty drunk. Jon and I spend the best part of the trip back to Pelle's flat laughing about Danny Dyer...

When we get back we hang out in Pelle's living room drinking cider. I really don't need it by this point. I know that, but it goes down all the same. Pelle is explaining something about the sleeping arrangements but I'm not really taking it in. He says there are rooms upstairs and we can sleep there. He says to Johan not to sleep on the floor by the computer since he will be walking back and forward there. The computer is in the corner of the room so I figure he means he'll be up in the morning working at the computer desk. Johan heads upstairs with his sleeping bag. I decide that the fold out sofa I'm lying on in the living room will do just fine. After half-assedly brushing my teeth, I tuck up into the sleeping bag Stachel has lent me and close my eyes. Pelle has some loud crust punk on the stereo, and he and Jon are sat at the table drinking, immersed in loud, nonsensical conversation, but it's not enough to disturb me.

This long day is finally coming to an end.

Sleep.

Bremen

It was only six hours, but I slept like a baby. Six hours is the average amount of sleep you can expect when you're out playing shows anyway. It's the quality of the sleep and not the amount of it you get that counts.

Today is another short drive. I could get used to this. I think anything up to five hours in the van is pretty much a breeze, it's when you start getting past that that it becomes a chore. Sometimes in the States you're doing ten hour drives a day, if you have the wrong people booking your shows. I'm glad we have Stachel taking care of all our European stuff this summer. Today's drive is little more than two hours...

I wake up around ten-thirty am. and spend the first forty minutes or so sitting up in bed checking emails and Liverpool stuff. Kenny Dalglish got the manager's job on a permanent basis yesterday, news that had Johan and I in good spirits. I'm looking forward to next season already. I'm already forgetting this one since it looks like the Scum are going to take the title today and with it and our record for most wins. Only the news of King Kenny signing on permanently could lift the gloom off that fucker.

After a hot shower I head down to the venue and into the back garden to enjoy breakfast with the rest of the guys and with Daniel and Ellen, our two new friends who did a great job of running last nights show. The spread they've put on for us is great, although the coffee with soya milk doesn't quite hit the spot. They have this mushroom paste in a tin that is for spreading on your bread that although doesn't look that great, is absolute delicious. I can't get enough of it. The coffee I'll make up for at the first available stop.

After breakfast I sit chatting with Ellen about the venue and the local scene and all the usual stuff. She tells me that although there are a lot of kids in the area that are really into the music, they're not so concerned with the politics involved. I guess to be fair I'd count as one of those people. Of course I'm on the side of everything our great scene stands for, but I've never been one for workshops and all that. It's good that there are people like Ellen that are though. She's a really nice person and it's interesting chatting with her. Making new friends is a wonderful thing. She asks me to teach her some Swedish words which I find quite funny since it's not a situation I'm used to. And then my thoughts go back to the essay I have to complete for the end of next week...

Just as we're starting to think about making a move and packing the van, we're joined at the table by a few punk kids who are drinking beer and making way too much noise for my liking. They must have stayed here last night and I'm guessing they're friends of Daniel and Ellen, although it's kind of hard to make the connection. They're not quite pulling off the old beer for breakfast cliché. I've seen it a hundred times and it doesn't impress me, but I guess we've got a few years on them and they'll grow out of it at some point. One of the guys offer Johan a swig from his beer, to which Johan firmly says, “Nej tack”, although Jon happily takes a gulp. It's kind of annoying though when they abruptly put an end to the pleasant conversation we were having. We do our best to ignore them in the politest possible manner, but when one of them jumps on something Johan says about Facebook, making a big noise about it being a corporate networking community or something along those lines, I'm already beyond bored and head back into the venue to start getting the stuff packed into the van.

After saying our goodbyes and once Stachel is done with wrestling Andy, we get into the van and head towards Bremen. It's only a two hour drive but there is a lot of traffic expected on the roads around Dortmund today since it's the last game of the season and Borussia have taken home the title. It doesn't work out that way though and Micha gets us to the venue in Bremen just before five pm.

