Yo yo yo!! Morning everybody in Dragnerveland!!!
“Holy shit!!” I hear you cry, “These guys are STILL going?? What the fuck, no way? I figured they all just died or something?”
Ha-hahahaha!! No such luck ya bastards!! We’re still here, kicking it strong, holdin’ it down, keeping it real and indeed any number of other colloquial urban metaphors you’d care to dig up.
So… to answer your question (assuming you had one of course) – Yes, believe it or not we are very much still here - although I am painfully aware that it’s looked a little quiet in the Dragnerve camp recently!
Not a lot of gigs or… well, anything really happening over the last few weeks. I’ll admit right here that, personally, the whole lack of gigs thing has sucked.
Really. Big Time.
However, I am almost orgasmically pleased to report that it’s got fuck all to do with want of trying. Yes kiddies, that’s right – we’ve actually had to turn down shows!! Shock! Horror! Disgust! Apathy? Hell no!! You see, there be a plan a brewin’!
Believe it or not, over the past month or so literally thousands of people (oh alright… Hundreds? Bah! OK, OK, alright… several. …No?? Gah! FINE THEN… Three), have all been asking me:
“Dude, what’s going on? What’s the band up to?? When’s your next show??? How do you get your hair so frikkin’ awesome???? Can I be you?????”
Sadly for all those involved, I’ve largely been unable to help with the last two.
Sucks to be you.
However, as for the first three…? Well, wouldn’t ya know it - that just so happens to be the nub and crux of this latest disjointed, self-indulgent, rambling little soliloquy.
Now before we go any further Dear Reader, I feel it only fair to let you know at this stage, that last night was a particularly “Heavy One” and I have yet to snatch even the tiniest suggestion of a wink of sleep. Rest assured, I wouldn’t blame you at all for bailing out now because to be honest – if you’re hoping for anything even approaching a vaguely coherent thread or narrative… sorry – you may be in the wrong place. For those of you planning on sticking around for a little bit, I’d be really grateful if you could just go right ahead and forget everything you were ever taught about spelling, punctuation and grammar as well. I can assure you I have.
Right then! Now that’s all sorted out, I can plough onwards, labouring under the misapprehension that anyone at all is anywhere near with me at this point… but totally guilt free!! After all, I did warn ya. Woo hooo!!
Ah-hem. Yeah, so anyway… back to my original point. I’m pretty sure there was one in there somewhere?
Yes! Stuff!!
Right…
So don’t be disappointed, disheartened, disgruntled or dis-anything for that mater, at our total lack of everything. It might LOOK to the casual observer like we’re nothing but a bunch of hairy, apathetic, shiftless layabouts but God-Dammit, we’ve been busy none the less!!
“Prove it!!” screamed the mob.
Well… no. I can’t. But what I CAN do is tell you what we’ve been doing, and I’m afraid you’ll just have to bloody well take our word for it, ‘K? ‘K.
One word: Album.
Yup - the time was right. It HAD to be done, really. Our little Freebie 5 track Demo thing (get it a www.Dragnerve.com kiddies if you haven’t already. And if you haven’t then you bloody well SHOULD… loser) we’ve been shilling around has served us well but it’s been doing the rounds for AGES! Paul and Lee really worked their balls off recording, mixing and polishing that little gem. And they did an awesome job, no two ways. Have to say, it’s fucking handy as hell having a fully qualified sound engineer and… ermmmm… a dude with a really big beard in the band (hehehe…). Still though, at the end of the day those tracks were what they were – Demo Tracks.
So now comes the real challenge – can we record 10 or 11 tracks, by ourselves, with all our own gear (mainly in Lees flat!), piece by piece in whatever spare time we can grab over the next couple of months and make it sound like Brendan O’Brien was twiddling the knobs?
I dunno. I hope so!! That’s the plan at any rate, and it all seems to be coming up Milhouse so far.
So that’s where and why we’ve been hiding ourselves away. All efforts are being hurled with reckless abandon into the creation of what (we hope!) will be a snarling, angry, tooled up, balls out, epic-bastard-monster of an album!!
…that is all assuming, of course, that Paul EVER finds the drum sound he’s totally happy with. Honestly, I love the guy to pieces, I do - but he’s the fucking Rain Man of percussion. Obsessive Percussive Disorder. Part of me thinks it’s beautiful… the dedication to perfection… the ability to differentiate between the most subtle of nuances on every individual inch of his kit… the sheer bloody-mindedness to whack the piss out of the same snare drum 14,000 times in one sitting and not go completely insane. It’s amazing.
