Don't Just Stare At It...Eat It

In the matter of two weeks we played what were probably our best and worst sets we ever played, both at the Sterling Hotel. 

October 17th
This is a show we've been looking forward to for quite some time.  As soon as I saw that Moonspell and Samael were coming to the Sterling, I called and got us on the bill.  Unfortunately, a few weeks before the show, I learned that Samael was being replaced on the tour with Divine Heresy, featuring Dino of Fear Factory.  From what I heard, Samael decided to do a European tour instead.  I was looking forward to seeing Samael.  The show featured around eleven bands or so and was on two stages.  As usual, we put absolutely no effort into selling tickets for this event.  It’s not like we are rebelling against the club or promoters or anything, we just really HATE selling tickets.  The last thing I want to do is beg people I don’t even know to come see my stupid band. 
     Because we sold so few tickets, we went on first (we also refuse to buy all the tickets ourselves like some of these bands do, in order to get a good slot and to ensure future gigs).  Although we played early, there were quite a few people there already.  It was also cool to see such a good mix of people; death metal folks, goth folks, black metal folks, punks...etc.  We probably played one of our best sets ever, although it should be getting better and better, since we’ve been playing the same seven songs for the past six months.  After our seven songs were complete and we left our amps feeding back (our patented outro), the sound guy told us we could play two more songs if we wanted.  Considering we were already off-stage and our guitars were already squealing for over a minute, plus the fact that we haven’t rehearsed any other tunes for a few months, we declined the offer.
      We had a professional photographer coming to take some pictures of us, but unfortunately he didn’t make it up until after we played.  This was fine because we wanted to get promotional pictures of the whole band anyway.  The photographers, in-laws of Jeb’s, got there after our set and we took our equipment back to my place before we went back to have our pictures taken.  We went into a closed-off area in the Sterling and had our pictures taken at a bar area, then had a few shots of us at urinals (we weren’t actually peeing).  Then we went outside to have a few more pictures taken at various places around the block. 
     After our impromptu photo shoot, the guys headed back home and I stayed to check out a few bands.  One band that stood out was called Nefarious, who were younger guys playing folkish-Black Metal.  They were pretty good.  Secrets of the Moon, a melodic Death Metal band from Germany played a bit later.  I never heard them before, but they were very impressive.  I’m not familiar with them, but will have to hunt down their material after seeing them play.  An Industrial Metal band played as well, and I didn’t catch their name, but they added a distinct twist to the night with a lot of techno-ish rhythms.  I stayed for Divine Heresy, just because I wanted to see what they were all about.  They were pretty typical modern Metal and I didn’t care for them a whole lot.  They were very talented, but their music just didn’t quite do it for me.  Unfortunately, I was very tired and burned-out by this point that I didn’t even stay to see Moonspell.  It was getting close to 1am and I was in the club for around seven hours by this point.  I would’ve liked to have seen them, but I was just ready to get home.  It was definitely a great line-up of bands and we were thrilled to be on a bill like this.  This was easily one of our most victorious shows.


October 30th

This was the last show we had booked before we were going to take some time off to record and write more material.  Since my computer had been down, we couldn’t do any recording for a few months until I got it squared away, so we just continued to book shows in the meantime.  The show was booked as ’Hardcore Halloween’ although, I don’t think there were any Hardcore bands on the bill.  There were eleven bands scheduled to play and it was going to be on two stages, like the Moonspell show, although this show contained all local bands. 
     I had the day off work, so I went out in search of a Halloween costume and ended up being Zombie Jesus, including full zombie face paint.  We got to the Sterling before it even opened and just stood outside while the staff was getting prepared inside.  I got some strange looks from passers-by in my costume.  We were told that we were going to be the second band of the night to play, but we’d be playing on the big stage.  We got in, set up and waited for the opening act to get there.  They never showed up.  So even though we were on the big stage we were the first band of the night.  Most of the people there were in the smaller room at the bar (the big room doesn’t have a bar).  Jay was dressed as a priest, complete with a brown paper bag with the words ’Free Candy’ pinned to him.  Steve dressed as Animal from the Muppets.
     We got set up to play with everything miked, which was new for us at the Sterling.  As soon as we started our set, some people trickled in from the other side of the building.  Unfortunately, this was one of those mixed-genre shows which I really hate.  This meant that only a small fraction of the people there were into our style of Metal.  There definitely didn’t seem to be many fans of extreme music there. 
     We played the absolute sloppiest set we ever played.  Steve had trouble hearing us through the monitors, probably because everything was just so loud.  The extreme loudness was probably to our benefit as it covered up our errors.  My huge fake beard began to rise up over my face every time we started a song and I was constantly fighting to pull it down between notes.  Jeb was losing his voice, so we decided to end the set early before closing with our usual ’Plague of America’.   Although we got some compliments from the mixed audience, we still were collectively disappointed with the show.  We only stuck around to see one more band, before we loaded up and took our stuff home. 
     Now we finally have some time off in which to record and actually get some new songs written.  We’ve been playing the same seven songs over and over and have probably forgotten a few others since recent practices have been very few and far between recently.  Hopefully the next time we come out we will have a few new tunes ready.     

October 26th at The Arena

Somehow, we ended up on a bill for a guy that runs AD Productions out of Philly.  He was the sound guy at our show at Alphie’s.  (I recently learned that after our show at Alphie’s, they are no longer hosting live music due to complaints about the noise from our show.)  The guy from AD sent us a flyer for the show and told us we would be the final band of the evening playing after midnight.  I asked the other guys in the band if they set up this show and they did not.  We have no idea how we ended up on the bill, but figured we would do it.
     I got on the road around 7:30 or so and was heading to Jeb’s place in Philly before the show, because he just received a new batch of T-shirts and wanted to put them with the other merchandise we already have and I was holding on to.  I got to his place and picked out a shirt for myself.  They came out pretty nice.  We got on the road and headed to Roosevelt Blvd when we realized that we had no idea where the venue was.  We drove down Roosevelt for a while, looking at the west side of the street, as we both thought that it would be on that side.  As we got pretty far down the boulevard, we saw our rhythm guitarist, Zeb, walking across the busy road in front of us.  We both looked at each other and said “Is that Zeb?”  Since the boulevard is well-traveled and fast-moving, there was no way for us to pull over and talk to him.  We figured he must have been going  to or from the venue.  We turned around and eventually found The Arena on the opposite side of the street that we were looking.  After a few complicated turns-around, we finally made it there. 
     The venue was a small bar that was connected to a bowling alley.  There were security guards in yellow ‘security’ polos standing outside of  the bowling alley and the bar, which had entrances near each other.  This was Philly indeed.  We unloaded into a half empty bar.  I missed the first band, but according to Zeb, they were cut off for a little while because there was a bowling tournament going on and the noise must have been distracting.  Steve and Jay were not there yet, and we got an ominous text from Steve saying that he was at a surprise party for his Brother and he had his keys taken away from him for drinking too much.  Luckily Jay, who live close by, was already in route to pick him up. 
     I had my shot and two beers while the next band played.  Since it was over a week ago, I fail to remember the band at the moment.  I remember they were pretty decent though.  At one point I went outside to smoke a cigar.  One of the security guards pointed to my drinking horn, which was holstered to my belt, and asked me if I had any beer in it, since I wasn’t allowed to have beer outside, obviously.  I picked up the horn and chugged the last bit and said no to his somewhat apathetic amusement.  I watched the people making their way across the parking lot, able to easily tell who was going bowling and who was going to the show.  The next band that played was called Barbarism (I think) and it was the band of the guy from AD Promotions.  They were OK.  Nothing great.  I was standing outside of the venue with Jeb directing the now-close Jay and Steve through Roosevelt Blvd to the venue.  As soon as they pulled into the lot, I heard the singer of Barbarism ending their set and telling the small crowd that One Solution Only would be coming up next. 
     As soon and Jay and Steve were in the door, they were put to work, setting up their equipment with us.  As usual, we set up in super-efficient time and were ready to play within a few minutes.  We started a little after midnight and had as long as we wanted to play.  Steve did surprisingly well despite the fact that he was drunk which gave me even more confidence in his abilities, not that I ever had any doubts.  Our set was started off a bit rough with me and Zeb being slightly out of tune with each other, but we fixed it after the first song.  The rest of the set was usual, tight and very obnoxious.  Not many people stayed that late, but we got a good response. 
     After the set me and Jeb eyed up the Checkers, which was right next to the venue.  We packed our gear and headed over to the drive thru.  We sat in line waiting to order and wondering why they were taking so long.  Soon, a security guy walked over and up to the car in front of us.  He waved at me to then proceeded to wake up the driver in the car.  I guess that’s what was taking so long.  We got our order (which was predictably screwed-up) and made our way home.  I probably won’t work with the guy from AD again, but I might eat at Checker’s again.  Depends how hungry I am.