The place we are playing tonight is fucking awesome! The stage is in a small room on the first floor of an apartment building, which is home to a punk communal. The room the stage is in would feel tight with fifty people in it. Exactly my kind of show. And to top it off, Stachel is actually the promoter tonight so I know it's going to be good.

With the venue only having a vocal PA there is no need to sound-check tonight. Instead we just load in, set our gear up on the small stage which can be no more than a few inches high, and then head off in to town to chill out for a while. Johan will most likely have to play on the floor tonight since there is no room for him in front of Andy's drums. I can't even imagine it's going to be later on with a room packed full of punks. I can hardly wait.

Once loaded in and set up, we have a couple of hours to kill before the venue opens, so we take the van down to the river near Werder Bremen's football stadium. Checking out football grounds all over the world is another favourite past-times of mine. Bremen's looks like a big upside down cake tin.

After a relaxing walk around the river area we head back into town and sit down to some pizza. I opt for a topping of feta cheese, spinach and onion. It's nothing special but the restaurants home made hot sauce is awesome and makes the meal thoroughly enjoyable, as does the bottle of Moretti that washes it down.

By the time we're done it's seven pm. and we decide to head back to the venue. It's one of those lazy days today. When we get back to the venue, we head upstairs to the living room on the top floor and sit around watching episode upon episode of the American version of The Office. Jon and Andy are glued to the sofa pretty much right up to show time. When I hear the the support band, Zodiac, have started playing I rise from my slumber on the sofa and head downstairs to check them out. When I get downstairs I make my way down the hallway to the stage room. There are people milling around all over the place. Outside in the street, in the room to the side of the stage room where Micha has set up his distro and our merch. There is a nice buzz about this show tonight. After chatting quickly with Micha and buying another couple of lp's, I go to check Zodiac out. I can't even get through the door! I stand in the doorway for a while, which is to the right behind the low stage but it's no use, I can't really see anything.

I head back to Stachel who is sat at the door taking money and he tells me there are one hundred and twenty people in tonight. The room where the stage is is roughly the combined area of my living room and kitchen. This is going to be one beautiful gig.

When Zodiac are done I make my way to the stage and help the guys with their gear. The guitarist on my side of the stage looks like he's had a shower. His t-shirt is soaked through and glued to his chest. You can almost see the steam in the room...

By the time we're set up, tuned up and ready to go, we are pinned in and surrounded by the crowd. I have people in front of me, people to the side of me and behind me. It's absolutely packed. I fear that with my normal flapping guitar style, I'm going to plant my guitar in someone's coupon! I'll have to try and restrain myself.

Before we even start I almost belt Stachel's lovely flat-mate, Mica. I give her a hug and tell her I'm sorry. As she does so often though, she just laughs and then tells me she can't wait for the show.

I have a space of roughly one square foot to play in, and already the small space on the stage I have, which almost puts me on top of Andy's kit, is as slick as ice. Johan is on the floor in front of the stage, in the crowd. I'll be amazed if he doesn't get to eat his microphone at least once tonight. We blast in to the first block of V5, Rewind and Forward and then Who The Fuck Are We? By the time we're done with that block, about two and a half minutes later, I'm soaked in sweat. By the time we get through another couple of blocks I'm already nearing my limit.

At the start of the set I'd been full of energy and I noticed the people in the crowd in front me having to duck my swinging guitar a couple of times. By the time get to the start of Lies about half way through the set, I notice Stachel right in front of me and decide to take advantage of his strong little legs and use them as a seat during the brief moments of Jon's guitar intro.

I look over at Jon during the gig and his space is as limited as mine. Johan is rocking out hard on the floor in the crowd, he seems like he's having a great show. As much as the heat is punishing, I'm absolutely loving this show, as is the crowd. I'm very glad that I remembered to take a bottle of water with me to the stage tonight. As I swigging from it between songs near the end of the set, Andy warns me that I keep getting really close to stamping on my pedals when I'm playing. I hadn't noticed. I had noticed that Andy's cymbals have come pretty close to my head a couple of times.