The other part of me just wants to cry and hit him.
Nah! I’m only joking! We’ve got to get it right, right? I’d rather it took us until the end of time but we were all 100% happy with it, than unleash some half-arsed, compromise-riddled piece of shit we weren’t totally in love with. Although to be fair, I fucking hope it DOESN’T take us till the end of time! That would suck balls. I’m sort of hoping for the end of November myself but don’t quote me on that. This might turn out to be a bit more of an epic undertaking than we’d first thought. But don’t worry, whatever happens, you’ll hear about it here first. Or at some point at least. Maybe. If I can be bothered. =)
I suppose that’s the beauty of not being beholden to a record label, or anyone at all other than ourselves, really. There’s no real timescales. We’re not under pressure to get stuff finished… other than the pressure we’re putting on ourselves, obviously. Make no mistake about it – we want to get this thing DONE!! But thank God, there are no Bean Counters standing over our shoulders, quantifying the cost of the last 8 seconds.
Fuck that.
We can take our time.
I mean hey – if someone wants to pick it up and give us a little financial, marketing and tour support, we’re not going to turn it down! …well, not the right deal, anyway. But gone are the days when, basically, you were fucked without a record label behind you. It’s a different world now, a different industry… and probably for the better. But for every positive being independent brings, there are just as many negatives. Money, for one! It’s a trade off. Income or Integrity? Cash or Control? I suppose it’s an easy question to answer when no one’s actually waving fat sacks of currency in your face but still, I think I’d rather do it our way. I want this to be ours. I want it to be perfect.
So we’ll see what happens next. Time, as is regularly the case, will tell. It’s going to be Heads Down, Arses Up for us all over the next few months, there’s a lot of fucking work to do!! We do have a couple of one off gigs booked between now and the end of the year – the next being 9th August at the Tattoo Jam in Doncaster (which I suspect will be a bit of a Legendary Weekend!!) – but other than these handful of shows, our entire focus now is getting this album finished and making it as fucking punishing as we possibly can.
I said it earlier and I meant it… I really, really do miss playing live though. That’s what it’s all about for me. It’s just about the most fun you can have in the world and hell yes – I miss it. I’ve also found it’s pretty easy to let your mind wander off and feel like you’re standing still, not progressing, not pushing things forwards just because all of a sudden, the goal posts have moved. We’re NOT just focussing on booking and preparing for “The Next Gig” anymore. Realistically, I guess that’s been our single purpose up until this point: get gig – rehearse – play gig – repeat.
Now, it’s all a little different. It’s a case of adjusting the goals, the end points I suppose and realising that actually, this is IT – this is officially The Long Haul. …Or the beginning of it at very least. Ultimately, these next few months could end up defining or changing our lives entirely, in one way or another… and it really could go either way.
Spooky stuff, huh?
Maybe a little over-analytical and quite possibly entirely over-dramatic but hey – that’ll be the sleep depravation for you!
Meanwhile, do me a favour and don’t forget about us. We’re still here, doing our thing and for damn sure we’ll be back before long… with a whole mess of new stuff for you all to try and kill each other to. In all honesty, I can’t wait!!
...I just hope I get some fucking sleep before then though.
Nighty night...
Sunday 5 July 2009
Tuesday 28 April 2009
Car-Wrecks, Crackheads and Bastards
Evenin’ all.
It’s been an interesting couple of months in the Dragnerve-Camp. Sorry for the lack of bloggy updates recently – I’m lazy. Sue me.
So then, what’s been happening? Unfortunately, we had to say goodbye to firm friend and founding member Alain a little while ago. Life and injuries we’re mounting up, and he made the decision to call it a day and focus on other things. To say we were all gutted is a fucking understatement, and his final gig with us at Belushis (which has kinda turned into our home away from home… more on that later), was a seriously emotional affair. It’s been said before but I’m going to say it again anyway – good luck ya crazy Belgian bastard… we all miss ya.
It’s not all bad news though… we were lucky enough to get another bass player (and a shit-hot one at that!) on board in record time!! So for those of you that don’t know, please welcome Rolly Lyons to the Dragnerve fold!! Rolly used to play in the critically acclaimed Flict, and has helped us out in the past while Alain was studying for his law degree, so we knew we were getting someone we knew and loved, with the added benefit of already knowing a lot of our stuff… Bonus! So it’s done - he’s in, he’s sorted and he’s got a couple of gigs under his belt already. The angry, hairy, snarling juggernaut that is Us rumbles on unabated…
So aside from that and the fact I haven’t done one of these for a while – for which I’ve been getting a lot of shit from the boys (but not quite as much as I get for constantly forgetting the merch bag and banner whenever we play… whoops) – we’ve had a couple of pretty interesting weekends recently that I thought I’d share with y’all….