Street Road Bar and Grill October 3rd

Saturday was a busy day.  Had dinner with family at 6:00 and a show in Philly which I was trying to be at by 10:00.  We were asked by one of our favorite promoters, Doughboy, if we wanted to get on a bill at Street Road, which recently changed ownership and discontinued original music.  Somehow Doughboy got original music back there and he asked us right away to get on a bill.  I was happy to have the Street Road back as well.  It is small, has cheap drinks, is close to the turnpike and just has a good atmosphere.  Since I had a family thing, I asked if we would be able to play later, and Doughboy easily obliged. 
     After dinner with the family, I hurried home and swiftly loaded all our equipment into the back of my truck.  I covered it with a tarp as best as possible, just in case of rain on the way to Philly.  I headed out at 8:30 with the somewhat ridiculous Black Metal of Dark Funeral, that I randomly picked out of my gigantic cd pile, playing in my truck.  After about a mile on route 22, I looked in my rear-view mirror and noticed that my tarp was no longer draped over the speaker cabinets.  I assumed it must have went flying out of the truck.  But upon further inspection, I saw one of its frayed edges toward the back of the truck’s bed, while looking out the side mirror. 
     Sometime after passing the Quakertown exit on 476 south, I decided to pull into one of those emergency pull-offs to make sure the tarp was secure enough that it wouldn’t fly out of the truck.  Seeing as the sky was clearing up, I didn’t bother to cover anything else with it. 
     I got to the venue in about an hour and fifteen minutes and by the time I put my truck in park, the guys were already unloading the gear from the bed.  That’s service!  I only missed the first band, called Slutty Earth who are a mid-tempo fusion of Punk and Metal.  I dragged Steve to the bar to grab our shots of Jameson, but had to cope with Jack Daniels, since they were out of my favorite whiskey.  I also ordered a Yuengling, but instead got a Miller Lite by accident.  Since the bartender already opened the bottle, I decided to choke it down.  I got quite a few strange looks from people because of my drinking horn.  A few people came up to me and asked my what it was and told me how cool they thought it was.  One girl seemed utterly surprised at the fact that it was indeed a real bull’s horn. 
     The next band of the night was pretty good.  I don’t remember their name, as all Metal band’s names are starting to blend together for me.  I think the word ’Ashes’ might have been in there.  They were tight and had some good riffs.  The next band to play was a band called Trephination.  They brought in way more equipment than they needed for such a small venue, including full stacks for all their string players.  They were a pretty talented band and had some real good riffs as well in some of their songs. 
     At a little after 12:00, we went on.  It almost felt as though we were headlining, because we played with Doughboy on a few occasions and the crowd was as full as it would get for the evening.  Jeb introduced us as a bunch of “obnoxious homosexual Vikings”.  We lived up to that reputation with some jack-ass-like banter between the songs.  We got a great response from the crowd, even thought we hardly brought anybody there to see us.  I felt it was one of the best sets we ever played.  What made it even better was that the crowd had a good mix of people; the normal Metal guys, some Hardcore types, a couple Punks girls and others. 
     After us was a three-piece band called Fatal Verdict (I think).  They has a guitarist, a drummer and a singer who had some computer stuff set up but didn’t end up using.  I imagine it was for samples and stuff.  I only stuck around for two of their songs which were pretty decent.  I had to hit the road though, because my truck was loaded up and obviously exposed in the bed. 
     I started heading home and by the time I got to 476 North, I realized that it was closed.  I turned on my radio to find out that it was closed between Philly and Lansdale.  This forced me to turn around and backtrack on 276 East, to 309 North (which is horrible between Philly and Lansdale) and take 63 West.  Unfortunately I took 63 East for some reason and didn’t realize it was the wrong way until about eight miles down the road.  I finally made it home just before 3:30.     

     Type O-Negative is coming back to Allentown and the wife asked me if we should go.  When I saw the recently added concert listing I was wondering the same thing a day earlier.  I haven't seen Type O forever, although I saw Pete Steele's old band Carnivore a couple of years ago, doing a reunion show.  I prefer Carnivore to Type-O, but I still like Type-O's early stuff.  But I'd definitely go see them again.  Steele is a great songwriter.  He also has one of coolest bass sounds ever which I loosely base my bass sound on when I record solo stuff.  The prospect of seeing Type O again reminded me of the most memorable time that I saw them play.  It was something like 1993 or '94.  Actually, now that I think about it, I think I only saw them play twice.
     A few friends and I wanted to go to New York to see TON play with Godflesh and Danzig.  I was a huge Godflesh fan (and still am) and since they are from the UK, it is not often that they come to the States.  NYC was the closest they would come.  We decided we were going to take the trip.  Since it was many years ago, many of the details of this adventure are blurry.  
     There were four of us and I was driving.  I always hated driving in NYC and just being there in general, and this trip did nothing to diminish this sentiment.  We got to the city and as usual, we got lost as soon as we were just past the Holland Tunnel.  No matter how many times I go to NYC, I always seem to be lost as soon as I exit the tunnel.  The show was at the Limelight.  We didn't have good directions (since this was before online directions).  We drove around the city for quite some time, driving through an endless Chinatown, as has happened many times to me for some reason.  We finally found the venue and looked for a place on the street to park since we were running late.  I found a spot about two blocks away.  There were 'No Parking' signs, but there were tons of cars parked there, so I figured "What the hell".  I squeezed into a spot with just inches between the cars in back and front of mine.  We then went to the venue.
     As we got in, Godflesh was in mid-performance.  We were a bit bummed, since they were the main reason we went to that wretched place.  We only got to see two of their songs, but from what we heard, they only got to play four songs total for some reason.  Seems like they were getting screwed being the opening act.  We were still pissed that we missed half of their set.  Type O came on next and their set wasn't very long either.  This is when I really dug TON's music.  Their first two releases were their best works in my humble opinion.  Danzig was up next and our interest waned.  Although I was always a huge Misfits and Samhain fan, I thought Danzig was mediocre.  I came to enjoy their stuff more later.  
     I don't think we even stayed to watch the whole Danzig set before we left.  We went back to the car and I found myself staring at an empty space where I was sure I parked.  I looked at the car in front and the car behind and sure enough they were the same two cars that I parked in between.  Could the parking authority have come along and drug my car out sideways in order to tow it?  I appears as though this is exactly what happened.  These two cars were definitely the ones I parked between.  Upon further inspection, I noticed that they both had New York plates.  Did they pull mine out because I had an out-of-state plate?  It appears as though this is exactly what happened.  We marveled at the fact that there was absolutely no way for my car to have been towed without having it somehow pulled out sideways.  I still have a hard time trying to figure that one out.  
     So the four of us starting walking, debating what our options were.   I was NOT leaving NYC without my car. I didn't care if I had to ram through the fence of the impound lot and run over some people in the process.  I was going to get home in my car!  I found a pay phone, which at this time, still had phone books attached to them.  I found the number for the parking authority and they confirmed that they had my car.  They told me I would need $150 to pick it up.  Somewhere in the middle of a crowded New York street, well after midnight, we pulled our money together and somehow ended up with $150 and literally about ten cents to spare.  This included a few dollars worth of small coins.
     We walked around the city for an eternity looking for the impound lot and finally saw it.  It was about three in the morning by this time.  We went in and went up to the clerk who was a big, nasty black lady, listening to what looked like a mini-boom-box that you would get at a dollar store and was playing the kind of music that you would expect a mini-boom-box from a dollar store to be playing.  After confirming that my car was there, we gave her the pile of cash that we had.  A bunch of small bills and a pile of change that we all dug up from deep in our pockets sat heaped in front of her as she looked at us strangely.  She looked at the pile, then back at us and said "We don't take CHANGE!"  After a slight argument, she agreed to take the legal tender and had a crack-addicted-looking guy show us to my car.  We got in and exited the garage and made our way out of the city as fast as we could with about ten cents to our name between the four of us.
     So hopefully this Type O show will go a little better!  Did I ever mention how much I HATE New York? 
    