By the time we get to the last two songs, Broken Bones and Your Life Is Red, I'm not even sure I'm going to make it through. I feel physically sick and dizzy. By the time the songs are over, I put my guitar down and almost run to the cool air of the hallway beside the stage, out to where Micha's merch is. I wonder if the guys are going to follow. I'm hoping they do. They don't. I guess if we're going to play a couple of extra songs it's hardly worth their while fighting their way over to my side of the crowd. A couple of minutes go by and I hear Johan talking to the crowd. I guess we're going back on. The couple of minutes of cooler air have helped me though and I no longer feel that dizzy. When I get back on stage I shout over to the guys, joking, “You fucking cunts!”. Andy looks at me exhausted, “I know!” I love playing in this band.

We get through Circles and then Scars with a renewed vigour and then it really is time to clear out. This time I head straight for the street outside and park my ass on the pavement up against the wall of the house. It's pretty cold outside now. Sweet relief. I sit there for a good ten minutes before heading back in.

Nobody is in a particular rush to pack down tonight. We pack up the stuff and then leave it on stage so we can drink a beer ad chill out before we load the van. I get talking to a couple of interesting people. There is one nice gentleman who tells me he really liked my blog about the songs on the album. I thank him. We chat for a while and he asks if we're going for a drink anywhere after the show. I tell him that Johan and I are most likely going back to 1^st. Class Suicide since our friend Daniel is working in the bar tonight. I tell the guy we'll see him there.

We pack up the van and head back to Stachel's to sort ourselves out. Andy and Jon are opting for a night in front of Stachel's tv. Jon wants to continue watching The Office. It's around two am. when Johan, Stachel and I head back out in to town where we meet up with Stachel's friend who has done the posters for this tour and who also does a lot of the graphic stuff for Stachel's label. A really nice girl called Kurzi. We're all starving. We head back to Torno's and I once again enjoy their superb falafel. And then we head to our friend Daniel for some drinks.

When we get to 1^st. Class Suicide, Daniel is looking ready to close up. We put a stop to those plans. He's such a big friendly guy though that he doesn't mind, and he truly loves making cocktails. And anyhow, he drinks as much as he serves anyway! We sit down at the bar and after an initial Whisky Sour, the theme of the night turns to gin. Daniel gives me a drop of this superb gin called Monkey 47, which he serves me straight up. It's smooth and has a slight hint of lingonberry in it's flavour. It's absolutely superb. Next up is a shot of Bombay Sapphire with a dash of sugar-water laced with dill. This blows my mind. I've never heard of anything like it, but it tasted amazing. The night goes on...and before long Stachel is pretty drunk, whilst Johan is a heady mixture of drunk and exhausted. He's struggling to keep his eyes open. I feel like I could go on all night though.

The guy I had met at the venue and mentioned this place to, is indeed here. Although he's sat on a chair with his head between his legs, his long hair hanging down to the ground, an undisturbed Bloody Mary on the table in front of him.

Johan can hardly take it any more, he has to go to the toilet just to move himself and keep himself awake. Stachel is looking pretty toasted. He cracks me up, he's got long hair these days and with his hat on looks like Brian Johnson, the AC/DC singer. He does a great impression of Johnson's stage moves, which I had him doing earlier. I look at Daniel and tell him it's time to go. The clock is nearing five am.

When we walk back to Stachel's place, the sun is beginning to rise and the birds are beginning to sing. This doesn't please the little man who is lagging behind us further down the road. He's shouting at me and Johan ahead about how much he hates it when the birds come out in the early hours and sing. “I hate the birds! They fucking suck!” We crack up and keep on walking. A little while later we hear him whining, “Gery (as he always calls me), my shoes are open...” Johan and I just laugh at him and keep walking.

By the time we get back to Stachel's pad, Andy and Jon are of course fast asleep. I don't feel so drunk although it's late and already I'm starting to feel that Andy made a wise choice in getting some sleep tonight. We have to get up around eleven. But then I think, fuck it. When I'm home I work and study and take it pretty easy, right now I'm out with the boys playing shows and having a good time. I can get a full nights sleep tomorrow night instead.