It was a couple of Fridays ago. We we’re playing a show at Belushi’s in Camden (which was fucking AWESOME by the way), and a cracking night was had by all. Sharing the bill with us were the mighty Blood Meridian (for the umpteenth time, and we wouldn’t have it any other way – those BASTARDS just get better and better every time I see them… but I digress) and our new buddies, Glass Artery (who are also shit-hot by the way). I was depressingly sober due to being Driver-Boy that particular night, but regardless we still had shits and giggles all round, and a great night was had by all… until the journey home.
We left Belushis at about 1.30 (actually we left about 1am, it just took half a fucking hour to get everyone together and say goodbye to the world) – I had Laura (my other and considerably better half), Lee and his lovely lady Kate in the car, along with a bunch of bags, amps and instruments and assorted jiggery-pokery in the boot. Pauly (who was also driving) had his (not inconsiderably sized) drum kit jammed into his motor, as well as the little monitor we’d been able to borrow for the night, so I had slightly more than a cat in hell’s chance of hearing what I was singing over the general noise-fest of those other three noisy bastards. Rolly – God love ‘im – went off to catch a bus home coz we’re all travelling South, he’s heading North, and the only way he was getting in either of those cars anyway was in lots of little pieces… seriously, it was like equipment Tetris.
So anyway, the cars are loaded (as are most of the passengers!) and off we jolly well.
Barely 5 minutes into the journey and we’re tear-arsing down Marylebone road with Lamb of God blaring, when Lee’s phone rings. Down goes the stereo, swiftly followed by all the colour from Lees face. It was Paul on the phone, and he’s in a spot of bother.
A swift and panicky about turn was made, and now we’re tear-arsing back up Marylebone road in the opposite direction. Two minutes later we discover what all the fuss was about – there are police cars everywhere. There’s glass all over the road. A little way down from that is an ambulance… and a bus. In the middle of the intersection, wrapped sideways around a lamp-post is what remains of Paulys car. Things are not looking rosy. As you can imagine, the 4 of us are swiftly filling our proverbial knickers around about now. The more we see and take in of the scene, the more it becomes obvious what’s happened – he’s been hit by a fucking Bus.
A Bus!!!!
For fucks sake!?!?
Some BASTARD (I want to pause here and use the word again, because if ever there was a truly suitable situation in which to use the word bastard, then this bastard of a situation would be it. You ready…?) …some fucking BASTARD had nicked an old Route Master London bus, ran a red light, turned right on a no right turn, and ploughed straight into my fucking drummer!! If that’s not enough, the bus then careers down the street, clocks a bollard, mounts pavement and cracks into the roadside railings, inserting them into the busses chassis a good 4 feet. Of course at that point the thieving, gypsy, cock-sucking, crack-headed BASTARD that nicked the bus in the first place wakes up and does a predictable runner.
Un-be-bastard-lievable.
I think however, that the Gods of Metal were smiling down on us that particular Friday evening because, despite the utter, mangled write off that was his car, everyone’s favourite drummer survived completely unscathed!!
We spent a couple of shaky, worrisome and cold hours on the street corner waiting for the paramedics to check Paul out, the police to interview him and the AA to rock up and tow the remainder of his car away, all the while making sure his good lady wife knows she still has a husband and their kids still have a Dad. He finally shuffles out of the Police car at about 3am, wanders over to us, puts his hands on his head, surveys the scene and says: “Fuck! I hope my drums are alright”.
I love him.
*****TANGENT (and unpleasant language) ALERT*******
This is a personal message to whoever nicked that particular bus. You, my friend, are a certifiable, 100%, 5 Star, A-Grade, 1st Class Cunt. Someone, somewhere, in this life or the next, is going to fuck your shit right up. Enjoy.
OK, I’m back.
We decided to have a bit of break from Belushi’s the following Friday, and went off to Essex to play a show at the Harlow Square. Thankfully that night was devoid of dramatics…we opted just to have a laugh with some old (and new) friends instead. In particular, it was great to see Trippy Wicked play!! I used to be in a band with their bass player Dicky yeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ago, so it was a double treat for me, as I haven’t seen the hairy git in ages and I’m very pleased to say that yes – they were fucking awesome!!!
