Andys Studio Diary - Days 3 and 4

Andys Studio Diary – Day 3

Welcome to Guitarland. Drums are done and dusted, Paulie is back at the Cubase helm, so now we begin our journey deep into the Valley of Strings.

We’re having to do things a little arse-about-face to begin with, as our very own Mr. R. Fingers has gone and got himself some proper gainful employment as a Tattoo Artist and, as the Universe undoubtedly has a perverse sense of humour, today is his first day on the job. Fear not – he’ll be back on the Manor later this week to fulfil his 5 string’d duties. I’m sure you’ll all join me in saying – Nice one Son!!!! Congratulations mate, let your talent shine through and you’ll be on to a winner. Can’t wait to get you back into DNHQ later in the week though. I’m feeling a little lost without my Hetero Life Partner…

Meanwhile, back in Guitarland, Leelo is pressing on with his trademark Booty Shaking/Face Stomping riffery. As I write this, it’s just gone 3pm and he’s in the process of adding a few embellishments (…that’s “Self-Indulgent Noodling” for the uninitiated) to Clueless and I’m finding it harder and harder to keep my head and my ass from shaking of their own accord. He’s evidently doing something very right indeed.

I myself am firmly back in the tender embrace of my always welcoming and eternal lover: Uselessness. With my comic foil and ever faithful sidekick starting his new job today, I am reduced a party of One, while Lee and Paulie huddle around Cubase like cliched Shakespearean Witches (…only hairier), doing “Things” and speaking a language I do not understand. Every once in a while, one of of them will rip their gaze from eerie blue glow of the monitor and look over at me, sitting quietly at the back of the room. This is invariably followed with a “…whudda you think?”.

The Prison Guards have whacked on the search light just as I’ve caught my nut-sack on the barbed wire at the top of the outer fence. I am On The Spot.

Shit! Should I admit I was paying zero attention (pre-occupied as I am with waffling in your general direction at the moment), or do I bluff it and nod enthusiastically, perhaps adding the odd “yeah man, like it” in response for good measure?

Of course the obvious answer is “PAY ATTENTION! ASS-HAT!” and it’s a fair argument to be sure. The problem is that as much as I love being here, doing what we’re doing and hanging out with the boys all day, by and large studio time is almost immeasurably dull. Until it’s your turn that is. Then very suddenly it becomes acutely stressful. So, blessed as I am with the natural attention span of a methed up Golfish with ADHD, you may be able to appreciate why I’m sitting here now, essentially writing about nothing.

…well, I guess that killed an hour or so at least. =)

--- Sorry, s’cuse me a second ---



Apologies, my invaluable skills were needed for about 1/8th of a second there.
I think, gentle reader, that it might be time to duck downstairs for a crafty fag and maybe even a (…dare I say it??) Beer? (…I said it)

Yes. Yes I think indeed it is.
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UPDATE

As I write this, the time is hovering somewhere around the 1.15am mark, and we’ve been tracking guitars since about 11am… errrrm, technically yesterday morning now, I suppose…? I think that’s right? Quite honestly you could tell me I was a barn owl living in Guam and I’d probably believe you. All three of us are starting to lose our minds in very personal and specific ways.

Paul has been sitting in front of the speakers for so long that he can now only hear with his feet. My problems, I suspect, need no further embellishment and Lee has tied both his hair back and his beard forward in order to keep them away from his guitar, the upshot of which is no one’s longer sure which way he’s facing.

Confusingly forwardy/backwardy he may well be, but damn it all if he isn’t still going strong! I feel immense guilt here, as I half expected him to cry off shattered at about 9pm (…as did he, for that matter) but no!! It transpires that everyones favourite Wookie has been raped by the Energizer Bunny. Not only has he drastically surpassed everyone’s stamina expectations but he’s still shredding away at just under Mach 4.

Bear in mind the poor bastard has to do EVERYTHING at least twice but as I found out today, there’s a lot more everything than you’d expect. That could probably do with a bit of clarifying and to do this, I will need to bust out a spot on impression of that vacuous bint from the shampoo adverts. You ready?

…Now for the Science Bit.

God I hate her.

Anyway – using “Edge of Everything” as an example (primarily because we’re working on it at this very minute), when we play that song live and there’s just Lee and one guitar, there’s roughly around 15 separate riffs contained within it’s five and a half odd minutes.