Saturday marked a year since the last time we played at the Sterling Hotel, and a year has been just too long.  The Sterling is actually a cool place to play and we not only support the promoter and the people that work there, but we’re actually friends with them.  I’ve known the promoter and sound guy for years.  They used to play in bands when I was still in my high school band many, many moons ago.
     We got there at six and expected to be the first or second band of the evening, but we learned we were playing fourth.  We loaded in, set up our merch in a booth and sat down and watched the opening acts.  I’m not sure of the name of the first act.  If you closed your eyes, they were almost enjoyable at times, until a bit of clean melodic emo-like vocals kicked in.  When you saw them, they were not so enjoyable.  Very emo.  When will that shit go away? 
    Next up was Gutrot.  This is a one-man project.  Gutrot plays guitar and sings with distorted vocal effects over drum machine and rhythm tracks, while videos are projected onto a screen behind him.  Once in a while he took some time to smash shop lights over his head and cut himself with some remaining shards. 
     Next was a surprisingly great band from New Jersey.  I say surprisingly because, well, they are from Jersey and they are real young, like sixteen-seventeen-ish.  I don’t expect kids this young to play any pure form of metal, but these kids played brutal old-school Death Metal.  Nothing overly technical, nor too many blast beats, but very listenable stuff.  I hope to be playing with them again. 
     There must have been a mix-up with the line-up because there was one more band before we went on.  I don’t know the name of the next band even though one of them told me when he introduced himself to me.  I didn’t catch the name because I was busy trying to figure out why such a seemingly emo band ended up on this Death Metal bill.  They were also very young and their style of music reflected it.  They were a lot poppier than a band at this particular event should’ve been.
     We went up next and a majority of the kids that were there left and the older folks, who were there for the headliners started coming in.  As usual, we had no set list and just winged it.  We started off with our newest song  ‘Ascent to Jotunheim’ for the first time.  I’m not sure if  I cared for it in the starting position.  All of our songs got a pretty positive response even though I know I was hitting wrong notes left and right.  I guess I’m not used to playing so late.  Luckily it was loud enough to hide any minor errors.  I almost fell down onto my amp while jumping in the air during our last song.  We let our feedbacking guitars on while we exited the stage and finally went back to turn them off a few minutes later.  Although it was probably our sloppiest set in a while, it still sounded pretty solid and people seemed to dig it.  We got some compliments afterward. 
     After we finished, a band from Puerto Rico called Pit Fight Demolition went on and played some more brutal Death Metal.  I don’t know if I ever heard a Metal band (or any band for that matter) from Puerto Rico, but these guys were pretty damn good.  Their English was not so great, but their music was just sick.  I’m not gonna say something gay like “good music is a universal language” or some other hippie crap.  I will definitely be hunting down their music and hope to play with them again. 
     After they were done, we decided to pack up and head home.  I would’ve liked to see the headliners Bloodsoaked and Sapremia, but it was a long day and the other guys had to take off.   Bloodsoaked was just another one-man project from North Carolina.  I knew his Cds were done himself, but I didn’t expect him to play as a one-piece, on top of programmed music, as well.  Sapremia is semi-local I think and I heard some good things about them.  That being said, I’m sure we’ll be playing with them again in the future.  This was probably one of the better shows we had a chance to play.  Now we have a month off before we play at the Sterling again in mid-October with Portuguese veterans Moonspell and Switzerland’s Samael.  That one should be pretty big.  



Yep,  I made that flyer, with a picture taken from 'Dead Alive'.  

A few weeks ago I came downstairs in the morning and noticed that I had some kooky things on my computer's desktop.  There was a window open with a bunch of 'infected' files.  This was what 'PC AntiVirus2010 found.  It crippled the machine.  There was no desktop image, instead just a warning that the computer was infected.  I tried to X out the PC AV210 shit and it kept popping back up and doing more 'scans' time and time again.  I tried to control/alt/delete and it wouldn't let me.  I shut down the computer and when it started back up, we were right back where we were, with the shitty PC AV thing again.
     I know enough about computers to know that this supposed antivirus program was one of them phony malware things that tell you your computer is infected, hopefully prompting people to buy their product..  I shut down the computer again and went to work.  After I came home I booted it back up and went upstairs.  I came down later to find out that Windows was not opening.  I just had a minute or two of the black intro page with the scrolling green thingy that is supposed to take you into Windows.  It just stayed on that screen for a while and shut back off continuously.  
     Since I couldn't get into Windows I had to do a system recovery.  I didn't realize that I could do a system restore without having to get into Windows unfortunately.  My HP comes with a partitioned hard drive with the recovery tool, so there is no boot disk.  I did a non-destructive recovery and started the thing up.  All my files were in place along with all the crap that HP threw on the machine from the factory.  The problem was that none of my programs or hardware are working.  I tried to open my audio interface, which I use for recording, but what also comtrol the pc's outgoing audio and it wouldn't open.  I tried to open a bunch of the programs I installed and they wouldn't open.  They either told me that I was missing files or that I needed to pop in the installation driver discs.    So I basically have an internet machine for the time being.  Even my Windows updates won't install. 
     I came to the theory that my system32 folder is corrupted, perhaps just the system32/drivers files.  I ran a registry cleaner and got no happy results.  I did some searching on line for answers.  I contacted HP tech support and they told me to try something (which failed) and if that didn't work to do a destructive recovery.  I didn't like this option since I have a bunch of things on the machine that I don't want to lose.  I could back it up, but I figured there might be other options.
     Then I found a website called geekstogo.com.  This site is awesome.  It is a free tech support site.  The people that run it have jobs and families but still take the time out to personal guide people though their issues.  Right now I am in the process of working with someone who is trying to get my machine running.  Hopefully I will have it all fixed up soon.  I highly recommend checking out this site, even if you have no problems.  There is a lot of good information and tips there.
     Thanks to Pauline who is trying to fix my AIDS-infested computer!

Today we played the earliest show we ever had to play and hopefully it will remain the earliest we ever will have played.  Here's how it all started:
A guy named Gutrot (the name of his act) contacted me through MySpace on my side project, Soundtrack to a Murder's profile, asking if we wanted to play this festival he was putting together.  I told him that Soundtrack is just a recording project and it might be hard for me to pull it off live since the project is me playing everything.  So I sent him the way of One Solution Only and told him we'd do the show.  All was good and he sent us 15 tickets, asking us to sell ten. 
The show was to go from noon until 2am and feature 30 bands on two stages.  He sent us an email a few weeks ago saying that we'd be going on somewhere between four and six.  Since we were one of the last bands to be added to the bill, it was no problem playing early.  Last week he informed us that we'd be playing between 1:30 and three.  I said that was fine "but we ain't gonna get rid of any tickets'. 
So today we drove up to the show at the crack of noon, not knowing what to expect.  I think I was through the town of Bangor once.  The place was easy to find since Bangor has only like three streets.  We got to the venue, went in and we were informed that the show would be starting at two due to a couple bands backing out and we would be the first band playing.  I hate to sound like one of them guys, but first in a thirty or so band event?  WTF?? So we set up our shit and perhaps the festering anger that we took to the stage proved beneficial to the show.  I finally had a drinking horn to take to a show, and even though it was early, there was no way that I wasn't going to use it.  I had my customary shot of Jameson and two Lagers before we played.
The promoter came up to me at two and asked if we were ready to go on as I was waiting in line to use the bathroom.  I told him I was going to piss and we'll be ready.  He said whenever we were ready we could start.  I told him that if he was worried about time, I could run outside and piss in the parking lot to get things moving quicker.  He told me it wasn't necessary.    We started the set very hostility, with me filling the place with brain-splitting feedback for a good minute or two before we went into our first tune.  As I said, the anger definitely seemed to have helped.  Our set sounded pretty decent and people either totally dug it, or ran for shelter in the neighboring stage area.  There was not much room, so we were pretty much on the floor with the kids there.  It was tight enough that I was able to shove a few people across the floor as they danced too near.  If it wasn't two in the afternoon, and there would've been more people there, it would've been real cool.  But it was as good as it could be under the circumstances.  And the best part of the day, as far as the bands that we saw, there was no Metalcore.  Just straight up metal bands.  If this was in the Reading area, it would've been all Metalcore.
We almost had a chance to play a second show.  Two guys that work for the Sterling, who I've known from the days in my high school band,  played in ther band at about five.  They had another show booked for later in the evening at a place called Lippy's in Marshall's Creek.  They told us to call the promoter there because there might be an opening.  We figured 'fuck it'.  We weren't too far away and we had all day.  We called the place and were told that the evening was already booked up.  The promoter for Lippy's said "Come by and check it out tonight and we'll talk about setting something up". I said, "Sure. I'll do that".  Wait for me.
So that's about it.  We met a few cool folks, scared a few more and left Bangor before we could burn it down.  Shit...we didn't burn it down, did we?  I knew we forgot something!

