tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9988435636182073402024-03-13T20:16:03.366-07:00Nuclear Death TerrorK-Town Crust Punk<p>
News, tourdates, downloads, out-of-print material, videos, interviews, etc</p>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-29566375295794745372013-01-11T18:52:00.001-08:002013-01-11T18:54:43.886-08:00Entire discography - free download<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim61dfle2TeDJkh52qls08WxSbWzsfsJLmUPuCFHclOLg0o7COLr3i2f5tV6sjPQcbZF5_LjuQhxyPyLa-eDG39HJqqTZhUwfB6iDqVsKuUSqLKZFTC5QRpdmViP-ixH49-CSR092h67nL/s400/bandcamp.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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We now have our entire discography including the forthcoming 2013 Equinox demo available for free download at <a href="http://nucleardeathterror.bandcamp.com/">http://nucleardeathterror.bandcamp.com</a>. This is of far superior quality to the downloads previously available and includes artwork & notes never seen before outside of the physical releases.<br />
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Please SHARE with all & any interested parties.<br />
<br />Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-74945688587548104992012-08-17T20:24:00.000-07:002012-08-17T20:24:09.506-07:00Blood Fire Chaos Death 12" picture disc out now!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnK6yquoYTd4aCYRGpMrpqV8-B7aauAJfGUsCCRuNqCEHkv45H3iQLGPPw6Fx9-OxHoaz0yEQoBnVlO7479ZIune8vNZYmzBAnJdIF4fTT2quAMj2RQxo418CUwbtA667zQAY_4LlQr_Vj/s1600/ndt_picdisc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnK6yquoYTd4aCYRGpMrpqV8-B7aauAJfGUsCCRuNqCEHkv45H3iQLGPPw6Fx9-OxHoaz0yEQoBnVlO7479ZIune8vNZYmzBAnJdIF4fTT2quAMj2RQxo418CUwbtA667zQAY_4LlQr_Vj/s320/ndt_picdisc.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">NUCLEAR DEATH TERROR - Blood Fire Chaos Death.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Four tracks of brutal d-beat crust with an '80s black/death aura. 12" picture disc with artwork from Jeremy 'Hush' Clark, limited to 666 copies WILL NOT BE REPRESSED. Recorded at Studio 246 in Osaka by Mr.Hara (Framtid, Gloom, Zouo engineer) and includes a 12-page LP sized book with artwork & lyrics.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Single copies $22 AUD, 5+ copies $18. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Cheapest options for single 12" including postage:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />Australia: $35 (regular mail, approx price).<br />World: $40 (seamail, approx price).</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Email razethestray(a)hotmail.com for ordering info.</span>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-27567634444536991342012-06-19T16:44:00.001-07:002012-06-19T16:44:40.785-07:00Interview in Zero Tolerance Magazine #47<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7zvaEft2_DzRyR5_qyYT45TjdhtiqvFUbxBBzIvKRDTjOs7wU-JNiuni9cRNUICojXNeyHMpI60SqZY-9vfew4ZLMXrVA6v9kyb9XguTsIu4N-TKrQg1mA07t2qiV0EXM6_pIg4o-pfI/s1600/P6170070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7zvaEft2_DzRyR5_qyYT45TjdhtiqvFUbxBBzIvKRDTjOs7wU-JNiuni9cRNUICojXNeyHMpI60SqZY-9vfew4ZLMXrVA6v9kyb9XguTsIu4N-TKrQg1mA07t2qiV0EXM6_pIg4o-pfI/s320/P6170070.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-492981033873822622012-06-19T16:39:00.003-07:002012-06-19T16:41:35.764-07:00Blood Fire Chaos Death 12" test presses!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UyUxF7ualZOfEAdfYe5_jUdWv2bCtesu-rHu7D2Kh4rIka4B6EwfyNfBaJPKXvi8FgZUAnQcRIEbI3_bNMf2_gL7mpMvuzXEY5Q71dFulZSVwirx3K67dARB894RdE8YudKJRlIHpWfL/s1600/ndt_tp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UyUxF7ualZOfEAdfYe5_jUdWv2bCtesu-rHu7D2Kh4rIka4B6EwfyNfBaJPKXvi8FgZUAnQcRIEbI3_bNMf2_gL7mpMvuzXEY5Q71dFulZSVwirx3K67dARB894RdE8YudKJRlIHpWfL/s320/ndt_tp1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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They've just arrived at D-TAKT & RÅPUNK HQ in Sweden - this is what a picture disc without a picture looks like! En route to us in Australia right now to give final confirmation on, and then it's out! <br />
<br />Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-13778394802750436972011-12-11T03:38:00.000-08:002011-12-11T03:42:52.285-08:00Blood Fire Chaos Death<div>Here's a sampler for the new record, out early 2012.</div><div><br /></div><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FNNnhMLgWNY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-33110995103949762662011-02-04T21:03:00.000-08:002012-07-05T17:26:12.698-07:00Nuclear Diaryhea Part III<span style="font-family: courier new; font-size: 85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiae_BoPSLz4AXr7zuhB-i5ehw0ND_3E06hUZquJ5iLeU223ZkJ7k09o94ru9DpuTeIrGMaxZ5eXtW_CVHlw3xkd_LfO19-BuEUsG5P3s1PKHbBeBWZeCHF0AbebeKZfj3hYPV48MH4al_F/s1600/tokyodawn.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570068663623479810" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiae_BoPSLz4AXr7zuhB-i5ehw0ND_3E06hUZquJ5iLeU223ZkJ7k09o94ru9DpuTeIrGMaxZ5eXtW_CVHlw3xkd_LfO19-BuEUsG5P3s1PKHbBeBWZeCHF0AbebeKZfj3hYPV48MH4al_F/s400/tokyodawn.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 252px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 400px;" /></a></span> <style>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Day Thirty-Three: February 1<sup>st</sup></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I drift into semi-consciousness as the alarm goes off at 4.45am and lie in bed exhausted until 10 minutes before we leave the house…it’s absolutely freezing so I struggle into my clothes under the covers, go downstairs, pull my boots on and help drag the gear out to the van…there’s a bottle of water in there that’s actually frozen. We drive to the bus station and remove our bags and instruments in the freezing night to wait for the bus…it arrives and we say our goodbyes to Hiro. I fuckin hate goodbyes, I’d rather than just sneak off like a weird pervert and wait till next time…hellos with old friends are so much better! The bus pulls off and we drive from the endless suburbs towards the gargantuan city.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">The final Tokyo dawn is stunning…a haze of orange highlights the dark skyline as morning bleeds into a deep blue, the sun finally piercing the black horizon. Driving from Akitsu to Narita is mental; two and a half hours, most of which is relentless urban sprawl. There’s <span style="font-style: italic;">nothing</span> like this in the world; the high-tech higgledy-piggledy lay-out, the bright neon, the never-sleeping megalopolis that makes London or New York seem like a sleepy countryside hamlet. Fuck, I love Tokyo…I can’t wait for my next visit. Even without the oncoming week, this has already been the best tour of my life...eternal gratitude to Hiro and Leader! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">But it’s not over yet…we arrive at the airport and wait for the check-in to open at 8.30am, detuning our guitars and reorganising the last few bits of luggage. It’s not so bad waiting around –actually it’s pretty awesome, with all sorts of curious civilians checking us out and sneaking shy smiles behind their boyfriends’ backs…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Yes, we're the band.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">The lady at the Malaysia Airlines desk is amazed and excitedly flustered by us, full of shy smiles and secret glances, and overly-eager to help us. She even waives the 14 kilo overweight baggage which would have cost us a good chunk of the money we got paid for the Japan tour. We go through and find our gate after Adam gets some duty-free smokes, and there’s still a while to wait so the boys get some veggie tempura and I have a manky raw-egg and indiscriminate meat-on-rice concoction. Bleaarrrgh…should have gone for the tempura. We get on the plane and it just gets better and better…the entire crew are in awe of us, it’s like they think we’re fuckin Metallica or something! It’s a mult-iracial, multi-generational gang of uber-cutey stewardesses, all of whom are constantly doing their utmost to make us as comfortable as possible. What’s that? Would I like a little whiskey to begin the journey? Why <i>yes</i>, I most certainly would! A gin & tonic? Splendid!! Oh, you just took my glass…to refill it!! Darling!! Would we like to move to more comfortable seats??? Well of course we would! Thank you! And what’s this…? Oh no you didn’t! You did <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> just bring me <i>two</i> bloody marys when I only asked for one! My goodness!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">In this day and age of scabby budget airlines and cut-corners, it’s so nice to have such a comfortable, well-attended experience. A Virgin Airlines flight I took to the Caribbean the year before last ran out of beers after I’d had only four; on a Quantas flight they insisted I drink some water and warned me that I’d be in trouble if I drank too much. But these fine ladies couldn’t possible give us enough. Amazing. The plane food is pretty good, as is the wine that accompanies it. I take the opportunity to catch up with the tour diary until the battery runs out, and then watch a soppy rom-com called Life As We Know It. Maybe it’s just the gin, perhaps it’s the fact of missing Anji so much, but I enjoy it immensely…it’s a preposterous premise, though fairly well portrayed. Plot-holes big enough to fly this bloody plane through but who cares…it’s not David fucking Lynch. Don’t tell anyone, but I even get a little moist-eyed once or twice. Ah, gin!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Even though I’ve not slept more than three hours, I don’t feel that tired. But I know I will later, and who knows what time we’ll get to bed, so I take advantage of the fairly-empty flight and crash out for an hour over four seats. Lovely. I wake up and with the absence of coffee's availability I go for a little bloody mary or three and watch some My Name Is Earl and an excellent David Attenborough doco about global warming. No future no hope, let’s get pissed says Big Dave. More or less. Then it’s time to descend and land, and we have to wave goodbye to our wonderful cabin crew…we don’t wanna go! Let us stay forever!! Any chance I ever have again, I’ll fly with Malaysia Airlines over any other. (Any chance of a sponsorship there?!) We’ve got an hour and a half in Kuala Lumpur airport before our connecting flight to Singapore. I recharge my laptop and discover there’s free wi-fi, just as Timmy gets a text from Anj (my phone’s not workin) that she needs me to contact her urgently. I check in on skype and luckily she’s online, we’re able to chat and sort out the possibility of a gaff in Melbourne…sounds great, I fuckin hate house hunting, let’s go for it. So nice to see my girl…can’t wait to get back…it’s been too long and I’m going nuts!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We board the plane and it’s uneventful, apart from one of the stewards asking if we’re a thrash metal band. Something like that, pal. There’s an announcement that anyone found with drugs in Singapore will be executed, more or less guaranteeing that I’m going to have to try and find some when we get there. We arrive and even though there’s tons of paramilitary police around we don’t have any trouble going through immigration. The officer asks if I’m in a thrash metal band. Nah, mate. Here for a wedding. The officer Timmy had asks him the same thing…is this some kind of thrash mecca or what!? We pick up our stuff and go through customs without being checked and our promoter Hafiz and his mate Kody are there to pick us up. Gear in a car and us in two taxis…it’s humid as fuck and I’m sweating like a dog in my leather jacket. No complaints after the freezing Japanese winter. We drive through the city and it’s weird as fuck…Modern City<sup>TM</sup>. I’m getting a bit freaked out…I know it’s supposed to be a crimeless and ultra-safe place , but this is too much…it’s horrible. Faceless, lifeless unreality. One of our hosts tells us about a mate of his who got randomly piss-tested coming back from Indonesia; he had cannabis in his system and got two years in jail. <i>Everything</i> is illegal here –it’s FUBAR yo. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">The cityscape is making me nervous and restless, and what's more, after the ultra-future madness of Tokyo it's just fucking boring…just around then thing start to get grubbier, they start to get noiser, there’s people loitering on the streets, people eating at mad looking little restaurants, the skyscrapers fall away to reveal crumbling colonial facades and a mix of Chinese, Indians, Malays, Indonesians, and a few too many honkys. Pheee-ew. We arrive in Little India at the place where we’re staying, The Post Museum, and dump our shit. Now <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> is more like it. Filthy scumbags, ladyboys and whores, greasy dudes and pungent smells…ah, home! I have a quick bucket-shower and feel way fuckin better after the long trip and close-quarters recycled air. We meet Jakob and Christina and a bunch of punks and go out for something to eat…and just as I’m about to relax with food I get told there’s a problem with the gig in Kuala Lumpur. Oh great…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">To cut a long story short, </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 85%;">there's some people here in Singapore telling us that the venue where the gig is on also has nazi gigs...we’re told that lots of the KL punks will boycott the gig because of this...apparently the owner of the venue is in favour of the nationalist gigs and also a sympathizer to them. The promoter was allegedly asked to change to another venue, since there's other venues that could be used which don't have any association with the nazis. Some girls were beaten up at a punk gig last August, after which some punks stole a Malaysian flag from a nazi punk gig and burnt it and took photos, and in response some nationalist Malay guys tried to burn down some punks’ house. So they want us to do something about it.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 85%;">Jeryzon is the promoter for the Kuala Lumpur gig, an old friend of mine and the whole reason why we're coming to Singapore and Malaysia in the first place; I’ve known him longer than anyone else here, as he used to live in Dublin and we had a band together. He’s an active member of the KL punk scene since ‘95, involved in a lot of endeavours which keep it going in what I understand to be quite a hostile environment. And this random dude is telling us all this stuff…I’m sceptical. First off, I trust Jery: we put the Malaysian bookings in his hands, and this is what he decided to do. Second of all, this is not the first time people have tried to get us involved in local disputes (read about it <a href="http://www.myspace.com/nucleardeathterror/blog/462633981">here</a>). Thirdly, you clean your own fucking house –you don’t get someone else to do it. Especially when they’re white Europeans coming to an ex-colonial country. It’d be one thing if we were told about this when it was booked in the venue months ago, at which point we could actually try and find out what’s going on. But a few days before the show? </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 85%;">We start discussing it and I need to take a lot of deep breaths. We say we’ll discuss it later when we don’t have a local audience present. Timmy texts a number of old friends who are strongly involved in the KL scene for up to 25 years, people with sound politics and long experience who book punk gigs at the same venue, and none of them are aware of controversy or a boycott. We eat and get a few beers and walk around the streets. It’s cool, and reminds me a lot of India, but I’m heavily preoccupied with this other issue. I’m right in the middle, being the one whose friend and contact is putting on the show. My opinion is straight up: if there’s a problem with nazis, fine, let them come on down and it’ll be twice as much fun. I’m not cancelling a gig because of rumours which we’ve just heard about. We go back to the place we’re staying and one of the people who told us about all this asks us what our decision is. Come on man, for fuck sake…we’ve just been told about this, what do you expect? I’m pretty annoyed about the whole thing and don’t appreciate being put in this position…some guys from one of the other bands are playing and we ask them what they think about it, and if they’ll be playing. They’re non-committal and won’t really say either way. Whatever, fuck this, I’m off to bed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Day Thirty-Four: February 2<sup>nd</sup></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I get a decent sleep and get up around 10.30am and immediately start catching up with the days I’m behind on. I type for two hours and get up to last night. Timmy asks me to check something about the flights, and I open the PDF doc with the info. I go to close it, press the shortcut button, it closes, asks if I want to save it, and the second I click “no” I realize I’m on the word document I’ve been working on for the last two hours. It disappears. It’s gone. NNNNNGGGH FUUUUCK!!! I realize what I’ve done and I’m fucking raging. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">The description of the last four days is pretty different to the original one I wrote; after you go through so many days at once you can’t remember what you wrote or how you described things. I download a data recovery program and it takes about three hours to run. The data recovery program eventually finds the data and tells me I need to pay to register it to get the data. <i>Fuck</i>. I don’t really speak to anyone for the next four hours or so; they all go out and take a walk around KL and I just sit, type, edit photos and update the blog. By the time I’ve done all this I’ve gotten in an okay mood after going through the photos and text and remembering all the Japan madness. Everyone comes back and I go out and get a coffee and although there seems to be no luck in regard to getting hold of any proper contraband – purely out of duty, you understand – I get an illegally imported cigarette and smoke it. Fuck the system!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We get ready to leave and I retune my guitar and we walk down to the venue with a bunch of punks while someone brings the gear in a taxi. </span><span style="font-size: 85%;">The streets are busy, since tonight’s New Years Eve for the Chinese New Year and with Singapore’s majority Chinese population, that means it’s gonna be a fuckin huge party. There’s tons of people already outside the venue, excited as hell and mad to say hi and shake hands and take photos and all the rest of it. It’s fun and after two days with no gig and a bit of rest I’m really looking forward to playing and getting excited. Singapore! Unlike most places we’ve been on this tour, I have no clue as to what it’ll be like. The Japan shows were really intense in terms of pressure…the standard is the highest in the world, the venues and gear are top-notch, the audience experience incredible bands on a weekly basis, and there’s no room for fuck-ups. The dynamic here is completely different; despite the high level of organization and dedication put into things, it’s an entirely different scenario. Bands don’t come here that much. There aren’t big scale shows on a weekly basis. No soundchecks. People get drunk as fuck and sniff glue and try to get in for free and act the bollocks. Yep –sounds like chaos, and, more importantly, fun!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We go and get a few beers from the shop and chat to people and hang out. The venue is decent, a big theatre hall with a reasonable sound system. There’s no stage so it’ll be a floor show. Good stuff. There’s food brought for us, excellent Indian fare again…dosas, chapatis, curry, dhal, etc. We finish up just as the first band is starting. Blood Division, with some ex-members of Impiety. They have a punk approach to black/thrash metal and do a number of covers along with their own stuff. Not bad, but definitely a first gig. Distrust follow are they’re excellent…raw as hell Scandi d-beat with a fuckin punk approach, memorable choruses and some serious guitar playing. Alco Cider Punx!! There’s tons of people here getting pretty rowdy and all up for it, a big mix of punks, metalheads, thrash maniacs and general randomers. People are taking pictures of us just standing around and shaking our hands and getting real shy. It’s pretty funny but annoying aswell. Just hang and drink a beer dude, don't treat us like we're something special. We discuss the sound and decide to leave the mics off the drums since Timmy’s drumming is way too loud already for the PA to handle; we’ll be lucky if the guitars come through sufficiently, even with mics on the speakers. Cyberphobia start and they’re excellent…nasty stenchcore with a grinding, snarling sound. It’s their first show, and perhaps that’s partly why so many people sit outside on the street and don’t bother coming in. Their loss. Last band before us is Opposition Party. I watch just a few minutes of their punk/metal fare before going in to warm up backstage…not really my thing but people are coming in again to check it out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2EmsmcjKMXSSr72Z40oYcgFWHEVYAW8tgPjOD63Ro64vNkmhy80Ch2p-7Zq29KMNyo4G_S9trgYNRirimX6HX7biGFZuCedrQgnXQsSdKZZwijC86qd4znGeRJL7cJwUpywUL9O4j0EY/s1600/27.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570067031731157906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2EmsmcjKMXSSr72Z40oYcgFWHEVYAW8tgPjOD63Ro64vNkmhy80Ch2p-7Zq29KMNyo4G_S9trgYNRirimX6HX7biGFZuCedrQgnXQsSdKZZwijC86qd4znGeRJL7cJwUpywUL9O4j0EY/s400/27.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 260px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 400px;" /></a></span><span style="font-size: 85%;">It’s time: we bring our gear out and commence trying to get a good sound mix. It’s gonna be fine for the vox, but we need to push the PA to its limit to get the guitars on par with the drums. People are right up on front of us and the hall is full…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">By the end of the first song things are getting fairly hairy. As we start the second one it all just goes mental… I have to move my pedal behind the amp, and then on top of the amp cos there’s people still walking on it anyway. It doesn't make any difference...there's still people walking on it!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Everyone’s all over the place, there’s just a sea of kids all around me and I’m completely separated from the rest of the band. People are falling over everywhere and jumping off things, crowd-surfing and climbing all over their friends. It seems that half the crowd know all the lyrics. It’s fucking deadly! We have to go back twice before people will let us leave…amazing gig!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Afterwards there’s the usual merriment, hanging around drinking and talking bollocks. Since it’s Chinese New Year we’re all keen to head down to Chinatown and see what’s up. We take a walk with a bunch of Singaporeans and some Aussies we’ve met at the show and it’s pandemonium. Families celebrating, tons of restaurants, stalls selling crazy crap and loud music everywhere. We go to some restaurant and sit down and start drinking. I order a fuckin stingray from the menu. It’s surprisingly delicious. Take that Steve Irwin you noncepocket. We hang out and get proper bollixed, and leave to walk back to Little India at…I dunno when. After we’ve been gone ten minutes we realize that we’ve lost Jæppe. Some people go back to try and find him. No dice. We give him a call and he assures us that he’s well taken care. Well I never!! Ol’ Captain Wetdick strikes again! And this time with some oriental honey on New Years! It promises to be a most auspicious year indeed, for Jæppe's stinky little friend anyway. The rest of us walk back and get one more beer at the place across from where we’re staying. One of the punks makes a snidey sideways comment about people ordering expensive food like stingray. I ask him what he’s trying to say and Mumblor The Terrible comes out. Ah shut your fuckin pie hole. The boringness continues and someone brings up the nazi issue and our KL show again. I explain why I think it’s shit that people are asking us this and what do they expect us to do? Silence. I go to bed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Day Thirty-Five: February 3<sup>rd</sup> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I wake up and start drinking water </span><span style="font-size: 85%;">as Jæppe returns</span><span style="font-size: 85%;">. It turns out that his night wasn’t quite as sexy as I’d imagined…he’d tried to go to sleep with some homeless men at a train station, and when that didn’t work out he went back to Chinatown and walked around demanding things for free, which worked fine until he walked into a brothel. The girls all started giggling excitedly and a big hairy man jumped up and pushed him and turned around angrily shouting at the girls, “no dreadlocks!”. Fair enough. Jæppe gets shoved out and blunders around for a while and eventually sleeps in a staircase. Eveyone wakes up and we all go for some food at a vegetarian Indian restaurant everyone’s keen on. It’s overpriced and average; I think the vegetarian sign on their exterior is the big draw for everyone. None of the locals eat due to the price. I get a Pani Puri and it’s disappointing, and a dosa which is decent, but doesn’t even have any frickin anything in it, and no curries. With a mango lassi it comes to nearly $20…the same would be about $3 in the place we’ve been eating across the road from The Post Museum, and far better quality too. We head back and I get a coffee and catch up on emails. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Adam is crazy keen to go to a casino and gets the info from everyone there about where to go. They all think it’s really weird. He doesn’t care, naturally. Adam’s a <i>massive</i> poker freak –fucking good at it, too –and really wants to enter a casino tournament. He goes upstairs and changes into his best clothes upstairs, which is basically a black shirt and an Iron Maiden belt buckle instead of a studded jacket and belt. Jæppe decides he’s going to and changes into his best clothes which are…ah, never mind. I say fuck it, I want in on this too and change into my best clothes. Which basically means swapping denim for leather. We leave and make our way across the city to Marina Bay Sands to </span> <style>
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</style> <span style="font-size: 85%;"> with the aid of a map. It’s fuckin sweltering, absolutely disgusting weather, and I really need a beer...nowhere to get one: police state Singapore. We arrive at the place and it’s beside this huge fancy mall with some kind of mad Chinese acrobatic opera going on. It’s a massive rigmarole to get in involving passports and bag-checks and everything, and it turns out that Jæppe’s forgot his passport, so he says he’ll wander round the mall and we’ll meet him outside. If you’re a foreigner it’s free in, but if you’re from Singapore it’s $100. Crikey! In we trot and it’s absolutely bananas. Total mongo. Thousands of mad rich cunts flinging money around like confetti. We’re flabbergasted and slowly make our way around looking at the different games and tables whilst Adam frantically searches for the poker area. This place is humongous. There’s tons of staff, going around with trolleys full of free drinks, and various scary looking uberfuhrers straight out of a Vegas scam movie. This is the first time I’ve ever been in a casino and it’s hilarious.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Adam asks a cashier about the possibility of a Texas Hold ‘Em game. They’ve only got Two Card Stud. He’s really fuckin pissed off. He demands to speak to a manager, asking why they don’t have Texas Hold ‘Em. The dude’s uncomfortable, says that people here don’t like it. Adam wants to know why, what’s wrong with them? The dude affixes a grim smile to his strained face and slowly backs away, sliding into the crowd and disappearing. Adam’s in a real stinker now, and to be honest the place is too weird and I just wanna go. We think about it for a minute and decide fuck it, we’re both in a fuckin casino for the first time, in bloody Singapore. What would Jesus do? He’d blow a fuckwad of cash on the roulette!! We go to change money into chips and I only want to waste $20 (I’m never lucky at these kind of things) while Adam’s on for $50. The minimum is $100…Adam says fuck it, just go for it. I think about going for a bit more...but decide against it since I’m already pretty low...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We take a look around and settle on the roulette, mainly cos that’s the only one we can figure out! Plus it’s got the lowest minimum stake at $5! The way it works is that there’s 36 possible numbers on the wheel, which are also laid out beside each other in a grid on a table. There’s various ways you can go. Put your chip on a single number and if it comes up you win at 35-1. Put it on the line between two numbers and if either come up you win at 17-1. Put it on the corner of four, and you win at 8-1. There’s various other options, but we reckon the 8-1 gives us the best chance of some return. It takes us a while to find a table we like the look of, and of course we have to get some coffees and cigarettes and smoke and drink coffee while we play, just cos we can. This is so frickin' cool! Between each spin it’s mad, all these middle-aged stinkin’ rich Chinese folks flinging chips all over the board. They all have little jotters and some kind of strategy. Fuck knows what cos it’s all blind luck and random chance. Deep breath...Adam puts a chip down!! I take a photo! A stern casino lady grabs my arm and says “No photo!!” Then the roulette master spins the ball and after a minute or so dings the bell for final bets and then…! Nothing. Some other pricks win and Adam loses a chip. Next time we both go. He takes corner 24/25/27/28 and I go for 13/14/16/17. Adam fucking wins!! It’s awesome! He goes again…he’s thinking number 15 cos it’s his girlfriend Naja’s birthday. He changes his mind…corner of 14/15/17/18…it lands on fucking 15!! Aaargh –he would have made 35-1, that’s $175 on one $5 wager if he’d gone with his gut! Fuuuck! Never mind, he still makes $40 on it. I go again and nothing. Now I’m getting bitter and pissed off. I fuckin knew it. Adam’s going to win loads of money and I’m going to lose all mine and look like a tit. I tell him that I wish a bit of his luck would rub off on me and give his shoulder a minor fondling. We both go on the next round; he’s on 32/33/35/36 and I’m on 31/32/34/35.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">IT LANDS ON FUCKING 32!!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">WOOOHOOO!!!! I’m rich, I’m rich!!! We’re jumping around and going mad and the cynical locals are looking annoyed. We do some quick calculations; we’ve each more than doubled our money. Should we leave…? Should we be smart?! Since we won, our chips stay on the table. We decide we’ll have one more go with them and then leg it before some big dudes in shades come out of a back room and tell us to come with them, cos they’re wise to our game. No wins, but we get our chips, go to the cashier and get our ca$h moneyz: fuckin $205!! WE RULE!! We dance out of there feeling absolutely awesome and humming 50 Cent songs. My hangover’s gone and I’m rich beyond my wildest dreams. We’re extremely impressed with ourselves and discuss how we totally fucked over the casino and probably should become professional gamblers instead of being in a sexy crust band. We meet Jæppe and it’s like we’re back up there again, reliving the heady moments in retrospect. We have to go back to the entrance to get Adam’s bag back and the security lady’s all curious. No surprises for guessing what she asks: no love, we’re not in a thrash band. Why is everyone involved in the security industry in Singapore into thrash fucking metal?! Is it a particularly authoritarian style of metal or what the fuck?!