However, within the luxury of the studio, we get to layer things up a bit – partly out of necessity to thicken up the sound of the recording a bit and partly because we can make things sound all fucking FAT and spanky!!

So, if we take double tracking as a start, those 15 single riffs suddenly become 30, and each take of each riff needs to fit and mesh identically. That’s for the main Lead guitar part.

Add another 30 (15x2) after that for the rhythm parts which sit underneath the lead – same rule of identical takes applies.

So you’ve got the meat and potatoes of the song there. Want to add any embellishments – swirls, harmonies, noodly-noodly solos etc? Then take each one of these little bits of icing on the cake and… yup – do them twice. …apart from solos for some reason but for the answer to that you’re better off asking Paul.

The final thing to consider here is that when you’re recording, your performance is under the fucking microscope in a fairly major way. Any tiny little mistake or variance, any dropped or unconvincing note, anything fractionally before or after the beat, even anything of the type that if you were playing live, no one (including yourself) would even notice, show up in day-glow beach wear, weighing 30 stone and waving huge banners that just say: YOU SUCK.

It’s hard fucking work, and having the rest of the band sitting around watching you and ONLY you play - judging each and every individual note for it’s singular worthiness and it’s position in relation to the whole – can, on occasion, tend towards the trifle stressful.

That, my friends, is a snapshot of what we (by we, I mean Lee) have been up today, and will be doing pretty much solidly for the next seven days as well.

…and you get to read all about it. Lucky you.

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Andys Studio Diary - Day 4
Guitars – Day 2

Wow.

Yesterday was painfully Epic. As was earlier this morning when we finally called it a day recording the guitars at around 3.45am. Lee did immensely well yesterday, pushed himself to the limit and to say we were proud of him would be a massive understatement.

Sensibly enough, not long after putting his guitar down he decided he’d had enough of consciousness for one day and went to bed down in the rehearsal room. A sage idea it was too, and one that Paul and I should probably have followed… but no – staying up till half 6 listening to music and generally taking bollocks seemed like a better idea at the time.

In retrospect it probably wasn’t.

Fair play to Paulie though – he was up at about 8 and him and Lee were back upstairs tracking guitars by about 9am. I, however, was completely oblivious to all of this, still fast asleep on a mattress downstairs in the middle of the warehouse. By the time they’d wandered back down shortly after 2pm to wake me up (by shoving a fucking camcorder in my face – cheers for that by the way boys…), Lee had already nailed Tribal and fancied a spot of lunch.

And so the saga continues. It’s racing towards early evening at time of writing and Leelo is up to nuts in riffery again. With Tribal put away, we’re about half way through Endless Strength, fucking moster of rolling grooves and shredification. Safe in his “Comfy Guitar Pants” and with his hair and face all backwardsy/forwardsy again, Dragnerves own Gandalf is once again off and running.

Considering he’s currently surviving on about 12 minutes sleep in the last 14 years, Paulie is remarkably fresh faced this afternoon. It’s fucking amazing actually because I got more shut-eye than both of them put together and doubled, and I’m currently in a crumpled heap on the Useless Sofa again.

I am seriously looking forward to my own bed and a shower (good GOD I need a shower!!) at some point but no doubt there’s a fair old way to go before the cleansing torrents of water blast this accumulated scum from my reeking dermal layer.

I… Feel… Shit.

Depending on how long we run on for, I may or may not make it home tonight but I’ve decided I’m not drinking alcohol today just in case I have to drive later. …there are other reasons of course, but that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. If we’re still here after 2am, I’m going to cut my losses and bed down in the warehouse again.

…so maybe I’ll have a couple of beers later if it looks like I’m kipping here.


GAH!!

____________________________________________________________________


…well, looks like my liver has been spared further punishment – when we hit about half nine tonight, our collective will just gave up and died, so I am home, sinking into the wonder that is my sofa and relishing being connected to the world again via t’interwebs.

Another successful day in the studio done - although I do feel like we cheated a bit because it’s only just turned midnight and we’re not still working.

Let’s see if I’m still saying that in a couple of days when it’s time to start on the vocals…

Nighty night world, more to follow tomorrow.