But the very next week, all returned to normal and Lo and Behold we were back at Belushi’s yet again. Surprise Surprise, so were Blood Meridian and Glass Artery!! =) We wouldn’t have it any other way…
Friday 24th April – the Anti-Camden Crawl. Our good friends Mark and Lara Lackie at Belushi’s decided to stick the middle finger up at all the floppy-haired, Indie bollocks that was suffocating Camden that particular weekend, by booking 3 of Londons angriest, noisiest, titanium coated, unsigned Fuck-Wits to scare the b’jesus out of any poor unfortunates who happened to wander in hoping to hear covers of “Wonderwall”.
Fuck that. And God Bless ‘em, I say!!
And a cracking night it was too! Glass Artery were a sweep-picking noodlefest of nastiness and had the crowds heads bobbing as always. Blood Meridian we’re nothing short of amazing - a towering, flame spitting behemoth of evil – and we’re not only better this night than I’ve ever seen them (and believe me, I’ve seen them be fucking brilliant a fair few times now) but they actually made me want to go home, hide under a duvet and give it all up. Seriously, these boys are twisted good. If they’re not HUGE in a few years time, there is something seriously, drastically, terribly wrong with the world and all the people in it.
By the time we hit the “stage”, I was too drunk to see (driving duties suspended that evening, boys and girls!!!!) so I’m afraid I couldn’t give you an accurate assessment of our set. However, I do know I was hoarse as hell and covered in bruises the next day, so I’m guessing it went alright. =p
It was AFTER the gig though, that things got really interesting.
I vaguely remember at the end of the set, lots of hugs and High-Fives etc. with a number of people, some I know, some I don’t. But there was one guy there, gushing with praise, who seemed…. I dunno, just… a little out of place.
He was a little guy, maybe 5’5, utterly unassuming in every way (pretty out of place to begin with for Belushi’s on a Friday night), probably of Indian or Asian extraction, mid-forties…. “Dumpy” would describe him well. He’s wearing a brown jacket, nondescript shirt and jeans, neatly cropped hair, thin little Porn Star ‘tache. Like I said, utterly unassuming…. Except maybe for the Porno ‘tache.
So we’ve just finished the set, we’re trying to pack all the gear away, dripping with sweat, drunk and knackered and this guy is milling around us not entirely unlike a bad smell, desperately trying to catch our collective eye. To be fair though, he’s being extremely complimentary about the band in a squeaky, heavily accented voice to anyone who will listen… ideally one of the four of us.
So, time flows by (but none of it passes…. HA!) and we’re starting to take all the packed up gear to the waiting cars outside (yes – we might like to think we’re a bunch of Rock Star cunts but in reality, we still have to schlep our own equipment around, kids), and who should be waiting for us by the side door but the little pygmy unassuming mid-forties Dragnerve fan.
He comes up to me and asks if he can speak to me. Not wanting to brush him off entirely and come across like a complete twat (all evidence notwithstanding) I decide to indulge him for a minute.
He starts telling me that was the greatest things he’s ever seen, we’re the greatest band in the world, those we’re the greatest songs he’s ever heard yadda yadda yadda, and I have to say, I’m getting a bit uncomfortable with this. Anyone who knows me will tell you, I’m not at all averse to having my ego stroked (that’s what SHE said…), but this was getting a little much. There’s only so many times you can say “thanks man, glad you enjoyed it” ad infinitum before things start to get a little weird… and judging by the crazed and cracked out look in this guys eyes, HIS world is pretty fucking weird already. If this Oompa-Loompa hadn’t been Sucking on a Glass Dick before he went out, then I’m the fucking Dali Llama.
A good 5 minutes of this “you’re the greatest…” stuff goes by – he’s got me by the shoulders at this point and I’m half expecting the guy to drop to one knee and propose any second when he busts out the Doozy he’s obviously been dying to ask since we were inside packing up:
“Please… I have to join your band”.
You can imagine my response.
I do my very best to politely but firmly explain that there’s just the four of us, that’s all we need, thanks for coming though, hope you enjoyed it, go have a good night. His response…?
“No. Please, you don’t understand… I have to join your band”.
Ha ha. OK. Very good. The answer is NO, thank you for coming down, have a good night. So I go to walk away but this guy is STILL holding on to me. Only now he’s crying.
Yes. Crying.