Anatomy of a Douche-Bag
A Cultural Study by Dr. Max Murder


The Douche-bag  revolution began sometime in the 1980’s.  It is unknown who started this annoying, deviant subculture (claims that Joey Buttafuoco founded the Douche-bag movement have been unsubstantiated) but it is thriving in America as it never has before.  According to our recent studies, one in every two males ages 16-40 is a douche-bag.  This is a 600% increase as previously reported in a 1999 study.  We cannot be certain why the Douche-bag phenomenon continues to exponentially rise, although many American social influences which may contribute to it are currently being tallied in order to foresee if this phenomenon shall continue to flourish, and if so, for how long.
     We took a sample of 400 douche-bags from across the US and have recorded their behaviors, their language and their dress in order to get an accurate depiction of the prototypical Douche-bag.  This may help the non-Douche-bag citizens of America in spotting a Douche-bag and thus avoiding any offending interactions with them.
     Our test sample consisted of White males ages 16-40 from different social and economic backgrounds.  We have not yet applied this study to non-Caucasian races as their specific natural actions as opposed to Douche-baggery actions within their specific races are still being compiled and studied.  The same applies to females. 
    
Here is our findings:

Language:
     In some cases, a Douche-bag dialect may be hidden to interact with society, but particularly when excited, the Douche-bag dialect will spring forth.  The Douche-bag will typically talk far louder than non-Douche-bags.  In nearly 70% of cases, a New Jersey or New York accent will be detected.  A Douche-bag will appear to be very sure of himself even though their IQs are typically below 80.  There are some words which are native to the Douche-bag.  For instance ‘Baby’ when used as an exclamation.  For example: “Let’s go get some Jager-shots, Baby!”  This is not to be confused with the term for infant that is used by humans. 
     A Douche-bag will also seem very cordial with his usage of the words “Bro” or “Dawg”.  For instance: “Yo Dawg, let’s go get some Jager shots, Baby!”

Attire:
     The origins of the Douche-bag dress style has changed over the years, but has always stuck out over that of humans.  Its roots come from New Jersey in the 1980’s with 'Gold’s Gym' T-shirts (typically with the sleeves cut partially off) and sweatpants (worn in public).  The style has progressed in the past quarter century, but the Douche-bag emblem is still quite visible.
     One of the easiest signs of a Douche-bag is the cap.  Although baseball-styled caps have been worn for over a century, the Douche-bag simply cannot seem to get hat-wearing quite right.  This is probably a byproduct of his low IQ.  A Douche-bag will sometimes wear a cap that is crooked, too big for his head, backwards and very tightly on the head (with the trim barely over the brow) or a mixture of one or more of these.
     Another telltale sign of the Douche-bag is the very thin beard.  It is unclear why Douche-bags think that a pencil-thin, three-day old line of stubble constitutes a beard, but apparently he does. 
     Although the clothing sported by Douche-bags has changed over the years, some articles of clothing still remain in style for this particular subculture.  Some ODBs (Original Douche-bags) still carry on the tradition of wearing clothing that is too big for them such as T-shirts that are two to three sizes too large or extremely baggy pants.  Recently, some Douche-bags have fancied a more covert style of clothing in order to assimilate with the human masses.
     A favorite footwear of Douche-bags is 'Nike-Air' sneakers.  It is yet unclear if all Nike products are a favorite of Douche-bags, but the ‘Air’ line still seems to be hailed the most.  In the Winter, the Douche-bag may also prefer to wear Timberland boots.



Diet:
     The diet of a Douche-bag is not unlike the diet of humans.  However, his alcohol consumption is a dead giveaway.  A Douche-bag typically has very unrefined tastes in beer.  A Douche-bag favorite is Heineken.  Some prefer even cheaper pilsners such as Budweiser.  Some Douche-bags prefer to drink lite beer.  They justify this by saying that drinking lite beer gives them the ability to drink more, longer.  As far a hard liquor, a favorite Douche-bag delicacy is Jagermeister.  For instance: “Let’s go get some Jager shots, Baby!”  It is unclear when this particularly foul beverage became a favorite for Douche-bags, but it is believed to have spiked in popularity in recent years when Jagermeister became more trendy in clubs.  Let it be noted that not all people who drink these beverages are Douche-bags, but these beverages can lead to other Douche-baggery behavior, so parents should be forewarned.

Other Distinguishing Traits:
     It is not uncommon for a Douche-bag to be recognized by his tattoos.  A common favorite Douche-bag tattoo is a tribal symbol.  Because of their lower IQs, a Douche-bag may not be able to comprehend any meaningful piece of art to be placed on his body.  Barbed wire arm bands are another signature Douche-bag design.

 

Conclusion:
     Douche-bags are not to be feared.  They are simply a lower form of humans and are typically harmless unless they are in packs.  It is still best for humans to avoid all interactions with Douche-bag just to be safe.  Even if the threat to human safety is not at stake, the annoyance level of a Douche-bag may have severe side-effects to humans.  As the years pass, we will continue to follow Douche-bag trends and keep humans updated.




Dr. Max Murder is  a graduate of Liberty High School and has been studying Douche-bag behavior for a number of years.  He currently works undercover in a warehouse continuing to study Douche-bag trends and behavior. 

Last week, we got a last minute invitation to play some show being set up by the guy who set up a few shows for us around the Reading area.  I don't know if it was a birthday bash for him or something.  If I was any kind of human, I would've known in advance so I could've said "happy birthday" or some crap, but...ya know.  The event was to feature twelve bands playing on two stages in a rented hall-type place.  Since we didn't have to sell any tickets, we had nothing to lose.
     The show was in Reinholds, Pa.  I've never heard of the town before, but it was right outside of Reading.  We had to be there at 4:30 since we were playing at 5:30 or 6.  I left home at 3 and it was a bad day for my air conditioner in my truck not to be functioning.  I should really get it recharged one day.  It was about 90 degrees out.  I got my Monster and popped in some 'Forest of Fog', a Melodic Black Metal band.  By the time I was 10 minutes down route 222, my Monster was already warm.  
     It was about this time that I was getting a sick sensation in my belly thinking about the fact that there may not be alcohol at the event, since it was indeed in a hall.  I tried to rid this notion from my brain by blasting the Black Metal louder, but it wouldn't go away.  It's not like I even get drunk at shows.  I drive so I have a very short limit.  I just have grown accustomed to a shot of Jameson and two Lagers before I go in stage.  Is that too much to ask?
     So I found myself on the last line of the directions I wrote for myself when I realized that I had no idea what building I was looking for.  I pulled into a random parking lot and called Jay, and he told me it was a fire hall.  I got back on the road and found the hall about a block away.  I was the first one there from the band.  I HATE that!  I went in and said a very quick 'hi' to the promoter and pretty much ignored him as he was talking about the set-up for the evening, while I was looking around for where the beer might be hidden.  I walked up to a little snack counter thing and saw an older lady and a little girl, about eight, maybe ten (I'm not good with kids' ages, she could've been three or twelve for all I know) and the realization of our first alcohol-free event came to fruition.  What kind of Viking Metal band plays a non-alcoholic show?  I stared for a few minutes at the generic sodas that were available, one of which was called "Dr. Thunder".  I opted for the "Sam's Cola".  
     The other guys showed up and we loaded our shit in.  We were the first band playing on the main stage and were playing after the first band played on the second stage.  It was ninety percent younger kids there.  Totally not what we were used to.  The other ten percent were old ladies for some reason.  In fact, some older ladies were doing things like running the soundboards.  Strange.  Being the antisocial bastard I am, I went outside and smoked a cigar while the first band played.   The first band was pretty typical of the bands to be coming out of the Reading area and many other places; slow, heavy drop-D tuned riffs, all of which were breakdowns with growling vocals.  The kids today that know nothing about music refer to this as Hardcore for some reason. 
     After they were done we got up and did our set.  The only thing that made it stand out was that we started with an older song called 'All Out War' instead of the usual 'Lindisfarne'.  We played our seven songs while the kids stood about ten to fifteen feet away from the stage.  Although they appeared to be a bit frightened of us (as though they should've) they responded well to our songs.  When we were done we loaded our stuff out while the next band on the second stage began.  They sounded like the first band. 
     After our crap was all loaded up and we bullshat outside for a bit I went back in.  An older lady came up to me and told us we sounded great.  She had to be about fifty.  Next, a couple older broads were on the main stage tending to some instruments.  I wasn't sure if one of them was one of the ladies that complimented us or not.  One of the broads got behind the drums and another plugged a guitar into an amp.  These two ladies were about fifty-ish and I was surprised to see that they were actually the band.  One broad played drums while the other played an extremely low-tuned guitar and wailed into the microphone, with some intermittent samples being played over the PA every so often.  It was definitely something I didn't expect.  After a couple songs I said my farewells to the other guys and headed on my way home.  There wasn't really anything I wanted to see.  The two bottles of mead waiting for me at home were more inviting on this hot day than the rest of an alcohol-free kid show.