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We consider getting a limo but instead get into the taxi rank: no way we’re walking back after <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> change in fortunes. Ah yes, a most auspicious new year indeed. Prosperity beckons –it’s lucky we paid our dues last night. Everything’s still comin’ up nuclear, and when it’s our turn a big shiny Alfa-Romeo pulls up for us instead of a rickety old crap taxi. Fuckin’ right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We arrive victorious back at the Post Museum, all ready to lord it over the others who laughed at us when we were leaving. Ha! Peasants! I’ll give you a dollar to kiss my boots. No-one’s there…shit. We go across to get some food at Indian place…and everyone’s there!! Yay!! We got $200, we got $200!! Check us out!! Everyone’s amazed at our brilliance, especially all the Singaporeans who didn’t quite know what to make at our privileged weirdness of going to a casino. “That’s not what a crust band does…”. We have food and beer and it’s cool. Then we go back to watch a movie, called The Devil, about people stuck in an elevator and one of them’s the devil but no-one knows who. It’s pretty awesome, though with a cringey ending. Then it’s fuckin doomsday…time to have the discussion which I’ve been completely avoiding for the past two days: what to do about the KL gig.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">It’s fucking torturous. It literally goes on for about four hours. The only thing we can agree on is that we’ll write some sort of statement explaining our position. We’re all exhausted afterwards and pretty hungry; even though it’s 2.15am, this city never sleeps. We check out the huge 24 hour mall called Mustafa just down the road. Totally mental. We go back to the overpriced Indian place since the one next door has no fish head curry left, and no veggie stuff either. I get a veg shish kebab. It’s disappointing and over-priced, surprise surprise. It’s now after 4am and we’re all dead…back to the sleep space and heads down.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Day Thirty-Six: February 4</span><sup style="color: #cc0000;">th</sup></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">The plan is to head to Johor Baharu this evening since we’ll be playing there tomorrow, so we have most of the day in KL. I get a fairly scanty kip but I can’t go back asleep so that’s it…everyone gets up and we head out to check out an army surplus store. It’s shite. I'd expected all sorts of weird awesome militaria, since there’s mandatory conscription here (one of the punks with us is in the middle of it). There is, however, Garu Garu and Sup Tulang! The army shops are in this filthy old shopping mall, most of which is closed down for Chinese New Year, but the basement is all mad little grubby cafes and mingy restaurants, which have no hygiene standards and consequently serve amazingly delicious cheap food. First of all I get this Indonesian stuff, Garu Garu, a mix of satay, tofu, green beans, rice cakes, tempeh and so on. It’s amazing, but pretty heavy going. There’s this couple of punks who’ve come over from Indonesia to see us play in JB, they were supposed to be at the Singapore show but they missed their flight, and they get this mad fuckin Sup Tualang thing. It’s a load of goat bones and gristle, in this really vivid, viscous dark silky red sauce…they ask if I want a go. Ah yeah. It’s a bit fuckin gnarly, but tasty enough. Apparently though, what you really have to do is suck the marrow out of the bones. Gulp… That’s the real point of Sup Tulang, which incidentally, is a rare delicacy unique to Singapore. I’m not sure if they’re taking the piss or not. They’re not. I wait for one of them to have a go to see how it’s done. Pick up the bone and suck hard. Cradle the balls and stroke the shaft. It takes an awful lot of sucking, and then finally the marrow comes out. I unfortunately get a look at it before taking one final big suck and the whole mess falls down my face. I nearly fuckin spew everywhere. It’s <i>gross</i>. Basically, the closest I can come to describing it is a dense, stodgy, creamy meat-flavoured cheesecake. Oouurgh crikey I’m nearly retching again thinking of it. I’ll try fuckin anything at least once, but that’s the limit for me. Seriously.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Little Thailand is across the street so we go over to a big shopping mall over there and buzz around for a bit. It’s pretty funny. Thai people always seem so different to other people from around this part of Asia…from all of Asia actually. Way more mad and cheeky and up for it. Curious and not afraid to act on it. Pretty girls winking and giggling, quick to make eye contact and slow to break it. Fuuun. Jæppe goes to the toilet and a fight starts, some mad cunt out of it on fuck knows what boxing another chap in the face and throttling him on the ground. Someone goes to break it up and everyone else drags them off going no, no, let them fight it out!! Awesome!! We cruise around a bit more and I almost succeed in framing Christina for shoplifting (remember where we are: capitol punishment! stronger government!),and then we leave as the crazy guy is screaming and shouting somewhere above us on a balcony.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We get back to the Post Museum and hang out, and I continue catching up with the writing. This mad bonkers girl turns up just as we arrive back, she’s chatting with Tim and seems like a good laugh, but I’m keen to get some of the writing done so I stick to that. Until, that is, she asks me if I…and passes me a…oh no you didn’t. OH YES YOU DID! Seems the subtle feelers I’d put out over the last few days have paid off…take that, totalitarianism. Another blow to the system, and wait for it...wait for it..! It’s on the brink of collapse, THERE IT GOES!! I leave the typing alone and hang out with this girl that we’ll call M. She’s absolutely hilarious, mad as a bag of spiders and silly as a bum full of smarties. She's got tons of crazy stories about living in Singapore and provides a fascinating insight as to how someone who’s neither scared of nor submissive to the government goes about living their life. Various friends of hers have been murdered by the government; it's insane. She’s by far the maddest fucker I’ve met in Asia, totally off her head and cool as fuck, I'm wishing she was able to come with us a bit further. She tells me how she’s really tired from work and so on, that she’s only running at about 20%, and it’s actually too mental to imagine her less tangential and randomly associational. I get a bit paranoid at some point and imagine paramilitary cops bursting in and making an example of us all, before copping myself on (hi-oh!!) and calming down. All in all, a deadly experience…but soon we have to write the KL statement thing. We make notes of the various points we want to make and then head out to get a final something to eat and have a few beers, and after I finish I come back quickly and type up a full version of our statement. Boooring. We finish it and give it to Arif to translate, and then go up to the sleeping space to have a listen to our new recording and compare the notes we’ve individually made as to what needs to change in the mix. We mainly agree, though time runs out on us before we get to the last song and we have to pack the last bits of our stuff up and leave to catch the bus to JB. It’s not a long walk to the bus station, and there’s a big squadron of us. I get the lowdown on the Malay Power dudes along the way. It’s all just too funny…while they do have certain vaguely cool and/or threatening pseudonyms (albeit in a Star Wars sort of a way: KL Troopers, for example), they also refer to themselves as Brown Power. Yes. Brown Power. And the name of the biggest Brown Power band…? Brown Attack. It’s too fucking good to be true. Sounds like something that occurs after a dodgy curry rather than a violent racial supremacy group. They use the swastika, bizarrely, and have also tried to make contact with groups like the BNP and WAR. “Tried” being the operative word. Dear oh dear. We get to the bus station and it’s only $2.60 to JB, we struggle on with all our gear, and off we go. Hafisse is kind enough to let me use his mobile phone since he has a lot of free international minutes he doesn’t use, so I’m able to call Anji and have a nice chat for half an hour as we drive out of Singapore…it’s such a fuckin weird city. As you leave there’s a warning that you’ll be fined $500 at the border if you leave with a less-than-full tank of gas. They don’t like people going over the border to Malaysia and spending their money on cheaper items. The amount of rules here is nuts…you can’t do anything. The place is fucked, and so authoritarian, so sterile, with so many of its people living in constant fear, that to be honest I fee little incentive to ever return, except perhaps for a gig…as, truth be told, it was probably the maddest gig of the tour. Then again, there’s always the casino…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We’re expecting to be fucked with at the border but it’s grand. Mainly just annoying. Off the bus with all the gear, through the Singapore border, on the bus with all the gear, off the bus with all the gear, over the Malay border…fucking hell but I hate touring without a van. There’s been this big black metal scare in Malaysia for the past few years, and since it's a Muslim country, BM is seen as the wrongest foreign influence. Some paranoid soul has told us to cover up our tattoos and not wear BM shirts. Bollocks to that; people are making a big deal out of it, so naturally I feel the need to <i>not</i> change my shirt, which happens to be adorned with a number of goats, inverted crosses and 666s...immature?! ME?!?! Nah...! Of course nobody at the border bats an eyelid. We’re met at the station in JB by the promoter and his mates, and they drive us in three cars to Embrace Hall, where the gig is on and the promoter also lives. We also meet Jeo from KL, who’s helping put on the gig there and will be bringing us from JB to KL. Embrace Hall seems like a cool place, and we head out and grab some beers. The town is way dirtier and shabbier than Singapore. Good stuff. But it doesn’t seem to have much else going for it. Myself and Timmy sit down for a beer and end up having a really long conversation with this Malaysian punk who’d also been in Singapore and come with us, and who I admittedly had a very poor opinion of previously. He’d been one the most vocal individuals in regard to the Brown Power issue, and I’d taken him to be one of these “brand new crusties” full to the brim with revolutionary anarchic intent and an urgent need to denounce all aspects of counter-productive modern late capitalist society etc etc. And I was right…he’s been into all that stuff for just a couple of years, and it’s easy to forget how when you first see behind the veil there <i>is</i> a mad sense of urgency to politics, and you don’t understand why everyone else doesn’t want to fight hard for change. And when this is loud-mouthed self-important middle-class white kids, well fuck it, they’re easy (and fun) to hate. But when we started finding out that this guy was Muslim, a full believer in Allah until three years ago, at which point it was all too much, I started to gain a lot of respect for him. He'd made a friend who was an atheist and couldn't reconcile the fact that atheists are supposed to be evil with the reality that this chap was a much nicer, kinder and responsible human being than the majority of card-carrying Muslims he knew. He also had a gay friend who was finding it hard to admit to himself that he was gay; “if God is so great, why did he make me gay, if that’s wrong also?”. The dude finally admitted it to his family, and was pushed away…his Dad now sends him texts saying he wishes he was dead and so on. As such, this guy we’re talking to hasn’t been able to tell his family about becoming an atheist. They suspect it, but he just has to make excuses about having to go out or whatever when they’re supposed to pray when he returns to visit his home. So many things that are taken for granted become a massive struggle…it’s fucked. Anyway, I do a massive 180 on my opinion of this guy, and now think he’s awesome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We go down to the restaurant near the venue where the others are and it’s time for fish head curry. It’s absolutely delicious. And yes, the eyes are the best bit... Afterwards we have one more beer and decide to take a little walk around…there’s some sort of party going on down at a square…a marquee and a stage set up, people doing karaoke…we walk past in curiosity and people wave to us. We walk on, and then Christina’s shouting at us to come back. She’s talked to the folks and it turns out there’s a wedding on…and we’re invited for a drink! So we go back, and it turns out to be a Muslim wedding! But they’re open-minded types and don’t mind us drinking. There’s a lot of smiling and nodding, and then they want us to do karaoke...yesss! Christina, Adam and Jæppe do Hotel California and everyone’s loving it! They’re going mad, and all these young lads think it’s the coolest thing ever. Then I join in on Everything I Do (I Do It For You) and it’s excellent, they’re all going mad, and afterwards there’s a big photo session and it’s all too funny. Turns out it’s only the pre-ceremony, and the real wedding is tomorrow, for which we’re invited back at 1pm. We’re pretty stoked for it, especially at the possibility of getting band photos with the bloodied sheets we’ve been told are presented as proof of decimated virginity at such ceremonies. Slllurp. We head back and I sit up writing and go to bed sometime after 4am…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Day Thirty-Seven: February 5<sup>th</sup></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Wake up at 10.30am after a shitty sleep; I’ve no sleeping bag and was pretty cold all night from the air conditioning. Leave it off and sweat like a bastard; turn it on and get too cold. I get up and get on with my writing while the others sleep for another two hours. Around 12.15 Cody asks when the others are getting up, cos the gig will start in about an hour and a half. Wait, WHAT!? It’s an afternoon gig? Bollocks…I wanted to check out that Muslim wedding. I wake the others and we go for breakfast at the same restaurant from last night. It’s got wi-fi so I’m able to update the tour diary and respond to some urgent work emails. There’s no dosas available at this time of the morning so we’re treated to a big display of sulking from someone, who goes into a bad mood and drags the whole atmosphere down. Then there’s a big scene when it turns out that Arif has saved over the English version of our Brown Power Manifesto so that we’re left with only the Malay version. It’s not that big a deal but the way a certain someone responds you’d imagine it’s the end of the world. I don’t quite know why, since it’s still left to me to rewrite the whole thing in sensible English after putting it through google translator. With the mood now thoroughly grounded, I turn to my good old friend to get me through the day: hello, beer! Head back to the venue and it’s sort of weird. Bands turning up and soundchecking, it’s hot as hell in the place and we’re not all there, so no soundcheck. There’s a list of the venue rules on the wall and it’s amazing: No Racism…check…No Sexism…yep…No Homophobes…fair enough…No Free Sex…what?! No Free Sex!? Fuck that! If this was any previous tour I would’ve had to make an example, since anyone who knows me is aware that nothing is more important in my life than free sex, but since these days I’m a Good Boy all I can do is ask the venue owner about it. Apparently, with punk gigs, people come in off the street and see what’s going on and think you can get away with anything. So they make out with their girlfriends, or touch each other up or whatever, and that’s seen as free sex…secret police types or various do-gooding busy-bodies come and take photos, and the venue gets closed down by religious fundamentalists. Thus, No Free Sex.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">The crap mood continues all day and not that many people show up. Someone doesn’t feel like doing the distro and so they mostly abandon it. By 4pm nothing's happening and it’s not that full. The entry fee is really steep, $30. Since you get a meal for $2-3, that’s pretty mad. So perhaps that’s why there’s not much of a turn-out. It eventually starts at around 4.30pm and there’s five bands to get through before us. I’m bored as fuck and stuck between wanting to get pissed just to make it bearable and trying not to get too pissed so that I can actually play a decent show. Whilst I don’t want to be a dick, I couldn’t be bothered pretending that any of the bands were good. Porno goregrind, melodic emocrust, grunty deathgrind, post-emo crust blah blah fuckin blah. Eventually it’s time to play and we’re so bored we decide to do the set-list in alphabetical order. It doesn’t work that well, since we play all the new ones cos it’s more fun but people want to hear the old ones. Whatever, Trevor. People nonetheless go fucking bananas, and even though there’s only about 60 of them there they still make a proper good mess. They’re into doing huge pile-ups, and there’s some hugely obese gore-grind type dudes there absolutely crushing the less well-endowed types. Bizarrely, they insist on having the pile-ons <i>on</i> the stage, making them a good prop for myself and Jæppe to stand on, but not working so well when they attempt to pull poor old Adam into them…the mic lead’s way too short. We get through the set and it’s hot as hell in there…people really want more songs so we do it and I’m nearly dead. People want loads of photographs so we do it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We need to pack up and get out of there, as we’re going to take the night-train to Kuala Lumpur at 11.30pm, after we go to a restaurant near the train station to get some food. We say our goodbyes to all the legends who came with us from Singapore and had such a great time with us over the last few days. We’re bringing all the stuff out and I get paid by the promoter. It’s $163…I’m really pissed off and ask him for more. He can’t give it to me and I ask him for a breakdown of the gig costs. We’re getting 15% of the door, and each of the other five bands get 10% each. Over all it’s $1,350, with 45 people having paid in...a perfect end to a perfect day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"> Ever get the feeling you’ve been ripped off?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I don’t want to be a <i>massive</i> cunt about this, and certainly my mood and humour has been affected by the general mood continuing since the morning, but this is ridiculous. Maybe that’s the just the way things are done here. Maybe the costs of being in a band and the crowd that they draw entitles people who’ve traveled perhaps 20km (which costs a dollar or two per person) to almost the same pay as those who’ve traveled thousands of kilometres at considerable cost. Maybe it seems normal that two bands with three of the same members get 20% of the door while we get 15%. If I'm putting on a gig, the band that traveled the furthest get the lion’s share, and the rest a percentage equal to their costs. Our costs are massive, and what we would potentially make from this show (I’d expect at least $500) is a piss in the ocean compared to what the plane tickets etc were. But that’s not the point –it’s the principle. If you want bands to come to your town, you need to be realistic. And people were really happy about us coming –nearly every band thanked from the stage. But in the end I just feel taken advantage of. We don’t work with guarantees –we trust that our name will draw a decent crowd and that promoters will pay us fairly, and for 99% of the time, that works. But this is the kind of thing that makes you want to start fucking around with guarantees. What a joke. I tell this to the promoter but he doesn’t really get it. All the way to the restaurant I moan to Adam and Jæppe, who try to get me to see another side to it, Adam especially, reasoning that the money is negligible in the end. Not the point –it’s the respect, it’s the principle. A massive entrance cost keeping people away and then we get fuckin pennies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We arrive at the restaurant with the driver from our car immediately reporting all my bitching to the promoter. Whatever. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. Food is ordered. No alcoholic drinks available. Once again there’s all sorts of bad feeling from someone when some of the food isn’t vegan and it’s discovered that there might be fish flakes in one of the soups. Sulky tantrum time. This is like traveling with a fucking 2 year old. Scratch that –two year olds at least sleep a lot. This is like traveling with a moody teenager. We eat, and it’s decent, and there’s plenty of vegan food which everyone enjoys, except for one person. We go the station and a massive deal is made about getting snacks for the deprived individual who’s been so deeply mistreated. I’m so fucking over it all at this stage…this is the point in tours where bands break up. It turns out the train isn’t until 11.55pm. But at least we’ll have beds. We wait around and there’s a greater feeling than ever of the band being split into two camps; the train is delayed for some reason and it takes forever for us to get on to it. There’s this bad-ass dude waiting for the same train with the fucking coolest handlebar moustache ever…he appears to have three wives and looks evil as fuck. Like some fuckin dictator from Myanmar or something. We finally get on the train. There’s no beds. Just small, tight seats. But at least there’s two of them each, so we can stretch our legs across a bit. Some small measure of respite is provided by two spectacular ladyboys and their not-so-spectacular fat mate who share our carriage. But then it’s ruined when, after a couple of stops, this annoying dude in a little hat gets on and has booked the seat beside me. I’ve just dropped off to sleep…he wakes me up and asks me to move. Fuck sake. I can’t really get to sleep again. There’s people playing with mobile phones and iPads, beeps and bleeps every couple of minutes. I occasionally drowse for a minute or two in various strange and uncomfortable positions before waking up. Eventually I ask if Jæppe, who’s in the two seats on front, minds swapping for a while. He moves to beside Adam and I’m slightly more comfortable. Until the troublesome someone starts taking up not only two seats, but also the aisle and part of the seats I’m on, meaning that every time I drop off to sleep I’m woken by people saying “excuse me” or whatever to try and get past him. At this stage I’m really at the end of my fucking tether. I’ve no wish to play any more shows, I just want to sleep and have some fucking space around me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Day Thirty-Eight: February 6<sup>th</sup></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We arrive in KL at something like 10am and I’m woken up as we pull into the station. Seems I’d finally gotten asleep. We drag the stuff off and all grog out on to the platform. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Someone crosses the line one time too many and there’s a massive fight. Jery arrives and we say our hellos in a rather “subdued” atmosphere. Someone apologises and the air is cleared…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">KL looks amazing. I’ve been told it’s just like Singapore, but it’s not. It’s way dirtier, but still very metropolitan. It’s also way more overgrown, lush and green everywhere with the vegetation engaged in a constant assault on the concrete jungle. We get to Jery’s shop, Spyder 45, and there’s a lot of punks there. I’m desperate for sleep, but everyone’s milling around, listening to music, playing guitar, excited about tonight. The rest of the band go out to eat, and I try and get some sleep. It takes ages but eventually I drop off into an extremely disturbed slumber, full of strange dreams about living in a countryside cottage with lots of people I don’t know at all and there’s big dogs around and it’s sunny and beautiful and everything’s very odd...a premonition of my approaching Aussie life!? I hold a lot of stock in dreams... I wake up after about two hours, massively refreshed and now feeling as if I can at least half-deal with the prospect of playing our final show tonight. I have a bit of a chat with Jery and catch up with his life and then we pile into the van and drive downtown to One Café. The place is huge; the front half of it is a big canteen restaurant in which all the staff are wearing metal t-shirts, from teenage waiters to cooks in their late ‘50s. Then through big swinging doors there’s a long, high concert room with a bar along one side. Looks like a decent backline and PA too…nice. Bit spoilt after Japan. Expecting top notch gear every night. And good equipment too -hi-oh!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We get some food and I have an excellent dry prawn tom yum, before getting a beer from the bar. It’s 7 ringgits (about £1.50) for one beer, and a special deal for a bucket of four beers…only 28 ringgits. Wha’?! Dude, that in't no deal...that’s just friggin' maths. We meet a bunch of the dudes from Singapore at the venue, since Life Lock are playing tonight and the members are some of the punkest fuckers in the SNG. Curious to see how they turn out, since two of the members played in quality bands at the Substation show. There’s quite a few people turning up, so a few locals take myself, Jæppe and Timmy down to the liquor store in search of Jaeger. It’s our last freakin show! We gotta go fancy crazy! No Jaeger…we settle for cheap-as-fuck tequila and more beer. Always more beer. Go back to the venue and there’s more and more people, but, unsurprisingly, no Brown Power. What a disappointment... Once again, the punk rumour mill and the tyrannical martyrdom of those who are all-too-happy to let a juicily redundant political argument get in the way of having a strong scene proves itself to be worth exactly fuck-all. Someone leaves the flyers of our statement around and I feel sort of embarrassed. I dunno if anyone cares about it, but people mostly seem to find it confusing and weird. The first band starts and they’re pretty good, Geen Naam, metalpunk assault. They’re followed by Kathgor, a female-fronted death metal assault which threatens to be awesome but keeps being overshadowed by an awful sound mix and a waaay-too-loud guitar…which is made worse by the fact that said guitar keeps accidentally cutting out to noise and static. We’re gonna have to watch that… Hang out and drink some more beers, meet and talk to a few people, and next up is (I think) Atomic Death, excellent thrash metal, though with perhaps a cover or two too many. Still really good fun. Brrrutal. I go out to get another beer and some food, the tom yum being all I’ve had all day…and with the tequila express comin down the tracks, there needs to be something in the ol’ belly. As soon as I’ve ordered I’m told we’re up next. The fuck!?!? The band setting up now (Kah-Roe-Shi) are gonna play, and then us, followed by Life Lock. Why in the name of fuck did no-one mention this before…? The booze/food/rock balance is precarious at best, and doesn’t need any of this kind of nonsense clogging up the gears. I hoof the food into me, some kind of seafood noodle soup, while we concurrently write a set list. We go backstage and start on the tequila in earnest. Fuck, last show of the tour! Last show of the year, probably! The band inside are playing neo-crust, replete with HHIG and FAR covers. It’s a bit much but gets us in the mood to crush-kill-destroy. Adam’s eyeing up the fire extinguisher and making threats…some people are encouraging, very encouraging, but one person reckons the show will be ruined if he does it: boo-urns! State control state control this is rock ’n’ roll…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We go on and set up, before being told that it’s too early and we have to wait…yesss! We leave all our gear ready and head backstage again and start fuckin smashing it with the tequila, heaving that bastard right down us and getting rowdy as fuck. We get up, check the levels, launch into the opener and people are freaking out on front of the stage. It’s fuckin awesome, hardly a pause in the songs from start to finish and everyone’s going nuts, though it’s a bit disconcerting since the hall would fit over 1,000 people and it’s less than half full. We keep destroying the tequila in fine form and by the end it's us who're fuckin destroyed. Encores etc and it takes a bit of recovery from the intense humidity and heat up there. Life Lock follow to finish off the show and they’re fuckin amazing…crasher crust d-beat insanity, a total barrage of holocaustic noise terror. Discharge and Disclose covers connect the dots but their own material stands up alone…interested to see how they develop in the future.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">And then it’s party time!! Someone busts out the disco and things start getting sweaty. There’s some backstage action involving us posing holding up a married Muslim woman replete in hijab and everything, there’s a lot of sexy dancing, the tequila is finished and myself and Jæppe head down to the shop to get another bottle. Somehow somewhere Jæppe gets hold of a tall bike and we drunkenly ride that there with a number of near misses. The dudes at the shop are full of mirth and one of them wants a go, so we swap the tall bike for a motorbike, which Jæppe takes off on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I’m way too drunk to be worried…it’s just reeeeeally funny! We go back to the venue and the boozing continues. There's a lot hooligan style behaviour and football songs... From there it’s down to some kind of Chinatown area for food and Jæppe & I are going at about 160km/h at this stage, leaning as far as possible out the window of the van as possible and screaming our bloody heads off. It’s tremendous fun! Apparently some cops stop us and demand that we remain within the vehicle, scared for our health. I don’t remember that part. Boats & hos! Brown power!! We make it to the restaurant and one member of the band really, really, really wants to have a band meeting about what we’re doing with the new recording. Groooooan. Everyone else wants to hang out and party and sort this out over email, but whatever. There’s a big discussion about the format, label, etc. We mostly agree that it should be the maddest thing possible…cut-to-shape 12” picture disk for sure. This goes on for about half an hour, until some band members have had enough and point out how rude it is that everyone’s having an after-party for us and we’re just stuck talking bollocks on the side. Amen to that. We go back to the party and eat some stuff and get completely rat-arsed and I don’t remember anything else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Day Thirty-Nine: February 7<sup>th</sup></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I’m woken up to groggy goodbyes with C&J, as they’re leaving early to get the bus back to Singapore, from where their flight home is. Try as I might, I can’t get back to sleep. I’m completely destroyed and feel gross. There’s this Korean girl who flew here for the show and she somehow falls on top of me, squeezing past the sofa to get to her bag whilst I’m trying to go back asleep. I’m not impressed. I get up at some point and myself and the three lads go down to the local eating hole and get a can of coke and some magi goreng. It’s excellent and I feel way better. Fat cunt that I am, I go for another serving, as does everyone else. We all end up feeling twice as shit after a second helping…shoulda fuckin left it at one. Pick up some isotonic type shit at the corner shop and go back up to Spyder 45. Still destroyed so we watch <span style="font-style: italic;">Countdown To Liquor Day</span>, the last TBP movie; it's pretty awesome, but basically just squeezes an entire season arc into one movie. Much better than the first movie but nowhere near as good as the series. I just want to go home to my Anji girl… I know I want to see some of KL but jaysus I’m so fucked that I just couldn’t be arsed. Na-Young (the Korean girl) starts to open up a bit and she’s funny as fuck…I make some vaguely suggestive joke and she gets really embarrassed before going “Aha! Cultural joke!” and smiling. Soon after I go to take a crap, grabbing some tissues along the way (over here it’s normal to wipe with your hand…eew!). She’s exiting the bog as I go in, and spies the tissues in my hand: “Aha! Taking shit!” Jesus!! Little cute Korean girls aren’t supposed to point out my embarrassing bodily functions! Cultural joke! Then again, respect is due for actually getting me back for the sex joke by making me feel genuinely humiliated…not many people can do that…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Adam has to leave in the evening, so at some stage we drag ourselves out and drive down to central station to say our goodbyes…again, I’m not much of a man for goodbyes, but I was real sad to see Ad-Rock go…a nicer dude you couldn’t possibly hope to share a band with, and on this tour especially he seems more together than ever. Total legend…it’ll be at least a year before we see each other again…brotherman, we will always have Sands Marina Bay!