Not rolling around on the floor “Why?! Why!? WHY!?!?” crying - I could have dealt with that… stepped over the dick for a start.
But just a single tear, running down each cheek like I’ve just run over his Puppy, crying. He pulls me in and keeps begging me to let him be in the band!!!
I’ve lost all patience at this point. The gentle “softly softly” approach hasn’t worked, so I start threatening the guy - if he doesn’t let me go and fuck off home RIGHT NOW, I’m going to punch him, and I’m not going to stop punching him until he stops asking to be in the band.
It’s making no difference; he’s still just begging to join the band.
I actually asked him outright if he understood that in 5 seconds, I was going to break his fucking jaw if he didn’t go home? “Uh-huh, yes…. Please, please let me join your band”.
He’s clinging to me like he’s Linus and I’m a blanket, I start counting down from five when my mate Darren (“Big D” as he’s known… bit of a Viking) picks my little pygmy friend up by the scruff of his neck and carries him off around the corner to avoid him getting pasted, and me getting nicked.
Where were the rest of the band??
…Standing around the car, watching the whole scene, laughing their fucking arses off.
Bunch of bastards.
It’s been an interesting couple of months in the Dragnerve-Camp. Sorry for the lack of bloggy updates recently – I’m lazy. Sue me.
So then, what’s been happening? Unfortunately, we had to say goodbye to firm friend and founding member Alain a little while ago. Life and injuries we’re mounting up, and he made the decision to call it a day and focus on other things. To say we were all gutted is a fucking understatement, and his final gig with us at Belushis (which has kinda turned into our home away from home… more on that later), was a seriously emotional affair. It’s been said before but I’m going to say it again anyway – good luck ya crazy Belgian bastard… we all miss ya.
It’s not all bad news though… we were lucky enough to get another bass player (and a shit-hot one at that!) on board in record time!! So for those of you that don’t know, please welcome Rolly Lyons to the Dragnerve fold!! Rolly used to play in the critically acclaimed Flict, and has helped us out in the past while Alain was studying for his law degree, so we knew we were getting someone we knew and loved, with the added benefit of already knowing a lot of our stuff… Bonus! So it’s done - he’s in, he’s sorted and he’s got a couple of gigs under his belt already. The angry, hairy, snarling juggernaut that is Us rumbles on unabated…
So aside from that and the fact I haven’t done one of these for a while – for which I’ve been getting a lot of shit from the boys (but not quite as much as I get for constantly forgetting the merch bag and banner whenever we play… whoops) – we’ve had a couple of pretty interesting weekends recently that I thought I’d share with y’all….
It was a couple of Fridays ago. We we’re playing a show at Belushi’s in Camden (which was fucking AWESOME by the way), and a cracking night was had by all. Sharing the bill with us were the mighty Blood Meridian (for the umpteenth time, and we wouldn’t have it any other way – those BASTARDS just get better and better every time I see them… but I digress) and our new buddies, Glass Artery (who are also shit-hot by the way). I was depressingly sober due to being Driver-Boy that particular night, but regardless we still had shits and giggles all round, and a great night was had by all… until the journey home.
We left Belushis at about 1.30 (actually we left about 1am, it just took half a fucking hour to get everyone together and say goodbye to the world) – I had Laura (my other and considerably better half), Lee and his lovely lady Kate in the car, along with a bunch of bags, amps and instruments and assorted jiggery-pokery in the boot. Pauly (who was also driving) had his (not inconsiderably sized) drum kit jammed into his motor, as well as the little monitor we’d been able to borrow for the night, so I had slightly more than a cat in hell’s chance of hearing what I was singing over the general noise-fest of those other three noisy bastards. Rolly – God love ‘im – went off to catch a bus home coz we’re all travelling South, he’s heading North, and the only way he was getting in either of those cars anyway was in lots of little pieces… seriously, it was like equipment Tetris.
So anyway, the cars are loaded (as are most of the passengers!) and off we jolly well.
Barely 5 minutes into the journey and we’re tear-arsing down Marylebone road with Lamb of God blaring, when Lee’s phone rings. Down goes the stereo, swiftly followed by all the colour from Lees face. It was Paul on the phone, and he’s in a spot of bother.