Saturday, we played at the world-famous Alphie's in Northeast Philadelphia.  OK, maybe not world famous...  I was looking forward for a while to playing this show as I like working with the promoter, Dough Boy, who put us on a previous show at Street Road Bar and Grill.  Street Road was later bought by a franchise and they decided to no longer feature original bands.  Dough Boy went to work and found Alphie's.  His shows are cool because he is a band guy.  He only charges $5 at the door, he doesn't require ticket sales, and he is very genuine with bands which is a rare trait in promoters.  It reminds me of the way Hardcore shows used to be back in the day.  I hate that phrase.
     I found the club in a shopping center off Roosevelt Boulevard pretty easily.  It was next to a pizza joint and a Shop and Bag grocery store.  From the outside it looked like an Italian restaurant.  When I went in, only the promoter, his wife, two sound guys and a few bar regulars were inside.  I greeted Dough Boy and sat at the bar and got a Yuengling.  I looked very out-of-place amongst the locals.  An older guy in a Led Zep shirt asked me what my band was called.  I told him three times before he got it.  He asked what we played and I told him "Death Metal".  He said "Heavy Metal?  That's a little bit too much for me".  Apparently it is customary in Philly to have a plastic bag full of stuff when you're in a bar.  Our other guitarist Bob later assured me that this was indeed a Philly custom.  The three regulars each had plastic bags with them full of who-knows-what.  Some middle-aged lady in a bright orange shirt was drinking and slightly dancing to some R and B crap on the juke box.  I later called 'dibs' to my band mates. 
     The rest of the guys got there and we set up.  We would be playing first at about nine.  After we set up, I went outside to smoke a cigar.  An old lady (around 55-60) walked by and asked me if we were playing tonight.  She said that it was strange to see young people inside because the place is usually "filled with cotton heads".  She told me to have a good show and it took a few minutes for the 'cotton head' remark to kick in.  I then burst out in laughter to myself.  That lady made my night.  Later, a couple regulars were walking in and one of the guys asked me if we played any classic rock from the sixties or seventies.  I said "Yeah, a little".  He said "You do any Bruce Springsteen or anything like that?"  I said "Oh yeah, we do some".  After that I talked with the guys from a band called Clamfight who were playing third.  They were pretty cool.
     After my customary shot of Jameson and another Yuengling we got up and started.  We had a decent crowd.  There wasn't enough room for our singer on stage with us, so he sang from the floor.  We played a pretty tight set and got a good response.  I was near the edge of the small stage for most of the show and nearly fell off at one point.  It went good and we had a lot of fun.
     After we played, I went to the pizza shop next door and got a personal pepperoni pie for three bucks.  Good deal.  Jay, our bassist got one as well.  Some old regular came out for a smoke and sat aside of Jay as he ate his pizza.  He told us we were pretty good.  He was obviously plastered.  He asked if we liked Led Zeppelin and The Who.  He told us that they were the first Heavy Metal band and we just let him ramble.  He told us he was talking to the girls inside and then told us how we must get a lot of girls playing in a band.  I said "We sure do".  He then told us he worked for a printing company for the past twenty years and "get a blow job every now and again".  Jay looked at me with a face that's still burnt in my brain.  The drunk said "Yeah, not too bad for a cute 45 year old" and laughed.  Jay looked at me with the same face.  The guy of course was more like 65.  I went back in with that and let him out there with Jay.  Good friend I am!  I expected to come out later to find a bloody dead drunk lying on the sidewalk.
     I went in and watched Clamfight.  They were really good.  They were sludgy like a really heavy early Clutch of Fudge Tunnel.  Good shit.  I hope to play with those guys again.  After they got done I headed home.  Very entertaining evening.
     Today I called Skip at the Sterling and got us on a bill with Moonspell and Samael.  I was pretty excited about that all day.  That should be a killer show!
    

Scene One:

It was late.  I didn’t know how late it was, but it was very late.  I’d been sleeping on and off with my head upon the table for the past who knows how long.  This should not have been as comfortable as it was, but it was.  Most of my relatives and others in attendance have been gone for a while now.  It was dark and there was only one other table that was occupied.  Once in a while I could hear laughter coming from my Dad, my brother and a few other close relatives who have somehow managed to stay coherent. 
     I was sitting by myself and most people just seemed to have forgotten about me.  I was looking around for opened bottles at the vacated tables, but couldn’t find anything.  What I was really craving at the moment was a sip of Jameson.  I looked to the occupied table and saw what looked like an open bottle of the Irish whiskey in question.  But I wasn’t ready to make my move to go grab it.  I was still tired for some reason.  I laid my head back down on the table and tried to fall back asleep as the last of the party got up from their table and slowly made their way to the exit.
 
Scene Two:

It was an empty record store in Jersey.  Well, empty with the exception of Tony Soprano and Christopher.  They stood between two racks of Cds discussing some plans.  I tried a bit to make out what they were saying but was having a bit of trouble because I was focusing on the discs in the background.  There were old-school Thrash Metal Cds except their names had been slightly skewed.  I assume this had something to do with the show not paying for endorsements or some stupid corporate legal mumbo-jumbo.  Tony was talking to Christopher in a subdued, but yet enraged sort of tone.  I started to really notice the trouble James Gandolfini was having talking as he recently had his teeth rearranged in some extracurricular off-set debauchery.  It made it a little more entertaining to watch.

Scene Three:

I’ve been holding it in for a while.  I knew my alarm was going to go off in a half hour but I really had to pee.  I got up and walked downstairs to the bathroom.  As usual in the early morning, I leaned against the wall in front of me with my hands while I peed.  I flushed the toilet before I was done going, which I usually have timed pretty well, whereas I’d be finished by the time the last of the water swirls down the drain.  This time I wasn’t even close.
     The toilet began filling back up and I stood upright. Finally opening my eyes realizing that the stream was still going full-blast.  I looked down into the toilet at my still unceasing flow to notice that the water was turning black.  To my horror, the color change was not from the water flowing into the toilet from the back of the tank.  Although this really should have concerned me more, it didn’t.  I finally finished.  I picked up the toilet to put it back in it original spot.  I forgot where it went, so I put it imperfectly back in a place I thought was most appropriate.  I don’t even know why I moved it in the first place.

Scene Four:
Back in the record store.  The tone of the conversation has become a lot less tense.  Chris was in the middle of telling Tony about something, I’m not sure what.  Tony listened curiously as he stared blankly at the back of a CD which he took of the rack in a compulsive manner.  Chris told him that the only drawback was that “It’ll make your piss totally black”  Tony took his eyes of the CD and looked at him as if silently saying “Oh yeah?”. 
     For some reason this made me feel a bit better about my recent adventure in the bathroom, although I had no idea what Chris was talking about.  Perhaps this should make me feel worse.  Tony began talking again and was again having visible trouble working though his recent dental work.  He grabbed Chris by the cheeks with one hand in some kind of very Sicilian-mobbish sign of affection as he said something to him just before they turned to leave the store.

Scene Five:

I’ve had no training whatsoever.  But I had my gun, so I was ready.  I started to make my way over to our tiny vehicle.  I was ready for war.  I was given absolutely no instructions and was definitely not confident in the results, but had no less enthusiasm.  I sat in the car and waited for a couple other guys to get in.  There would be four of us and a clone of each of us, so it was eight all together.  There seemed to be plenty of room, until the last guy and his clone got in.  He was a rather large fella. 
     The vehicle started to make its way and I assumed that the driver knew where he was going.  Everyone with the exception of me and my clone had prior experience in this, although they seemed far less enthusiastic than me.    We traveled down a few narrow corridors until we saw our first signs of the enemy.
     They appeared a few yards away at the next intersecting corridors.  They were wearing red sweat shirts.  They fired from behind the corners at us.  Red projectiles flew from their guns toward us and we ducked into the vehicle to avoid being hit.  We were ridiculously outnumbered.  Every once in a while we would rise up and fire blindly before ducking back down, not even knowing if our shots were leaving any casualties behind.  Within a matter of seconds, our suicide mission was over. 