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Afterwards we go into the city towards a park with a great view of the KLCC Twin Towers, which look amazing. There’s awful traffic and I’m all cramped up in the back and it’s getting way too much…I need a beer. We get out and take a walk and I’ve had enough…disgustingly hot and my body is wracked with cramps…we’re all hungry so we find an Indian restaurant. It’s huge and it seems the waiters won’t notice so I run over to a convenience store and pick up a few beers. They help immensely and I get a chicken tikka and naan which is pretty disappointing to be honest. Na-Young answers a lot of curious questions about Korea and relations between North & South people. In the South, it’s illegal to talk to anyone from the North. But how can you tell who’s from the North…? “They’re really skinny and wear bad clothes” –ha! Apparently fashion is frozen in the ‘70s up north, and that’s how you can spot them. Amazing! Na turns out to be very interesting, well traveled and far more outgoing than she initially seemed. We try to pay and Jery’s gone and bloody paid already and won’t accept any money. ‘sakes! Afterwards we head back to the cars and I just can’t take the hangover anymore, so I ask the boys if there’s any chance of getting some Bob Marley…I desperately need something to take the edge off today, and there’s no way I could even dream of getting pissed again. They promise to see what they can do, but it doesn’t seem likely. Timmy, Jæppe and I go back with Jery and arrive before the others. It’s around 8.30pm and the night market is in full swing at the square beside Sypder 45, so since Jeo and the others have the key and haven’t arrived back yet, we head down to take a look. It’s mad, full of people running all over, tons of mad food, sketchy fake designer ware, cheap DVDs etc. I get a chicken satay skewer for about 10p and it’s gorgeous. Then two little pastry things which are similarly tasty. We pick up some fresh socks for the flight tomorrow and buy a DVD to watch right now…Piranha! It’s the remake from last summer, which I’ve been wanting to see…not so bad for £1.20, though fuck knows if it’ll actually work. One more chicken satay on the way back and we bump into Joe. Do we want pure ganja or a mix? Whatever dude! As long as it gets me hiiiiigh!! A bad sexy gore-splattered blockbuster and some doobage! Just what the doctor ordered: HEAR ME NOW –JAH RASTAFARI. We go up and check the DVD out –it’s fuckin HD quality, proper DVD, nice! While we’re waiting for the others I notice that Jery’s after getting that Motorhead magazine that Classic Rock just did, so I read through that for a good while. It’s awesome –some great interviews and features. Motorhead truely are the greatest rock 'n' roll band of all time, and if you disagree then you're a pig-ignorant know-nothing fool. Fair enough? Everyone gets back and a bunch of bad dudes from last night show up with the gear…and it’s some kind of crazy jungle juju! Two of them! Check this shit out! We smoke up and get gorgeously, humongously monged and it’s perfect…just what’s needed. Time for the movie!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We go in and sort it out and Na-Young wants to know what it is. “My friend say it’s very good! Very sexy movie!! I like!”. She asks if there’s much gore in it…nah, it’s just sort of like cartoon gore, I tell her. Teeheehee… We start the movie up and from the word go it’s AWESOME. The first scene is a massive homage to JAWS, my favourite movie of all time, and even features Richard Dreyfuss, which I heartily approve of. Basically it’s nothing like the original and is an excuse for tons of blood and boobs, set around Spring Break at a lake in the U.S. where some prehistoric piranhas get free after a seismic shift. It’s filthy, which is highly enjoyable, though rather torturous since the three of us are sex-mad pervos at the best of times, only gone nuclear since we haven’t had any since leaving Australia. Shiiiit. The gore is on 11. Poor ol’ Na has to cover her eyes a lot, occasionally squealing and running out of the room once or twice. So adorable. Overall it’s mindless and excellent, though I’d have to recommend feasting upon a gargantuan bifty prior to viewing.. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">People are pretty tired afterwards but I wanna smoke more, so we have another bift, and then I read a bit more about Lemmy. Jeo heads out and gets some more dosas and again won’t take any money for them. Come on dude!! Not sleepy, and then I notice a book on the shelves: <span style="font-style: italic;">Skinhead</span>, by John King. I’ve not yet gotten to this book, been saving it for a special occasion, so I start on it. If you’re not familiar with him, John King is the best modern working class fiction writer from the U.K. I wrote my MA thesis on his football trilogy; as an author he’s under-read and under-appreciated, and he stylishly disposes with the John Major era myth of Britain as a “classless society”. What a load of bollocks. This book is similar in tone but much more adventurous in terms of style to his other stuff; not as out-there as <span style="font-style: italic;">The Prison House</span> but far more poetic and descriptive than any of the trilogy or <span style="font-style: italic;">Human Punk</span>. I get through jut over 100 pages and don’t want to stop before it’s sleepy time…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Day Forty: February 8</span><sup style="color: #cc0000;">th</sup></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">I get the most heavenly sleep ever courtesy of Jah and wake up refreshed for our last day…I continue with <span style="font-style: italic;">Skinhead</span> before we say goodbye to Na, who’s off to the airport. Afterwards we head down to a restaurant to find some chapatis and get some coffees and juices, and before we know it Jery’s frickin paid again. This is getting ridiculous. We pack our bags and decide to head downtown, before which we go back to Spyder 45 for a “safety meeting”. Blazed, we jump into Jery’s car and drive into the city. We check out this huge mall that’s got tons of heavy metal shops in it, but I’m unable to find a Brown Power patch anywhere. Would be such a great souvenir. We check out loads of shops and to be honest I’m not at all in the mood for shopping. The best part is when we see a Malay albino. We wanna go for a coffee but if we’re to beat the rush hour traffic we need to go now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">We go for a last supper at the local restaurant and I go all out and get a mad load of shit…pilaf rice with boiled eggs, two chicken curries and a naan. Aw yeeeah. And of course, a blended ice mango lassi. Gotta go out in style. Jeo tries to pay but we hop in and manage to get the bill before he does…gotta let us pay at least <i>once</i> bro! We get back to Sypder 45 and hang out for a while…I continue with the John King novel, but there’s still 100 pages to go…I consider trying to finish it on the way to their airport, but nah…fuck it. It’s excellent, giving a more balanced view of the pride and loyalty of the skinhead lifestyle without shying away from the nationalist and violent tendencies which are sometimes a part of it. We bring all our shit down to the cars and it’s time to leave for the airport…two cars. It’s a long and boring drive and we make it in plenty of time, say our final goodbyes, check in and do all the baggage shit. AirAsia and they wouldn’t even think of leaving us off with our overweight baggage, even though the flight’s not full. So we have to pay. Pricks. We go for a massively overpriced beer at some shitty sports bar before boarding; the plane is cramped and small. The stewardesses are stressed and perfunctory. There’s no entertainment, and the food (which we had to pay for) is average at best. I read another bit of The Acid House and fall asleep…</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">Conclusion</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">40 days and 40 nights in the desert of rock...but unlike Jesus, we took Satan’s hand and plunged into the abyss. We arrive back in Australia, Timmy & Jæppe head off with Loz who’s come to pick them up, and I won’t see Timmy again for months since he’s off to have a baby in Western Australia four days from now…though Big J will be there when I get to Melbourne next week. I wait around the airport for five hours for my flight to Sydney working on this, before I finally make the flight and get there at 4.20pm for a gorgeous reunion with my beautiful girl.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">This has been the maddest tour ever. Eternal gratitude to all our promoters, hosts and helpers, everyone who put on a show, cooked for us, or just hung out and drank a beer or three. We’ve come home with a bit of money, our best recording so far, a view towards the future and a stronger existence than ever. This reminds you why DIY punk is so important –life changing. When I first picked up a guitar 15 years ago, it would have blown my mind to see into the future –beyond any dreams and fantasies I ever had. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;">On the other hand, it's the end of all the fun. After quitting my teaching job at the end of August, it's been six months straight of music and partying...first the Fag Enablerz tour in Europe, followed by a month in Sweden playing and recording with Raw'Arse. Then a month in Ireland saying goodbyes and playing/recording, followed by goodbyes in London and moving to Australia. Needless to say, all such activities involved a lot of drinking...too much. Now it’s time for a massive detox…no more alcohol for a while…that shitty warm over-priced beer in KL airport was the last one for, who knows, at least a week, maybe a month, maybe more…the next few weeks are gonna be salads, exercise and finding a new job in Melbourne: I'm broke as all hell. Of course, an ounce or two of the green stuff is doing the job in seeing me through the worst of the DTs…but that's to be expected. Next tour looks like it's gonna be next year in the good ol' U.S. of A.</span><span style="font-size: 85%;"> Farewell dickheads - and thanks for reading.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 78%;">*thanks to Johnny Mc for this stroke of genius...</span></span></div>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-22056304064711960822011-02-01T20:34:00.001-08:002011-02-26T21:29:52.863-08:00Nuclear Diaryhea Part II<span style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6t47LdbAS6OLBlwfl1-CpxfnCCxCnpE4SU54qAvT7Y8D54mmmZEV_fLuGwEOL1z-nVBswXJtLzWf9qcKGI9nXY14EdwrT3GdrvrDMwjvbbkiGGYvk3G3zstDW5OBRLPk1_9GZw8Qh-Qb/s1600/DSCN1842.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6t47LdbAS6OLBlwfl1-CpxfnCCxCnpE4SU54qAvT7Y8D54mmmZEV_fLuGwEOL1z-nVBswXJtLzWf9qcKGI9nXY14EdwrT3GdrvrDMwjvbbkiGGYvk3G3zstDW5OBRLPk1_9GZw8Qh-Qb/s400/DSCN1842.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564110797939197154" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></span></a></p></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-US" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" class="Apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Day Nineteen: January 18</span><sup><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">th</span><br /><br /></sup></span></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><div><span><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">The fucking alarm goes off at 4am and I try to drag myself up after a fitful “sleep”. Fucking hell… I fall asleep for another 10 minutes and the alarm goes off again. Fuck off.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">I take a poop and hear Timmy’s partner Loz pull into the driveway in their Land Rover <i>Defender</i>. I drag my clothes on and pack the last of my shit up. I mumble goodbyes to Alice and Tristan. We drag the gear out to the (frickin <i>awesome</i>) jeep. I smoke the end of a bift. I grog into the jeep. We drive to the airport. (Loz drives like a maniac).</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">We go through all the airport bollocks. Check-in, pay extra weight on our gear, go through security, get checked for nuclear weapons, etc etc. I resist getting a coffee cos if I do there’s fuckin no sleep ‘til Nippon.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">We have the same flight from Gold Coast to Tokyo, but Timmy’s on an earlier one to the Gold Coast. We’ve to wait an hour and a half before ours. It’s boring as fuck and I just space out. We get on and take off and I drowse. We get off and get our stuff and meet Timmy. We go through two more security checks. Fucking holy jaysus. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">Eventually we’re on the flight to Tokyo…it’s scabby old Jetstar, so you have to pay for the movies. Ha!...as if. I start reading Irvine Welsh’s <i>The Acid House</i>. It’s decent, much more in a classic literary style than all the other stuff of his I’ve read. Myself and Ad-Rock have ordered food (it don’t come for free), we get it and eat it and it’s pretty rank but does the job. About an hour after takeoff I’m drowsy and dead happy I didn’t go near the coffee. I sleep fitfully for perhaps fours hours…thank fuck.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">I wake up and continue typing up this nonsense and read a bit more of the book. Some great stories in there, all short vignettes verging from the profanely amusing to the brutally vicious. Particularly good is <i>The Soft Touch</i>. Between reading and writing, the final four hours go pretty quickly and, after another crappy-ish meal, we’re landing before I know it. It dawns on me…fuck, Tokyo!! Fucking hell!! We’re about to start our tour in Japan!!! I’d been too exhausted to really register it but fuck yes!!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">We land and get out, filling in our embarkation forms and visa bollocks. No probrems. We get through and pick up the gear. The captain and crew come out past us and are all star-struck…hahah! We go past the friendly customs officer, lying that we’re not in a band. With all our instruments. Out in the arrival area there’s no sign of So, our hardcore survivor host, so we walk around a bit, change some money and give him a call. He’s on the way…bad traffic.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">We get some Pocari Sweat and rice balls from a kiosk and wait around. It’s hilarious being in the airport, people ogling us with our guitar cases and jackets, hangin around and being cool bastards. So turns up with his mate from Filthy Hate and we head off for Koenji in his station wagon…yeeesss!!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">TOKYO IS FUCKING AWESOME!!!!!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">Driving into the city at night is amazing…the towering skyscrapers, the colours, the neon, the shapes of the kanji and hiragana and katakana…the closest thing I can compare it to are the cityscapes in Blade Runner, but no words can do it justice.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">My previous and first trip to Japan was last June, and that was the genesis of this tour. My friends Hiro from Crucial Section/Crew For Life Records and Hidehito Out Of Touch/Alternative Distribution then invited NDT over, offering to book and drive us on tour, while another friend Eiji from DSB offered to help out with some shows (he’s putting on the final Japan gig). I jumped at the chance, getting on to the others as soon as I got back, and it’s finally come to fruition in this…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVRqxlnkGxVEF6SGIXhSgfpCh5Sa27CZXrm3U0ExL-veNeJm9C_nPmAwWqphRSQIAzTaqHMLVwSXxmATFhLmE8orQL-xLkyysGh_sFAXsXDLzV9UK7z49TUGMpxw1oD9pSd_uLhcB7HzH/s1600/IMG_NEW.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVRqxlnkGxVEF6SGIXhSgfpCh5Sa27CZXrm3U0ExL-veNeJm9C_nPmAwWqphRSQIAzTaqHMLVwSXxmATFhLmE8orQL-xLkyysGh_sFAXsXDLzV9UK7z49TUGMpxw1oD9pSd_uLhcB7HzH/s400/IMG_NEW.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569005050852843762" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm; font-family: courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm; font-family: courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">Since I was perhaps 10 years old and crazy into comics I’ve been fascinated with Japan. There used to be this collected manga comic available in Ireland, <i>Manga Mania</i>…it serialized shit like Akira, Godzilla, Appleseed, Bubblegum Crisis, Hellhounds, etc. From the second I saw the ad for the first issue in 2000AD I was hooked. Yes, I am otaku. (If you can’t find a single manga that you like then you’re fucked.) From there I got into anime, and since I was in my teens and found out about Japanese hardcore, it’s always been <i>THE</i> dream to come here.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm; font-family: courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">And then there’s the girls…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm; font-family: courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">So, last year I finally came here and it was everything and more than I’d ever hoped…dreams, fantasies and new experiences all rolled into one. Naturally, playing here was the ultimate, ultimate, “now I can die happy” ambition. And now we’re here. Oh fucking hell yes…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm; font-family: courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">We get to Shinya from Crucial Section’s place in Koenji and leave our gear and bags at his flat before heading out to an Izakaya nearby. Izakayas are fucking awesome…it’s a sort of traditional pub/eatery, often underground, with various booths, rooms and compartments sectioned off. What usually goes on is that you get there, order a round of drinks, and then slowly order a load of food off an extensive menu. It’s an awfully fuckin civilized way to drink, meaning that you temper getting pissed with eating loads of mad Japanese food. And drinks are way cheaper than in regular bars. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm; font-family: courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;">We order some drinks and then good ol’ Wada from Crucial Section turns up, much to my delight. He’s a fuckin legend, acted as a guide for myself and Rob (my mate from Muelheim, Germany) for two days when we were here last time. Mysterious hilarious maniac. We get a ton of excellent food and drink beer, but we’re all really fuckin tired after such a crazy day. We pick up some drinks from the convenience store and head back to Shinya’s place. After a few drinks we’re all fuckin destroyed, passing out on the floor and all…I’m offered a shower and I fuckin need it. Knowing the extent of Japanese manners from last time, I guess that the session won’t end until the guests pre-empt it, so I take the opportunity of a shower, hoping it’ll break things up and we can get a bit of kip…it works, and we do, the four of us huddled together in the 6 square metre living room. Blessed, gorgeous sleep…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <style>@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Twenty: January 19<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">…or perhaps not. More of a fitful, troubled sleep, but it’s sleep nonetheless and that’s good enough for me. We wake up to OT (Crucial Section drummer) returning from the airport at about 9.30am with C&J, who have separate flights to the rest of us. Naturally, they’re totarry psyched to be here, their first and previous trip to Japan being five years ago. So nips out and picks up a load of rice balls, tofu and a 2-litre Pocari Sweat…yessss!! </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Japanese efficiency takes over and we’re out of the apartment before we know it. The plan is Akihabara, Yasukuni-Jinja Yushukan and record shops. Akihabara, or “Electric Town”, is an area of Tokyo bustling with manga and otaku culture, discount electric items and common-or-garden kitschy awesomeness in general. We stroll around being typical gaijin dicks and marveling at the odd products available. We visit a massive electrics store and fuck around with cutting-edge technology (3DTVs are <i style="">amaaaazing</i>!!) and Christina gets a fantastic new camera with a ninja lens and all the accessories for a massive discount price. We take the train over towards Yasukuni-Jinja Yushukan and walk up to the shrine and museum; there’s a temple commemorating Japan’s wardead and a museum with stuff like a Zero Fighter, mini kamikaze sub and human torpedos. Many of the exhibits have English text included and there’s an unsettlingly defiant attitude towards Japan’s imperial history; any of those familiar with atrocities on the scale of the Nanjing massacre will probably find it somewhat distasteful. Then again, Japan is probably the most awesome country in the world so it’s fair enough that they should have a superior attitude.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2edQNqErCtAjhZvnihF0ZVaThYTpjcn3NL5MOJPthz_z1sJCSxtf8gOGoSH7LUv0IMpQnDVJe8DLR8sJzd2kPgHvYNXWLU9EtFZopsCj1W77XME7-cytjNKzJRHPF3gEy-B2glSKNVKn9/s1600/DSCN1856.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2edQNqErCtAjhZvnihF0ZVaThYTpjcn3NL5MOJPthz_z1sJCSxtf8gOGoSH7LUv0IMpQnDVJe8DLR8sJzd2kPgHvYNXWLU9EtFZopsCj1W77XME7-cytjNKzJRHPF3gEy-B2glSKNVKn9/s400/DSCN1856.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565792448504110034" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We then head to Shinjuku and I get an amazing dinner set for only about 650 yen whilst Jakob and Christina head up to Disk Union for some record shopping and the others take a walk and end up getting some Indian food. Everyone else in the band is either vegan or vegetarian, and there’s no way I’m settling for insipid veggie muck every day when there’s culinary delights on the scale which Nippon has to offer. Ah, that’s not entirely fair, but if you want to eat anything interesting, you won’t find much in the way of veggie fare, nevermind vegan options. Afterwards I go on up to Disk Union, even though I’d decided not to…there’s too many quality records available in Japanese record shops and I’m on a tight budget, so it’s torturously tempting. But ultimately impossible to resist, and I end up buying GBH, Blitz and World Burns To Death LPs. Whilst new releases are generally more expensive than Europe or the U.S. on vinyl (anything from 800 to 1200 yen for a 7” –about £7-£10), secondhand records can be found that’ll blow your head off. Rare, unusual or hard-to-find classic LPs often for under £5.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We head back towards Koenji in a state of euphoric shock at our surroundings…if you didn’t get the picture already, Tokyo is a constant barrage of sensory rapture.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrr6TpHE_hna5c2tSATWjmIs_RJ4ft_RvVpDo2pk4RrObOvirZBR-trghW3ghUm6L-fBl4wy-We3iefNX5Jl1I8SkFNCvl2Bty3_ZEbjfN9kybIgijdF5OF4FVzffUKJDvaMFbXrg77rCr/s1600/IMG_3049.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrr6TpHE_hna5c2tSATWjmIs_RJ4ft_RvVpDo2pk4RrObOvirZBR-trghW3ghUm6L-fBl4wy-We3iefNX5Jl1I8SkFNCvl2Bty3_ZEbjfN9kybIgijdF5OF4FVzffUKJDvaMFbXrg77rCr/s400/IMG_3049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566074803801440578" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We go to Record Shop Boy but I’m all vinyled out and get nothing, though I do bump into an old mate, Makoto, an icon of Japanese lunacy. By the time we’re done with all this I’m pretty wrecked, so we get a few cans of chu-hi and head back up to Shinya’s place to chill out. Chu-hi is amazing; it’s basically sour lemon soda except with 8% alcohol, totally indiscernible in the taste. Dangerous shit! On the way we take a look in the singer from Rocky & The Sweden’s clothes shop; it’s amazing, all sorts of excellent punk gear, but mad expensive. Ah well.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjExDvFxVloopyvWQLT36SG1rRbb0_0Ea8BhmILV1DLMg4gsKMM81phJZwSGozaHj-5LkH66mB3qEZrJ7cTls5CCNfmoNNiW4yt1BnePMEBDA9p4IgB8GNuwmenWUiNfHTj9TvHgwU_mVYt/s1600/IMG_3039.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjExDvFxVloopyvWQLT36SG1rRbb0_0Ea8BhmILV1DLMg4gsKMM81phJZwSGozaHj-5LkH66mB3qEZrJ7cTls5CCNfmoNNiW4yt1BnePMEBDA9p4IgB8GNuwmenWUiNfHTj9TvHgwU_mVYt/s400/IMG_3039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566075050425030818" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">After a few hours we go out to meet Derry and Laura, some mates from Ireland who’ve recently moved to Tokyo, and then onto an awesome little bar called Riot Café. The owner is a total madman; he's soon rechristened Roco due to his general craziness. Don’t you know I roco!!? Wada turns up and we meet a bunch of the dudes from Isterismo and drink<span style=""> </span>a fuckload of shochu in all sorts of flavours…mango, cranberry, banana, apple, lemon, acerola, etc. Then it’s on to the sake, followed by beer…I’ve got a headache from all the smoke, since it’s legal to smoke inside public buildings in Japan, plus smokes are really cheap so seemingly everyone is a smoker. It gets fucking mental sometimes, especially for those who’re now used to smoke-free environments. Well, you know what they say…when in Lome, so I get on the menthol wagon and bum a few off Derry. Ah, minty fresh…just as good as going for a hike up a mountain. This gorgeous cutey wants to talk to us, as she had an ex-boyfriend from Denmark and is curious…very curious. She speaks good English and wants to know where I’m staying and if I’ll bring her to our gig on a date. Oh lordy. I tread water. She asks if I have a girlfriend. I tell her I do. She looks disappointed. When we’re leaving she kisses me on the cheek. She’s <i style="">gor</i>geous. This monogamy business is tougher than buggery…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Myself and Jæppe go back with So to his place along with Isterismo’s guitarist, picking up a few more chu-hi on the way, while the others go back to Shinya’s. So’s gaff is fuckin <i style="">tiny</i>. He plays us the new D-Clone recordings for the split with Nerveskade he’s got coming up, and gives us copies of his new releases and some other stuff, and we’ve an interesting conversation about Japanese attitudes to homosexuality. Go to sleep on the fold-out sofa…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_aeG_VWNA3MS1QT2x-xnFnFAD4QQ0laK3sGTfHFYsaafALZip8O15I8pB3IT3zSVZzMKa58yBlMQjmlAmDZ4Ho-s-AOGBfdtkFIeW73yCXo9gNttVR1JJ65Gu1Fb9nd8OrRNMeKc5XZu/s1600/Tokyo+HS.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_aeG_VWNA3MS1QT2x-xnFnFAD4QQ0laK3sGTfHFYsaafALZip8O15I8pB3IT3zSVZzMKa58yBlMQjmlAmDZ4Ho-s-AOGBfdtkFIeW73yCXo9gNttVR1JJ65Gu1Fb9nd8OrRNMeKc5XZu/s400/Tokyo+HS.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566073330543113410" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Twenty-One: January 20<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Wake up around 12 after the best sleep in weeks…energy!! Both myself and Jæppe have a had a night of raucous sex dreams…mine were madly homoerotic, involving a ton of bumsex and BJs, whilst his involved having dirty toilet sex with a black girl while her mates cheered them on… Christ alone knows what we got up in our sleep whilst sharing that sofa bed, but it’s probably best left undiscovered. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We walk down towards Koenji station and get some breakfast. So also orders a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span><span><span>shochu</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"> and they accidentally make two, so I get one for free. It tastes like a tonic water on ice with about three shots of vodka in it. Then we walk to Shinya’s but there’s no-one there, so we have a walk around and look in some shops…we find some hilarious soft porn and a children’s book with highly questionable illustrations. Come into my mind indeed... I buy a tiny miniature Lego guitar: coool!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPXAAg_VIpk0gbT3P_kzPNeRWiC5yLzoYfPAIRlpABpve7OI0IksBZM26yQUXOJDyhryDq2hoYJKxLzB5w2TS0KTT5Hr9VP_V2ZplOFkzpByIkNDbqHxO91a5fiB-KGLO58QREmdM48XL6/s1600/DSCN1888.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPXAAg_VIpk0gbT3P_kzPNeRWiC5yLzoYfPAIRlpABpve7OI0IksBZM26yQUXOJDyhryDq2hoYJKxLzB5w2TS0KTT5Hr9VP_V2ZplOFkzpByIkNDbqHxO91a5fiB-KGLO58QREmdM48XL6/s400/DSCN1888.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566076206884869666" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">After a couple of hours we head back and finally meet Hiro!! There’d been complications in the month leading up to the tour’s beginning, with Hiro having to go into hospital with a mysterious lung disease, seemingly quite serious. Language barriers mean that I’ve not been able to find out what the problem is, so I’ve been pretty worried about what it could be. It’s great to see him and he seems healthy and in good form; we find out that it was TB…holy crap. He’d had an operation and will be on a buttload of pills for the next six months.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s time to get down to venue and soundcheck; the nerves start to jangle…I’ve not really been genuinely nervous for a show in years, even when it’s been big stages with 1,000+ or whatever. But this is fucking Japan. The standard here is out of this world; 90% of bands, even if not your cup of tea, are still absolutely at the peak of their game. We’re a bunch of intercontinental wastoids with more crazy ambition then good sense…bound to fail!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Things here are conducted with the utmost efficiency; everything is bang on time, everyone must work together to get the job done and group harmony tends to override individual preference at every turn. We drive to Zone-B in Hiro’s van, load in, and then arse around for a couple of hours before soundchecking at 5pm. It’s an old ‘70s Marshall I’ll be using; every venue has their own backline, but there’s only one JCM 900 and Christina gets it, so I plug the Metalzone in and work on the sound for a while. It’s pretty hard to find a balance between dull fuzz and a trebly mess, but we end up with a decent sound, particularly nasty, loud and overloaded with high-end though it is. If anything the soundcheck and unusual sound just makes me more nervous…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">People start turning up and we drink a few chu-hi. Tonight is So’s gig and it’ll also be a release show for the two new EPs on his label; as such, also on the bill are Unarm and ATF, along with Isterismo…they’re gonna make mincemeat of us!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">There’s starting to be a pretty big crowd, the Tokyo crusties turning out in force, and I meet a few characters from my last trip.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHWZVFPy4VyygRn6uX1RB_M_lhlSwbzL5Y1quVhnaAcpvPAJg65olfLja1lnoHf6ar_7HxTSM94gtuVbrxI__40hFuNM_Lud3Y6_zAL-oJkLYGqdZD90S735MYFMnyj7IS0pSjbK0-NTm/s1600/IMGP0043.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHWZVFPy4VyygRn6uX1RB_M_lhlSwbzL5Y1quVhnaAcpvPAJg65olfLja1lnoHf6ar_7HxTSM94gtuVbrxI__40hFuNM_Lud3Y6_zAL-oJkLYGqdZD90S735MYFMnyj7IS0pSjbK0-NTm/s400/IMGP0043.