Andys Studio Diary - Day 2

Andys Studio Diary – Day 2


Well, it’s officially started. It’s officially official and everything. We are in the studio!! It’s built, everything works, jobs a good ‘un!! So I figured I waffle some bollocks about it all online.

Neat, huh??

…you may have noticed that day one is conspicuous by it’s absence. The reasons for this are twofold – firstly, due to circumstances beyond my control, I forgot my bastard laptop on day one. Win. And secondly, I was actually useful yesterday!

I know. Amazing isn’t it? “Singer Not Completely Redundant In Studio Shocker”, is what the headlines would have read, had any of the newspapers given a shit. Unbelievably, they didn’t. My moment of glory gone (no pun intended) unsung in the national press. That’ll teach print to be a dying medium, won’t it?!?!?! Who then now, bitches??!


…But I digress.


So here I am on day two, once again nestled in the familiar and comfortable bosom of being completely fucking useless. Unusually however, this state of affairs seems to have come about entirely of my own making today because… well, quite honestly – I’m spannered. With hardly a wink of sleep to my name over the last couple of days, coupled with the fact for the first time EVER I don’t have to drive home and can therefore drink beer (yay! by the way), I’ve relinquished my new found (and shockingly brief) Cubase Helmsman responsibilities for a higher calling. Namely; not ruining our album.


…And also drinking.


We did have a bit of a messy start yesterday though (not entirely my fault), which drew looooong into the evening/night/morning - basically until Paulie finally remembered how to play the drums. Yes I’m afraid to say “Red Light Fever” even effects the lofty heights of the hairy and unfashionable Dragnerve boys.


But yesterday was yesterday. Ancient History! Confident today in his reclaimed ability to actually play the fucking instrument he’s been mastering for the last 15 odd years, we’re flying now!! He’s nailed Clueless, Undone and A Life in Ashes so far today and I suspect we’ll have a couple more done by the time we all collapse in a heap. Credit to him though – “RLF” notwithstanding, he could not be stopped yesterday. My boy’s a machine - 16 some odd hours behind a drum-kit yesterday.


Absorb that for a moment: 16 hours.


And we’re not talking cheerful, little Ringo Starr-esque 4/4 happy-go-lucky gentleness here either. He is beating the shit out of that thing with all 4 limbs. Constantly. So it may have taken him a little while to get into his flow, but it was clear from the get go he wasn’t going to be stopped. Suffice to say he’s well into his flow now, and progress has been swift! We’ve got another couple of days for tracking drums in theory but we might end up well ahead of schedule before the day is out. Who knows – this time tomorrow, we could well be residents in Guitarland! This is great news for me, because I already know my turn at the plate is going to take… a while. “Red Light Fever” indeed.



Every once in a while, I have to take a step back and marvel at how incredibly lucky we are to have this place to work in. It’s been a hell of a slog both physically and mentally over the last 12 months or so, getting the warehouse up to snuff and all the various bits of kit in and working but now we’re here, recording in the bloody thing, I keep having little private moments of “…Holy Shit – this is OURS!!”.

We are very, very lucky boys indeed.


It smells in here

News, Musings, Updates and general Sunday Morningness

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...

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.

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.

The Occasional, Beautiful, Epic-ness of Life

Evening all. Actually, it’s about 2am on a Monday morning, and I’ve just got back from the Dublin Castle show and a weekend of general fun, chaos and total kebabery!! More of that in a minute…

First, I thought an update on how my “Internetaphobia” (I’m sure there’s actual word for that but I’m lazy. Answers on a postcard kids!!), therapy is going now I’ve joined the wonderful, comfortable world of laptop users.

So what’s new? Well, tragically, I seem to have become somewhat addicted to Facebook. The capacity to gibber complete nonsense to various people well into the wee small hours is immense. Anyone who read my last blog will attest this is obviously a passion of mine – talking bollocks at length.

Everyone has to have a hobby.

I’ve delved deeper into the wonderful world of You-Tube, although couldn’t claim to have done much more than watch hundreds of music videos, wrestling matches, and Kimbo Slice kicking the piss out of people… for those who follow MMA, how much of a letdown was the Shamrock fight-that-never-was? …Knocked out by a skinny, white “Substitute” with Pink hair in 14 seconds. Kimbo, Kimbo, Kimbo?? What went wrong???