Scene Six.

We were in a planning room in the upper part of the building (The Brain).  I was sitting next to office people.  Jim Halpert was sitting next to me.  I was discussing with him our previous suicide mission and he was aware of the next strike that was in the works.  He seemed a bit concerned about out next mission but wanted nothing more than victory for us.  I decided to play recruiter and told him that we could use someone like him.  The more we had, the better our chances for victory.  This scenario was being played out all across the office. 
     Dwight Schrute, who was sitting some feet away became very enthused as someone was giving him the same recruitment speech.  Soon, the office became a huge rallying ground.  Although, I had only one failed mission, I felt like a veteran.  This time I would not be going in blindly.  None of us would.
     We all started making plans instead of just going in and shooting blindly at anything in red and white, the colors of our enemies.  We started coursing out our routes carefully.  The office people seemed to have a better logistical ability than my previous party of soldiers.  Plans were being unfolded across quite a few desks with numerous people gathered around inserting their opinions.  Even the most skeptical of office folks seemed to be coming around as better and better plans unfolded. 
     We knew that we would be starting on a lower level and had to make our way up through the building (The Body).  If we were to be granted victory, we would have to make our way past all the enemy soldiers and destroy the most sensitive areas (The Organs).  Dwight and Andy seemed to have the best plan of action.  I was not involved in the planning, although I offered advice and assured them that they had the best plan.  I looked around the room which was once filled with skeptical people who would not take part and saw faces of those ready to join me in battle.  We all stood up and prepared for our march to victory.
     We went out onto the building and started to make our way down to the lobby.  We were out of uniform yet.  People gathered in neutral areas in the lower floors and began to put on their dark blue sweat shirts and make any preparations they needed to make.  The men’s room was full.  I looked into the women’s room (the door was open, this wasn’t the time for perversion).  The lone toilet was unoccupied.  A woman stood outside but told me to go ahead in, as she was not waiting to use it.  I went in and peed as I heard from outside the soldiers were heading to their final rallying point.  I hurriedly finished and went into the empty hall.  I passed a janitor wearing dark blue and then past an enemy soldier who did not recognize me since I was still out of uniform.
     I got down to the lobby and I immediately filled with enthusiastic patriotism to see that everyone was there and prepared to fight.  People could have left the building, but no one did.  We all put on our uniforms and began ascending the stairs to where our vehicles would be.  I found Halpert and told him that I wanted him in my vehicle since I was proud at the fact that I personally recruited him for this venture.  Over the radio, I heard someone saying that there is a janitor on a upper floor that had to be cleared out before the attack.  This was the guy I saw on my way down.  We reached the top of the steps and made our way to our vehicles proudly, our heads full of pride.
     We were Cancer and this would be our march to victory.

     It's been a week since our show with Pro-Pain at the Croc.  Early this week, through our band's myspace, we got a message from a band in Atlanta who is coming up through the Valley and are stopping at the Croc on August 7th.  They asked us if we were interested in opening for them.  Since they must be a fairly new band (although they are signed and have a CD or two out) I never heard of them (I forgot their name).  I was a bit scared for a moment that they might be emo crap, but I checked out their page and they are kinda neo-thrashy and didn't sound too bad.  So as long as the Croc doesn't demand ticket sales, we'll probably play that one.  Why not?  When asked how they found us, they said they just saw our myspace page. 
     Today, we got similar request from some manager or agent or something  (these terms are foreign to me) from New Jersy who is bringing a band down to the Croc for a show on July 15th.  They asked us if we were interesting in opening.  They are called "Oh The Queen" or something.  Unfortunately, this is a Wednesday, and I don't know if I want to take off for this one on such short notice.  But I'm not sure yet.  I might want to save my days in case something better comes along.  Pretty strange how random people are finding us and actually wanting us jackasses to play. 

     It's been a pretty busy week.  Saturday, we played in lovely Trenton, New Jersey at a place called Champions.  No national acts or anything.  Just local bands. 
     I got to our singer's place in Philly around 6:30 and luckily it cooled enough to a livable temperature, since the air conditioner in my truck seems to need a recharge.  We then took our convoy up Route 1, from Northeast Philly, into the heart of Trenton, about thirty minutes away.  Immediately, it looked like the kind of place you'd not want to walk around (without a pile of weapons).  It's a shame, because there was some pretty neato looking architecture as soon as you entered the city.  Luckily, our guitarist knew where the place was, cause driving around there, lost, would've been ill-advised.  We got to the club and I was perplexed at the fact that there was absolutely no parking lot for it.  And strangely, although it is on a busy street, everything else in the area was residential, including a house that was maybe ten feet away from the club.  And this place has multiple shows a week.  I guess a noisy club is the least of the worries of the people of Trenton.
     We parked around the corner and sent our guitarist, who got us the show, in to get the details, while we hung outside and bullshat.  It was around 7:45, and we were told we'd be playing at 9.  Eventually we went in and went to the bar.  We got a lot of strange looks right away as we walked in, which is always weird when it's a Metal night.  Perhaps they could smell the Pennsylvania on us.  I hope it was obvious that we weren't Jerseyites!  I sat at the bar with my drummer and made him join me in a shot of Jameson (which didn't take much arm twisting).  We then had a beer whilst laughing at all the Garden State rejects.  Actually, most of the people were cool there, but we had to pick out the pencil-thin 'douchebag' beards and the gigantic 'homie' hats.
     We then loaded in and set-up quite quickly, even quicker than usual (I 'll have to time it one day).  We had a half-hour, so we decided we'd do five songs, which is usually about twenty-five minutes.  The place was small, kind of dark, and just fun.  Some places are just fun to play for no real reason.  I do prefer playing smaller venues though.  Even though there weren't many people there, it was hot as hell.  We played loudly and it seemed like we may have frightened a few, but we got a good response.  We immediately packed our shit back in the trailer as soon as we were finished.
     After us, I watched a band called Doomsday Prophecy, who were a pretty good band.  I would've liked to stay to support another band or two, but we had to head back to Pa.  We went in to the bar and talked with the promoter broad for a while and she seemed pretty cool and genuine for a promoter.  We confirmed that we will definitely come back to play again.  We then headed out and got the hell out of Trenton as quickly as possible.  Next weekend, we have a private party on the 4th and still may or may not play with Full Blown Chaos at the Silo on the 5th.  They wanted us to sell tickets and we told them that there is no way we could sell the amount of tickets they wanted.  If there are no demands for ticket sales, we will play.  

     Did I ever say I hate the Croc?  I'll say it again.  But it's still the best place to play.  CURSES!   We showed up and informed the promoter that we sold about thirty tickets.  He was happy and told us that they added another local band.  Of Course.  This cut our set time down to a half hour.  But I won't complain, cause the other openers were pretty cool guys.  I forget their name.
     We started at 6:15 and there weren't a whole lot of people there.  Unfortunately for the touring bands, it never really did fill up.  After seeing Amon Amarth there on a Monday, playing to a packed venue, I thought there would be a few more people than there were.  
     Our set went pretty well.  The sound guy there always gives us good sound.  He looks like a Geico (sp?) Caveman, but he does good sound.  Mantic Ritual was the first touring band to play.  They are a neo-Thrash band who sounded very reminiscent or late 80's Thrash.  We talked a bit with them before the show and they were real cool guys.  They were pretty damn good too.  I'll have to hunt down their stuff.
     Sworn Enemy was next and if they were ever a Hardcore band, you couldn't tell.  Their sound was totally Metal.  They put on a good show.  I'm not too familiar with their stuff, especially their newer CDs, but I enjoyed them.  Pro-Pain was next.  The last time I saw them was probably around '94 or so in Newark, NJ, back when I used to go everywhere to see shows.  They were so loud, it was probably actually too loud.  I had respect for them right away when I saw their guitarist was playing a Schecter Hellraiser, so I knew he had good taste in equipment.  I'm very unfamiliar with anything they did since their first CD, but I definitely like their recent material better.  They put on a great show too.  Their singer has a hell of a voice.  
     Again, it's a bummer more people didn't show up, but it is mid-week.  Everyone we talked with from the bands were cool guys.  Hopefully next time we play there, it'll be a weekend show.  Trenton is next on the agenda.  I have no idea what to expect there.  I guess we'll find out.