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565791264436998642" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Isterismo kick off and it’s a total holocaust of noise chaos; barely punk in fact, it’s more on the total noise end of the spectrum. Earsplitting frequencies and damaging noise, I’m wishing I hadn’t lost my earplugs in Australia. More drinks and ATF follow; they’re amazing, coming across live as something along the lines of Axegrinder and Doom with a touch of Hellhammer. Real songs and some great hooks…it’s starting to get pretty intimidating.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejdJyiR7qJWmfmMaSlAIP2aL7vLHek8o6URa_BSOc3SyU0_kQ6mbRoOVn9DODEStzI4o9PsYsZJaH4qV5L-2yA4f_kPYre8bjUGPRv4-uhNz9q2jedAFUbMfxjx6XGSOlliF7G8KiyIS3/s1600/IMGP0051.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejdJyiR7qJWmfmMaSlAIP2aL7vLHek8o6URa_BSOc3SyU0_kQ6mbRoOVn9DODEStzI4o9PsYsZJaH4qV5L-2yA4f_kPYre8bjUGPRv4-uhNz9q2jedAFUbMfxjx6XGSOlliF7G8KiyIS3/s400/IMGP0051.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565791372724742434" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">By this stage I’m feeling in such<span style=""> </span>state of hypertension that it’s as if I’m coming up on something. Then Unarm are up and it goes through the roof; utterly incredible, they blow our fucking heads off, going completely bananas onstage, their tiny singer Nanae smashing about like a possessed doll whilst the guitar player is too far off his head to even bother playing his guitar half the time. It’s amazing. But unfortunately then we have to play…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9A6bKB8ZFE9GgmVJmht6x-jwBm7rvk9fKRoK5OtzuHof5TvpRAj7ud84eU8k3H4-Ww85OXd3PBWP0rv5RY5OIBmGWHbmcTY3WKvL43-BOXxb_qOSz97fCYn0dUAzPj0y8Kqma0ReUbFG3/s1600/IMGP0087.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9A6bKB8ZFE9GgmVJmht6x-jwBm7rvk9fKRoK5OtzuHof5TvpRAj7ud84eU8k3H4-Ww85OXd3PBWP0rv5RY5OIBmGWHbmcTY3WKvL43-BOXxb_qOSz97fCYn0dUAzPj0y8Kqma0ReUbFG3/s400/IMGP0087.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565791449026809970" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I’m unconvinced that anyone will give a shit for our more structured, linear approach, with the norm amongst bands of our type over here being to have a much more chaotic, noise-ridden sound. Yet they do…in fact, people go fucking mental. We play one of the best shows we ever have, and at the risk of seeming conceited, we… fucking… destroy. It’s amazing and afterwards we’re all fucking buzzed, in great humour aswell as immensely relieved…it’s gonna be okay after all. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Naturally, it’s time to get fucking ratarsed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">There’s gorgeous vegan food at the bar upstairs, specially prepared by some of Unarm and Isterismo, with the Japanese tradition being to party with food and drinks after the gig. Drunk as a monkey's arsehole, a bunch of us take the metro back to Koenji whilst others go in the van. It’s chaos, our raucous behaviour at odds with the polite and humble innocent bystanders unfortunate enough to share our metro carriage. Oh but what fun…we get back to Koenji and go to an Izakaya somewhere and I vaguely remember something involving a lot of Asahi, eggs and chicken. So is utterly shitfaced, passed out on a table. An American girl has accompanied us, Kate, and she’s particularly loud. At some point we leave. The others go back to Shinya’s and somehow myself, Timmy, Nanae, So and Kate end up going to another bar…I have vague memories of some kind of leisure facility? A swimming pool perhaps? More drinks. More chaos. More of So passing out. Eventually we’re back at So’s place and myself and Timmy pass out on the sofa bed as I gently fondle his swollen gonads.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZyTsc9Gv1vJ12HBF9UQlG0eaJMicwqG4IFOkUmtSW999Q4dvcqfnxnChXxOQ7rcQ5BVYHLGJ-CRb9QKGUl9BTg-6rh9fu7Q6-oT3ZKrMzTf6-UQYjJwUhmm06k5a2JA-ug-mUtPNIDmFf/s1600/sendai.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZyTsc9Gv1vJ12HBF9UQlG0eaJMicwqG4IFOkUmtSW999Q4dvcqfnxnChXxOQ7rcQ5BVYHLGJ-CRb9QKGUl9BTg-6rh9fu7Q6-oT3ZKrMzTf6-UQYjJwUhmm06k5a2JA-ug-mUtPNIDmFf/s400/sendai.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566074043815354338" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Twenty-Two: January 21<sup>st</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We have to get up pretty early to head to Sendai for tonight’s show at Birdland. So is cataplectic from the alcohol and we can elicit little other than squeals and meeps from him, so the rest of us leave him be and head towards Shinya’s. We meet the others outside Freshness Burger, which has fast become a daily port of call for the others since they offer both tofu and beanburgers. Forgetting my moratorium on American muck (or any other non-Japanese food, for that matter) I get a spam burger and a cheese burger. The spam burger is mostly because I’m still drunk and it seems funny, but it actually turns out to be pretty nice. It’s also got a fried egg in. We’re in a hurry to get on the road, so I dash to a convenience store and get a 2-litre of Pocari Sweat. Dude fuckin hell yeah.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">For the uninitiated, Pocari Sweat is an “ion-replacement drink” of dubious authenticity, but it actually works…every drop that goes into you feels like hardcore rehydration, and since I still don’t need to piss three hours after drinking the whole thing then I guess it works?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlEdn89Cw3GdOcZlpGbWNpUexYZyEuc3SrekyKeHjxwmvbm-TR29qSAHhH4qW6AhWFgiPUkPnbeo_uOG7Rpz5_buVbkO-y-yidftuq8Ej7dELrZrXyMT_viShG-BZ-iEVdAh6ipPKHdxjs/s1600/DSCN1923.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlEdn89Cw3GdOcZlpGbWNpUexYZyEuc3SrekyKeHjxwmvbm-TR29qSAHhH4qW6AhWFgiPUkPnbeo_uOG7Rpz5_buVbkO-y-yidftuq8Ej7dELrZrXyMT_viShG-BZ-iEVdAh6ipPKHdxjs/s400/DSCN1923.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566076391067614642" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We’re in two separate small vans for the first part of the tour, so Jakob & Christina go with the others, whilst the rest of us travel with Wada and Shinya. It gets colder and colder as we head North, driving through huge white-capped mountains and curiously squared-away snow-clad plains. The rest stops here are mental, full of families and truckers all milling about eating various mad stuff. And they’ve got free brown rice tea, which is pretty good. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We get to Sendai a little bit before dark; it’s a city of over 1,000,000 people but compared to Tokyo it’s like a little village. The venue is awesome, Bird Land, a punk club with really decent sound and a perfect size. We load the shit in and I get a chu-hi in and we soundcheck and it’s great…I get to use a Dual Rectifier and it sounds utterly slaying, nice!! Timmy’s gonna go for a stroll and I decie to head with him and before we know it all of NDT and Crucial Section is in on it and it turns into another case of massive group walk lowest-common-denominator waiting around and going nowhere…impossible to find somewhere to eat and we eventually get a coffee…and then we have to be back in the venue and stroll back. But it’s nice to see a small bit of Sendai.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">As soon as we’re back I run off on my own and find a little ramen shop and get a bowl of really average ramen; the worst food I’ve had eating out in Japan. Not that bad, just boring…for 700 yen it’s a disappointment. And disappointing food pisses me off.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">So I go back and get some Asahi and the bands are starting. Desperdicio are up first and I’ve been told they play Spanish style raw punk; sort of, but not really. They’re still good but pretty much standard d-beat. Next up are Boltstein and they’re fun, but not anything you’d listen to at home…joke-grind with a thrashy edge. Nah. But fun to watch. Then it’s Last Judgment, a mix of ‘90s Rev style hardcore with a bit of Japcore unexpectedness. Not bad to watch but mostly whatever. Conversation Zero follow and they’re actually pretty great, a bunch of sex-obsessed<span style=""> </span>20-somethings who mostly shout about manko. They’re a mix of U.S. melodic hardcore ala Strung Out, Slick Shows and early NOFX, all incredibly good at their instruments and with a certain charm. It’s mad how this kind of pop-punk in the 21<sup>st</sup> century tends to be more musically proficient than most metal bands. There’s one more band before us and it’s really getting a bit much…should have been half the bands, but anyway, Detour wheel out their weak Saves The Day meets weak Taking Back Sunday melodic punk and their best bit is that that one of their songs sounds like they’re singing “we’re so gay”.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwTy7phJbZFKwhF3wvlGOrm342loxAVm2P-OklRbN8q5KPicosakgbMzcPysFLQRnOGw7NP6xSE6nbvcU1z' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We’re all a bit wrecked from the mad wait to play plus the drive and the hangover so Timmy, Adam and I get tequila shots before we play…they’re frickin massive, and they do the trick. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We set up and start and the sound is awesome; it’d been hard to hear what was going on at Zone-B but it’s crystal clear here and it makes it so nice to play. We get really hard into it and we’re playing more intensely than I can ever remember, feeling it more than any time before except for perhaps the first tour. I’m drunk as fuck but we’ve had consecutive shows now such that even drunk as fuck I’m not fucking up. Except for dropping the plec, knocking the leads out of the pedal and pulling the strap off my guitar…but I tell myself that’s from the intensity of attacking the instrument rather than the tequila and that’s good enough for me. People really get into it and go mental, and afterwards we’re buzzin again; getting complacent now with every<span style=""> s</span>how being so excellent: SKETCH.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguV1iyyGxO4NMeK9FmGQq7Y6NqikQvDJv5h1khRnZrx0BlA5QxIS1rhd6JHs6FlM7cO5BDdKDM5jEKRVDnOJzwdJSb4G40T6aJdWeiSBGpTcaGjTzFAIixe0xR1Or7us40hDgQ60zwA3Zi/s1600/nazihat.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguV1iyyGxO4NMeK9FmGQq7Y6NqikQvDJv5h1khRnZrx0BlA5QxIS1rhd6JHs6FlM7cO5BDdKDM5jEKRVDnOJzwdJSb4G40T6aJdWeiSBGpTcaGjTzFAIixe0xR1Or7us40hDgQ60zwA3Zi/s400/nazihat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572802638685996994" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span><span><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><span style="">There’s this one kid in a hilarious hat, who gets really embarrassed when I want photos with him. He knows that the logo is a bit of a no-no, and so he spends the evening looking a bit scared no matter how much I tell him that I just think it’s funny. Then again, he does ask what would happen if he wore it to a punk gig in Europe and my response probably doesn’t make him feel any less worried...</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The promoter has organized amazing vegan food for after the show, so tables are brought out and the ubiquitous promoter’s war-chant takes place and we tuck in. Some chap gives me a go of his whiskey and I show appreciation; before I know it he’s back with a full bottle for me and won’t take it back…oh-oh. Then the barkeep whips out an industrial-sized bottle of Sake and we’ve no choice but to be polite. Someone gives some weird yellow wasabi to Jæppe and he makes the mistake of giving it to me…it immediately ends up squirted all over him…he grabs it and squirts it back, INTO MY FRICKIN EYE. It burns. I run to the toilets and wash my eye out and it’s okay after a little while.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We meet various madsers and find out how Sendai’s mainly a university type town. Lots of engineers. Some real nice people. Eventually it’s time to go back to the house of this dude who had a distro with some of the filthiest manga I’ve ever seen; as far as I can figure out, it’s about an invisible chap who’s dick is visible, and he spends most of his time perving on girls who, coincidentally, tend to spend most of their time hanging out in changing rooms, at the beach, or masturbating themselves and each other. He gives us a present of a load of DVDs of porno!? We head back to his house around 4am and find out we have to get up at 8am…he’s got a full room of mattresses and sleeping bags, so we crash out ASAP. But not until after </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><span style="font-size:85%;">Jæppe commits a massive faux pas by lighting incense and candles for duder's dead realtives. Oh dear</span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;">…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <style>@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }a:link, span.MsoHyperlink { color: blue; text-decoration: underline; }a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed { color: purple; text-decoration: underline; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyHeM1Rj4TGPj0GJM0EZfM86I56eF5HaYN0v_bsFQ7MV1-138_HmhaKWx0-zXFHTWQWZ-5nr6-d2sCyCS4xS1jDmAChvRZSxwmaQRtGbaL50SUvc6gUq2l3k-8AO1hhSlz4meBq3IgHE6/s1600/UTN73.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyHeM1Rj4TGPj0GJM0EZfM86I56eF5HaYN0v_bsFQ7MV1-138_HmhaKWx0-zXFHTWQWZ-5nr6-d2sCyCS4xS1jDmAChvRZSxwmaQRtGbaL50SUvc6gUq2l3k-8AO1hhSlz4meBq3IgHE6/s400/UTN73.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566074239408572306" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Day Twenty-Three: January 22<sup>nd</sup></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Wake up dead at fuck o’clock, still drunk and grisly as a bear with a wounded arse. Get slightly annoyed at people for telling me to get up. Oh dear. Go downstairs and get into the van, feeling slightly guilty for not partaking in extended goodbyes with the various playas. We drive out of city and I drop off for an hour or so…lulls me into a false sense of rest and I get coffee and a weird pastry thing. It tastes like a donut but it’s full of curry!! It’s really nice! Then I have another one. It’s the same except including a bloody poached egg!! Weird as fuck!!</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">We get back to Tokyo around 1.30pm; today is Hiro’s show, United Thrash Night No. 73, with a particularly diverse line-up. He needs to get down there early to sort everything out, but we’re in the same groups as yesterday so myself and the lads head back to Shinya’s with Wada. We’re scheming to find a way that we can manage to get away off down Tokyo before the gig…it’s frickin Saturday and we want to head down to Harajuku and watch all the cosplay teens and other assorted madsers running around. Might aswell try and climb Mount Everest; there’s no way the lads will leave us off to get the train ourselves, despite the fact that we know the way fine. It’s around 2pm and their plan is to leave for the venue at 3pm. We say they should just go ahead and we’ll take the train and meet them there. They eventually agree…as long as we get to the venue by 4pm, latest. We discuss it with them, confused as to why we need to be there at 4pm when the show starts at 6pm and we don’t need to soundcheck. We never quite figure out but we just have to be there. Everything’s way too much hassle so we just capitulate and say we’ll go at 3pm…I’m<span style=""> </span>lucky enough to get in a shower, a shave and two minutes to spike my hair before we go…aaargh, Japan time!!! Busy busy busy!!</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">We get down there and there’s nothing going on so we sneak off as soon as possible and roam around the area. It’s pretty cool, there’s a Saturday market going on at a nearby temple with various curious characters insisting we try their funny foods and suchlike. People are so curious and friendly here; they hang back and never initiate conversation, but if you show an interest they’re more than happy to buzz with you for a bit. I get some takoyaki (squidballs) and it’s defo time for a chu-hi; almost 5.30pm so we head back.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrjLsdyDjp9TklmStNFVm4SspuIxCPJ2og7BZwzlYyJlkqdcT2Za5W_HjLbVUp8HnLQrz73NanRyJiYAWx7u1SKd4_uRvnQtD0MFS0tMgaSR83L4FfVEKrhzAIF5bz8jW_Mlq4n4DROR0/s1600/IMGP0159.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrjLsdyDjp9TklmStNFVm4SspuIxCPJ2og7BZwzlYyJlkqdcT2Za5W_HjLbVUp8HnLQrz73NanRyJiYAWx7u1SKd4_uRvnQtD0MFS0tMgaSR83L4FfVEKrhzAIF5bz8jW_Mlq4n4DROR0/s400/IMGP0159.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566078875656085410" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">First up is Punk & Disorderly, who I’d been particularly keen to see. I’d heard it was members of Discocks and Tom & Boot Boys, though it turns out it’s only the singer. They do a few of their own songs and covers of stuff like Peter & The Test Tube Babies, and though Nori is pretty good, his backing band is young and inexperienced…the drummer’s adding in shit that 1-2-3-4 punk definitely does <i style="">not</i> need and it’s hard not be irritated. They’re followed by Stagnation, who I’m not that into…an experimentally melodic approach to raw punk that’s commendable but doesn’t get me going.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJgKIJsNS4OufPyR2Y7gQ_bHyeqcvgM3OyxBY-Dj1zZno3UeU0z4pdt27OlIJBkTiQam89J0Jv0Hj4ZILN0RKm2hsVS2V4R15VwY1yek40NWE1Z983au955AehghYrIFZAodX7vDpySXF/s1600/IMGP0197.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEJgKIJsNS4OufPyR2Y7gQ_bHyeqcvgM3OyxBY-Dj1zZno3UeU0z4pdt27OlIJBkTiQam89J0Jv0Hj4ZILN0RKm2hsVS2V4R15VwY1yek40NWE1Z983au955AehghYrIFZAodX7vDpySXF/s400/IMGP0197.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566079331159836386" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Next up are Life…one of my favourite Japanese crust bands of all time. They don’t disappoint; their bassist Nori (a different Nori, also of Screw Within and previously Nightmare) gives the maddest performance I’ve ever seen and doesn’t miss a note. He’s seriously attacking the bass as if hellbent on its complete destruction. In fact, he keeps accidentally whacking their guitarist over the head with it, who doesn’t look too happy. It’s over all too soon but fuck, what a band. They’re followed by Vivisick, again a band who do little for me. Next up is Unkind (not the Finnish one) and they’re AWESOME. Total raw d-beat assault, like a less noisy Framtid, with some great hooks and really memorable songs. They’re all frickin <i style="">nuts</i>, only three of them but they make a hell of a racket.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXeaedkMUv_g7-ccERs-7mIluPVl780h8LFUX2TMFILScHpWKimaBVtTlBpxw3v6MjX9vHMFiHCFq-C8OHdhrSBE02s18pbpG-ZvIM7XvxjLVlUDYmuyDievO0K2cutZIHoHzY_5CcgSr/s1600/IMGP0247.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXeaedkMUv_g7-ccERs-7mIluPVl780h8LFUX2TMFILScHpWKimaBVtTlBpxw3v6MjX9vHMFiHCFq-C8OHdhrSBE02s18pbpG-ZvIM7XvxjLVlUDYmuyDievO0K2cutZIHoHzY_5CcgSr/s400/IMGP0247.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566079746021327906" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">The bassist/singer keep screaming at the crowd and standing on the monitors looking like she’s gonna batter someone, except that she’ smiling all the time and seems to be having a ridiculous amount of fun. The singer’s a funny bastard, shouting “Nuclear Death Terror –welcome to China!!” which gets a big laugh out of people. No idea why I’ve not checked this band out before. We head out for more drinks and I get a little snack of octopus tentacles...naturally there's only one thing to be done...CTHULUPUNX!!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxJRzonKdzIQIgf8-wxNUzICbSqd0l907XPAKwO8QPRDyRIJDP1f1M5jpEEgZ57XP84y8ibZAXnzwQZrvfIdts3chs_OXpC44mlv8JhyphenhyphenDX9TB6TiFKzsjTD4wZfI2G7kiVlf51cKP49MT/s1600/IMG_3145.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxJRzonKdzIQIgf8-wxNUzICbSqd0l907XPAKwO8QPRDyRIJDP1f1M5jpEEgZ57XP84y8ibZAXnzwQZrvfIdts3chs_OXpC44mlv8JhyphenhyphenDX9TB6TiFKzsjTD4wZfI2G7kiVlf51cKP49MT/s400/IMG_3145.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566077917787853314" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">When we go back in it's Fuck On The Beach; I’ve not been interested in grind for quite a while now and this doesn’t change the fact, but their power violencey approach is good to see live. Finally it’s time for Crucial Section, who I’ve been looking forward to see for ages. They’re incredible; intense beyond measure. They seemingly spend more time in the air than on the ground and have a rake of huge thrash anthems. It’s all the more impressive for the fact that they’ve not rehearsed for two months and that Hiro’s just out of hospital…can’t imagine how full-on they must be when on top form.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjozmh90_ev4cNoh6uKImSBEIU2TE4r49HXOVzVa9NROD5XsPAGVi-k7tEHA-WG8bbdDnhjZ4uzexjEAIZhiyROtiLL5cZCdMYdO7Xs4sMvJuN9gmY-PB030RUrpjhh8SmBcVojXbqH1Hdi/s1600/IMGP0265.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjozmh90_ev4cNoh6uKImSBEIU2TE4r49HXOVzVa9NROD5XsPAGVi-k7tEHA-WG8bbdDnhjZ4uzexjEAIZhiyROtiLL5cZCdMYdO7Xs4sMvJuN9gmY-PB030RUrpjhh8SmBcVojXbqH1Hdi/s400/IMGP0265.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566080119149887122" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Then it’s time for us dickheads.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">It starts off great and the trend towards ever-heightened intensity continues…then Timmy’s snare breaks. FUCK. He borrows a snare and we continue, but the energy’s sapped and we have to build it all back up from below even the initial starting point. Frustration. It takes half the set to get back into it, and the last few songs are great, but it’s just not on the same level as the past couple of nights and I can’t help but feel some disappointment. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Afterwards we hang out and drink with the punks, there’s some food, whiskey and chu-hi, but no-one’s really on for a big one…we’ve to get up at 8am again for the drive to Nagoya. We head back to Shinya’s to get our stuff and split up - myself, Jæppe and Adam go with Hiro out to his place in the Akitsu suburb, and the other three stay at Shinya’s. We get there just after 2am but I can’t sleep. Drop off sometime after 3am.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiATUK6sKgl1wnakDIF86l3WtT3k2f0TDViNoUoGXcL98KLsObnuA5xopqSW_Gcxa-wc3clHhYyn98FDjk845MYxZRYvLkhwYsFZTiv6-DcCSe1pm7np6A4RHLfs-A-X6vMNcFqlEiH0u/s1600/Nagoya.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiATUK6sKgl1wnakDIF86l3WtT3k2f0TDViNoUoGXcL98KLsObnuA5xopqSW_Gcxa-wc3clHhYyn98FDjk845MYxZRYvLkhwYsFZTiv6-DcCSe1pm7np6A4RHLfs-A-X6vMNcFqlEiH0u/s400/Nagoya.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566074477299981618" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Day Twenty-Four: January 23<sup>rd</sup></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">We get a bit of a sleep in to the grand old hour of 8.30am. Ah, bliss. The others aren’t budging and Hiro’s keen to get on the road so I pull the covers off and tell ‘em to get their arses in gear. I head downstairs and briefly meet Hiro’s family, off out the door to baseball practice. It’s great to see Kato, his adorable little boy…three years old and cute as hell. Japanese kids are the cutest things in the world…so funny. His mate is there too to help with the driving to Nagoya, so we get into the van and on the road by 9am.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">It’s a long drive to even leave the Tokyo area. Can’t sleep. We get out onto the highway and stop sometime around 11am for a break. It’s a massive gas station/rest area with all sorts of shops, stalls and restaurants. Seems everyone’s out for their Sunday trip, families of all ages and, needless to say, the omnipresent array of audacious cuties. I get some garlic and leek yakitori and it’s pretty good, but the chicken’s a bit too much for that early…so I get some fish sushi. Yum!! It’s excellent and feels so healthy!!</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Back on the road and drive is spectacular. Through the mountains with Fuji-san growing nearer in the distance from miles away. It’s a gorgeously clear, cold sunny morning…perfect for Fuji-viewing. It’s snowy peaks are mightily impressive and I make a pact with myself to climb it some day. Imagine the view from up there… The drive continues along the coast and it’s highly enjoyable, the sparkling sea to the south contrasting with the steep, pine-blanketed slopes to the north. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">We arrive in Nagoya around 3.30pm, greeted outside the venue by something I never imagined: screaming fans looking for autographs. Well, screaming <i style="">fan</i> looking for autographs. And actually she wasn’t screaming, she was really polite and quiet, though excited. Know what the best part is…? She didn’t even come to the gig! She just collects autographs! Ah, Japan…</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">It’s great to see Leader (Hidehito) again, as he’d been an awesome host on my last trip. He’ll be driving us for the next three shows, and following the Nagoya show we’ll have a day off at his gaff before going to Osaka to the recording studio on Wednesday. We load in and I meet one of the chaps from Chaos Channel and some of the other bands and everyone’s really friendly. Leader’s partner Barbara (a nickname, not her real name…) has prepared some great food for us that Leader’s brought down, so we get a bit of that into us and myself and Leader head off to find a public phone so I can call Anji. We try a few of them but it’s impossible to figure out calling codes and suchlike so we say we’ll leave it till tomorrow. Back towards the venue with a stop at a department store for a 3-pack of fresh socks and a 6-pack of Asahi…perfect. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">We soundcheck and it’s great, really good sound and friendly helpful soundmen. Why is it that 90% of soundmen in Europe are total dicks and 90% of soundmen in Japan are supremely competent and friendly? The show’s on at Huck Finn, a legendary Nagoya punk venue with a history of 30+ years…great atmosphere and lay-out, with a nice bar upstairs.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKu55V8-OLXCr7tgWLuXTrMAnPMNGquhMh0liclXsIygLNNB5lshlpii_2H6W1NQN38BVM3qbv3cXDS_ad1_d9X5IdG9LUZCSSIBCi98-RIt01ngHpTctEdaZNGceEcEUp04FNHrJnqUNy/s1600/IMG_8599+copy.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKu55V8-OLXCr7tgWLuXTrMAnPMNGquhMh0liclXsIygLNNB5lshlpii_2H6W1NQN38BVM3qbv3cXDS_ad1_d9X5IdG9LUZCSSIBCi98-RIt01ngHpTctEdaZNGceEcEUp04FNHrJnqUNy/s400/IMG_8599+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566096794033253842" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">I meet Rafael from Darge, a total legend who I’d hung out with last time and stayed in contact with. He’s Brazilian, though one of his grandparents is Japanese. There’s actually a sizeable proportion of Brazilians amongst Nagoya's population of nine million, as the two countries enjoy a symbiosis with a high crossover since the post-war period. Unfortunately, Brazilians here seem to have something of a second-class status, with little integration and an acceptance which seems reluctant at best, despite the fact that you’ll find, for example, subway directions and other place markers printed in Portuguese alongside their Japanese counterparts. The city</span></span><span><span><span><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><span style=""> is the capital of Aichi Prefecture, Japan’s industrial heartland. Ranked alone, the area is one of the top 20 global economies…guess who provides the labour. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">We chat for a good while outside and drink a few beers before it’s time for the gig to start.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfmSkGLTnA6eY5CcdJoFxb8MxSg-GOqDjsn-2fwcl-RBsxPFIcIglaIHIIUcK-GR1QCO_c4-W0mT0Smzk5_E1hLHp2L_X-yFUpJI4QDbYn8fJ45fsjfI7TiCiTZySHVcVOAeoplHmnQHEH/s1600/IMG_8529+copy.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfmSkGLTnA6eY5CcdJoFxb8MxSg-GOqDjsn-2fwcl-RBsxPFIcIglaIHIIUcK-GR1QCO_c4-W0mT0Smzk5_E1hLHp2L_X-yFUpJI4QDbYn8fJ45fsjfI7TiCiTZySHVcVOAeoplHmnQHEH/s400/IMG_8529+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566094969470673026" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">First up are Acute and they’re pretty excellent; their singer is this little schizoid maniac, jumping around the place and going totally rasher. It’s a slightly experimental take on crusty punk, though enjoyable. They’re followed by Ada+Max, of whom I’ver heard a lot. I miss a couple of minutes due to changing my strings (last night’s broken snare was an omen if ever there was one, and I’m not going more than three shows without a string-change), and walk in to the venue to the most astonishing display of adeptness from their guitarist, a total legend who completely wails on his axe while their singer runs around squealing in madness. Crossover thrash is what’s on offer and it is sweeeeet.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_B0i78QshmOS0A7MZF4VY6JObTz7YhlC9NcoJJpmgJXZiPcRwg5IV3a2w5Cm03VJTqrtPTPR-OUijurHgN6W163zwuQEdBWZ3v0dIcXwUkbdXjG6uw4iI1ahOlmx2UMy74_gAZIJNcHdx/s1600/IMG_8550+copy.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_B0i78QshmOS0A7MZF4VY6JObTz7YhlC9NcoJJpmgJXZiPcRwg5IV3a2w5Cm03VJTqrtPTPR-OUijurHgN6W163zwuQEdBWZ3v0dIcXwUkbdXjG6uw4iI1ahOlmx2UMy74_gAZIJNcHdx/s400/IMG_8550+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566095341647431362" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Chaos Channel come next, a band I’ve been particularly looking forward to. They exceed my expectations, playing a fantastic mess of noise that’s something akin to Crass and Flux Of Pink Indians in a blender with New Order and Joy Division. Their drummer has no bass drum, and stands up for the whole show hitting an array of toms, cymbals and a snare along to a recorded drum track. He occasionally gets on top of the PA and basically just drops off face-first, hoping the crowd will catch him. They do. It’s amazing, maybe my favourite live band so far.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JpcD4NQGPoV8DNJqN8nK7eHWJepbNhRSecCzQtNVOfJQV82eWJjFS7VYDb_gzDuag8fDbyt7bkkvoCMgPTGOtGFtguNcrn5duO1z9svmPsQqd1dZVtkftu1Az7ThahyphenhyphenIM4sqkE0k4cH-/s1600/IMG_8574+copy.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JpcD4NQGPoV8DNJqN8nK7eHWJepbNhRSecCzQtNVOfJQV82eWJjFS7VYDb_gzDuag8fDbyt7bkkvoCMgPTGOtGFtguNcrn5duO1z9svmPsQqd1dZVtkftu1Az7ThahyphenhyphenIM4sqkE0k4cH-/s400/IMG_8574+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566095736909238930" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">I go up to the bar and get a pint of Yebisu, a stout from Tokyo. It’s expensive but I’m keen to try a Japanese pint of the black stuff, Guinness being my tipple of choice. To be honest, nearly every stout I’ve tried other than Guinness or Murphys is, to some degree, piss-water. Yebisu bucks the trend –it’s silken and gorgeous, leading me agree with their cheeky label –“what a creamy taste!”.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQKe_91EdF-AciVUL7dms00OWHZxkjjDe4yz4RaWjzL2RdZ4AOhNSpdzBkylJzj360jZ63-Bk4-bIv1hNSGY7WrD6BN2Ej2HwCldBMkbuP_7xvr-tsOc4OVn2LVZQOPazyc53OPuGg0PQ6/s1600/yebisu-stout-logos.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQKe_91EdF-AciVUL7dms00OWHZxkjjDe4yz4RaWjzL2RdZ4AOhNSpdzBkylJzj360jZ63-Bk4-bIv1hNSGY7WrD6BN2Ej2HwCldBMkbuP_7xvr-tsOc4OVn2LVZQOPazyc53OPuGg0PQ6/s400/yebisu-stout-logos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566095989700918994" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Back down to the venue and it’s time for Darge. They’re so good –brutal Brazilian styled metalpunk ala Lobotomia with a touch of Japanese hardcore for good measure. Whiplash-inducing thrash, I like it. Hopefully they'll be in Europe later this year...you need to check them out.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgt9iWbRFNyTclul8Fhy9jKrLTtR0ETM8W_JfyvodU8Ow87sUiFS4ri3_vjGm1vHbDdWHlUnF0ObKuQjCJgQOzpsuxRWKuvmR3a5jyrsBSelf9Hi-opVzQ_fDEKJMbvf9q9WYAelulThgd/s1600/IMG_8586+copy.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgt9iWbRFNyTclul8Fhy9jKrLTtR0ETM8W_JfyvodU8Ow87sUiFS4ri3_vjGm1vHbDdWHlUnF0ObKuQjCJgQOzpsuxRWKuvmR3a5jyrsBSelf9Hi-opVzQ_fDEKJMbvf9q9WYAelulThgd/s400/IMG_8586+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566096473062838866" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">A quick warm-up on guitar before the last band which precedes us, Disgust. I’d been expecting some kind of metal/grind, but in fact it’s raging E.N.T. styled crustcore. Really really good, they’re intense and punishing, both the singer and guitarist making raids into the crowd to great effect.