A swift and panicky about turn was made, and now we’re tear-arsing back up Marylebone road in the opposite direction. Two minutes later we discover what all the fuss was about – there are police cars everywhere. There’s glass all over the road. A little way down from that is an ambulance… and a bus. In the middle of the intersection, wrapped sideways around a lamp-post is what remains of Paulys car. Things are not looking rosy. As you can imagine, the 4 of us are swiftly filling our proverbial knickers around about now. The more we see and take in of the scene, the more it becomes obvious what’s happened – he’s been hit by a fucking Bus.
A Bus!!!!
For fucks sake!?!?
Some BASTARD (I want to pause here and use the word again, because if ever there was a truly suitable situation in which to use the word bastard, then this bastard of a situation would be it. You ready…?) …some fucking BASTARD had nicked an old Route Master London bus, ran a red light, turned right on a no right turn, and ploughed straight into my fucking drummer!! If that’s not enough, the bus then careers down the street, clocks a bollard, mounts pavement and cracks into the roadside railings, inserting them into the busses chassis a good 4 feet. Of course at that point the thieving, gypsy, cock-sucking, crack-headed BASTARD that nicked the bus in the first place wakes up and does a predictable runner.
Un-be-bastard-lievable.
I think however, that the Gods of Metal were smiling down on us that particular Friday evening because, despite the utter, mangled write off that was his car, everyone’s favourite drummer survived completely unscathed!!
We spent a couple of shaky, worrisome and cold hours on the street corner waiting for the paramedics to check Paul out, the police to interview him and the AA to rock up and tow the remainder of his car away, all the while making sure his good lady wife knows she still has a husband and their kids still have a Dad. He finally shuffles out of the Police car at about 3am, wanders over to us, puts his hands on his head, surveys the scene and says: “Fuck! I hope my drums are alright”.
I love him.
*****TANGENT (and unpleasant language) ALERT*******
This is a personal message to whoever nicked that particular bus. You, my friend, are a certifiable, 100%, 5 Star, A-Grade, 1st Class Cunt. Someone, somewhere, in this life or the next, is going to fuck your shit right up. Enjoy.
OK, I’m back.
We decided to have a bit of break from Belushi’s the following Friday, and went off to Essex to play a show at the Harlow Square. Thankfully that night was devoid of dramatics…we opted just to have a laugh with some old (and new) friends instead. In particular, it was great to see Trippy Wicked play!! I used to be in a band with their bass player Dicky yeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ago, so it was a double treat for me, as I haven’t seen the hairy git in ages and I’m very pleased to say that yes – they were fucking awesome!!!
But the very next week, all returned to normal and Lo and Behold we were back at Belushi’s yet again. Surprise Surprise, so were Blood Meridian and Glass Artery!! =) We wouldn’t have it any other way…
Friday 24th April – the Anti-Camden Crawl. Our good friends Mark and Lara Lackie at Belushi’s decided to stick the middle finger up at all the floppy-haired, Indie bollocks that was suffocating Camden that particular weekend, by booking 3 of Londons angriest, noisiest, titanium coated, unsigned Fuck-Wits to scare the b’jesus out of any poor unfortunates who happened to wander in hoping to hear covers of “Wonderwall”.
Fuck that. And God Bless ‘em, I say!!
And a cracking night it was too! Glass Artery were a sweep-picking noodlefest of nastiness and had the crowds heads bobbing as always. Blood Meridian we’re nothing short of amazing - a towering, flame spitting behemoth of evil – and we’re not only better this night than I’ve ever seen them (and believe me, I’ve seen them be fucking brilliant a fair few times now) but they actually made me want to go home, hide under a duvet and give it all up. Seriously, these boys are twisted good. If they’re not HUGE in a few years time, there is something seriously, drastically, terribly wrong with the world and all the people in it.
By the time we hit the “stage”, I was too drunk to see (driving duties suspended that evening, boys and girls!!!!) so I’m afraid I couldn’t give you an accurate assessment of our set. However, I do know I was hoarse as hell and covered in bruises the next day, so I’m guessing it went alright. =p
It was AFTER the gig though, that things got really interesting.
I vaguely remember at the end of the set, lots of hugs and High-Fives etc. with a number of people, some I know, some I don’t. But there was one guy there, gushing with praise, who seemed…. I dunno, just… a little out of place.
He was a little guy, maybe 5’5, utterly unassuming in every way (pretty out of place to begin with for Belushi’s on a Friday night), probably of Indian or Asian extraction, mid-forties…. “Dumpy” would describe him well. He’s wearing a brown jacket, nondescript shirt and jeans, neatly cropped hair, thin little Porn Star ‘tache. Like I said, utterly unassuming…. Except maybe for the Porno ‘tache.