Oh God. Tangent-ing again. I’ll try and keep it in check

I had my eyes opened and my brain frazzled by the mind-bending Zeitgeist movies on Google Videos. These films should be compulsory viewing for everyone, everywhere by the way.

And… well, that’s about it really. But hey, fuck it! That’s impressive for me!!

Have I started downloading stuff though? Nope. I’m still a Dinosaur… and fucking proud of it!! So I guess if I venture into any further new uncharted territories (and indeed find the inspiration to stay up beyond any kind of reasonable hour typing complete bollocks) you’ll hear it here first. The anticipation is obviously palpable…

Anyway, let’s travel back a few days to last Friday.

Before I start, I must stress that some of the names, places, substances and locations have been changed to protect the guilty (me) and the innocent (pretty much everyone else).
In other words, you probably can’t trust an inch of this, but what’s new?

We played a not-too-shabby show at the Peel in Kingston upon Thames on Friday. It’s reasonable to say it was a little sparsely attended.

Who am I kidding?? It was nothing short of a metaphorical Bomb Scare. But in a pleasing turn of events, the Few and the Proud that were there seemed to dig our oddball Thrashy thing, and there were any number of old and new friends to drink and giggle incoherently with throughout the evening. A special mention must go out to the… errrrrm, Exotic Dancers working at the Peel that evening. God bless ‘em!! Despite clearly not fielding what anyone could describe as the Peels “A-Team” that particular day, none the less they did provide a welcome distraction in the dead time after soundcheck and, well let’s not fuck about – during Skorges set. Nuff said.

On a slight tangent, I couldn’t help but piss myself with merriment at the way we appeared to scare the living b’Jesus out of Skorge’s teenage girly fanbase!! 8 or 9 little teeny-bopper girlies, all clearly friends of the band, all lined up right in front of the stage, screaming and whooping on cue. Hey - Credit to them for breaching the invisible wall of the dreaded Bermuda Semi-Circle, but when there’s 9 of you lined up in front of the stage and not a single soul in the 30 or so feet behind you (aside from ¾ of the curmudgeonly old bastards in Dragnerve, shaking their heads in disbelief. The other ¼ was in the Strip Bar, espying the dubious Poontang), it comes across as a little forced. But fuck it, we were all kids once. And this lot were kids
.
Suffice to say, us old, hairy, desperately unfashionable metal heads take the stage, start doing our thing and lo and behold the Teeny-Bopper crowd evacuate their bowls and run off screaming off into the cold Kingstonian night.

Fuckin’ genius.

Anyway, suffice to say we had a rip roaring evening and much fun and beer was had by all in a fairly major way. It was a pleasure meeting the boys from Colt 45 for a start.
Somehow, I ended up with half the Peel (minus the strippers) back at my (not exactly spacious) flat afterwards until god knows when in the morning. I do know I finally got to bed some time after 6am.

It was a epic night.

Saturday - needless to say - began in a very hazy, painful and unpleasantly tasting way, far enough into the afternoon to have missed lunch completely and be well on the home straight towards Dinnertime. A shower, a very light bite to eat and the slow painful passage of time convinced me that, yes – it would in fact be an awesome idea to head out to D&D @ Sin (nothing at all to do with fantasy role playing games, I assure you. If you’re in to Metal [if not, why are you here??] and at a loose end in the West End of a Saturday night, I can’t recommend the place enough! Good tunes, great people, masses of craziness. Wonderful stuff), and party till 6am all over again.

…in my defence, I never did claim to be a fast learner in the first place.

I was going to be good though, honest yer’onnah. I’d just had an uncommonly massive Friday night after all (believe me when I say I’ve glossed over a lot of the details), shredded my throat a little bit (30% singing, 70% smoking copious fags), and was still a little groggy and knackered. We had another show to get through on Sunday for Gods sake! And just because of the location I knew from the get go it would be another “tomorrow morning” job, saving a fuggin’ fortune on Cabs by getting the first train home. But I wasn’t going to drink that much. I was going to be restrained and well behaved all round. Maybe hand out some flyers, try to drum up some last minute business for Sundays gig? Nice, chilled evening with faces and friends. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Nope, not a thing. All good there. Except all of that went completely to shit inside of about 17 minutes. It turned into debauched chaos with alarming alacrity!! Again, in order to protect the guilty (still me) and the innocent (reduced to merely a handful of certain others by now) I will gloss over the details. It’s enough to say I caught up with some old friends, met a whole mess of new ones, and had the unparalleled pleasure of meeting the most gorgeous and wonderful lady, who will no doubt complicate my life dreadfully in a variety of interesting ways in the weeks and months to come… I really can’t wait!!!