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvPO_imhRh4YoYhGBy3T6QsUzmNjfWaw0iqWI4GQwZUhwQPSefbCBKx-5pA4FvOQtc1ZwR7WPb6P9zrEUtWrN5IPlgxaBj2yzS_Jpy7JCHHzWm1oUbaMCrfCS59zETMJ50L6gDTp7TWtOE/s1600/IMG_8719+copy.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvPO_imhRh4YoYhGBy3T6QsUzmNjfWaw0iqWI4GQwZUhwQPSefbCBKx-5pA4FvOQtc1ZwR7WPb6P9zrEUtWrN5IPlgxaBj2yzS_Jpy7JCHHzWm1oUbaMCrfCS59zETMJ50L6gDTp7TWtOE/s400/IMG_8719+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566094234714708674" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Time for a massive tequila from the bar and we head on. Set-up and it’s all good, I’m really looking forward to this. From the get-go it feels excellent and once again our personal standards go through the roof with the whole band tighter and harder than ever –SEXUAL. Yet the crowd seem a little bit reserved; maybe it’s cos it’s a Sunday night and work tomorrow, maybe it’s cos of a low guitar volume as Jakob reports afterwards, or maybe it’s just cos we’re not that good. Either way, we have a great time and from peoples’ reactions afterwards they seem to have genuinely loved it.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQy4WqJeic1q5MWZM633LQcmeRP7vrgbnGAuGTcptHhyyYxvkZWVMUOGuGaaMYj6sQzDs6M59wVBEA3eFpWlAQznQqNcq0xG9wMmhRSwY8VtrYsBbWEG5gPWG961sQrj3IQNGCdp5wSvu4/s1600/IMG_8689+copy.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQy4WqJeic1q5MWZM633LQcmeRP7vrgbnGAuGTcptHhyyYxvkZWVMUOGuGaaMYj6sQzDs6M59wVBEA3eFpWlAQznQqNcq0xG9wMmhRSwY8VtrYsBbWEG5gPWG961sQrj3IQNGCdp5wSvu4/s400/IMG_8689+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566094027665269490" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">I’ve got a mad hankering for the ganja so I ask a few people and no dice. But then the Chaos Channel boys come good and I head off with a few of them and the dude who does <a href="http://punktribe.exblog.jp/13814671/">this</a>. We ascend an elevator to a roof carpark and smoke up…oh shit, it’s pure weed, no baccy…we go back down to street level and within 10 minutes I am utterly mongoloid, mangled, bickeyed off my tits. It’s glorious. But pretty soon I have to remind myself not to get paranoid…as if Japan wasn’t mad enough already. Stuff that usually seems perfectly fine begins to take on deep, sinister meaning…colours intensify and shadows deepen…everyday objects and siutations become invested with seemingly infinite hilarity…there’s a large turtle in a small watertank by the door of the pub and C & J both separately point out how fucked it is…my post-vegan stoned paranoid head starts feeling guilty. If only I hadn’t eaten that chicken yakitori then perhaps animals <i style="">just like this one</i> could be freeee! People are being really nice and friendly in the typical semi-formal manner of Japanese folks who don’t speak much English, but I start going off on a socio-political rollercoaster ride in my head, comparing the warmth and friendliness of the Brazilian dudes to their very different adopted countrymen…my brain is in meltdown.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">We need to sort out how we’re to get back to Leader and Barbara’s gaff, as we’ll be going in both a van and a taxi. A fairly simple affair, really. Yet in my intergalactic state it seems to take on cyclopean proportions, and I get a bit more paranoid that as the chief contact and organiser I’m supposed to be sorting this all out when I’m completely incapable due to being a monged mess. Obviously all that happens is that we wait for Leader to bring the van around and then the others get a taxi. But it seems like Hannibal’s conquest of Europe due to its scope and inventiveness. All the way back to Leader’s I make a tit of myself by continually pointing out to Jæppe and Adam how amazing it is that buildings are so symmetrical. To me it’s perfectly clear that the aligned symmetry of a Japanese city at night reflects the social organization of the Japanese people and all sorts of other gibberish, but I’m unable to express myself adequately. FOR THE RECORD, there is an amazing symmetry to Japanese cities, ESPECIALLY at night when they’re all lit up. So there.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">We get back to the house and by this stage it’s mostly worn off; I’m back on Earth and able to talk sensibly. Holy crap, those last two hours were intense. There’s more food for the punx, so we have a few beers, tuck into some awesome rice and potato balls and watch old Japanese punk videos. Everyone’s wrecked and falling asleep around the table…I go to sleep something past 2am.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"> <style>@font-face { font-family: "Courier New"; }@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }span.apple-style-span { }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Twenty-Five: January 24<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">Oh sweet glorious slumber, how I’ve missed you!! We get a massive lie-in until after 12pm and it’s GORGEOUS. We’ve got a day off in Nagoya, so after a nice shower and a great breakfast of a tomatoey chickpea soup we leave the flat to take a look around Nagoya. First up is a huge temple, situated in a really peaceful area of thousand-year-old trees, though we’re mostly interested in the stack of sake barrels. Umai!!</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1ugixNQeLDeMmgTrZ_VyCdatrKNLJBQXv-UHCCLIeA0ZjzyE5ZekCsYsDK-wTYyiu2TfuwhKgiVBV9u-PZTSLalSIgL5RxUMXTCgkois9xHEuB50_vln9Pg_dBj3KoZNGt1k7e4ULal1/s1600/sake.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1ugixNQeLDeMmgTrZ_VyCdatrKNLJBQXv-UHCCLIeA0ZjzyE5ZekCsYsDK-wTYyiu2TfuwhKgiVBV9u-PZTSLalSIgL5RxUMXTCgkois9xHEuB50_vln9Pg_dBj3KoZNGt1k7e4ULal1/s400/sake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572812428429226706" border="0" /></a><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" >From there we catch the subway downtown and begin perusing various record shops. I get an Indecision LP that I was crazy into when I was a teenager, for a measly 300 yen. That’s about £2. Strangely, I’d just been talking about this record to Timmy a few weeks ago when we were listening to HHIG’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Monuments... </span>album, which is a mutual favourite…I still hear new stuff listening to it even now, over ten years after first getting it. The Indecision album (<i style="">Release The Cure</i>, if you’re cureious –hi-ohhh, see what I did there!?), as I remember it, had a similar atmosphere of apocalyptic terror, though this was before I’d heard any proper crust or black metal, so who knows how it’s stood the test of time…but now I can find out, for just 300 yenaroonies! After that we hit up another record store and I get a Misfits LP for pocket change. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">We stroll down to the main shopping district, or “crazy town” as Jæppe renames it, and it’s awesome, all sorts of nutty little stores everywhere selling wacky clothes, mad shoes and cool jewelry. Everyone’s getting pretty hungry, so Leader brings us to an Indian restaurant. Then I get in a bad mood.</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdeAhiD45RQ2HWK8SJ2g8v6qyt5fQ0BL5BitVgd_A4I5EWRB4i2WPaIvLYBnfRs8LGank4v5pGIdh1BbCswgpm00oirHn-CUxi5hUf5jvEQMhHUDb5vdge0NhD-K9tAnvwjO_ufeNMmM7D/s1600/nagoyacar.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdeAhiD45RQ2HWK8SJ2g8v6qyt5fQ0BL5BitVgd_A4I5EWRB4i2WPaIvLYBnfRs8LGank4v5pGIdh1BbCswgpm00oirHn-CUxi5hUf5jvEQMhHUDb5vdge0NhD-K9tAnvwjO_ufeNMmM7D/s400/nagoyacar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572812958128789618" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Look, I have nothing but respect for those who are vegan or vegetarian; I spent almost a decade in the same boat. I’m not interested in getting into the reasons why I got out of said boat, mainly since I unintentionally sunk the fuckin thing for some poor vegan a few years back who wanted to discuss my lack-of-veganity and ended up convinced to hop on the meat wagon. But anyway, I’m getting carried away here, the point is that I am not under any circumstances interested in eating Indian food in Japan. If I was in India, I would only eat Indian food. (except for one time when I got a pizza after getting sick of curry for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day for a month). If I were in Poland or somewhere else with a similarly dubious “cuisine” then yes, I’d eat foreign food. But I’m in JAPAN. I want to eat JAPANESE food. Never mind the fact that it’s so frickin’ delicious. Even if I was still vegan, it’d be tofu, rice balls and noodles all the way. I don’t want no stinkin’ curry. Okay, rant over…soapboxes aren’t for standing on, they’re for the stuff you spike your hair with. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">So, I get into a bad mood, not just cos of the food but because I’m still really tired and also pretty hungry. Yes, I know I’m a selfish moron. Anyway, I get a curry, which is decent enough but nothing special, and it helps the mood a bit, but I nevertheless make a silent pact with myself that I won’t eat a single bite in another restaurant unless it’s Japanese food. Food’s not just a matter of life and death –it’s way more important than that!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Afterwards we separate, since C&J are up for more record store action and the rest of us are more inclined towards wandering around crazy town and checking out the randomness. We go into some amazing toy shops and I get a cool action figure, Jæppe buys a sexy second-hand jumper with a print of wild stallions going nuts on it, and we have a nice coffee in some fancy place. There’s a hilarious hippy shop with all sorts of great mystical Far Eastern crap and I can’t resist buying a cheapo brass ring covered in a certain infamous symbol that was fairly popular in parts of Europe around 70 years ago. It gives me a green ring on my finger so I take it off pretty soon, but it’s a funny souvenir all the same… We go into an arcade and I have a go on Street Fighter Zero, getting through four matches on 50 yen before losing…boo-urns. Then it’s time to meet up with the others and head back to Leader’s for a punky gyoza party that Tomoko (Barbara) is preparing for lucky old us. The food is fanatastic, there’s also a spicy beancurd stew that’s excellent, and we wash it all down with a few beers and some </span><span class="apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">sh</span></span><span class="apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">och</span></span><span class="apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">u </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;">while watching more old Japanese punk videos. There’s a particularly fascinating old tape of Leader’s from the ‘80s with a talk show which has an episode titled Punk vs Metal…yesss!! The audience is filled with various luminaries from all your favourite legendary ‘80s Jap punk bands, and Leader translates some of the funnier comments for us. Despite such a calm day, we’re all destroyed from accumulated fatigue and happily head off to bed not long after midnight.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdcacZUCXNmEcpyw4brM7RD1N0pi82S57EMxYmvhkk71M8lh0JNqr1BTvz8A0MQ_2hxr2t6hn63lVBaotoUR4Ya3M_Ux1fLwVstU5QDp_hNxGMIyifszXOcTJo6JRrlQq3_FPmyYhCv9wL/s1600/leadershouse.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdcacZUCXNmEcpyw4brM7RD1N0pi82S57EMxYmvhkk71M8lh0JNqr1BTvz8A0MQ_2hxr2t6hn63lVBaotoUR4Ya3M_Ux1fLwVstU5QDp_hNxGMIyifszXOcTJo6JRrlQq3_FPmyYhCv9wL/s400/leadershouse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568973436605759602" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Twenty-Six: January 25<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family: courier new;"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Another much-welcome extended sleep and I’m actually feeling at least semi-human again. The plan is to leave for Osaka this evening since we’ll begin our recording session there early tomorrow morning and want to be well rested. The others are all keen to go back into the city and hang out, while I decide to take advantage of a private space and internet connection to catch up with various real life nonsense. Everyone leaves and I’m all alone…it’s great! Despite being a fairly sociable person I enjoy having a lot of time alone, so any opportunity on tour to have some “Cormy time” is generally snatched up…they’re few and far between.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I spend a useful afternoon updating this fuckin thing and responding to a lot of commissions for magazine articles over the next few months and researching others, though unfortunately being on the road means that a big feature on the imminent new Pentagram album slips through my fingers and is passed on to someone else…fuckin shite. I send a few emails to the promoters in Malaysia and Singapore nailing down the last few details and have a long skype chat with Anji, catching up on her news and discussing a roadtrip we’re planning for when I get back to Aussie. Then I spend a couple of hours putting the finishing touches to the lead guitar parts for all the songs we’re recording tomorrow. Barbara comes home from work and starts preparing <i style="">more</i> food for this evening <i style="">and</i> to bring with us for tomorrow…she’s a culinary superhero!! I spend the last few hours before the others return transferring and choosing photos for the blog…with three cameras on the go we’ve well over a thousand shots so far! A daunting prospect! </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The dudes get back and we’re served up an absolutely amazing meal of Okonomiyaki, or a Japanese pizza-pancake as it’s otherwise known. Sooo good! We’re already stuffed when Leader brings out a huge plate of fried noodles…but we manage to make some space. Just to be polite, of course. So much good food!! The others are particularly excited about all this, since it’s difficult to get authentic Japanese food that’s vegan…it’s out there, but most of the battle is in figuring out what’s in the ingredients. We’re gonna leave as much stuff as possible in Nagoya since Leader’s van doesn’t have a lot of extra room, so we pack up, wave goodbye to Barbara and get going. It’s hard to get used to the lack of physicality here; you never <i style="">ever</i> see people kiss, or even touch, and it’s rare to see people hold hands. Just give us a proper fuckin hug, goddamit! None of this back-patting nonsense! I’m not a frickin dog!! Well, actually…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2EhjS6lQtb_575QovS4G8eFoQdym2EkceYCF22g-a44Gfd0q3AoBCn7WB7wx7EOFUwEiEWyFZLuGncomrScA3dJowjwCqEWuoGNavJ_w0K6VSM5gz6UUL8QaGiIkOefK3_MZOG4hi9Ls/s1600/konton.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2EhjS6lQtb_575QovS4G8eFoQdym2EkceYCF22g-a44Gfd0q3AoBCn7WB7wx7EOFUwEiEWyFZLuGncomrScA3dJowjwCqEWuoGNavJ_w0K6VSM5gz6UUL8QaGiIkOefK3_MZOG4hi9Ls/s400/konton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572815578883305154" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s 10pm when we leave and the drive is uneventful, the best part being able to listen to the Alliance album twice…can’t wait to play with them! There’s a flurry of snow and Leader drives like a maniac all the way, even managing to crash into a lamp-post when we arrive in Osaka! It’s not a long drive, and we get there just after 1am. We pull up outside the new Punk & Destroy shop in the Americamura district, just a short walk from where the old shop is, and are greeted by a sleepy Shin. It’s great to see him again. The new shop’s even better than the old one, which was already one of the best punk record shops in the world. So much great, great stuff and at prices which are more-than-reasonable. As soon as we have the gear dragged in, said hi and opened a beer, everyone’s rifling through the racks before someone else gets there first and snaps up all that rare exotic awesomeness. Christina beats me to it on a few items, and despite trying to be careful with money, I still end up spending almost 7,000 yen…the deals are just too good and the trio of Neurosis records plus stuff by Contrast Attitude and State Of Fear are stuff I know I’ll listen to again and again and won’t ever come across for those prices, if at all (I don’t use Ebay…it’s only for hoarder collector perverts).</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We’re all totally stoked to be in Osaka and have a bit of a thirst on…never mind getting a good rest before the recording, let’s go to Bar Konton and fucking drink!! For those who’ve not heard of it, Konton (Japanese for “chaos”) is a <i style="">tiny</i> little bar synonomous with the Osaka crust scene, a place I’d long imagined as key to the crasher crust sound native to the city which was pioneered by Gloom, streamlined and popularised by Framtid. Back in the day it’s where everyone would come down and get pissed on beer and sake, watch old punk and metal videos and check out all the latest records.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">We walk through the night-time streets and it’s </span><i style="font-family: courier new;">awesome</i><span style="font-family:courier new;">!! Fuck, I love Osaka!! If Nagoya is the stern but fair dad, Kyoto the gracious geisha mum and Tokyo the spoilt screaming teenager of the family, Osaka is the eccentric little brother, hangin out doing his own thing, not giving a fuck about how weird you think he is. There’s all these totally fruity little bars and shops around the place, like nothing you’ve ever seen…I’m seriously gonna move here some day.</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpObiRKs4RhUIvFwn2dtZ0GQXxojZ2XVQkdgoWr2A_cBHe4xnuD03EWB1vswfIlUpLbx8UYrjBi8HQIuDPOV4fCCEc6KxQtE2MrTAAlBKeW2yCKSrmqnEUBkZCPd0KOzRMZkg7bdtbQCWA/s1600/konton.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpObiRKs4RhUIvFwn2dtZ0GQXxojZ2XVQkdgoWr2A_cBHe4xnuD03EWB1vswfIlUpLbx8UYrjBi8HQIuDPOV4fCCEc6KxQtE2MrTAAlBKeW2yCKSrmqnEUBkZCPd0KOzRMZkg7bdtbQCWA/s400/konton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568979023597562386" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We file down the stairs and all around the scary concrete corridors, straight out of a Japanese horror movie, and then we’re there…KONTOOOON!! Hatamaka from Zyanose is behind the bar and an old friend of Shin’s is there too. He’s a movie director who Shin used to live with; they stopped being mates after the both fell for the same girl 15 years ago, but made up after they both got her…hah! I’d met Hatamaka in the very same place on my last trip to Osaka, when we got monged and stayed up till 6am playing computer games at this amazing little bar upstairs called Bar Continue which has every fucking console and handheld ever invented…sooo good!! Shin gets the beers in and even Jakob buys a round and we’re having a fuckin blast. Videos of Bad Brains, Amebix, Axegrinder and Black Sabbath are on the telly and Hatamaka’s playing fast and loose with the sake and Jaeger…eventually someone happens to check their watch when we’re about to get another round in and we realize it’s after 4am…fuck! We do the sensible thing and head back to get a couple hours kip before we’ve to get up. We’re sleeping on the floor of Punk & Destroy II…I’d thought we were booked into the studio from 9am, but it turns out it’s 11am, so we should be all right. I can’t sleep for a while since I’m way too excited, my head busy with going over the lead parts and extra tricky bits I want to add in…holy fuck!! We’re recording in Japan!!! At the same place where so many of my favourite records were made!! Outo, Cobra, Laughin Nose, Framtid, GLOOM!! AAAAAARRRGH!!!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Twenty-Seven: January 26<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Today is the day… Not too much trouble waking up since it’s like Christmas friggin morning, though I definitely need a coffee. We get our shit together fairly handy and head down from P&DII to Freshness Burger, where Shin’s already ordered us a bunch of tofu burgers, fries and coffee. I KNOW, I KNOW –say nothin. It's delish, and who wants fish for breakfast anyway?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We get our shit together and take a walk through Osaka with our gear to the subway. Cutie holocaust. And then…Studio 246!! We meet the engineer, Mr. Hara, and his assistant engineer. Mr. Hara’s a long-time associate of Shin’s, meaning that it takes a lot of the usual stiff politeness out of the equation and we can easily communicate our wishes…a dicey business with studio engineers at the best of times, nevermind across a language barrier. They both seem really nice. Then it’s time to select amps, as there’s quite a choice. In the absence of any Laney amps, Christina goes for a Mesa Boogie, I opt for a Marshall, while Jæppe takes a Hartke. We spend half an hour or so tweaking the settings and come up with a sound we’re very happy with, and then take a break while the engineers set up. I’m getting a bit nervous, though this is perhaps the best prepared we’ve ever been for a recording…on the road with these songs for almost a month, we could play ‘em in our sleep.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9itd7hawfppdkUtLOSLRNZmHZb3gPAoqpdzv77v1wa7Wvuc43PtTLDQB9RMs-GUVK4V8mN2Wu44FzR3vOhrzPoNtoQRCdB3xJ2yWjO7RJIXVbHrRjgo-qMc31LZmMzi5d0-pKce3IaGEM/s1600/recording.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9itd7hawfppdkUtLOSLRNZmHZb3gPAoqpdzv77v1wa7Wvuc43PtTLDQB9RMs-GUVK4V8mN2Wu44FzR3vOhrzPoNtoQRCdB3xJ2yWjO7RJIXVbHrRjgo-qMc31LZmMzi5d0-pKce3IaGEM/s400/recording.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568979678665662850" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Everything’s ready and we head in; it’s the most professional set-up I’ve ever encountered, taking all the pain out of what can at times be a fairly daunting experience. We’ll record all the basic tracks together, with the two guitar amps in one separate room and the bass amp in another. So nice to have the proper facilities for this. We even each have private monitor consoles, with a master dial and four separate dials for each instrument. Genius!! This is what we’re paying for…the cost of this session is <i style="">far</i> beyond what we’ve ever paid in Sweden or Denmark.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We run through the first song to warm up and check levels and it all sounds good. Adrenaline: what’s committed to tape now, that’s <i style="">it</i> forever. Let’s do it. We do a take; it’s fucking <i style="">perfect</i>. Brutal, precise and wild. Little voice in the headphones: ”ehm, there’s a problem…it didn’t record properly…you’ll have to do it again. So sorry.” What the <i style="">fuck</i>. I’m quietly raging, but say nothing…this is <i style="">not</i> what we’re paying for. The atmosphere grows tense and I get nervous. We do another take and fuck it up, do it once more and it’s down –fine. Next song, get it on the second take. Third one, get it down first take. Again, the little voice: “So sorry…”. The fucking computer, <i style="">again</i>. We take a break while Mr. Hara changes the computer to another one.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifb4PPrSsHH6a97LM2gPBxPNamZxh6JtspH0ClTVaXaoBvHHwtOORCJHbw9wjEI_VeR5v6UBy0-1bLPtqoms2DZM0XxS3vzVHASUyAVROYUAaF0qnkn10gxESMj2c0XL2Gn8Ufkz0jF0r-/s1600/246.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifb4PPrSsHH6a97LM2gPBxPNamZxh6JtspH0ClTVaXaoBvHHwtOORCJHbw9wjEI_VeR5v6UBy0-1bLPtqoms2DZM0XxS3vzVHASUyAVROYUAaF0qnkn10gxESMj2c0XL2Gn8Ufkz0jF0r-/s400/246.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568979671272059858" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">This is why digital recording sucks. You can’t trust a computer the way you can reel to reel, or tape in general. I’m not one of those trendy audiophile luddites who is instinctually anti-digital…I used to be, but the manner in which the technology has improved over the past decade means that awkward drop-ins and 13 takes for one shitty song are a thing of the past. Pro Tools is fucking awesome, along with the other components that make for a more relaxed process. Recorded music is a sham anyway; it’s never real except for when it’s live, and it’s pretty rare for a studio recording to be completely free from tricks, tweaks and overdubs, no matter if it’s analogue or digital. There is something to be said for the warmth and depth of the analogue sound, but truly, it’s only 1% of hardcore music lovers (only musicians and collectors themselves, really) who will notice the difference. I’ve made 100% digital recordings that I’ve seen praised in reviews as having a beautiful analogue sound. Don’t trust the majority of anti-digitals…they’re only trying to be cult. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The computer is changed and we head back in to finish it off. No problems, it’s down in a few minutes. We re-do the guitars and bass on one tricky section, and then fix a couple of other small errors we notice in playback. By this time it’s after 4pm, and our session only lasts till 7pm, so we need to get on with it. We decide to leave the second rhythm tracks until later, and only do them if time permits. I go in and do the lead guitars, getting them down in half an hour…a far cry from my usual pernickety stressed-out prima donna “only the perfect take” approach. Fuck it, this is crust punk!! </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s time for the vocals; we realise that due to the particular set-up in 246 that we’ll be able to track the second guitars simultaneously with the vocals. Yessss!! Easy access!! We go for it and it’s piss-easy. Every track in one go (with the exception of one part where I forget to play and do a drop-in after), we’re able to add in some extra little textures while Adam gets his vocals done straight up. I warm up my throat a bit and then go in a do my vocals; again, no problems.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCfB-TIyTXGMaRH6v2oxD9lwrJktubM_dznRm8oGEs7yES9Eblv_pwyLh6DizNpVI3vdJasSXfEflIdasV4AHvE-fjCstPHFKP0BDXIQW2UwCOmRAJVpulY4BZXtZSd5WmZElsL0HIwHpZ/s1600/chaosreigns.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCfB-TIyTXGMaRH6v2oxD9lwrJktubM_dznRm8oGEs7yES9Eblv_pwyLh6DizNpVI3vdJasSXfEflIdasV4AHvE-fjCstPHFKP0BDXIQW2UwCOmRAJVpulY4BZXtZSd5WmZElsL0HIwHpZ/s400/chaosreigns.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568979676859807282" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyPicYiIIPoy8is7WHtg_pzGLKs3hUGubxJ2lC5LElG0tHo-l8fzIMQqAEt-Ie4yZNtFDzPf-T5-pc_yAGh4w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" >All day Shin and Leader have been working on a translation of the lyrics to one song, which we’re going to do an alternate version of. It’s tricky as fuck, with literally double the syllables to the English version in the Nihongo one. Adam goes in and does his and it’s fucking awesome…he gets it straight down. I do mine and they’re less good. Can’t get the timing. Come out and listen and get the dudes to demonstrate them again. Then I have a funny idea…I go in and do a second take, only this time in a different way to my usual voice…Japanese lyrics, well, they’re gonna have to be done in a Japanese style! Burning crusty spirits!! We’re right down to the wire on this one in terms of time, but we got just enough minutes left to get everyone in the main room for gang vocals on one song. It’s hilarious, and works out pretty good…we pack down the gear, leaving it for Leader to take in a taxi with Mr. Hara, with the plan being that after some food we’ll head down to his other studio in Americamura to do the mix.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">I am fuckin buzzing off my head. This has been the best session ever; usually I’m exhausted and pissed off by the end of recording with NDT, nerves fraught and head wrecked. But this was so fuckin painless, other than the early glitch in the computer. In fact, we’re all on a massive high, excited and wild on the streets of Osaka! Chu-hi time!! We get on the subway and head back towards Punk & Destroy II where Jacky Crust War is making us food, there’s a bunch of other people there too, so we hang out, drink, eat and listen to awesome records. Around 10pm we leave for Mr. Hara’s mixing room, stopping in at a hilarious shop below P&DII called Rastaman…they sell various types of legal high joints, so we buy a couple, smoke one, get some more beers and walk the short distance to the studio. By this stage we’re all drunk as hell…perfect state for mixing a record! Altogether we’re there until after 2am with half the band passed out drunk…but it’s far more painless than I would have expected.</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScGkCZNIrijJ1cGw-eaqh1YczZYLScUTgUpcHiJXrSicLg-2hVuHNbK9O9RwspqDWtwcqdBzk6et7vtJQvq9dF23ip5YfS3RdF13LWAz1niCw3K1dX5a5gJbZuD7Cw2mYys3y4iHlUEVF/s1600/monster.jpg"><br /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdgix2mgqCjnFQkJRkbqJJ9C5ZH2neZnPk1-vo9qJA16nWMuIlX724D9qe2JEPtyP_qZ-NtxW5c0M31G471uc7l9Df6LoxcwTJkd0IhMi5S-bu-3ZkpHjqYrRwITiY3n4j6_nM7n4vIWg1/s1600/mixsleep.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdgix2mgqCjnFQkJRkbqJJ9C5ZH2neZnPk1-vo9qJA16nWMuIlX724D9qe2JEPtyP_qZ-NtxW5c0M31G471uc7l9Df6LoxcwTJkd0IhMi5S-bu-3ZkpHjqYrRwITiY3n4j6_nM7n4vIWg1/s400/mixsleep.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568980807280843810" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Mr. Hara is a genius, seeming to know what we want before we’ve even explained it, and for the most part we don’t need translation help from Shin at all. We end up with a fucking amazing sounding recording…and Timmy, Jæppe and I celebrate back at P&DII with something called a “Monster” from Rastaman. It blows our fuckin heads off. Seriously, I start tripping from it, we’re listening to the recording again and dancing sexy dancehall stabbin-er-up-pon-de-wall stylee, Timmy’s totally losing his head, and it’s all completely bonkers. I stumble around for a while looking for somewhere to sleep until Jakob rescues me and I cuddle up in a messy ball…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScGkCZNIrijJ1cGw-eaqh1YczZYLScUTgUpcHiJXrSicLg-2hVuHNbK9O9RwspqDWtwcqdBzk6et7vtJQvq9dF23ip5YfS3RdF13LWAz1niCw3K1dX5a5gJbZuD7Cw2mYys3y4iHlUEVF/s1600/monster.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScGkCZNIrijJ1cGw-eaqh1YczZYLScUTgUpcHiJXrSicLg-2hVuHNbK9O9RwspqDWtwcqdBzk6et7vtJQvq9dF23ip5YfS3RdF13LWAz1niCw3K1dX5a5gJbZuD7Cw2mYys3y4iHlUEVF/s400/monster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568980809190242610" border="0" /></a></p></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"> <style>@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Twenty-Eight: January 27<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Wake up bleary-eyed and fuck-headed, confused and dry-mouthed to Jakob loudly moaning about how cold it is. Great…me being awake will definitely make things better. I’ve no idea what time it is and we’re lucky enough to have most of the day to hang out in Osaka, so I drag myself up and have the misfortune to catch sight of my ugly mess in the mirror. Holy god…I’m a bloody mess. No-one else is up so I head out and take a walk around the streets. Leader’s up and about and I can see that if I’m caught leaving I’ll be corralled into some kind of vegan nonsense, so I sneak off and find the mankiest, filthiest, most decrepit looking restaurant and go in there. Yes, I know it doesn't look that filthy in the picture...this is bloody Japan, not Beirut.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtnG3SG8EF6KJ3C6AOkOAi4FnahRSyPUVkOJXYT2Fq5BuAKiRGytTqPXOVxJY1vlFr8JTio5D0OTkGWwtDhvFzDDZUOpL6BM4p3WPO86xGk8dPJU1nqBTwmFBcKkMhlRNo7Lgcv1whHo7l/s1600/osakarest.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtnG3SG8EF6KJ3C6AOkOAi4FnahRSyPUVkOJXYT2Fq5BuAKiRGytTqPXOVxJY1vlFr8JTio5D0OTkGWwtDhvFzDDZUOpL6BM4p3WPO86xGk8dPJU1nqBTwmFBcKkMhlRNo7Lgcv1whHo7l/s400/osakarest.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568982602649975906" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> I don’t recognize anything on the menu and they can’t speak English, but I hear the dude on front of me order tempura and it’s less than 1000 yen so I decide to go for the tempura aswell. There’s no-one else other than myself and the old chap in there, but before the food arrives it begins to fill up with various business types and ladies-who-lunch. Help-yourself green tea goes a good distance to helping me rehydrate. The tempura arrives and it’s diviiiine, proper Japanese lunch set style with a load of different bowls and dishes. I hardly know where to begin…great stuff.