Wermelskirchen

I wake up shivering. It's seven-thirty am. I look over at Micha who is fast asleep on the mattress next to mine. Where am I? Why am I so fucking cold? It takes a few seconds for the groggy haze to lift before I remember where I am. I'm at Ronald's place. I'm lying in just a t-shirt and boxer shorts and all I have for a cover is a small hand towel. No matter how I pull at it, try and arrange it in to some sort of position, I can't get it to cover my legs and bring me warmth...

I wake up shivering. It's eight-fifteen am. I look over at Micha who is fast asleep on the mattress next to mine. Where am I? Why am I so fucking cold?....

This happens at least another three times.

Eventually I awake dying for a piss and thus, after much deliberation, I slumber off in search of a toilet. My head is thumping again. I'm still fucking freezing. I make my way downstairs in search of both somewhere to piss and something to use as a cover. My decision against bringing a sleeping bag with me for this trip now something of great regret to me. With all my experience of touring I can't believe how stupid I've been. That doesn't matter right now though. I need to piss so much that my stomach hurts.

The guys are spread about Ronald's living room, fast asleep the lot of them. I step over a few bodies and reach the asylum of the toilet, making sure I avoid the mirror as I relieve my self. Christ, my mouth is as dry as a nun's fadge. Still, after pissing I feel about a stone lighter. Relief. I head back upstairs and back to the mattress and the hand towel.

I wake up shivering...

It's only when I'm awoken by Micha getting up for a shower around ten am. that the idea hits me. I see my jeans lying on the floor beside me. Ahhhh...warm legs at last. I sleep for another half an hour and then it's time to get up. I head for the shower. As the warm water hits me and my head begins to clear, the headache now subsided, I wonder if all that fighting with the hand towel had actually happened, or if it was just a drunken dream...

After some breakfast at Ronald's place and everyone is showered, except Jon who declines, we are back in the van. I'm starting to think these weekend trips are the way to go. Or more to the point, Stachel's planning is the way forward. When Stachel books a show with a promoter, he doesn't ask them what time we have to be at the venue, he asks them what the latest possible time we can arrive will be. Very smart. That way we avoid hanging around at a venue doing nothing for hours on end, and thus wasting a perfectly good day. If you ask a venue what time you need to be there, they'll inevitable tell you to be there at three pm. or something equally unnecessary. If that happens, nine times out of ten you'll be waiting outside the venue before the sound guy even turns up. Thanks to Stachel's meticulous planning, today would be no such occasion. Today would be the perfect day on tour...

The drive from Ronald's place, just outside of Amsterdam, to Wermelskirchen is somewhere between two and three hours. In tour terms, nothing at all. A breeze. We decided we would travel to Amersfoort and visit an old friend of the guys, Jos, who plays in the band Seein' Red as well as many others. I'd never met Jos before but I was looking forward to doing so.

Unfortunately, a couple of days ago we'd heard some very sad news concerning Jos. Nobody seems to be quite sure why or how, but he'd lost a large part of his hearing. Whether it was an infection or playing loud music for so many years, his ear drums had burst, leaving him with only twenty percent left in his right ear and as yet, an undetermined amount in his left, pending examination. Really tragic news.

We arrived at Jos's place around one thirty pm. The first thing that struck me was what a giant of a man he is. He's as big as a bear. The second thing that struck me was what an absolute gentleman he is. We sat around at his place drinking superb black coffee and talking with him about what had happened. Despite the circumstances, he seemed in good spirits. His ability to hear what we were talking about, even with my mumbling accent, was surprisingly good. Jos is one of those people deeply embedded in the scene. One of those people everybody knows. We talk about what's going on in the community right now, old friends, old records, what's happening in Japan and friends that are over there, everything. He tells us that he's waiting on finding out how damaged his left ear is and the possibility of performing an operation to mend his hearing. Best case scenario, he can play music again in a few months time. Worst case scenario doesn't even bear thinking about.