So we’ve just finished the set, we’re trying to pack all the gear away, dripping with sweat, drunk and knackered and this guy is milling around us not entirely unlike a bad smell, desperately trying to catch our collective eye. To be fair though, he’s being extremely complimentary about the band in a squeaky, heavily accented voice to anyone who will listen… ideally one of the four of us.
So, time flows by (but none of it passes…. HA!) and we’re starting to take all the packed up gear to the waiting cars outside (yes – we might like to think we’re a bunch of Rock Star cunts but in reality, we still have to schlep our own equipment around, kids), and who should be waiting for us by the side door but the little pygmy unassuming mid-forties Dragnerve fan.
He comes up to me and asks if he can speak to me. Not wanting to brush him off entirely and come across like a complete twat (all evidence notwithstanding) I decide to indulge him for a minute.
He starts telling me that was the greatest things he’s ever seen, we’re the greatest band in the world, those we’re the greatest songs he’s ever heard yadda yadda yadda, and I have to say, I’m getting a bit uncomfortable with this. Anyone who knows me will tell you, I’m not at all averse to having my ego stroked (that’s what SHE said…), but this was getting a little much. There’s only so many times you can say “thanks man, glad you enjoyed it” ad infinitum before things start to get a little weird… and judging by the crazed and cracked out look in this guys eyes, HIS world is pretty fucking weird already. If this Oompa-Loompa hadn’t been Sucking on a Glass Dick before he went out, then I’m the fucking Dali Llama.
A good 5 minutes of this “you’re the greatest…” stuff goes by – he’s got me by the shoulders at this point and I’m half expecting the guy to drop to one knee and propose any second when he busts out the Doozy he’s obviously been dying to ask since we were inside packing up:
“Please… I have to join your band”.
You can imagine my response.
I do my very best to politely but firmly explain that there’s just the four of us, that’s all we need, thanks for coming though, hope you enjoyed it, go have a good night. His response…?
“No. Please, you don’t understand… I have to join your band”.
Ha ha. OK. Very good. The answer is NO, thank you for coming down, have a good night. So I go to walk away but this guy is STILL holding on to me. Only now he’s crying.
Yes. Crying.
Not rolling around on the floor “Why?! Why!? WHY!?!?” crying - I could have dealt with that… stepped over the dick for a start.
But just a single tear, running down each cheek like I’ve just run over his Puppy, crying. He pulls me in and keeps begging me to let him be in the band!!!
I’ve lost all patience at this point. The gentle “softly softly” approach hasn’t worked, so I start threatening the guy - if he doesn’t let me go and fuck off home RIGHT NOW, I’m going to punch him, and I’m not going to stop punching him until he stops asking to be in the band.
It’s making no difference; he’s still just begging to join the band.
I actually asked him outright if he understood that in 5 seconds, I was going to break his fucking jaw if he didn’t go home? “Uh-huh, yes…. Please, please let me join your band”.
He’s clinging to me like he’s Linus and I’m a blanket, I start counting down from five when my mate Darren (“Big D” as he’s known… bit of a Viking) picks my little pygmy friend up by the scruff of his neck and carries him off around the corner to avoid him getting pasted, and me getting nicked.
Where were the rest of the band??
…Standing around the car, watching the whole scene, laughing their fucking arses off.
Bunch of bastards.
Wednesday 18 March 2009
RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!!!
If you haven’t heard already...well I am truly stoked at the fact we have been included in the film the Age of Stupid.
Honestly, this film is some serious sh*t!!! As much as I want to shun the real world and act as irresponsibly as possible at any given time, this, my friends, is a much deeper issue and it affects every single one of us.. For those of you in the younger generation, well sorry guys, but this is an issue that is going to affect you even more so, and I truely apologise for making this world so f**ked up that you lot have to take up the mantle to fix it. Well, actually we ALL need to step up to the challenge otherwise we leave behind a world of sh*t for those coming after us.
I have a nearly 4 year old daughter and a 3 month old son, so I at least owe it to them to not just try, but actually DO my bit where I can.
Global Warming friends, is FACT! If Sir David Attenborough and Prof. Stephen Hawking tell me so, then who the f**k are we to argue, and 99% of scientists are pretty damn sure it’s caused by us. Watch the Age of Stupid and get yourself educated if you are still in the dark about what it entails, as it also outlines possible solutions.
People, THE TIME IS RIGHT NOW!!!! We have to educate each other and make this moment OUR defining moment as humanity.