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxNpLumN3w5Wga-HqQZC-gI1WwWw9cTEJ0KGVLzYEIcjMLO-ATJ65lGocPcpi8gnMIcThUip2bw-gdJqd5B-X89KgIM17ijGUaK6npTM0A1eUgEPTrWvuwG6tQIwFe9F9T7IAtIYdOqZWV/s1600/osakafood.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxNpLumN3w5Wga-HqQZC-gI1WwWw9cTEJ0KGVLzYEIcjMLO-ATJ65lGocPcpi8gnMIcThUip2bw-gdJqd5B-X89KgIM17ijGUaK6npTM0A1eUgEPTrWvuwG6tQIwFe9F9T7IAtIYdOqZWV/s400/osakafood.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568982603521949474" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Afterwards I wander back towards P&DII and meet Timmy and we head out to Mandarake, a massive manga shop. Naturally we go straight for the filthy stuff…and it’s far beyond any kind of reasonably perverted smut. This is the proper gnarly shit, highly skeptical stuff altogether. Brilliant, of course, but far too dirty for innocents such as ourselves. We bump into Adam and Jæppe outside and stroll about the area, getting into a delightful little pickle with a brace of adorable cuties in a discount fancy goods shop. We promenade down to a guitar shop selling primarily Gibsons and drool over awesome Flying Vs and SGs, as well as picking up some new strings. Someone stops us and Shin runs over to tell us that we’re going in a minute to some veggie restaurant. We do so, and by this stage I’m feeling particularly awful and still completely monged from the “Monster”, so while the others order salads and things I go and pick up a coffee from a little secondhand bookshop café. It does the trick and I start feeling better immediately, more awake and aware. Still, this legal high shit, it’s too mad…I’ve a mate who works in a headshop in Dublin and used to get us all we wanted of this kind of nonsense, and after a week or two I gave up on it (other than in the case of extreme emergencies) since you actually stay stoned off it for about three days. Nobody wants that! Rastas, maybe. I dunno. Anyway, since we’re on tour and I’ve nothing to do, it doesn’t matter that I’m good naturedly lethargic and spaced-out all day, but it’s still a bit much.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">After the others have done with their food we walk around Osaka and find some awesome bullshit in a 100 yen shop…I get a load of Hello Kitty stuff and then we go past this army store with a particularly risqué window display depicting a certain historical leader, so we have to go in for the requisite photo ops. By then it’s getting on in the afternoon, and thus time to head for Tsuyama, where tonight’s show is. But only after spending a buttload more yen on tasty vinyl in P&DII. Tsuyama’s quite a rural area, and a short drive, so we set off shortly before dark…listening to our new recording all the way of course, interspersed with an SDS discography CD I’d not seen before and the Alliance album again. It’s only our second trip in the car with Leader but already after getting halfway there we’re all getting extremely antsy about the, shall we say, unique chauffeurial style. I quickly learn not to ask questions since the wheel tends to follow the eyes, but I’m still getting <i style="">really</i> fuckin freaked out. One hour to Tsuyama turns into three hours to Tsuyama with some navigational difficulties, but we’re not late or anything so it’s grand.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEAAzLU48XwEq-JojWqBIBJxMmJ5Y6IIZggRwNAprLrgt28w5ea3m5pokRzpDB_hb3NnerzGfOBM6icjvhsBG2VoDrDimhBJX5vwGnRvKIhFBc8T1QyGwynzuXt7SMg_bfwXP49J4vjYIj/s1600/721447-chuhi_super.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEAAzLU48XwEq-JojWqBIBJxMmJ5Y6IIZggRwNAprLrgt28w5ea3m5pokRzpDB_hb3NnerzGfOBM6icjvhsBG2VoDrDimhBJX5vwGnRvKIhFBc8T1QyGwynzuXt7SMg_bfwXP49J4vjYIj/s400/721447-chuhi_super.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572823516908104194" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Instant chu-hi action and we meet the promoter, Yu, who I’d previously been in touch with, a real friendly bubbly sort of a chap. There’s food there for us and it’s decent, so we get some of that in and I pick up a few records and a bunch of zines from the Vox Populi distro. At this stage our own distro is looking fairly pathetic…gone are the reams of awesome merchandise gracing our table at the start of the tour, and we’re left with a sad few patches, the tour CD and one t-shirt design…what a pity, we should have brought so much more stuff.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The gig-space is a tiny rehearsal room in which the sound is frickin deafening, and the crowd are diverse…first up are Massgrave, and their vicious stenchcore attack is completely overwhelming in the confines of the tiny room, with my new Hello Kitty earplugs coming into full-effect to save my ears…slightly. They’re followed by a band whose name I never found out, who I didn’t really like, and then by Akka, who are pretty good…three girls playing aggressive hardcore. Next and last before us are Skizophrenia, far and away the best band of the night. It’s excellent ‘80s European style hardcore and gets the room going pretty wild. It takes us a while to try to come up with a sound on the amps provided, especially since Timmy’s drumming style (read: loud as <i style="">hell</i>) drowns out everything but my guitar. So we decide it’s better to have only drums and guitar primarily audible than nothing at all. It’s a decent gig, and the sound would certainly have been better for those facing us than it is for us with our backs to our amps, but it’s frustrating nonetheless. My vocals are barely audible and all I can hear is my guitar really loud, plus the drums…still, it’s fun, and instantly Boner City when the bassist from Effigy introduces himself and tells us he drove over two hours to get there since no bands of our style usually come, and that we’re the best crust band he’s ever seen there…yessss!!! Afterwards there’s more food and plenty of drinking and I hang out and talk to the guitarist from Akka for ages. The DJ had previously driven Pisschrist on a Japan tour and was mates with Timmy, and plays an excellent selection of punk and metal...it’s all a lot of fun. I’m still pretty wrecked from the day & night before, so I don’t mind when we head back to sleep at Yu’s house relatively early. It’s a big place, but cold…I finally get up the courage to try the “asshole shower”, as Shin Framtid so endearingly terms it. It's a button on Japanese toilets that makes a little microscopic arm extend from beneath the toilet bowl and…well, use your imagination. It’s tremendous, and I go to sleep happy.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKXDmUESz9NGSYvV9sMrxo0zm4rUCQr6VceoEQp3lIvkOPHU0gn3OM5sTo9ZieVd6Iwu6v6drYm59BVt1xPEerVuXIt0Bp0uM6jxOOLYkVHa5Pgblw1mtUhQfpOeAq23UQH0Qce3tzBqWd/s1600/osaka.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKXDmUESz9NGSYvV9sMrxo0zm4rUCQr6VceoEQp3lIvkOPHU0gn3OM5sTo9ZieVd6Iwu6v6drYm59BVt1xPEerVuXIt0Bp0uM6jxOOLYkVHa5Pgblw1mtUhQfpOeAq23UQH0Qce3tzBqWd/s400/osaka.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569007846326488834" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Twenty-Nine: January 28<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style=""><span style="font-size:85%;">We get a decent kip in but it’s still too early when Leader comes in and says it’s time to get up…dying for a shower, but there’s a queue, so I’ve to wait…and wait…and wait…and eventually get showered, shaved and clean. Yu’s prepared an excellent tofu miso soup, so after a quick breakfast and a peruse of some </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><i>awesome</i></span><span style="font-size:85%;"> 70’s horror manga (some seriously good tattoo ideas in there) we’re on the road again.</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPl4KRDiUzLqMe5Cldfl4FVaXxfRlQ8gjA-aJ_30qCAswkVoM8JJm96C7rPReGPSRcK0y3fNgDDzxIQr3q94bXFlVGlY1xuoyZpb6w9DjXlxZhcPjlm50_pbJE1jzPJpM6uEJtJVMOwC5m/s1600/horrormanga.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPl4KRDiUzLqMe5Cldfl4FVaXxfRlQ8gjA-aJ_30qCAswkVoM8JJm96C7rPReGPSRcK0y3fNgDDzxIQr3q94bXFlVGlY1xuoyZpb6w9DjXlxZhcPjlm50_pbJE1jzPJpM6uEJtJVMOwC5m/s400/horrormanga.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568986570174740690" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">This time we’ll be traveling in convoy, since Massgrave are playing the first of tonight’s shows. Yep, the first…tonight we’re gonna be having two shows, the first at Bear’s, the second at P&DII, so it’s going to be a fairly massive day. Deathrace 2000 all the way to Osaka and the way our driver treats the gas pedal you’d swear he was trying to give Michael Flatley a run for his money…I don’t get carsick, but after this, I am.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We get to Osaka in the afternoon and go straight to Bear’s and load in the gear. It’s soundcheck time and the two ladies in charge of the sound are geniuses. Seriously…we each set up our gear, play one song, and it’s perfect through the monitors and out front. So amazing to deal with such professional people and equipment as is the case 90% of the time over here. We have a couple of hours before the gig starts at 6pm, and we’re all keen to have a look round the otaku area nearby so we take a walk down there. We spend a long time in the amazing Astro Zombies, a shop owned by the bass player from City Indian (Japan’s answer to Motorhead) full of all sorts of amazing horror toys, jewellery, t-shirts etc. Last time I managed to confine myself to buying only a set of cast-iron Cthulu buttons, but this time I go all out and spend way too much on a load of really nasty stuff…disgustingly modeled Hell Raiser toys, Godzilla monsters, etc. So good!!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><br /></p></span></span><a style="font-family: courier new;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEgVa8j7x64pm6PHmPw0y_r-x0MMKxTIYIc74YpL_fh0I4gic4DIHPEFC06-ezEe3hUO2CJLxK6aEOliOC8lzN_4Eb2VLkGylGfbYr5ArQFyneOo_reMa1WnKM0oNoDhGndb829mKin4qp/s1600/systemfucker.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEgVa8j7x64pm6PHmPw0y_r-x0MMKxTIYIc74YpL_fh0I4gic4DIHPEFC06-ezEe3hUO2CJLxK6aEOliOC8lzN_4Eb2VLkGylGfbYr5ArQFyneOo_reMa1WnKM0oNoDhGndb829mKin4qp/s400/systemfucker.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569000040645212402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We get back to Bear’s just in time to witness the grand feat of the singer from System Fucker getting his hair put up. It’s easily the best mohawk I’ve ever seen. After spiking my own hair earlier, with Jacky Framtid now doing his foot-long pole spikes alongside this outrageous Mohican, I feel like the kid at an orgy who can’t get a boner. In fact, it’s all a bit intimidating, since we’re about to play with Framtid and System Fucker with the later show being with Zyanose and Nightmare…we’d better be fucking good. Hiro’s driven from Tokyo and is there to help with the onward driving…nice! </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Sugi shows up and we meet him, he’s really nice and friendly and seems just as stoked as we are to meet. He’s even wearing one of our shirts, and we give him a load of merchandise and so on as well as a thank you for the artwork he did for us. We’re backstage when this really tall smart looking chap in a pinstripe suit comes in and introduces himself as Tam from Acrostix, I’m flabbergasted, having been thinking “who’s this fucker?” as he really looks the wall street part. He’s real friendly and it’s good to meet him, having been in touch before over email and since it’s Acrotix who’re putting on tomorrow’s show. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Then it’s time for Framtid. They’re fucking brutal, mad hemorrhaging noise and destruction with some new stuff in there too…can’t wait for the forthcoming second album. I even end up with pit-burn and a bleeding hand after violent brushes with a studded jacket. Massgrave follow and it’s decent, but I only watch a few songs as I need to warm up on guitar before System Fucker start. I’d been so looking forward to seeing them, even more so after hanging out with them a bit and finding out (slightly to my disappointment) that they’re not even a small bit scary but in fact pretty shy and nice. I’d actually met one of them last time I was here but didn’t realize he was in the band. So, they go out, set up, and when the start the singer runs in and they all go mental. It’s fucking great, he’s climbing around like a chaotic chimp, going nuts and scaring people with his mic-stand. Sexcellent! They scorch through their set and the second it’s over I go back to get my gear and set up.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDb1xTAYc4Sy71Qq5H42a5vXjcDmmFJnJ5mHMYh9_zGfrHHlHvAzq8u4K2Cc3Cxyci1tLu9u6gU0A9zjCoTveeaqpS4lacMHSh-vVGmCT5Z7D6wNcE68Cw6trJ8yYodJlfklmOtuoRR_nL/s1600/osakagig.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDb1xTAYc4Sy71Qq5H42a5vXjcDmmFJnJ5mHMYh9_zGfrHHlHvAzq8u4K2Cc3Cxyci1tLu9u6gU0A9zjCoTveeaqpS4lacMHSh-vVGmCT5Z7D6wNcE68Cw6trJ8yYodJlfklmOtuoRR_nL/s400/osakagig.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569000018246718162" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style=""><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" >Osaka’s sort of a big one for me, for all of us, so there’s definitely some tension before we start. It means that we’ve been fairly safety-minded alcohol-wise and not overdone it, or perhaps just that we focus a bit harder than usual, but whatever’s to blame, it works, and we have a great show. One of the best so far, we fuckin own the stage from the first note. It’s a great feeling and a huge relief to do ourselves justice in a place we know will appreciate it. It’s beyond mental on front of the stage and we’re all loving it; afterwards it’s immediately party time and beer-guzzling commences in earnest. After hanging out drinking, taking photos and suchlike we hop in the van and get a lift back to P&DII. The late gig will begin at 1am and is in a back room of P&DII on the third floor. I’ve not really eaten much all day and there’s serious drinking ahead so I go out immediately to find something to fill me belly. I roam the streets of Namba and there’s a massive party atmosphere all over – I suddenly realize that it’s Friday night. For everyone else that is - in my world, every night’s been Friday night for the past month! I go to a Takoyaki (squidballs –hey, squidballs, what’s up!) stand and the old dudes running it are hilarious. A bunch of swish dudes and their curious-cutie girlfriends come up and are looking me over, I give them a nod and they start talking to me, no doubt intrigued by my incredibly handsome visage, stunning clothes and audaciously fashionable lifestyle. They turn out to be all sorts of illuminati, involved in big business, one’s a professional footballer, etc. They bring me to some sort of mad bar and we do tequila shots before I breezily excuse myself and inform them that I have a gig to play.</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br /></p></span><a style="font-family: courier new;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin45seh49hbSSsyBJJPmm77PO_4ywtNHZM9tItRizg8M36CRancuVmlr0vA9Zrl27emp0OWZ2l5lfQs05zelg5ORz3hmk-qQW8MF17ITPKWcZhHzSxAirjSS-baE184ZsTXlnmWZs1VzfC/s1600/crossfire.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin45seh49hbSSsyBJJPmm77PO_4ywtNHZM9tItRizg8M36CRancuVmlr0vA9Zrl27emp0OWZ2l5lfQs05zelg5ORz3hmk-qQW8MF17ITPKWcZhHzSxAirjSS-baE184ZsTXlnmWZs1VzfC/s400/crossfire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569000550524392610" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I get back to P&DII and hang out with the boys before Jæppe and I head out looking for trouble. Which reminds me, the night before last after we smoked the “Monster”, we’d gone out looking for trouble, but hadn’t found any. We had, however, found a “shooting bar” called Cross Fire Point (Open Fire: 1800 Hours, Cease Fire: 2600 Hours) but it had been closed. It looked awesome, all military themed and so on. So we went back there...but it was just ceasing fire! We tried to reason that it wasn’t even close to 2600 Hours, but the dude was having none of it. We got a foot in the door, but that was all…he wouldn’t let us go any further. There were fucking modern disposable SAM and handheld anti-tank one-shot missile launchers just inside the door! Jæppe even got to pick one up and extend the crosshairs before the dude managed to hustle us out! Not content to give up, we pass a massive nightclub pumping out techno around the corner, with a load of madly dressed Japanese ravers and cuties queuing to get in. Without even a word we glance at each other, turn around, march to the front of the queue and demand that we have to get in as we’re a guest of Kato’s. The bouncer looks over his list, radios somebody, then nods and opens the door. Yesss!! We climb the stairs and are walking past a fancy desk into a big room full of lasers and booming techno beats when someone grabs my arm. There’s this little mustachioed ratty looking fella there, and he’s got a big list. He asks for our names. “We’re fucking NDT, mate”. Who? “Nuclear Fucking Death Terror. We’re a mate of Kato’s.” Who’s Kato? “Our mate who owns this place”. Suddenly there’s two huge sumo-looking dudes who’ve got us in a deathgrip and are pushing us down the stairs on front of us. Meanwhile I’m yelling “Kato!! Kato!!” and I dunno what Jæppe’s shouting but it’s really funny either way. We’re unceremoniously turfed out onto the street and walk off shouting that it’s a shit club anyway and that nobody should bother going there. Some girls ask us what happened and we tell them that it’s a racist club and they should come with us instead; they giggle loads and one of them wants to come with us, but the others don’t…her friends convince her that it’s a bad idea. It is. We get some more drinks and head back to P&DII just as Zyanose are about to start.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">They are fucking <i style="">amazing</i>. Total holocaust ear massacre, two basses, drums, no guitar, it’s this massive wall of sound destruction and I’m really feeling it…FRIENDLY AND VIOLENCE!!!!!! OSAKA CRUST DETONATION!!! Nightmare follow and the room is heaving, mad full of people all going fancy crazy. Then it’s time for us.</span> <style>@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/yo5E9hftN4Q" allowfullscreen="" width="480" frameborder="0" height="390"></iframe></span></p> </span><span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Needless to say, by this stage I’m completely bollo. Ratarsed, shitfaced, three sheets to the wind. Timmy starts the first song and it goes mental, the crowd are right in my face and people are going apeshit, I’m beside Christina and keep crashing into her, the mic is smashing my teeth in, I fall into Timmy’s drumkit and he gets a cymbal in the face, everyone’s going mad, I break a string halfway through the set and couldn’t be fucked changing it and it ends with me losing the head completely and ripping all the strings off my guitar before falling over in a corner. Next thing myself and Jæppe are upstairs with these bunch of white guys who’d been there earlier, one of them has a mixing studio over P&DII and we somehow end up in there, the dudes who’d invited us up are gone and we’re just chatting to these dudes and decide it’s probably time for a “Monster”. We run down to Rastaman and shock!! horror!! It’s fuckin closed. We traipse back upstairs in disappointment…but it turns out that the studio dude has an emergency Monster stashed away for just such occasions.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSYv1xDxLrfr45xP0z6HZv4c14KCeIJYdFhdId1z__5HxWHBo33cEksy5hEBFog1pMrWBb1F4E9qOipw4YClWKhHPUPrAxpnoiphm7xul0rhJLqxaMmaGxJos8k8MCKThxOyQPf1RK4XS/s1600/jeppecar.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA7cH-KGWZYEm3ujVZt-BgvaZRu_tuufucsSEi89vy68bLbSInGAVzdi8it3LHWeDXGk4qfHVcxK9cJpxEHYMi2XgNPwYR68-cgTYyaRvMO0wt_qtYV4-CRGoRfDjWUIaj_bcX4EDot_R4/s400/karaoke.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569000031583472546" border="0" /></p></span></span></span></span></p></span></span></span></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style=""><span style="font-size:85%;">From here on out things get very hazy…the original dudes come back with a load of weed and the party continues, various faux pas are committed, paranoid misunderstandings are conveyed and eventually the Cormy Monster and the Jæppe Monster emerge from this odd lair to discover that we’re actually still in P&DII, rather than some weird extra-dimensional space-causeway. The others appear, as if magic, and say they’re going to Bar Konton. Fair enough, says we. I stumble through the streets, about 10% lucid, drinking a somewhat optimistic Pocari Sweat along the way. I have a Polaroid memory of being in Konton and someone forcing a tequila shot upon me. After this I’m The Drunk Guy for the rest of the night…you know, the fucker who just kind of mumbles, falls over, gets happy/maudlin/sentimental/angry at random intervals, and sleeps at the table. Or at the karaoke, as the case turns out to be. Everyone else has a great time, but I don’t remember…I was just asleep. Eventually I’m dragged up and remember falling across the streets of Osaka to the hotel we’re staying at. It’s light outside. On the way we see this big car outside our hotel and Jæppe runs and jumps on the back fender…it snaps off. The guy gets out and there’s a scene. Somehow we run away and get to the hotel. It’s fuckin mad fancy, and I have another Polaroid memory of me and someone else running around screaming and smoking cigarettes and a worried receptionist helping us back to our room?</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSYv1xDxLrfr45xP0z6HZv4c14KCeIJYdFhdId1z__5HxWHBo33cEksy5hEBFog1pMrWBb1F4E9qOipw4YClWKhHPUPrAxpnoiphm7xul0rhJLqxaMmaGxJos8k8MCKThxOyQPf1RK4XS/s1600/jeppecar.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSYv1xDxLrfr45xP0z6HZv4c14KCeIJYdFhdId1z__5HxWHBo33cEksy5hEBFog1pMrWBb1F4E9qOipw4YClWKhHPUPrAxpnoiphm7xul0rhJLqxaMmaGxJos8k8MCKThxOyQPf1RK4XS/s400/jeppecar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569000021100739506" border="0" /></a></p></span></span></span></p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style=""><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Thirty: January 29<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I’m peeled out of the hotel room by someone. It’s something like 12 O’clock cos that’s when we have to check out. I look in my jacket pockets. Of the 26,000 yen I changed the day before yesterday there’s only 3,000 yen left. I must have left it in Magic Monster Land. I’m at P&DII. The party there has continued. We get our gear down. I have a sneaking suspicion. I check my guitar…the bridge is missing. Oh fuck…I have a vague recollection of someone finding it and giving it to me after the show, since it had gone flying when I ripped the strings off. I must have lost it again afterwards…without the bridge my guitar’s basically just an expensive sexy sculpture…I’m panicking like a motherfucker…this is me fucked, right here. I explain the situation…and it turns out good ol’ Chuhiro-san has found it! Chuhiro and his bandmate Rookie from Bad Dirty Hate were both excellent hosts to me the last time I was in Osaka, we had so much fucking fun together and I’ve been looking so much forward to seeing them again this time. They’re playing in Mie City at tonight’s show too, so there’s three carloads of us going. I make sure not to get in a certain car. We wave a big load of goodbyes to everyone, and it’s especially sad to say goodbye to Shin…what a legend! Who knows when we’ll see each other again…hopefully not too long.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKbG_JVGPuuQonFiFjwV5jMoEd5anLuNuCKWEAMglLoOdnNK6GgmtAqiH0x0DU2tBtvzP_Wu-zwkTabRRrp0QpkdilZgH9nwRo-HAU5aj2pTkuAt5DecJcd4ayMVWhuFn0KIM6kFPYxguN/s1600/osakamorn.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKbG_JVGPuuQonFiFjwV5jMoEd5anLuNuCKWEAMglLoOdnNK6GgmtAqiH0x0DU2tBtvzP_Wu-zwkTabRRrp0QpkdilZgH9nwRo-HAU5aj2pTkuAt5DecJcd4ayMVWhuFn0KIM6kFPYxguN/s400/osakamorn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569000035416064482" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I manage to go asleep in the car pretty quick and sleep most of the way to Mie. We arrive there and load in to Club Chaos. Christina's after doing a puke in the car on the way! Acrostix are soundchecking and they sound AM-AY-ZING!! I put new strings on and we soundcheck and it sounds good and I actually feel fine. Totally fine. That fuckin Monster is still going…everything’s all tripped out and easy-access. I realize I’m still drunk and get a chu-hi because if I stop now I’m fucked, and tonight is Acrostix, Contrast Attitude, Folkeiis and Bad Dirty Hate…we’re fucked! Everyone else has disappeared, so I walk down the street to this punk shop called Vortex I found a flyer for in Club Chaos. It’s awesome!! I meet the Contrast Attitude dudes there and we trade some t-shirts. There’s so much great stuff in the shop and I’ve only got this poxy 3,000 yen left so I have to content myself with just a few small things. The shop is run by the wife of Shin from Acrostix and the girlfriend of the System Fucker singer and they’re both really nice, awesome punk girls and way tougher than the usual wallflowers you tend to meet over here.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" >I go to a supermarket and get some drinks and a tray of mad sushi. Come back and hang out drinking, smoking, acting cool and talking to the dudes from Folkeiis, who are all really nice. It’s pretty funny meeting all these bands and people that you’re fascinated with and expecting some kind of attitude somehow, and then figuring out they’re the same, and they’re just as fascinated in return. JAPAAAAAN!!! On the other hand, certain lightweights can’t take the pressure, and the dreadlocked weekend warrior is asleep on the stage whilst the little one is cuddled up to her guitar asleep in the corner. Acrostix are on first, so Jæppe is banished to the backstage and they begin. Probably one of the best live bands I’ve ever seen –they’re unbelievably good. From where they’ve gone with the early Amebix influence to incorporate a more traditional Japanese punk flavour with crust, they’re now about as much prog as they are punk but in the most awesome way…so good. There’s a big, diverse and growing crowd and people are really up for it and I’m really getting in the mood.</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqwENoUthjfHTOE9Y51Lf8oTNcFGt50lL1_6SdXOC3S7I9RmxBw1y8bmnX0Z2nZAg2V6azmOGUu6kf3gE9SoXHiOQY-HsWQ97i0X4Lm9RIsMsWxbl0DzZv9VOXwgZlXMYwYtaPKrQ2Qhc/s1600/contrast.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqwENoUthjfHTOE9Y51Lf8oTNcFGt50lL1_6SdXOC3S7I9RmxBw1y8bmnX0Z2nZAg2V6azmOGUu6kf3gE9SoXHiOQY-HsWQ97i0X4Lm9RIsMsWxbl0DzZv9VOXwgZlXMYwYtaPKrQ2Qhc/s400/contrast.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569006277330178402" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" >Contrast Attitude follow and they’re incredible…raw d-beat noise punishment of the highest order. The crowd and band are both going nuts, some poor dude gets a guitar in the head and starts pissing blood, and I nearly lose my mind when they play “Who Can Change The Future?” So freakin good. Next on are Folkeiis and they don’t disappoint; mad Finnish style raw hardcore with a burgeoning influence of almost NWOBHM styled OTT craziness?! They go bananas onstage, the singer being particularly mad out of it doing all sorts of sexy business with the mic stand. Finally it’s Bad Dirty Hate and they’re excellent, weird and eclectic hardcore with Rookie Fuck In My Face and the boys showing immense talent…can’t get over the way, way, <i>way</i> higher level of instrumental competence which is the standard over here. Intimidating as fuck.</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHvgvDwlF5BhTO4zyurI8mewdq9FzxhUgFosy9RIxKN61dhim2C6FhXE6n39C-YG-P1Su6NInG7hY-c_3xIDSLsmfAUmYMLZ5nf6u22_AmSXQ_QYhRxD_Hknb9mzp3Nkn3TPw03BM_8QB/s1600/folkeiis.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHvgvDwlF5BhTO4zyurI8mewdq9FzxhUgFosy9RIxKN61dhim2C6FhXE6n39C-YG-P1Su6NInG7hY-c_3xIDSLsmfAUmYMLZ5nf6u22_AmSXQ_QYhRxD_Hknb9mzp3Nkn3TPw03BM_8QB/s400/folkeiis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569007040686184738" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Jæppe arises and Christina seems a little more alive and we get onstage to do our thing. What can I say, it’s great, not our best show performance wise but in terms of stage act and all it’s just wilder and tighter every night. By this stage myself and Jæppe have gotten into the habit of attacking each other when backs are turned and at one point after I shoulder him he kicks me hard as fuck in the side and I barely avoid going arse-over-tits off the shoulder-height stage. It’s particularly good fun and afterwards we’re all ebullient, people throwing all sorts of compliments our way and making us feel like the cool dudes we think/wish/pretend we are.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQnstF1h0cncJ2gGHJdMTA182XZkrTJokByqdCiA6THU6og7HeQQI71ZnPH2d9tyfxqVVrbYRYufT3-C_sLEM_V-781wj25nc-9pCEmSpIB_gHLiE7o8KuGhQQzCBf8vCLT8BSKpxgB08/s1600/contrastvan.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQnstF1h0cncJ2gGHJdMTA182XZkrTJokByqdCiA6THU6og7HeQQI71ZnPH2d9tyfxqVVrbYRYufT3-C_sLEM_V-781wj25nc-9pCEmSpIB_gHLiE7o8KuGhQQzCBf8vCLT8BSKpxgB08/s400/contrastvan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569010260733177170" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" >The rest of the Crucial Section boys have come down and Leader wants us to leave right after the show to drive back to Tokyo via Nagoya; we’re having none of it and compromise with spending an hour at the afterparty and then driving back to Nagoya before continuing in the morning. Seriously, when will we ever be in this situation again. After hanging out drinking for a while we head to an awesome izakaya with a huge bunch of people; we go in, there must be 30 of us, and get a whole room. Loads of food and drinks and I have to work pretty hard at it but eventually manage to get some real proper sashimi and sushi rather than chips or salad or tofu. It’s so much fun but we have to leave all too soon…I could easily have spent the night there…we say big goodbyes to Chuhiro, Rookie and Snoopychan plus all the other total legends we've met here...they all wait waving at the restaurant entrance till we're out of sight and it's unbearably cute...Japaaan!! ...but it’s back to the vans and we drive to Nagoya before crashing out something around fuck-knows o’clock.</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFannzViGm7X4kcBjxEI2MORf5C8mZkSvnONiUdO_R0m0VHEyqGTy1mrZe5xD0soU7nKqLx9UtiE3pqerLdCqoU1zOoWcuOhu66Q2C2yBDPXKMlqiB4KK2BzBt6UWVt5G5ihzqQEn85kI/s1600/IMG_3369.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFannzViGm7X4kcBjxEI2MORf5C8mZkSvnONiUdO_R0m0VHEyqGTy1mrZe5xD0soU7nKqLx9UtiE3pqerLdCqoU1zOoWcuOhu66Q2C2yBDPXKMlqiB4KK2BzBt6UWVt5G5ihzqQEn85kI/s400/IMG_3369.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569008917791570578" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Thirty-One: January 30<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Wake up at Leader’s fuckin wrecked…again…”time to go”. My legs don’t work the first time. I feel like an 80-year-old man… Nothing to pack up, so just get dressed in a haze, skull some water and head down to the vans. We say our goodbyes to Leader before leaving and it’s a pity that it’s such an early morning lack-of-sleep situation…not the most sociable of times! Sad that it’s the last we’ll see of him this time, hopefully won’t be too long before we cross paths again. We pile into the vans and my plan to catch up on this fucker are scuppered with the realization that the power cable had been knocked out of me laptop the night before when I’d left it to charge…no juice. It’s a bit of a struggle to keep up, as internet and power access are rare, let alone time to actually write it up…and when it’s left more than three or four days the vividness fades and details start to merge. So I content myself with sleeping for an hour or two before enjoying the view. And what a view…reversed now with the Pacific coastal view to our right and endless forest peaks to the left, it’s a continual stream of incredible landscapes. I’d really never realized just how mountainous Japan was before coming here; I hate flat countries, this is gorgeous! As for Mount Fuji, it’s even more impressive from this angle. I realize as we drive that it’s not rained once since we got here almost two weeks ago.