But I digress. Somehow, despite leaving the club at 6am, I didn’t get to Waterloo to catch a train until about 8.30am and was still, thoroughly, rocked of my bollocks.

Actually, I know exactly where those 2 ½ hours went, I’m just not telling!! =) Don’t all freak out at once, it involved coffee and a sausage McMuffin.

I finally got home and to bed about an hour or so later, and managed to grab a couple of the most un-refreshing, pointless, and freakily dream-filled hours of sleep I’ve ever had. So when my alarm goes off at 2 on Sunday afternoon to signal “Time to get Ready for the Gig, Chuckles”, you can imagine my general disposition.

I’m aware I have to drive and lug equipment around, which will automatically prevent me from being tempted to get trashed again (this was a good thing), but fuck me, I could count at least 208 ways I would rather have been spending my time, and nearly all of them involved lying down. Despite being told we have to be at the venue at 5pm for soundcheck Lee and I get there at about half 4 (what a couple of fuckin’ mugs!!) - the sound engineer finally rocks up a gnat’s cock away from 7pm. Oh, and the 4 band bill has become 5, as one of the bands pulled out at the 11th hour, and the promoter managed to find a replacement.

Only problem was, nobody told the band that apparently pulled out, that they’d pulled out. So of course they turn up.

Doors are meant to be at 7.30, there’s 5 bands to soundcheck and I, frankly, am in absolute fucking pieces.

Fucking. Clown. Shoes.

This is turning into an unmitigated disaster. My throat is raw as arses – I have this strange Barry White quality going on in the dark recesses of my tortured larynx, my brain is trying to make it way out of the front of my face, everything aches and this gig is beginning to test the limits of my (currently) extremely fucking limited patience.

Oh, and Skorge are on this bill as well.

Was I a rapist in a previous life or something?? With everything else that was clamouring for the title of “Most Annoying/Painful thing Happening to me Right Now” this was a cross too heavy to bear. So we wandered away from this nightmarish cluster-fuck for the relative sanctuary of the Worlds End in Camden.

I am, quite literally, just waiting to die at this point. I’m so hoarse I can barely speak, I’m surrounded by friends and well wishers, several of whom I’d only just met who must have been thinking “What a miserable bastard this wanker is”. I was not a happy boy.

We traipse back up to the Dublin Castle shortly after 9 and at this stage, I’m secretly hoping there’s been yet another fuck up, and maybe we accidentally missed our set??!!?!? But not so. We get back just in time to catch the last couple of tracks from Skorge.

It’s just a fucking laugh factory in my head at this point.

I’m in the little “Backstage” bit (which is actually no where near the stage) trying to do my best to psyche myself up for this, and its just not working. I’m shitting myself. I have NO confidence in either my singing or roaring because my throat is so shot to shit. There isn’t a muscle in my body that isn’t screaming for me to lie down. I’m pretty sure I was mildly hallucinating from sleep deprivation, and it appeared there were about 6 people in the venue room to watch us.

I’m beginning to think maybe going out last night and hitting it as hard as I did, might not have been the best idea I’ve ever had.

Fuckery.

Show’s on. Game Face time. Lee breaks a string before we even start. I go and sit down. Fuck fuck fuck. I do not want to do this. NO disrespect to the few people who were in there to see us, but this was not how I wanted to spend my Sunday evening. We’ve finally got our shit together, a quick flash of eye contact all round signifies the Abortion is ready to commence. We bust into “Random Acts”. I suddenly notice, all the pain, fatigue, frustration and general all round nastiness is fluttering away on the breeze. People start PILING into the room. All of a sudden – butter my arse – We’ve got a fucking crowd!! This feels… good. No, Great!! OK, my throat isn’t holding up quite as well as I’d have liked, but it's a THOUSAND times better than I’d imagined. Heads were bobbing, feet were moving. The first song finishes and the sounds of people clapping, shouting and squeeling fill my ears. This… is officially awesome. Just… Awesome. =)

Once again, Andy is a happy boy. It's turned into another Epic Night.