     I see I've been blogging here only once a month in the past three months.  I guess that must mean I've been pretty busy.  Busy is good.
Been doing a lot of band shit recently. 
     My band's been working on new songs, been doing some recording, been preparing for shows, been working on a website and some other crap.  Finally the shows are coming.  We're playing tomorrow with Pro-Pain, Sworn Enemy and Mantic Ritual.  I'm not sure how the turnout will be, due to it being on a Wednesday night, but it should be pretty good.  Pro-Pain and Sworn Enemy are a bit more Metal-core than we're used to playing with, but Mantic Ritual sounds like old-school thrash.  It should be a good show.

Then, Saturday, we're playing in lovely Trenton, New Jersey.  As you know, I hate Jersey and Trenton smells, but a show is a show.  We'll be playing there again probably in the future, possibly for a show in August. 

Then on the Fourth of July, we are playing a private party at our drummer's Pop's place.  I think we're gonna play in a driveway, hah.  It will mostly be bikers.  There's gonna be a pig on a fire.  Then, the next day, we're playing with Full Blown Chaos at the Silo in lovely Reading, Pa.  I used to go see shows all over the place, Jersey, New York, Philly etc...but somehow I was never at the Silo.  The promoter there is pretty cool with us.

This week, I finally got a website up after some struggling trying to remember how to use Dreamweaver and all the FTP horse shit that goes along with it.  I realized how very little I have to put on the site, but got it up anyway.
www.onesolutiononly.com
We got a banner made just in time for tomorrow's show and it has our site written on the bottom, so I had to get something on it.

Other than that, I've been helping out a friend from another band with a project he is working on.  He's doing a CD of all covers. some of them pretty odd.  I've been programming drum machine tracks and recording real drum tracks for him.  After a long delay on my part, I finally finished it.  He put a sample of a tune which I recorded all the music for, machines, guitars and bass, on his myspace.  It is a cover of Alice Cooper's 'Billion Dollar Babies'.  I recorded the guitars and bass just for a reference for him, because I severely tuned it down and changed a few things, and he liked it so much he decided to keep the guitars and bass.
www.myspace.com/shellhammersolo
Thing is, I hate Alice Cooper.  The only song he did, that I like it 'Eighteen'.  This guy's band asked me to do a couple more machine tracks for them, which I agreed to.  They asked me to play drums for the band twice, but I refused.  One, I simply don't have the time, and two, I don't want to be in a band which I DO NOT have total musical control over.  I'm a bit of a Fuhrer-ist when it come to such things.

I suppose I'll have some show reviews coming, so I might stop by the old LJ sometime soon.

A few weeks ago I found his in my email's inbox:
</b></a>yjdoypod has added you as a friend
</b></a>ikinjavejave has added you as a friend.
I ignored it.
Today, I got the same thing.
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Don't know what you fuckers are trying to pull but it's probably not working since I haven't even bothered to look at your profiles.
Sons'a'Whores

     Friday Morning.
     Traffic on Rt. 22 going to work has been bad for the past two months.  They've been trimming trees on the side of the highway and have had one lane shut down during the mornings.  This adds about ten minutes to my commute.  This morning I got an early start.  I gathered a couple CDs, some Extreme Noise Terror and some Old School Grindcore compilations, said goodbye to Otto and headed out the door.  As soon as I closed the door behind me, I was immediately struck with a sinking feeling.  I left my keys inside.  I checked my pockets and sure enough, they were not there.
     Without hesitation, I went to the garage side of my house and looked at the window which I've gotten in through before, the last time this happened, which was a couple years ago.  The two windows on the garage are small and about five and a half, maybe six feet above the ground.  I tried to slide one open, but it was latched, as was the other.  So I concentrated on the one window and tried to pull the window out from the track, since they are fairly cheap, hoping to reach an arm in between the two panes in order to manipulate the latch between them.  I pulled it out just enough to get my arm inside and barely up to the latch.  As I tried to undo the latch I heard a snap as the glass on one side broke and started falling back on me.  
     Since the one pane was broken, I pulled my arm back out, put the panes back in their tracks and punched out the remaining glass on the one side.  I then easily reached my arm inside to undo the latch and then slid the empty pane over.  I grabbed a recycling bucket, turned it over and stood on top of it in order to jump into my garage.  Since the window is so high off the ground and the window is small, the only way to get in is to go headfirst.  I made sure that most of the glass was clear, since I'd be crawling on top of it with no room to spare.  I got my head inside and grabbed the handles of an abandoned exercise bike just under the window inside.  With both hands on both handles of the bike, I pulled my body in until my feet were inside and then I balanced them on the wall while still holding onto the bike, leaving me in a prone position.  The slightest failure would have me landing on my head, or in some other painful position upon the mess in the garage.  
     Once I was securely inside, I closed the empty pane of glass.  I probably locked it too.  I found the spare hidden key which I keep in the garage that gets me into the house through the garage door.  I went inside into the kitchen where Otto was looking at me like I was some kinda dumbass.  I walked through the house, said goodbye to him again and grabbed my keys and headed out the door.  The process only took about three minutes, so I still was not running late.
     As I got back outside, this time with my keys, I looked around to make sure that no neighbors happen the see the shaven-headed, red-poloed hooligan who was breaking in.  I went around to the garage side again and picked up my recycling foot stool, turned it over and took it back to its original spot.  As I walked to my truck I noticed a small red spot on my nose.  I checked to make sure I didn't cut my nose and it appeared I had not.  I checked my hands and saw a couple of small cuts as well as a few very minor scrapes on my arms.  Not bad considering. 
     I got in my truck I headed to work.  Rt. 22 was clear.  There was no tree trimming today.  

     I decided to go check out the Meatmen, one of the first (if not the first) Punk band I got into.  I bought their tape "We're The Meatmen and You Suck" back in tenth grade or so, mostly because of the song titles, and a friend recommended them.  This led to a lot more Punk and Hardcore music soon after.  I never saw them live, so I figured this might be my last chance to see them since Tesco Vee is fifty years old. 
     After working till 7:00, I went home and, as usual, shoved some pizza down my hole and took off.  Some of the opening bands were pretty good.  The Meatmen came on around 11:20 and were great, just as I expected.  Tesco was hilarious as usual. 
     The great thing about the Meatmen is that when they came out, they didn't really care about political correctness and their songs were just horrible and offended most everyone.  Somewhere along the way, this got lost in Punk music and now what have you got?  Bands like Anti-Flag!  Bands today couldn't get away with singing this kind of shit today.  Funny how the Punk scene became the most PC of all underground scenes.  That never quite made sense to me.  Heaven forbid you sing a song making fun of gays or foreigners.  Some douche bag might get sand in his vagina.
     Here's some lyrics from songs that made me a fan.  These are from back around '81-'82:

Crippled Children Suck :
crippled children suck
it's easy to see
their parents were dumb
for having v.d.
and conceiving a baby as ugly as it
i say give it leg braces
that don't even fit
mom & dad smoked their dope
for a liberal smooth future
they had a lot of hope
but because of their folly
their life is pretty crass
a little baby boy
with an arm stuck out its ass

1 Down 3 To Go :
chapman shot him dead
plugged him in the head
no more slopehead wife to fuck
no more squito bites to suck

lennon's dead hip hip hooray
all his dues he know must pay
george, paul, ringo any day
will be dead we all must pray

a paunched out hippie fart he was
a pot smoking scumbag
bespeckled old scuz
his panface gookin' fuck so me stud
insurance cash all covered in blood

one year later
they paid their respects
prayed for his soul
then went went home & had sex
hipocrytes all of them
the worst kind of drugged out phlegm

(not my typos, they're copied and pasted)

That's just some good ole "fuck 'em if they're offended" songwriting.  I'm glad I got to see them before Tesco retires.

     I am looking at Musician's Friend right now for a studio mic to use for vocals.  As usual, I check the features, then read some reviews of products which I'm not too familiar with (such as mics).  The one I'm looking at looks like a good deal and is on sale.  So I'm reading the reviews and....well, to start, this is a condenser mic as they call it.  This type of mic actually should probably not be labeled as a condenser but it is.
     So here is the review:
Not a bad buy for the money. As it is said, you get what you pay for. It has okay features, but I don't understand what it condenses. I pour a can of soup on it, but nothing. It did not condense it. Extremely disappointing. I had to heat it without adding water.
Posted by HugoT. from Key West on Feb 24, 2009

     And yes Hugo, I included your name, because your attempt at being funny (I guess that's what it is) just angered me and made chop up a small child I had in my basement.  His blood is on your hands now!  I hope your musical career is doing better than your comedy career.