</span></p></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNGagqiYFU2BujMx5WGp9rfZc-7pUqiR7UYWgjsLkuogFxyJaV-Zz0ksSyOf6_5QlYUsc0887L8nA1sxjTmuTNlyZ449UvIYBVh9BRi4FxOhyNgLZOpWpfKsj9yO8ND06a_QD5_qqzRbP/s1600/fujisan.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNGagqiYFU2BujMx5WGp9rfZc-7pUqiR7UYWgjsLkuogFxyJaV-Zz0ksSyOf6_5QlYUsc0887L8nA1sxjTmuTNlyZ449UvIYBVh9BRi4FxOhyNgLZOpWpfKsj9yO8ND06a_QD5_qqzRbP/s400/fujisan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568958919119895410" border="0" /></a></p></span></span></span></span><span><span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We arrive in Tokyo mid-afternoon and suddenly, wheeee! It’s carnival time again. This city is bonkers…the sheer scale of it, the impact of simply opening a car window and looking out onto the street is mind-boggling. I don’t think I could live here…too mad. We get to Antiknock, load in and meet Eiji. “Five minutes until soundcheck”, aaarrgh, it’s fuckin relentless! The venue is amazing, the most impressive so far, an awesome interconnecting shape consisting of labyrinthine corridors and rooms…really atmospheric. The onstage sound, as usual, is amazing, as is the sound on the floor. In fact the stage itself is just awesome: big enough to move around without being too big, and with awesome pose-tastic<span style=""> </span>low barriers at the front. We get it done and then hang around watching the other bands soundcheck and eating food which Eiji has prepared for us. I go for a walk with Jakob and we get a 12-year old bottle of Tullamore Dew for Eiji, since it’s his birthday…we come back and the other four have been out too…and bought a 12-year old Jameson for Hiro, plus a litre of Jaeger and a bottle of Zubrowka vodka. Holy fuck it’s gonna be a big one! Well, this is our final Japanese show…we gotta go out with a bang.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDz-4xf6GMrBCatvU2uyo8NsovUP_R54VbuOldPufElbLaLrAjKCzl_LkRt8hkFRnbnShkCkA-VbTzgKvft_FMycXfgfYmhMVRmkz8pFpa-NlP1E8dbVTctMYPnRBvtJ8NrcriaxwbFzkT/s1600/antiknock.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDz-4xf6GMrBCatvU2uyo8NsovUP_R54VbuOldPufElbLaLrAjKCzl_LkRt8hkFRnbnShkCkA-VbTzgKvft_FMycXfgfYmhMVRmkz8pFpa-NlP1E8dbVTctMYPnRBvtJ8NrcriaxwbFzkT/s400/antiknock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578237044067604658" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">People start showing up and the drinking begins in earnest; I’m sticking to beers with the occasional coffee since, truth be told, I feel like shit…I’m barely hanging in here after over a month of solid drinking, and the volume level in these venues being what it is, the ringing in my ears is worse and more persistent every day…fuckin hell but I need to start using proper ear protection. 18.00 and first on are Alliance, who I’ve been so excited to see…members of Frigora and Assault, they do a unique take on crust with melodic elements, bearing no resemblance to the Tragedy-clone neo-crust wave, more akin to something like The Dagda or Scatha. They’re excellent, and it’s fantastic to see them at last, especially since their drummer is leaving and they’ll not be playing for a long time again. Terror Squad come next and they’re decent, fast thrash metal with a mad dynamo of a lead singer and crazy instrumental work from the other three. I’m in between feeling awful and getting there whilst Hazard and Extinct Government play and find it hard to get into, and Final Bombs are particularly awesome but I’m more interested in warming up. I’m so fucking exhausted…my body is fucked, I feel like I’ve been beaten up. Maybe I have, I can’t remember. We’ve made a half-bottle dent on the Jaeger and we’re feeling it, myself, Timmy and Jæppe going fuckin loopy shouting and roaring and running around with our shit backstage. Now I’m really feeling it, really up for it, and fuck yes, it’s time for us to go on. It’s fucking awesome, we open with <span style="font-style: italic;">World Enslaved</span> and from the first note it’s pandemonium both onstage and off…I’m thrashing out so hard I lose my balance and Jæppe kicks me over again as I try to get up and </span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span><span style="font-size:85%;">play the sol</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;">o at the same time. He turns his back during the break in <span style="font-style: italic;">At The Altars</span> and I flying kick him and send him sprawling. Adam’s in the crowd half the time, we’re all posing like fuck and playing so tight, hardly a break between all the songs and at the end we have to go back twice and finish up with an unrehearsed cover of Disaster’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Inferno</span>, swapping instruments and playing it for the first time in over two years. People are going fucking nuts and it’s the best possible end to the Japan part of our tour…best gig we’ve performed so far. Afterwards it’s a storm of masturbation and mutual back-slapping all round. Everyone’s mad excited and we meet Kaori, who translated all our lyrics for the Japanese discography CD. She’s really nice and we hang out with all sorts of various mad bastards. There’s food, drinks, various speeches, we present the bottles of whiskey to Hiro and Eiji and it’s merriment all round…the vodka comes out and it starts getting rowdy…and all too soon the club has to close and it’s time to go…no!! We don’t want to! It can’t be over!!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtx5ItyN10qw-sibQDKXvv_TXDro9st0pDAxkhRAkG2zC3npA74go-B0wPv5bTyQ6xy7lUTX8yFu7shrR2LiER0mMh521K76-P-RTCoRTqy9AHx9up7yWqAcpMnBc4JTObcL-QY1ta_XWq/s1600/DSCN2177.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtx5ItyN10qw-sibQDKXvv_TXDro9st0pDAxkhRAkG2zC3npA74go-B0wPv5bTyQ6xy7lUTX8yFu7shrR2LiER0mMh521K76-P-RTCoRTqy9AHx9up7yWqAcpMnBc4JTObcL-QY1ta_XWq/s400/DSCN2177.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569011547262707618" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We load all the gear out in a flurry of drunken tomfoolery. There’s lots of hugging and shouting and photographs and all that, and eventually we’re in the vans and taking off. First back to Shinya’s in Koenji to split up the gear and bags, since Christina & Jakob will be getting a different flight to us in a few hours time. They stay at Shinya’s and we drive back to Akitsu, stopping for a chu-hi on the way…I can’t believe it’s over…our final Japan show…we want to stay up and party, but take the sensible option and crash out…ah, sleep…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"> <style>@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> <style>@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Day Thirty-Two: January 31st</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new"><span style="font-size:85%;">Final day in Tokyo…wake up around midday and spend some time fixin my pants, which got shredded in last night’s chaos. Hiro puts on this amazing 10” record that was given out at Nori from Tom & Boot Boys wedding…so good! One side is a one-off band of Tokyo pogo punks singing all about manko, the other side is Osaka crusties singing about...o-manko. I have a goooorgeous shower and we reorganise all our crap, packing up the merch and records, toys, clothes that we bought, etc. It’s a bit of a fuckin chore, but later we’ll probably be drunk and our flight is real early, so it’s best to get it over with. Timmy goes with Hiro to buy bus tickets for our trip to airport and I manage to grab half an hour online to catch up with commissions for work and update this bastard of a fucker…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvJDk8bOg-DmOMZ70W3WfZH-Cin6BsgL1zxW2QrGi7fONX0EGcd0Ogv8y3DFV1e56VxqgvHPlTWzkXYSZgLX4yNN6YXPsy-pT_lgE8vlGq7Zbl1SjygT7DPdaoabjfLXe9z6lACdavuvAn/s1600/arcade.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvJDk8bOg-DmOMZ70W3WfZH-Cin6BsgL1zxW2QrGi7fONX0EGcd0Ogv8y3DFV1e56VxqgvHPlTWzkXYSZgLX4yNN6YXPsy-pT_lgE8vlGq7Zbl1SjygT7DPdaoabjfLXe9z6lACdavuvAn/s400/arcade.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569490198936873586" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s a gorgeous day outside and time is slipping away, so we head out and get the train from Akitsu into the city. I get a fuckin manky bento box –it’s gross, some kind of jelly chicken filth, but the rice at least fills the belly a bit. The considerably growing belly, with all this fuckin beer and great food on tour. The train ride is awesome, solely because it includes the funniest fuckin kid I’ve ever seen. He’s this fat little jolly chap with the most spaced-out gormless look on his face. He’s about eight years old and dressed in his school uniform –school uniforms for younger kids here are hilarious, a blazer with a shirt and tie, shorts, and the pièce de résistance –a riduclous little wide flat bowler hat with a drawstring underneath so it doesn’t fall off! He sort of blobs in on front of us and commences to stare whilst slouching ever further down the seat…he nearly even outstares Timmy. Respect, young padwan. It’s really hard not to laugh, and that’s when he starts unashamedly harvesting his boogers and hungrily devouring them. Oh me oh my…hi-frickin-larious!<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORVxAMqkUkDlnu2pfUmBg_5nNMfenvcOCOO3PDbwnzGuRoE_6Rq8PtqGoVV57lNBkxTCkV8N6QmoMpYFLVbYlenDbMXUH5aLIxwwoPSOng8eQ7eiFXSOnR05FxZus2SlElKJwtC5C1L_m/s1600/sexshop.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORVxAMqkUkDlnu2pfUmBg_5nNMfenvcOCOO3PDbwnzGuRoE_6Rq8PtqGoVV57lNBkxTCkV8N6QmoMpYFLVbYlenDbMXUH5aLIxwwoPSOng8eQ7eiFXSOnR05FxZus2SlElKJwtC5C1L_m/s400/sexshop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569492373890079554" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We get to Shinjuku and once again we’re all speechless at the sheer spectacle: towering skyscrapers, hordes of people, neon everywhere, music blaring from billboards, cutesy voices on speakers imploring you to buy fuck-knows-what, trains rushing past on high rails…I’ll never get over this no matter how many times I see it. We walk down the kubukicho district with all its gaudy sex clubs and slick yakuza pimps and find this huge five story video arcade with all sorts of nutsoid games… Jæppe and Adam make a beeline for the Japanese version of a coin-push machine, which, as you’d expect, is completely OTT and bizarre. Hiro, Timmy and I go and play this really cool illegal street race driving game with proper gears and all, and then a couple of mad shoot 'em ups. We go up and have a try of some drumming game, but it’s pretty lame and you’re not even allowed to just wail on the kit…so we get bored and leave. Next on the agenda is a huge shop that exclusively sells junk and weird crap. Straight to the pervy stuff…the future of sex is freakin’ weird. Various people pick things up for the girls back home -rubber ducky vibrator, anyone? It’s dark by now and rush hour as we make our way down to Shibuya, home of the busiest pedestrian crossroads in the world. Totally nuts. Myself and Hiro go for some ramen while the lads go to an Indian restaurant for some veggie fare. Then we head to Koenji for one final party…we meet up with So and the Crucial Section boys plus a bunch of other mates we’ve made over the last two weeks and go to a Chinese izakaya. Beers are ordered and it’s the most limp kanpai ever…everybody’s fucking destroyed. All of us but Adam switches to chu-hi in the hope that the caffeine and sugar will pick us up…it works for a couple, and then we level out, except for Adam, who gets pished, leading me to believe that the scabby pricks were mostly serving us flavoured tea with only the merest drop of alcohol in it. Various other friends turn up and it’s a nice goodbye, but my mind is like a fuckin empty warehouse… I’ve got no energy for any kind of social interaction and even listening to what people are saying feels like climbing a mountain. We leave at 11.30pm and everyone walks us down the station for the last train to Akitsu…Wadasan secretly gives me a present of some unagi-flavoured chips –my favourite!! But the poor chap is particularly camera shy: check out this sunny disposition.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyklpIRLrjn2ubk4eTMama4izQ1ZF5kOSooponzK1D7E-8OVtqhdWjyMK33dpnJdz7-D9yZq84o0uNh1hAa41OkFjEnUokZjpV97781u6e_3LhipsLoiwVXLqEJbQcwhXedr1cdzRMAiuO/s1600/wadasan.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyklpIRLrjn2ubk4eTMama4izQ1ZF5kOSooponzK1D7E-8OVtqhdWjyMK33dpnJdz7-D9yZq84o0uNh1hAa41OkFjEnUokZjpV97781u6e_3LhipsLoiwVXLqEJbQcwhXedr1cdzRMAiuO/s400/wadasan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569494136662651986" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: courier new;">There’s a big round of hugs and goodbyes and I’ve a bit of a lump in my throat saying goodbye to all these legends who’ve contributed to one of the most amazing experiences of my life…we go through the turnstiles and make it on to the last train, which is packed with drunk and sleepy workers on the way home. Some drunk businessman on the train is plainly attracted to Jæppe’s arse, so Adam pimps him out for a sip of the dude’s Chinese wine. It’s funny as fuck, and everyone around us is massively uncomfortable. Business dude has a grand old fondle, and Jæppe doesn’t mind too much. We get back to Akitsu shortly before 1am and walk back to Hiro’s…it’s absolutely freezing. Wasting no time when we get back, we all get under the covers as quickly as possible…we’ve to be up at 4.45am to catch the 5.40am bus, which arrives at Tokyo Narita for 8am, with our flight to Malaysia leaving at 10.30am…oof. Lights out, sleepy time…or not. All that fuckin caffeine in the chu-hi and I can’t get asleep. I need to get up twice to piss…the others are snoring…the clock is ticking…tick-tock, tick-tock…at some point after 2.30am I finally drift off into a restless sleep, dreams full of pursuit and paranoia...oh gawd, kill me please...</span><br /></span></p> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><br /><a href="http://nucleardeathterror.blogspot.com/2011/02/font-face-font-family-cambria-p.html">CONTINUE TO PART III...</a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2OKiyvmPuOMaw0yBKFDwwctlGFBUkIux7VDRaqD-gIofD95VrpDGOH0ebmmjIjmrKKhnSj8gWFLMPi1drZVDu70eH69c2hfFc0fP8lBYWTEF_tB-r9F7YtlsyWKVSWxHsydrbKceqlJSZ/s1600/sexshop1.jpg"><br /></a></p></span></span></div></span></span></span>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-7415311505717673442011-01-10T15:53:00.000-08:002011-02-12T05:11:32.340-08:00Nuclear Diaryhea Part I<span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >From ritzy nightclubs to steamy mudshacks, it was clear from the inception that these six weeks in Japan, Australia and SE Asia were going to be a whole other experience. We'd been talking about going to both Japan and Australia for years, and the time was right. Yet despite having toured across much of Europe, the UK and Mexico, a tour of this length and this scope on the other side of the world was a new experience for us all (except Timmy, who's toured all over with Pisschrist). Add in the fact of us losing our bassist earlier in the year and not having rehearsed since summer 2008 due to living in three separate countries... Luckily, Jæppe was keen to join on bass and had actually been an original member of the band on guitar, leaving prior to the first show. Then comes the news that Timmy's about to have a baby a couple of months after the tour's end...and that from a previous three, shall we say, "wildcards" in the band, the strictures of newly discovered monogamy meant that we were in for a very different dynamic then had previously been the case...</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn3ANGqU73OIWS772GiTWkwNJIpT27HvpMFIHmMBoweZaojPIT_1VZKwTd68gf5T48P7zjsvtqKksbUkufu9dLp9sVxq-BVvKIQf1KiXo8o3Ark18o_VIBB7-Nkxt21psAxjlfkDys2k-B/s1600/finaltourposter.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn3ANGqU73OIWS772GiTWkwNJIpT27HvpMFIHmMBoweZaojPIT_1VZKwTd68gf5T48P7zjsvtqKksbUkufu9dLp9sVxq-BVvKIQf1KiXo8o3Ark18o_VIBB7-Nkxt21psAxjlfkDys2k-B/s400/finaltourposter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560763938312019794" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Prologue:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I'd arrived in Sydney early December to spend Christmas with my girlfriend’s family. We'd decided to move to Australia after having lived in London (she'd been there seven years and loved it, I'd been there a year and a half and hated it), the plan being to stay in Melbourne after the tour's end and subsequently move out to the countryside. Weeks of stress from moving country breezily drifted away amidst sunny days of beer and laziness by the pool...ah yes. Jæppe arrived in Melbourne on the 17th December, whilst Christina & Jakob followed on the 26th, with Adam & I flying in separately on the 27th, each of us sorted for places to stay by Australia Leg Roadmaster General Timmy. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">No rest for the dickheads: it was straight to the rehearsal space in Melbourne. Same place as Nick Cave rehearses, we were told. Yes, it made us feel very special indeed, thank you. Not content merely with breaking in a new bassist and preparing for tour, we'd booked a recording session in Osaka and had four new songs to complete and roadtest before recording. Six hours a day of rehearsal on the 27th, 28th, 29th and 30th ensured that we were ready for our first show...New Years Eve in Melbourne.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENfXqRjwoC95nYJb6Wr_nXMc0yNHWTh_4akRfKG4EaLmXPXXPaJ9isBlEvwyZfRW6Fhy3FAF2_aM12kOATMDPcWsQH10nPN2RQqtYoxYDObdyGS4SHfuBokuaO7sLQbvAqjLX4z32vsYD/s1600/finalnoiseattack2010.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhENfXqRjwoC95nYJb6Wr_nXMc0yNHWTh_4akRfKG4EaLmXPXXPaJ9isBlEvwyZfRW6Fhy3FAF2_aM12kOATMDPcWsQH10nPN2RQqtYoxYDObdyGS4SHfuBokuaO7sLQbvAqjLX4z32vsYD/s400/finalnoiseattack2010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560764316751084242" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day One: Dec 31<sup>st</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I spent most of the day finishing articles in preparation for the tour, my glamorous day job as a writer threatening to suffer from the lack of internet access and/or time over the following month and a half. With only a couple of sensible beers quaffed over the day to ensure competence when we finally hit the stage, articles were wrapped up and it was time to head over to Collins Street for dinner. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">With temperatures of 40+ in full effect, the BBQ planned at Collins Street became salads due to a ban on fires -serious potential for massive bush fires here. After some great food we stroll on down to The Prague on High Street in Thornbury, sneak a couple of 6-packs in with our gear despite the attention of the doormen (beer is fuckin expensive over here) and are greeted with the most respectable merch table ever...CDs, vinyl, 3 shirt designs, 3 patch designs, pins and screenprinted tour posters...and we'd not even picked up the embroidered patches yet. Awesome! It's a great venue, decent sound and staff, a nightclub but with "edgy" decor meaning it's not the insipid artificial buzzkill such places usually are.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA51jzTqQaCGeU3_ThF18WTO5PhhcJlgKv5LewJyqUf3EDJ6VIiyBU_QpIYzlvFdmMOji9cjJPOU-CbuSp1jTjhaZvNF5HoTfVvBvMG3IPRVMo5uuybKmm3x0IKH0gKCRwl4PKdCsr_ugx/s1600/166562_495028282912_563487912_6048706_279873_n.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA51jzTqQaCGeU3_ThF18WTO5PhhcJlgKv5LewJyqUf3EDJ6VIiyBU_QpIYzlvFdmMOji9cjJPOU-CbuSp1jTjhaZvNF5HoTfVvBvMG3IPRVMo5uuybKmm3x0IKH0gKCRwl4PKdCsr_ugx/s400/166562_495028282912_563487912_6048706_279873_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560825378956518194" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7jbB_j7gQ-67uywp-LbpAZfqDcTr8zY7kQBdVfmob02R3CZXnhpWp2F0S9HEBTsMjLoo8esdBnQn9aEP4VGTCV6oL1dnEyRThch8zNRyR8YAbXqKwR1YCsGhLsmuTm7uScas2synOc8K/s1600/162634_495028007912_563487912_6048695_8034550_n.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7jbB_j7gQ-67uywp-LbpAZfqDcTr8zY7kQBdVfmob02R3CZXnhpWp2F0S9HEBTsMjLoo8esdBnQn9aEP4VGTCV6oL1dnEyRThch8zNRyR8YAbXqKwR1YCsGhLsmuTm7uScas2synOc8K/s400/162634_495028007912_563487912_6048695_8034550_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560825382459831330" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Of all the bands playing, Kromosom are the most impressive, peddling their raw noise in the Jap tradition, whilst Leprosy and Debacle are also noteworthy. We hit the beer and I celebrate the New Year by taking a dump while the countdown happens...the two-year turd...longest crap of my life! We play right after 12 o'clock with Cocksparrer providing an excellent psyche-up soundtrack, and have a surprisingly excellent show. We're tight, the sound is good, people are going nuts...much better than any of us expected, considering the circumstances. Space Bong follow but after a sit down and a beer I need to head out for some air so I miss all but a couple of minutes...no worries, they're playing the next two gigs.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">From there on out it's an alcoholocaust. We head back to Collins Street, half the band remaining there while the rest of us go down to a mental houseparty in Northcote. There's a shit ton of people, smoking, drinking, acting cool, all goin' nuts, and the merest whiff of weapons grade amphetamine plus other assorted party favours means that sleep is but a distant dream...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GrAZC-07iKA?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GrAZC-07iKA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Two: Jan 1<sup>st</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The afore-mentioned stimulants mean that some much longed-for shut-eye remains elusive, and New Years Day consists of weed, gin & tonics, Trailer Park Boys and beers to bring the glory home. Adam, naturally, sleeps the entire day. Myself and the sleepy one walk down to Timmy's place and meet the others, from where we drive for our show in Geelong.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHyFACspYaFfGd-Mx5_KsSY5ilzBRn1FcSHYwsgfLNqpL3pXjSz5NIWOY_QOCl67pRYLw0Iub8472QkSOuWQ-OdRBcClkj0koqGm2x_2br7K4O2XgY_0QsLe93SP61SD_s3R0yWNnE5GD/s1600/geelong"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 281px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHyFACspYaFfGd-Mx5_KsSY5ilzBRn1FcSHYwsgfLNqpL3pXjSz5NIWOY_QOCl67pRYLw0Iub8472QkSOuWQ-OdRBcClkj0koqGm2x_2br7K4O2XgY_0QsLe93SP61SD_s3R0yWNnE5GD/s400/geelong" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560764522223367954" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Luckily it's only an hour and a half from Melbourne, so we manage to survive by getting a slab of beer. I'd been looking forward to the gig as also playing were Earthless, but after being up roughly 30 hours I wasn't that interested anymore... Managed to get a few chips into the old gastank, but I wasn't risking anything more going in there. Didn't have the healthiest appetite either, truth be told... I receive the (admittedly welcome) news that three of my cousins and their assorted spouses who'd threatened to come to the gig weren't able to make it. My paranoid head couldn't have dealt with such a situation under any circumstances so with the prospect of familial propriety no longer looming on the horizon, there's clearly only one way to deal with the monstrous hangover...get drunk as FUCK. And we do.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Space Bong are awesome, a 6-piece crusty doom extravaganza of space/time collison and impending galactic implosion. There's a whole load of bands playing, mainly 2 man guitar/drum rock action, none of which I can really bring myself to give a fuck about. We play and it's decent enough, a bunch of people pay attention and a couple of madsers run around knocking into each other. The highlights are probably when Jæppe jumps into the crowd and scares some girls and when some teenage asshole grabs Adam's mic and screams "if you don't mosh you're a gay faggot!"... Tim counts in the next song just as I begin responding with some smart-arse comment, leaving only the first word of my sentence hanging over the PA: "FAGGOTS!!"...oops. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Afterwards I get chatting with the guitarist from Space Bong and he repeatedly insists on buying shots and mixed drinks. We get steadily more plastered and discuss Celtic Frost, sex and how stupid everyone is. Then it's time to load up the van and head back to Melbourne...I smoke a little goodbye bifty, we jump in and after one last beer I'm out for the count, leaving me with only vague memories of getting back to Edwin Street and crashing out on a mattress.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Three: Jan 2<sup>nd</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I'm roused from the most delicious deathsleep by Anji telling me that Alice and Tristan (our fantastic hosts at Edwin Street) have made pancakes and, not having eaten much for the previous two days, I manage to shake the sleep off and rouse myself with the threat that they'll all be gone if I don't hurry up. They are DIVINE!! Big thick pancakes and cashew cream, berries of all varieties and maple syrup. And coffee. YESSS!!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We quickly load up the van, I submit my final two articles of the month, and we hit the road. Our next show is in Goonjerah, a small remote town in the middle of an old growth forest of over a million acres, in between Melbourne and Sydney. A lot of anti-logging protests go on there, since the government continues to allow the destruction of habitats that take thousands of years to develop in favour of minimal profits on logging. We're playing on the 3rd but decide to go a day early to enjoy some time out there.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It's roughly 500km from Melbourne so we leave in the early afternoon, it's a nice day and an alright drive. I get behind the wheel and take some of the strain off Timmy, and amuse/abuse the rest of the band with my driving, it being the first time on tour with them since I got my drivers license...everything's fine except for the Aussie speed limits being so fucking low and that I drive on the wrong side of the road for a minute after pulling out from a gas station...my excuse being that in Ireland and England they drive on the...wait, the same side of the road?<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We get to Orbost and stop for gas, as it's the last point before we descend along the windy trails into the forest valley, and there'll be no more opportunities to fill up...the dudes at the gas station are just closing up, but direct us to a big station nearby with 24-hour gas pumps...except that one's closed too...fuck...we're almost empty. So Tim phones up his mate Tom down in Goonjerah and he phones around and finds a mate nearby with a jerry can of petrol -saved! We pick up Lisa and Ramez from Tim's other band, War Widow, and head down along the trail into the valley just as it's getting dark....it’s a crazy crazy drive, windy and mental, kangaroos hopping out and wombats lazily draggin' their asses across the road. The forest gets thicker and thicker, big green eucalyptuses hanging over the road and descending as far as the eye can see. Poor ol' Jakob can't take the twists & turns and loses his lunch by the roadside... We make it down to Tom's late in the evening and drink a beer, hang out for a little while, smoke a little sumthin sumthin and head to bed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Four: Jan 3<sup>rd</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Wake up in Uncle Tom's Cabin to the incessant buzzing of flies...they're fuckin everywhere! Big hairy bastards! We check out the area around Tom's, it's gorgeous, we're in the middle of a huge valley and all that’s visible on the surrounding mountain peaks is forest stretching away to the horizon...Isengard as fuck. We head down to the Roadhouse where we'll be playing that night and unload the van. Timmy's gonna head back up to Orbost with Ramez to pick up some friends who got the train there and the rest of us are gonna go on a forest walk to what’s known as The Big Tree...it's a rough drive out there, so Tom takes a bunch of people in his truck and myself, Jæppe and Jakob borrow a little 4 wheel drive Suzuki jeep from one of the women at the Roadhouse and follow behind. It's frickin AWESOME!! I've never driven a vehicle like this on terrain like that, and maybe the joint from half an hour before helps, but racing down twisty turny mountain gravel and mud tracks with sheer drops off the side at 80km per hour is frickin AWESOME. There's more or less no traffic coming in the opposite direction but there's a couple of hairy moments when we meet a few lone motorists coming the other way and skid around them at the last second. Fuck, I'm glad I didn't learn to drive when I was a teenager...would have been disastrous!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg128Aqlb_E-8Tvxv4ZBzI6_Vi-jow6xsA7Er_G0nlT3k7xsFx1sLz4UVzn7XfI8qcZ1AzIKmF8OymGg0xC2zW-_x6iORfP8T5ial-PsGsU2KNmoc7A-AmIQqPcJRcxPQn1wEsIzdEZECh6/s1600/DSCN1505.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg128Aqlb_E-8Tvxv4ZBzI6_Vi-jow6xsA7Er_G0nlT3k7xsFx1sLz4UVzn7XfI8qcZ1AzIKmF8OymGg0xC2zW-_x6iORfP8T5ial-PsGsU2KNmoc7A-AmIQqPcJRcxPQn1wEsIzdEZECh6/s400/DSCN1505.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563137514327466626" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">We get to the start of the walk and head into the forest. There's a walking trail marked with ribbons tied on trees which we follow and it's absolutely incredible. An easy walk for any experienced hiker but a rough trek for shitty city kids like us. It's gorgeous, and after about 45 minutes we make it to the big tree...a majestic Eucalyptus over 500 years old, and get all sorts of interesting mini-lectures from Tom about the forest vegetation cycles, fires, conservation, logging, etcetera. After a few minutes round the big tree we decide to head back by another route which seems to loop around...bad idea! We ascend further and further into the mist and things take on a certain Burzumesque atmosphere... Tom keeps assuring us that it <i><span>should</span></i> start winding back soon...it doesn't. After an hour and a half we turn around and head back the way we came. D'oh!! To be honest none of us really mind as the longer we spend in there the better. Just shoulda brought some sarnies. We make it back to the cars and get a drink of water from a mountain stream, and then it's time for the drive back...yusss!!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MQ0QLgSUxp7X1eM8pm-EC4iqe8Vb2BYS6vsXL2D7Hg-sQR4mM8LdDsY4cz9YDblu2k0INEypwYvsLxM6loQzQkUeMC-Fhq5llGKo27ZGd5hyphenhyphen0ragStvHbFFzzW7DZkfmnQIvmSjDtTIg/s1600/DSCN1496.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7MQ0QLgSUxp7X1eM8pm-EC4iqe8Vb2BYS6vsXL2D7Hg-sQR4mM8LdDsY4cz9YDblu2k0INEypwYvsLxM6loQzQkUeMC-Fhq5llGKo27ZGd5hyphenhyphen0ragStvHbFFzzW7DZkfmnQIvmSjDtTIg/s400/DSCN1496.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563136612882939234" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Fricking awesome, it's Goonjerah Drift all over again, skidding around hairpin bends, whackin on the brakes, feeling the wheels lock, twisting the wheel and catapulting out of biiig slides... I never realised I was such a boy racer dickhead! We arrive back and I'm buzzing off the adrenaline after a couple of close calls, and people have started to arrive at the venue. The majority of the crowd are what's known in Australia as "ferals". Basically, imagine something out of Peter Pan crossed with Worzel Gummidge and you're close...filthy forest crusties who wear colours and politcal patches instead of band patches, or oogles with a conscience.<span> </span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ERmIkU4FNIMYqkLV6RwmKpsoNdzn65o1l6apPH7rvwTLw-f648fRbL8yfHtwoxFLT0gluAe19IRrfu7DuNUrVc8pnpgdiIAIfAItpJro7em8xnOuBG_WLdPemBgzTS4yOPi03MIMgQu5/s1600/ferals.