...it's all coming up Milhouse.

I’ll spare you the rest of the evening, mainly because not a lot happened, other than the fantastic, weird and proggy Crack Silence. I really did feel fine after the show, which is saying something!! I must have a Muse or something out there, looking out for me in times of desperate musical need. God bless her wherever she is!!

The moral of the story?

When you’ve got something important to do the next day, go out and get as Arseholed as you want, coz the Universe will generally look after itself and sort it all out for you.



See? Not a fast learner.

Errrrrmmmm..... Stuff.

Evenin’

It’s Friday night, about 11.15pm and I’m on the bloody internet. How extremely fucking Rock n Roll, eh? Life in the slow lane. Alright.

Anyway, hello. Welcome to the first blog I’ve ever written and posted on this mass of whatever it is that answers to the name: “The Internet”.
Tragic really - the whole internet thing and, by virtue, the whole “Blogging” thing have sort of passed me by. And that’s really not all;

Myspace? Nope. Forums?? Not me. iTunes??? i’Ll pass. Chat-rooms???? Cheque please.

Barring a handful of websites I’ve visited regularly for many years (on a variety of subjects, farrrrrr too illuminating on my true [yet cunningly disguised and top-top secret] Uber-Geekery nature than I’m prepared to divulge here…. allow me to retain a modicum of mystique, please! After all, I am with the Band, you understand of course).

Heh-hem. Anyway - tangent. Sorry, I’m back.

Where was I?

Ah!

…… blah blah blah visited regularly for many years, my limited surfing range has changed very little – more of a brief wade in the shallow end, than surfing. Apart from Wikipedia (to which I was introduced a couple of years ago […and which *** K.I.C.K.S A.S.S. *** by the way, just so we’re clear. I love Wikipedia! Heap your scorn upon me - I care not!!!!]), I’ve never strayed far from the Metaphorical Beach.
And despite an evolving and constant love affair with music, dating back for as long as my enfeebled brain can handle nowadays, I’ve never been one for downloading it. Or films. Or games. Or anything really. Believe me - it’s not for fear of the criminality of it, which – let’s face it – is Bollocks.
In no way am I against the concept of downloading or file sharing; fuck, we’re HAPPILY giving our stuff away with a smile for free right now, if it gets people listening to it! Go nuts!! Fill yer boots!! Send it to your friends and family, spread the word… please!! =) But despite my absence from it over the years, in all seriousness - has there ever been a cheaper, easier, wider reaching or more effective promotional tool for a band than the Internet?? It should be any musicians wet-dream, surely?? Or is that just me? Is that naive? I’m sure there are numerous counter arguments but fuck it – it’s my blog.

Arrrgh….. tangent.

Sorry.

Anyway, it’s never been a conscious avoidance of the internet or anything like that; I really think it’s been a matter of convenience. Or more accurately; inconvenience.

When I look back on it, everywhere I’ve lived over the past 10 or so years has either had; no internet and/or wireless access, a seriously shitty computer (what a fucking pain when technology doesn’t do what it’s supposed to!!) or, more frequently, the computer is plonked in a really inconvenient location.
Stuck in a spare room, for example? The one that the heating is always knackered in? The general dumping ground for all the stuff you never use (or indeed remember you own) but can’t bear to be parted with when it comes to actually raking through the piles and chucking it all out; amidst the washing, the spare bed and bedding (…which I suppose has got to be under there somewhere…), the chaotic exploding bookshelves….
Invariably, somewhere within the cold, cluttered shadows of the surrounding Monoliths of “Stuff” (a.k.a. Crap) that you can’t bear to part with, sits the Computer itself. ALWAYS fucking housed in some faux “Office Environment”, replete with desk, shelves of files, every surface peppered with meaningless, long forgotten post-it notes and – of course - the mandatory, beyond uncomfortable (and if it’s not already it soon will be…) broken office-y type chair.