     Yesterday was our Honeybrook show.  I left the house at 6:30, as the show was to start at 8:00.  Supposedly, it was to take one hour and twenty minutes to get there according to mapquest.  I got my fix of Monster and popped on some Black Metal, courtesy of Impaled Nazarene and headed down Route 222.  I wasn't too concerned about tardiness, because we were to be playing second to last. 
     As I came near Reading, I looked at my directions and saw that I needed to get to route 422 E.  All I saw was 422 E business, so I took it.  It dumped me off in West Reading.  As soon as I was on the business route, I knew I had screwed up, even though I thought it would take me back to 422 within a few miles.  It didn't.  I turned back around to look for 222.  Little did I notice that 222 South somehow turns into 422 East magically.  So all I needed to do was continue on a straight path.  Once back on 222 (422) I got a sense of deja-vu and I'm sure I made that error before sometime.
     After I was headed back in the right direction, I cursed Mapquest for a while.  I drove down some dark, dark roads after that, before I finally found my way to Honeybrook.  I looked for the elusive brook which honey flowed from, but it was too dark.  I finally arrived at the Old Maple Inn sometime after 8:30.  The way I saw the place coming was not because of their sign, but because of the neon beer signs in the windows, which were the only lights on the dark road in the middle of nowhere. 
     The parking lot was pretty packed, to my surprise.  I met up with my band outside and unloaded the gear.  I made pee-pee in the parking lot cause I had two Monsters that didn't feel like waiting for the journey inside, to be released.  We went in and I met the promoter.  When I went in, there weren't many people there.  I was wondering where all the cars and trucks in the lot were from.  So I went to the bar which I notice wasn't operating.  Then I saw a door which led to the 'actual' bar.  That's where everyone was.  And when I say everyone, I mean every biker in Pennsylvania.
      I got myself a beer and went back into the main room to check out the opening band 'From This We Rise'.  They weren't bad.  Pretty talented guitar work.  The next band was something.  Three guys who looked like Jeebus; long hair, long beards, dressed in dress shirts, ties and dress pants (except for one guy's who's pants were capri-length(?)) came onto the stage with two on guitar and one on bass.  My other guitarist mentions that they must have a drum machine, which I failed to notice that no drum set was being set up.  They put their intro on, which was from some type of IPod or Disc Player or something, while they went off stage.  I told my guitarist, Bob, I'd give him a dollar if he ran up to the stage and turned the thing off, while they were "backstage".  He didn't.  Fucker.
     They came back onstage wearing black masks and played without vocals.  The vocals were on the recordings with the drum machine tracks and some samples.  It was interesting, but the mix of drum machine and vocals sounded crappy through the PA system.  I grabbed a beer after they were done and we set up to play.  
     We had all the time to play in the world, which we weren't prepared for.  We usually had half hour sets.  We took our time with some off-color banter between songs.  At one point, our singer had a moment of silence "for Baby Jesus before he rises from the grave".  We had a song which didn't have lyrics yet, which we played and just let people in the crowd yell along whatever they wanted while we played it.  All I could hear was a lot of profanity coming through the PA.  Our set was loud and crazy and came off especially good for the crowd of drunkards who came to see us.  We probably got the best response of the night somehow. 
     After us, were headliners H-17.  They played drop-D tuned Metal, with somewhat melodic vocals, which I imagine was like Godsmack, even though I'm not familiar with them at all.  They sounded good.  Not really my style, but good nonetheless.  I mention the other bands, so that in case any of them get big, I could say "I played with them!"
     After that, I got back in my truck and drove home a different way, opting to go straight up route 100 all the way.  I passed a bajillion cops on the way.  I finally made it home at 2:30, which was earlier than I originally expected.  It was a good time, even though it was plagued with a venue change a week before the show.  We now have two months off before our next show with ProPain at the Croc, unless we get something else in the meantime. 
    

     Exploding Tongue

     Last night I had a strange dream.  I was walking around in my parents' neighborhood in the middle of the street for some reason.  Suddenly I felt a pinch on my chest.  I looked down my shirt to realize one of my nipples (much bigger than usual) was partially ripped off.  A slight pull and it might rip completely off.  Then I felt my tongue start to quickly swell up inside of my mouth like I was having an extreme allergic reaction to something.  This was, perhaps, influenced by an episode of 'House'.  As it swelled bigger and bigger I became struck with the fear that my ability to breathe would soon cease.  As soon as that fear came to me, my oversized tongue exploded from my mouth and landed in the street.  It was painless.  I looked down at it in the street and it was already back to normal size.  I suddenly realized that I was dreaming, even though I had to think about it for a moment with a slight fear that I might not be.  After I convinced myself that I was, I turned around and started thinking that my next actions would be without consequence in the real world.  With that in mind, I decided I would

     Starting a Band with Loki

     A few weeks ago we were having a conversation about which of my friends is the personification of Loki.  My theory was that the Lokis of the world are needed, and everyone has a friend like Loki.  Sure, they may be trouble-makers, but they are sometimes fun to be around.  I forgot all about my one friend for some reason.
     He came over my house this past Sunday with some band mates for practice.  He's the guy that did my Valknut tattoo.  He's been wanting to get in a band with me for a while now and even has some ideas for the sound and a name already picked out, along with some artistic designs for a logo.  I've been holding off on the idea, mostly because I've been concentrating on my other band, but also because he lives in NYC and I didn't see logistically, how we'd be able to practice regularly.  
     At practice, he sang along with some of my band's stuff and he does have a decent voice for Old-School Hardcore, which is the sound he wants, and the only kind of Hardcore I will play.  And if he wasn't a menacing enough looking creature, he recently got a tattoo of a Norse raven on his face.  After we got talking a bit about the sound he wants, which I totally agreed with, I told him I'd start writing some songs.  I can write probably ten Old-School HC tunes in a week if I wanted.  I'd be playing drums and some other guys for my other band would be playing guitar and bass.  
     I don't know if it will work out or not.  My guess is: Not.  But, we'll see what happens.  I'm not sure that making public appearances with this guy is in my best interest.  Since he is very Loki-like, some trouble may arise.  Perhaps we'll just record for now and see how it goes.

     A Town Built on Mead?

     We were supposed to play a show at the Silo in Reading, Pa. tomorrow night.  We booked it through some guy's production company.  Somehow because of venue issues, the show got moved.  The good news is, I don't have to drive through disgusting Reading.  The bad news is that the show is now in some Inn probably in the middle of nowhere.  The Silo is a nice venue (from what I am told.  This is one place that for some reason I have never been to, and I've been to a lot of places).  They also supposedly have a good PA system and a good soundguy. 
     So we are playing at a place called the Old Maple Inn in Honeybrook, Pa.  I have no idea where Honeybrook is.  I think it is between Reading and West Chester.  The Old Maple Inn sounds like a bar where, when people like me walk into, all the redneck patrons put down their drinks and turn around.  But, they do regular shows, so I guess my thinking could be flawed.  But, it's only $5 to get in, so that's cool. 
     With a name like Honeybrook, I figure that the whole town must be built on it's mead industry.  I'm gonna find me that brook and fill up a few bottles!

     Major Tom

     On VH1 Classic last week, we were watching an 80's One Hit Wonder countdown.  One of the songs was 'Major Tom' by Peter Schilling.  I haven't heard that song probably since I was in elementary school.  I always like the idea of covering 80's synth-pop songs for an Industrial/Metal project that I work on in my spare time.  So, since I like the sound of the song, I figured I'd give it a shot.  
     I logged on to my favorite program ever, Soulseek, and found a version.  I listened to it and it was totally in German.  I though for a second about trying to do it in German, but since I don't speak a word of it, I would simply be trying to imitate the phonetics, and I would not be very comfortable with that.  So I got the English version.
     After a week of procrastination, I put the song on and plugged in the old drum machine.  Unlike most 80's synth-pop songs, I quickly realized that this would be no easy task.  The structure of the song is more complicated than it sounds and the timing is strange.  I got halfway though the song before I had to rest the machine and my ears.  Transposing the keyboards to bass and guitar is gonna be a task as well.  And with some strange effects, I'll probably have the guitars sounding like keyboards anyway, while some other guitars are just strangely processed.  I may be in over my head on thinking this would be a quickie.