Recognise our mistakes and start correcting them.
If you have recycle bins, use them.
If can walk/cycle to school/work then do it – plus it’ll make your flabby self a leaner and meaner machine for slamming in the those circle pits right?
Drink cider NOT beer...cider is WAY more eco-friendly to produce than beer – and that my friends is FACT.
Don’t drink bottled water. What the f**k is the matter with the stuff from the tap? NOTHING and it’s FREE.
Wear those shoes ‘til your feet are showing through the bottom, wear those T-shirts until they look like they’ve got hot-rock burns down the front – you’ll look way cooler for it anyway.
Turn your computer off at night. If you’re downloading, then turn your monitor off – PROPERLY off.
Y’all mostly dark mofos anyway so I guess I don’t need to tell you to turn lights off when you leave a room cos you probably don’t have any lightbulbs in your house anyway.
Yes folks it’s all these small things that if we ALL start doing them, they WILL make a difference.
In a nutshell – this all points to the fact we have to stop being horrible, wasteful beings. Look after the place we live in as we’re only borrowing it for the time we’re here.
The metal community is one of the strongest and friendly out there and past experiences have always shown me that we know how to look after each other.
I remember a Sick Of It All gig, at the now defunct Islington Powerhaus, where I got my first stage dives in, and how people would pull me up every time I hit the deck and check I was OK.
Such friendliness amidst the chaos of a mosh pit. Awesome.
That was camaraderie I will never forget, and the likes I have never seen in any other music community. So let’s stretch that a little wider.
And if you think, well shut the f**k up P cos you sound like you’re f**king Bono, well look at this way – if it all does go to hell, at least I can look my kids in the eye and say ‘I f**king tried’.
Can you?
UncP.
Honestly, this film is some serious sh*t!!! As much as I want to shun the real world and act as irresponsibly as possible at any given time, this, my friends, is a much deeper issue and it affects every single one of us.. For those of you in the younger generation, well sorry guys, but this is an issue that is going to affect you even more so, and I truely apologise for making this world so f**ked up that you lot have to take up the mantle to fix it. Well, actually we ALL need to step up to the challenge otherwise we leave behind a world of sh*t for those coming after us.
I have a nearly 4 year old daughter and a 3 month old son, so I at least owe it to them to not just try, but actually DO my bit where I can.
Global Warming friends, is FACT! If Sir David Attenborough and Prof. Stephen Hawking tell me so, then who the f**k are we to argue, and 99% of scientists are pretty damn sure it’s caused by us. Watch the Age of Stupid and get yourself educated if you are still in the dark about what it entails, as it also outlines possible solutions.
People, THE TIME IS RIGHT NOW!!!! We have to educate each other and make this moment OUR defining moment as humanity.
Recognise our mistakes and start correcting them.
If you have recycle bins, use them.
If can walk/cycle to school/work then do it – plus it’ll make your flabby self a leaner and meaner machine for slamming in the those circle pits right?
Drink cider NOT beer...cider is WAY more eco-friendly to produce than beer – and that my friends is FACT.
Don’t drink bottled water. What the f**k is the matter with the stuff from the tap? NOTHING and it’s FREE.
Wear those shoes ‘til your feet are showing through the bottom, wear those T-shirts until they look like they’ve got hot-rock burns down the front – you’ll look way cooler for it anyway.
Turn your computer off at night. If you’re downloading, then turn your monitor off – PROPERLY off.
Y’all mostly dark mofos anyway so I guess I don’t need to tell you to turn lights off when you leave a room cos you probably don’t have any lightbulbs in your house anyway.
Yes folks it’s all these small things that if we ALL start doing them, they WILL make a difference.
In a nutshell – this all points to the fact we have to stop being horrible, wasteful beings. Look after the place we live in as we’re only borrowing it for the time we’re here.
The metal community is one of the strongest and friendly out there and past experiences have always shown me that we know how to look after each other.
I remember a Sick Of It All gig, at the now defunct Islington Powerhaus, where I got my first stage dives in, and how people would pull me up every time I hit the deck and check I was OK.
Such friendliness amidst the chaos of a mosh pit. Awesome.
That was camaraderie I will never forget, and the likes I have never seen in any other music community. So let’s stretch that a little wider.
And if you think, well shut the f**k up P cos you sound like you’re f**king Bono, well look at this way – if it all does go to hell, at least I can look my kids in the eye and say ‘I f**king tried’.
Can you?
UncP.
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