We spend a couple of hours at Jos's place, just catching up and shooting the breeze. He has a really nice house and an even nicer record collection. There must be at least a few thousand on the shelves. There is nothing more fun than viewing someone else's collection.

As we sit there talking, somehow the topic of Stachel's fear of sharks comes into conversation. At first I don't really catch what he's saying. I mean, isn't everyone kind of scared of sharks? Everyone should be at least. It soon becomes apparent though that Stachel's fear is on a whole other level.

He tells us that watching Jaws as a nine year old had really put the shits up him. It was so bad that after seeing the film that one time, even though he was only in the local swimming baths, when another kid had joked that there was a shark in the water, he'd swam out of the pool, fast as fuck, shitting himself. We all burst out laughing at this. He explains that in Jaws 3 the shark had gotten into the pool somehow, so in his nine year old mind, a shark being in his local swimming baths was perfectly plausible. Again, we burst out laughing. He tells us that this fear has now developed into a general fear of swimming in murky water, be it lake or ocean. At one point he actually says the following: “I don't like it when I'm swimming in water and I can't see what beneath my feet. It could be sharks or whales or submarines, I don't know. Scary shit!” Now we're really fucking pissing ourselves! The thought of Stachel paddling around in the water worried about a submarine creeping up on him is a quite brilliant image...

When we're all done laughing at our good friend, we decide to take a walk around the town of Amersfoort with Jos as our guide, a trip to the local micro-brewery being top of the agenda. Now this truly beats hanging around at a venue all day.

Amersfoort is a beautiful old city encased by ancient parameter walls. It reminds me a little of York. Jos takes us to this little brewery situated next to the river, which is a working micro-brewery and bar in one. Between the lot of us, we sample all they have to offer. The beer is superb. After a glass of Bock which is 5,9% and another beer named Triple, which weighs in at 6,8%, I'm feeling that warm, cosy afternoon hit. We all are. I buy a few bottles of the Triple to take home. I certainly won't be needing any more this afternoon.

We walk around the ancient town with Jos as our guide, all pleasantly toasted. It's a good thing we're not playing for another eight hours or so. Before we leave for Wermelskirchen, Jos introduces us to one of Amersfoort's proudest delicacies. Hand cut chips with spicy peanut butter sauce. There is a great little shop which exclusively sells these chips, with an assortment of different sauces. Although there is quite a choice, I'm totally sold on the spicy peanut butter. As strange as it sounds, it's absolutely wonderful.

After thanking Jos for a great afternoon, we drive the rest of the way to Wermelskirchen. We get there just in time to load in and sound-check. The couple of hours in the van being enough time to let the effects of Amersfoort's beer wear off. The guy who does sound at the venue tonight, Frank Bolz, is another good friend of Stachel's. He does the mastering for all of the records Stachel puts out on his label, as well as recording a lot of bands himself. He's very serious about his job and he's very fucking good at it. The sound we get on stage is one of the best I've ever played with. It's very rare that sound-checking is this enjoyable.

The venue itself is a great place, with great people running it. It reminds me a little of Truckstop Alaska. The room where the stage is at is just the right size, it can probably hold about one hundred and fifty people. The stage is about five feet high and has plenty of room on it to make a show of yourself. The room next door is where the bar is at and on the back side of that is a garden area where there are sofas and tables and a food bar where they are grilling some amazing looking vegan burgers. Above the venue is a band apartment where there are beds for everyone and a kitchen and dining room. The two people running the place are called Daniel and Ellen, two of the friendliest people you could wish to meet. As is often the case when out on tour with Victims, I find myself wondering why we couldn't have played more places like this with Speedhorn.

There are plenty of people at the show tonight and a really good band supporting us called Patsy O'Hara, who are kind of German screamo style mixed with some d-beat and instrumental parts that remind me of Fall of Efrafa in their quieter moments. They are really nice guys too and I enjoy watching their show, all the while getting pumped up to play after them.