And here, in this environment (and more often than not – with *this* equipment), I am supposed to be able to sit down, relax and say… catch up with Series 4 of Lost, or something?? I want to kick back *here*, and listen to my latest batch of tunes?? Oh my God - and the speakers!?! Did I mention the speakers on my last PC?

Try and imagine the sound of six ants fighting in a disposable plastic cup.

Got it?

Yeah. Just like that.

Oh alright, that was probably a bit over dramatic, but hopefully you get the picture. The other thing that still puts me off downloading music in particular is – and maybe I’m a fucking Dinosaur here but – I really like CDs and I really like to own them.

Lots of them.

Personally, if I’m into a band, I want to see the whole product, the packaging, the works. I want to scrutinise all the artwork and the lyrics and The Everything that encapsulates and protects and compliments and embellishes this phenomenal Work of Aural Art by… who ever.

I suppose I’ve already owned up (…well, kind of owned up – Don’t take anything you read too seriously because I do have an image to maintain and cannot be trusted, D’ohn ch’yew know??)

**micro-tangent** Apologies. Onwards:

…. to being a bit of a Geek so with that being said, it probably can’t do too much further damage to step forward after all these years and finally admit:

“My name is Andy, and I always read all of the liner notes”

….Feels good to get that out there.


Yes, it’s now official. I am a fossil. Obsolete. I still want buy CDs. I’m lead to believe that’s how things are going now anyway, that the CD market is already heading towards The Bright Light, and the whole DRM/Stroppy Record Label thing, is the industry’s way of trying to talk itself awake and lucid until the ambulance gets to the hospital.

What the fuck am I talking about?

Regardless, I got myself a sexy new laptop a few weeks ago (hence this current, rather epic, Blogventure). So I can now relax wherever I like (sofa!!!), whenever I like (occasionally!!!) and everything’s coming up Milhouse, techno-wise. Maybe I should just take the plunge before it’s too late, before I get left behind forever by technology and a fear of the unfamiliar?

But fuck it – I’m still in love with CDs. It’s the … physicalness (…wtf?) of a CD. A connection is established, through physical sensation and physical interaction.

Oooooooooh…

Deep.


But OK - of course hurrah/well done/congratulations/you may now sleep at night – you bought a CD and that money’s going to go to the band. So you’re helping, right?! I mean, The “Pirates” (**sorry, mini-tangent** …Pirates? Pirates?? Pirates. Who started calling them Pirates? Does anyone else think of… you know, “Pirates” [Arrrrr! Avast!! and so on…] when they hear the word “Pirates”?

Just me?

Anyway…)



….The “Pirates”, they don’t do that! They don’t pay! They don’t contribute!! They just steal!

Yeah OK. But I’d be willing to bet that a majority of people will buy the CD once they’ve heard it (assuming they like it) for the physical connection. I would. Others that don’t, may go to gigs, pay for tickets, perhaps buy some merch? The band makes (more) money that way.

I’m pretty certain that the guy that doesn’t buy the CD, or the T-shirts, or go to the shows – whatever – I’m sure that guy, had downloading not been a possibility, would NEVER have gone out and shelled out money for the CD anyway. So what is that? Is it really lost revenue? OK, the guy gets a digital copy of the tracks but what about the artwork, DVD extras, lyrics etc. Surely that has a value too? This guy doesn’t get any of that. He wouldn’t buy it, even if he couldn’t get it for free. What’s really lost??

Fuck it. I have no idea. I give up. I’m sitting here rambling now about things I have not even the tiniest clue about now. That was a random little journey.

It’s a curious thing, this Blogging. Millions of people, all over the world just… waffling. I can see its appeal. Cathartic.

Not to end on a downer, but this week has been a personal Word Beater, an absolute fucking record breaker of a shitty, shitty week. Thank God it’s….well, Saturday morning now, but still sort of Friday. It’s My Blog. =)

I came on here with the intention of venting about something else entirely…. I appear to have forgotten about it completely and gone on to get thoroughly lost in my own head.

Should you have made it this far Gentle Viewer (bonus points for spotting that one), quite genuinely – very well done. You got further than I would have done if I’d have been you, and I Salute You.

Half a page, me. Max.

Hmmmmm, that was fun.

You may hear from me again.


Possibly.

a.