In keeping with the smooth flowing operation that today has been, we're on stage by eleven-twenty. I'm buzzing as the room starts to fill up with people filtering in from the bar and garden area as we let the feedback ring. It sounds amazing. I'm ready.

Tonight's show falls into a category of show I've played down the years. The room is pretty full, the energy on-stage is buzzing, we play really hard and despite the heat don't ever feel like tiring. It's that magical third gig. After warming up with a couple of shows it's now back at the level where you can bounce your guitar of the wall mid riff, catch it and still land on the right note. It's a truly great feeling. I feel like we're killing this show tonight. The crowd on the other hand is another matter. It's one of those that even though they're not kicking off and going crazy, somehow you still feel a really good energy from them, which is confirmed with the generous applause and shouting between song blocks. When we leave the stage at the end of the set, the calling for an encore is in full unified voice. We go back out and play Circles and Scars, no discussion this time.

At the end of the set proper, we thank the crowd and crawl off to the corridor at the side of the stage. Frank seems to take an age putting the disco music back on, apparently wanting more from us himself. As we sit there waiting for the music to come on the crowd continues to chant for us to come back on. One voice, pleading it's way through the drone particularly cracking me up. - One more sooooong! And then a few moments later... - Pleeease! And then... - Halllo! Brilliant stuff.

Frank eventually comes into us and asks us if we're done. We are. He nods and heads back to the sound desk and puts some music on. We sit around chilling out and discussing the show. We're all really satisfied, although Jon says he had some boring looking bird stood in front of him looking like she was falling asleep during the entire show. Haha, why do some people bother? It turns out she was there with her boyfriend, who was enjoying the show somewhat more.

I'm not sure but I think Jon was playing the show in a t-shirt tonight...I know this is nothing out of the ordinary for most people but Jon has been going bare-top ever since I joined the band, in itself stemming back to when he saw High on Fire, and in particular Matt Pike, one of his idols, playing without a top on. This is the theory according to Andy and Johan at least. I ask Jon if he had indeed played in his t-shirt tonight, to which he replies shaking his head, “Yeah. I saw a picture of myself on-stage a while ago...You can't go up there with tits for fuck sakes!” I love the self-distance Jon has from himself.

When we're packed down on stage, leaving the gear there for the night, we chill out upstairs with the guys from Patsy O'Hara and a couple of bottles of local beer. It's not Amersfoort Triple, but it will do.  Jon's friend Luc is also hanging out with us.  He's got a pretty cool Victims tattoo on his leg.  We talk with him about the possibility of playing his festival, Bloodshed, later on in the year.  I hope that is something we can work out.  After a while we head downstairs to the bar area where we hang out with Stachel and Micha and Andy and I slowly go about dissecting their distros. I pick up around twelve records, as well as Yaphet Kotto lp from another distro the Patsy guys have.

We spend a couple of very enjoyable hours drinking beer, telling stories and hanging out with Daniel and Ellen, who's birthday it is today. Jon hangs out by the fuss-ball table with a big smile on his face, watching some German punk kids play a game. He's at the point where his brain is disconnected and he's barking Swedish at nobody in particular.

This has truly been the perfect day on tour. I feel a little tipsy when we head to bed, although far from steaming. Just good. Me and Jon have been laughing about this English actor named Danny Dyer, who did a documentary series about football hooliganism called The Real Football Factories a while back. He's this really over the top cockney actor, who in truth, can't act for shit. The documentary series was great though. Well, really funny anyway, full of stupid people. It was actually Viktor from Nitad who had started going on about it on the Gothenburg trip a couple of weeks ago. Jon has been obsessed ever since.

We go to bed in the dormitory we're sharing, me and Jon laughing about that. A few muffled giggles soon turn into a wave of hysteria. It's fucking weird. It's like being back in school. Andy, Johan and Stachel are lying in bed sleeping and every time I hear Jon start laughing I burst into a fit of my own. At one point I'm lying on my stomach with my face in the pillow in order to stifle the laughter. Absolutely ridiculous. This goes on for about fifteen minutes.

When I fall asleep tonight it's not with a headache, it's my stomach that hurts.