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 153px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ERmIkU4FNIMYqkLV6RwmKpsoNdzn65o1l6apPH7rvwTLw-f648fRbL8yfHtwoxFLT0gluAe19IRrfu7DuNUrVc8pnpgdiIAIfAItpJro7em8xnOuBG_WLdPemBgzTS4yOPi03MIMgQu5/s400/ferals.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560773823178463698" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">More arrive...and more...and more...and they're all getting drunk as fuck...this is gonna be great!! Anji turns up having driven her van from Melbourne earlier that day, but we don't get to see much of each other as it's all pretty hectic...boo-urns. The bands start, there's some acoustic nonsense and some dick does a cover of that fuckin Shane McGowan Christmas song, then War Widow play a decent set, followed by the best band I've seen over here so far: fuckin' Hydro Medusa from Adelaide, they RULE. Brutal stoner doom crust along the lines of Pentagram meets Brainoil, they destroy <span style="font-style: italic;">utterly</span>. They're followed by Space Bong, and we're told we’re next, all ready to go, warming up and preparing...and then we're told there's going to be a break, for some disco music. What the fuck!? This wrecks the buzz, obviously, and as much as I like disco and 80s pop, that's for after the show, not in the middle of it. The energy goes, we get too drunk, and play like shit. I mess up loads, Jæppe forgets songs, we fuck up the new tracks...but it doesn't seem to matter as everyone's going fuckin' bananas. People hanging off the rafters, knocking shit over, circle pits, all the trimmings...but I can't really get into it. Forgetting that I'd previously dared him to, I get mad when Adam punches me in the face in the middle of a song...the look of surprise mixed with pain must have been pretty funny. So I punch him in the back of the head. We finish up, get drunk as fuck, Jæppe keeps up his end of the bargain by mopping up our monogamy and scores again, and we head back to Tom's to sleep.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Day Five: Jan 6<sup>th</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">Awesome day! After waking up at Tom’s, eating some fresh laid eggs, drinking a cheeky little cosmopolitan on ice and hanging out doing fuck-all for hours, </span>Jæppe <span lang="EN-GB">turns up, having been waylaid by certain post-show extracurricular activities. He’s confused by which of his three ‘fans’ he stayed with…noice. Tom leaves early with his kid to Melbourne, a long drive for a hospital appointment. We’ve made a plan with some hairy dude the night before to go and see his collection of mad animals…Adam and I sold the idea to Jakob as ‘going to see baby wombats’ when we were actually gonna see a load of big hairy snakes, of which he’s terrified. Unfortunately there were neither snakes or wombats, but we did meet an inquisitive kangaroo, who hopped up to us and then bounced off all in a tizzy when she realised how many people there were. The place was awesome, a little country shack built from found materials, where these two hippy punky foresty types live who took care of injured or orphaned animals. Their mate was making billions of joints so I got hideously monged and had a few beers…ah yes. Then we went to the campsite where all the various ferals and punks were staying to hang out, but unfortunately Anji had just left…bum. Still was nice, had a couple of drinks and went swimming in the creek, which was bloody glorious. Then we headed back to the cabin and had a sandwich or two before heading out to watch the animals come out at dusk. We walked down some fields over a creek and there were dozens of mad kangaroos jumping around like drunken aunties. Hung out for a bit at some other dudeses from the gig’s house and then headed back, got more monged and made food. Had a read of my book (<span style="font-style: italic;">To The Lighthouse</span> by Virginia Woolf, <span style="font-style: italic;">act</span>ually) and went to sleep.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUK7NvZidoSh-f9jq5vbTBpI9dsYB2sdSv_q1wK960fZFpnBMrzKSN7AzCW_Vh0UMIJ9PO1Vn0WUcVCfom38Oq7IsQKWBrXOAkd5Vf8r86iwk-TF3slEHn-pwYTsBc1kgzam4sfSrrNj6s/s1600/DSCN1509.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUK7NvZidoSh-f9jq5vbTBpI9dsYB2sdSv_q1wK960fZFpnBMrzKSN7AzCW_Vh0UMIJ9PO1Vn0WUcVCfom38Oq7IsQKWBrXOAkd5Vf8r86iwk-TF3slEHn-pwYTsBc1kgzam4sfSrrNj6s/s400/DSCN1509.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563143174708638418" border="0" /></a></span></p><p style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Day Six: Jan 7<sup>th</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">We get up, drink coffee, clean the place up and leave by 10am, the plan being to split the 1,000+ km drive to Lismore over two days. The drive through the forest is fantastic, and the change in landscape over the day nothing short of spectacular. From deep rainforest to prairie plains reminiscent of a Sergio Leone Western, through little towns, down past dry old dusty Canberra, all the way to the ocean. Things get lusher, greener, more tropical as we get closer to Sydney, where we stop and get an excellent dinner at The Green Palace in Newtown. It’s all vegan fake meat and tempeh fare, and even I have to admit that the marinated fried beancurd is indistinguishable from the majority of spare ribs I’ve had. The fatness continues with vegan ice-cream for the various zoophiles in the band and we drive on. The plan is to stay in Newcastle, another two hours down the road, with a mate of Tim’s. We get there around 10ish and are greeted by the irrepressible Nils with cold beers and salty nuts. I finish off the old funny weed and we sample Nils various homebrews, including a delectable little gingerbeer which packs quite a punch. We get a bit drunk and have fun swapping firework-related anecdotes and then head to bed, since we have to get up at shit o’clock in the morning to leave for Lismore.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Day Seven: Jan 8<sup>th</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">We get up at shit o’clock and hit the road. As we head further North the scenery is mindblowing, reminiscent of the jungles and forest of Southern Mexico and Guatemala. For some reason I’d been expecting things to get drier and dustier as we headed North, but at the coastal areas we’re in it’s actually the opposite. We stop at a beach halfway and myself, Christina and Jakob have a swim. </span>Jæppe <span lang="EN-GB">and Tim take a walk up the beach and Adam decides to be a tøssedreng and stay in the car because it’s drizzling. As if!<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">The drizzle turns to a deluge and the landscape becomes the exact image of all those great Vietnam movies…green, leafy, steamy and very very humid. It’s excellent to drive through, though the roads get noticeably shittier halfway to Lismore and the driving becomes a masterclass in pothole avoidance. Some of them are so deep they probably go all the way back to frickin Europe. We arrive in Lismore around 6pm, starving. We meet Nathaniel and Phoebe, the dudes putting on the show. They’re both dead sound, easy-going and fun and do their best to make the most of what’s shaping up to be a considerably odd show. It’s at a strip club/night club called Cocktails, not actually a gaybar like we’d thought, but there was a terrifying bulldyke working there who, I don’t mind telling you, did not like us one bit. Not one silly little bit. Collectively we broke every rule on the sign at the door (no ripped or messy clothing, no boots, no antisocial behaviour, etc), but it was okay because the place gave us a special deal on beers…$2.50 for a ‘pot’ of beer, a ‘pot’ being a pitiable little measure which would nary drown the thirst of a nat. It’s all flash and fancy, with HDTVs everywhere on the walls blaring out awesomely sexy r’n’b & hip-hop videos and poles for pole-dancing on the floor facing the stage.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Well, there wasn’t any food so we got a lot of crisps and hommus and shit for our dinner and then bought a crate of beers to sneak in since we weren’t that into the ’special deal’. Things get funnier and funnier, a very odd crowd of total randomers turning up. Nathaniel is basically the two support bands, first off doing an avante-garde set of improv noise in a skull mask, then playing drums topless in a Mexican wrestling mask with his mate jamming along on guitar. It all sort of reminds me of a show I put on in Roscommon in the ‘90s for Endstand from Finland, when none of the supports turned up and I had to ask my mates to get up and just make noise for twenty minutes as the warm-up… Anyway, it’s time for us to play so we set-up and get ready. Just about to play, my low E string breaks. Arse. Get it sorted…the A breaks. Double arse. The bulldyke gets angry and tells Nathaniel that we only have twenty minutes left before the dubstep DJ has to go on. We play a bemused 15 minute set and Adam is a whirling dervish of sexual lightning, forcing the thirty or so people watching to join in with his theatrics, pole dancing and circle pitting. It’s actually pretty good fun, even though we totally fuck up one of the new songs we have a go at. People are into it…and we sell one t-shirt.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Our mate Jezza turns up, an Aussie dude who’d been living in Copenhagen who’s now moved to Lismore. He'd happened to be walking past and came in after he’d asked someone what was going on and they told him that we were playing. Naturally there’ve not been any posters advertising the gig. My curiosity is piqued, and I ask his girlfriend how much she paid for her ‘pot’ of beer. One guess…yep, $2.50…seems our deal is not so special after all. There are, however, big mango daiquiris for $4, so we all have one of them and get some sexy dancing going on. I put my newfound monogamy proudly into third gear as a hot girl makes it clear that I’m welcome to come home with her and probably not just to check out her stamp collection. The whole thing gives me a mad buzz, used as I am to indiscriminately slutting around whenever I’ve previously been on tour. We all head back to the gaff we’re staying at and Phoebe bakes a load of potatoes and we drink a fuckload of beer.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EOkuiIluYvtz6kunC5kDG2dTNPtohHRiAhAH7P1nUY-Bm0VQsx0m1jrknOhV7nC7Y7o3L0mbx6sCfPuZhFJtSv5UYXoLo5VigxyK1LFbUTZy6_gnV5atcJGQijjJw0Qe6Br85y3qMV7K/s1600/IMG_2773.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5EOkuiIluYvtz6kunC5kDG2dTNPtohHRiAhAH7P1nUY-Bm0VQsx0m1jrknOhV7nC7Y7o3L0mbx6sCfPuZhFJtSv5UYXoLo5VigxyK1LFbUTZy6_gnV5atcJGQijjJw0Qe6Br85y3qMV7K/s400/IMG_2773.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563140720511444386" border="0" /></a></span></p><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Things get really funny as a bit of local colour unfolds, one of the few crusty girls from the show revealing the depths of filth which it seems Lismore (apparently the bestiality capital of the world, I’m pleased to find out) is capable of. She reveals a little too much, and bit by dirty little bit I cadge the full story out of her of how she ended up getting down and dirty with her stepmum (who’s only 9 years her senior, to be fair). It seems the two had gotten a little bit too drunk and done a few too many bong hits after maybe a touch too much of crystal MDMA, had somehow managed to get themselves covered in honey, and had ended up bumpin’ uglies after somehow contriving a scene in which they would ‘clean’ each other. The girl finally deigns to let me borrow her phone and give mum a call, so I can ask her to come over and do bongs with us. She won’t pick up so I just leave a message. It’s all too hilarious, and things get even better as we sketch out a family tree of sexual relations between the people present, all of whom seem to be buried in a sex-pit of heinous proportions, mainly involving each others’ parents and siblings. It’s all too much and things are threatening to get very dirty, so I excuse myself and pass out on a mattress in the living room.<br /></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" ><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span> </span><p style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Day Eight: Jan 9<sup>th</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">I wake with a splittin headache and manage to go back to sleep for a bit, but my head is still fucked when I wake up proper and we drive into town to meet Nathan<span> </span>& Phoebes at an organic food café. I get a decent coffee and plenty of water into me, and the others all chow down on some healthy eats, but I can’t take it. I get the end of Christina’s scrambled tofu, and it’s admittedly divine…chock full of ginger and nicely grated, a good take on a classic breakfast. But it’s far too healthy, so I go and get a chicken satay pie in the bakery.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">The next day is going to be fucking mental in terms of driving, so we go to the supermarket to stock up on food. Then we head out into the hills outside Brisbane with our hosts to find a reputably awesome waterfall to swim at. Things are all a bit much so J</span>æ<span lang="EN-GB">ppe and I take refuge in alco-pop girly drinks, and we pick up this cute little feral dude on the way out. (we also encounter a three Spanish dudes, the back of whose van contains only a large mattress, bottles of baby oil and a bumper pack of condoms…andale, locos!!) </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">The landscape is lush, completely green and steamy. The waterfall is gorgeous, but recent heavy rains mean that it’s dangerously swollen and going way too fast; the day after we hear of a teenage girl drowned from trying to swim in a river that’s usually fine. The weather is in fact the end of a ten year drought the country’s been experiencing, resulting in massive flooding in certain regions, the worst in 50 years. So, we head down to another creek and it’s awesome, naturally I strip down to my nothins and get my swim on…it’s rough so I get a few bad cuts on my foot, and get away without having my wee-wee pincered as Christina and J</span>æppe notice a large crayfish being swept past in the floodwaters trying to hang on to anything it can. We head back to Lismore and drop off Freddy Feral and the other two, and head off towards Brisbane.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6dxuM3U-UfWcY7sQ6dDAvkqQLbsspXogVP3smHjjbgFFcupPKmuH3ZzBkfBPUUeYhY60-VTlw4gVLYw0_HurJHASzMBDfEBlgwhF16Icsz6H-u7_7cpJI_v-7F9W2CoFLWmhexbm-2yEQ/s1600/lismore.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 334px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6dxuM3U-UfWcY7sQ6dDAvkqQLbsspXogVP3smHjjbgFFcupPKmuH3ZzBkfBPUUeYhY60-VTlw4gVLYw0_HurJHASzMBDfEBlgwhF16Icsz6H-u7_7cpJI_v-7F9W2CoFLWmhexbm-2yEQ/s400/lismore.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572711970616555458" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s not such a long drive, perhaps three hours, and the scenery is incredible. Sweeping views of green fields stretching off across the hills, crested by razor-leafed palm trees, finally swelling into the blue Pacific as the road winds up the coast. I have a couple of beers in the van as my hangover is unaccountably awful. We spot a hilarious-looking dude in his 50s or thereabouts hitching and pull over for him; he’s in a full aquamarine linen suit wearing a sombrero and shades, and has a total motherfucker beard; turns out he’s a Life Coach named Shanti who pulled out of the fast lane 25 years ago, spent many years traveling and now coaches people to achieve their full potential. He’s a sound fucker and I don’t feel like messing with him, turns out we see things much the same way and he doesn’t even drop a J-bomb or Buddha anywhere in the coarse of our chat. He’s only with us for half an hour or so before we drop him off.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We arrive in Brisbane around 3pm, going back an hour due to the time difference upon entering the state of Queensland. We’ve got some hours to kill so Jakob and Christina head into the city while the rest of us hang out in West End and get a beer. Timmy’s mate Jane whose house we’ll be staying at turns up and she’s a massive bad influence, attempting to get us on the shots...recalling the drunken debacle of Monday’s show, Adam, Jæppe and I guiltily consort with each other and agree that we’ll probably be fine for the show if we have just a beer or two at this point…and get a pint in the bar where Jane used to work. It goes down nicely and a proper buzz is building, so we’re pretty ready to get some food and hang out at Jane’s before the gig. Seeming to know everyone in the area involved in alcohol-related businesses, she gets a massive discount on a crate of beer, a bottle of Jaeger, a litre of vodka plus juice, all for only $100 –a lot less than it should be. In fact, the prices of alcohol in Australia are fucking mental in general, more expensive even than Sweden. That coupled with the current strength of the Aussie dollar compared to everything else means that everything’s extra costly on this tour.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">We head back to Jane’s, meeting a hilarious chancer by the name of Tomunist, who shouts “Nuclear Death Terror!” at us and comes back. He’s already had three bottles of Stone’s Ginger Wine and is in flying form, we all hang out back at the amazing House On The Hill with a great view over the lights of Brisbane and drink a bit before heading to the gig. We get there just as the first band are on and load in; the dudes playing are called Obsessed By Death and play some decent bestial fuckin metal. The venue is excellent, a big warehouse called Burst City, with a really diverse crowd of metalheads, crusty punks, hardcore kids and hipster types all seeming keen and up for it. The heat is unbelievable, outside only a bare improvement on the oven-like conditions in the hall. All the bands are decent, Last Chaos in particular with their brutal raw hardcore assault, though I’m distracted by changing my strings and warming up; we’re all keen to have a decent show after the last couple, and I’ve got a good feeling about this one…we’ve asked the organizer if we can play earlier rather than last as we don’t wanna be too pissed.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VMw9h70fhVKaG4l2rTOi-T0QimPeQk1nUJ9DjoUbdchHqTHDpGaUz3Qqy8x4Huu12Tj2yprG5UNu0-CfJwcJHdT05wr-ZQPOOpfFVWb_BcFY7X0uBzUcEq4MrXoKrIwnzAdkYNh_Djpw/s1600/ndtposter.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VMw9h70fhVKaG4l2rTOi-T0QimPeQk1nUJ9DjoUbdchHqTHDpGaUz3Qqy8x4Huu12Tj2yprG5UNu0-CfJwcJHdT05wr-ZQPOOpfFVWb_BcFY7X0uBzUcEq4MrXoKrIwnzAdkYNh_Djpw/s400/ndtposter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560835594910917794" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It works; the show is fucking amazing. Wildest gig I’ve played in a few years, it’s a constant battle between us and the crowd, with all the amps and drums on the stage and us on the floor. People are going mental, Adam’s hanging off the rafters, there’s mad dancing, Tomunist keeps unintentionally smacking the mic into my teeth and I’m forced to give him a pretty huge kick up the arse, and the entire floor is covered in beer and sweat leading people to slip everywhere in the most hilarious fashion. The bassist from Obsessed By Death slide-tackles me in mid-mosh and I fall back on my arse, sitting on the stage. It’s like trying to breathe water in there and by the end of the gig I’m entirely soaked to the bone, as if someone had tossed a bucket of water over me…fucking amazing.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We hang out and drink after the show talking to various people and Jane heads back to her house, drunk as fuck after polishing off the vodka. The last band play and the dudes from Obsessed By Death say they can give me some weed “just around the corner”. Just around the corner ends up being a half hour walk to their house, during which the cops stop us and I’m made to pour out my beer…but luckily this Romanian metalhead dude who came along is able to help out there. We head back to OBD’s drummer’s gaff and it’s metal party time; he plays me an old demo by this Brisbane band called Iron Lightning and it’s awesome, first two albums Metallica meets Accept. We smoke bongs and drink for a bit and then I head back to Jane’s house, supposedly two minutes round the corner…it literally is. The party is raging on there, and the drinking smoking acting cool continues to about 4.30am when I go out to the van to sleep.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Day Nine: Jan 10<sup>th</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">We leave for Sydney at 5.30am; we’ve to be there for the show by 7pm and it’s over 1,000 kilometres. Jakob takes first shift and then Timmy takes over; I wake up around 11am and take over after a coffee. The drive is fucking intense; torrential tropical rains across Queensland mean that visibility is minimal and rear view mirrors pointless, but we have to keep up a high speed if we’re going to make it. It’s pretty scary, large pools of water leading to serious potential dangers. I have a freak-out, roaring and shouting at </span>a semi-drunken Jæppe after he attempts to put his cowboy hat on me from behind whilst I'm driving and it ends up covering my eyes and blinding me<span lang="EN-GB">. After about five hours my concentration is shot to fuck and after a running-on-fumes fiasco in finding a petrol station that’s actually open or hasn’t run out of gas (this seems to be a pretty common problem over here for some reason?) we eventually get it sorted and I switch over with Jakob for the next leg. A little bifty cools the jets for me and the weather eventually clears up, and we get to Sydney just after 7pm. Pick up some takeaway in Newtown and make it to the gig just as the first band are finishing. It’s on in a punk record store that doubles as a venue, Black Wire. We get a crate of beer and a bottle of Jaeger and Anji’s there and it’s deadly! There’s two more bands before us, it’s hot as fuck in the venue so we mostly hang around outside. There’s a decent sized crowd of various punks and metalheads, and this mad crusty cunt called Marcus Carcass who I’ve actually heard of before comes up and gives us a serious punishing…he’s convinced that he used to live in the back of a Camero with Anji, which isn’t actually true, but it’s pretty funny anyway.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">The gig is excellent, people are into it and go nuts, again it’s like a fucking boilerhouse and I’m drenched by the end. Good show. Afterwards we head back to Miso’s house for party time action and get some booty swinging action going. Her housemate bursts in and treats us to an impromptu display of dance, throwing her skirts around, spinning about and flashing her knickers like there’s no tomorrow. We head down the road to the Sly Fox, a local pub, and start getting into trouble. First there’s some random nerd who interrupts us and is told to get fucked, then one of the dudes with us steals a sausage dinner from some old fella who’d allegedly put it down for just a minute, which had prompted the offending crusty to pick it up. I ate one of the sausages and then felt a small bit guilty. The old dude went mental and got his dinner back. Then something caused me to smash glasses against the wall, I can’t remember what. There somehow ends up being a fight between myself and Miso and this ould boy and his girlfriend, who really wants to go outside and have fistycuffs with me, but instead goes and tells on me to the bouncer. We accuse the old couple of smashing our drinks and trying to start a fight with us cos they’re jealous of us. The bouncer is a funny no-nonsense Islander chap and Anji sweet-talks him and he believes us and makes the others leave, but we also have to leave, so me and Anji go back to the her van and sleep there.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Day Ten: Jan 11<sup>th</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">I wake up dying, hungover to fuck in the heat of Anji’s van and we go and get a delicious breakfast, juice and good coffee at a fantastic café in Newtown called Scrambled…maple syrup pancakes with crispy bacon, aw yeeeah. I feel considerably more human after the breakfast, but predictably it’s interrupted with a phone call from the band… ’where are yis, we have to go’. Boooring, I want to hang out with Anji…turns out that it’s an afternoon show. In Canberra. How fucking exciting...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">I am, in fact, to be proven wrong…it turns out to be the maddest day I’ve ever spent on tour.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">After saying goodbye to Anj and Miso we head off for Canberra. Uneventful journey, other than that the baking heat and glorious sun of the Sydney morning turns to a muggy heaviness and darkening clouds as we head inland over the flat plains of New South Wales. We arrive at the show just prior to the first band and drag the gear in; you know there’s only one way this is gonna go: beer time. The gig is in a small bar and drinks are expensive, but there’s no bottle shop around and we need to drink, so drink we do. Most notably </span>Jæppe, who’s on the Jaeger before we even start…the crowd is almost entirely hardcore kids, mainly in the modern hipster style, with a periphery of metalheads and punks. Dan who’s putting on the show is a bit of a madser, cart-wheeling and backflipping around the venue in his bright pink jeans and studded jacket. We later find out he’s also a cagefighter and amateur wrestler. He gets people going, and they’re into it for the two local bands who play before us, both in the modern hardcore style. They’re both fairly decent and I don’t feel quite so weird about it being an afternoon show –generally a tired and boring sort of affair, in my opinion.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We set up and start and it’s weird…the crowd are a mile away from us, gradually inch closer, a few big lads sporadically get their mosh on, and then most people inch back a bit further, scared of gettin a dig. Adam’s clearly not enjoying it and says fuck-all between songs, along with everyone else in the entire fucking building. I’m trying to get into but mostly just waiting for it to end. Jæppe’s interspersing the set with trips to the bar. Then it sort of gets good towards the end, and it’s only afterward that it dawns on me…there’s a huge queue at the merch table and everyone wants to buy a ton of shit…even though there was such a weird reaction…wait a minute, it’s simply that no-one had a clue what the fuck we were! There’s no crust bands in Canberra and the scene seems utterly hardcore-orientated, so it took everyone the first half-set to get their heads around what the hell it was we were doing up there. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We head back to the house of Dan and Emma, who’d also been putting on the show, to have a BBQ and a little soiree with perhaps 20 people. Myself and Jæppe pick up a 4-litre goonbag of wine –at $11 a pop we just couldn’t afford not to. The weather turns to absolute shit over the afternoon, grey, wet and muggy, so the BBQ is off. There’s still tons of great food, and some real funny characters there…but the real fun came upon discovering the dungeon. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It turns out that the not-so-innocent Emma, by day a mild-mannered government executive and occasional show organizer, has a darker side…by night, she becomes Mistress Emma, Dominatrix Extraordinaire. With her own fully equipped dungeon. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I’m fascinated. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">She says she’ll set it up. She shows me her stuff. We get drunker, smoke more and have some dexys. There’s all sorts of gear down there…kinky stuff! After some more drinks at the house, I gently remind Emma about setting up the dungeon…twice…so she does. And I help her.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Now, I’m not a pervert. Not completely. Everyone likes a little pain with their pleasure…give it a go yourself if you don’t believe me. Go on…next time, give an extra-hard little bite, slap that ass or dig your nails in. You owe it to yourself. Not to mention your sex-mate. But anyway…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0o4UoDyJKzcGAoi3P3wzPjQoVs7M2MrwbWD42fdxzLid48MF4oEATtSYIQaYvwn8232VrmC5oeWYQHn_PvBcBqTxs6pKmxjgJRuoYao70wyku3lJzydOD2C_vDSFT51-So7aRsM6ZNnaq/s1600/DSCN1588.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0o4UoDyJKzcGAoi3P3wzPjQoVs7M2MrwbWD42fdxzLid48MF4oEATtSYIQaYvwn8232VrmC5oeWYQHn_PvBcBqTxs6pKmxjgJRuoYao70wyku3lJzydOD2C_vDSFT51-So7aRsM6ZNnaq/s400/DSCN1588.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563137999167599330" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">When I walk back down there after getting a drink, Jæppe’s stretched out face-down in his boxers on a table. Emma’s wielding some sort of contraption that gives a constant series of electrical shocks, and Jæppe can’t wait to have a go. Within seconds of beginning he’s asking her to turn up the voltage and drunkenly pulling his undies down to allow easy access. It’s absolutely amazing. There’s a crowd of about ten people watching, whose responses range from shock to amusement to discomfort. I’m dying to have a go but I don’t want to upset Mistress Emma by being too pushy (she’s the dom, after all), so I have to play my cards right. This means waiting for two others to have a go. She’s reluctant so I promise that she can whip me within an inch of my puny little life if only she’ll give me a little electricity first. I have to wait even more for one of the dudes to spend some time on the bed of nails. Then I finally get to have a go.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY6HSnH6_zGZHZ7UCGrx_Azc4BWX4LouNUD-TdRUtg-XGumv1SrodaNiBr3cO1dQlV7Gzbdv4l1ReY53LuraFShXF4XGDxbuotPHiOxslnT39ykDNv-B6Et0GAaexLvL0NA-FrkLP-_Pgh/s1600/DSCN1647.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY6HSnH6_zGZHZ7UCGrx_Azc4BWX4LouNUD-TdRUtg-XGumv1SrodaNiBr3cO1dQlV7Gzbdv4l1ReY53LuraFShXF4XGDxbuotPHiOxslnT39ykDNv-B6Et0GAaexLvL0NA-FrkLP-_Pgh/s400/DSCN1647.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563138346822341362" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s fucking amazing. I lie naked on the table and get tantalizingly shocked all over, the funnest parts obviously being soles of feet, ribs, nipples and…well, use your imagination. The voltage goes up and pretty soon I’m ready to be chained up and whipped. I’m euphoric and Emma insists that I drink some coke and eat some sugary sweets before continuing…I get chained up and the whipping begins. It’s a bit fucking mental to be honest. I get paddled hard enough to make me scream as a warm up before she starts with the whip. It varies between deliciously painful and almost unbearable. I’ve no idea really how long it continues but when Emma’s arm is completely tired out and I’m unchained, almost everyone has left the room, including everyone who doesn’t live at the house. It doesn’t really hurt and I feel amazing, like I’m up on something. I have a smoke and drink some more cola and by then it’s late and pretty much everyone’s ready to go to bed. So we sleep in the dungeon.</span></p><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" ><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyWSFYdQt5z_fvlcChYcRXFMC4J--5sQ49DIzpCYKRI_1HvOIp3JveW1zCozosEb_zIirS8jMzqnTUXh9M' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span><p style="font-family: courier new;" class="MsoNormal"> <style>@font-face { font-family: "Times"; }@font-face { font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style=";font-size:85%;color:red;" >Day Eleven: Jan 10<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style=";font-size:85%;color:red;" ><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size:85%;">Wake up in the dungeon after a sleep riddled with odd dreams of death and murder, all shot through with elements of current reality to become particularly unsettling. Have a coffee and we get on the road early, heading for Melbourne where we have a show tonight. It’s not too bad a drive, brightening up in the afternoon and getting hot as fuck when we stop in Holbrook to get some food, a town whose claim to fame is having a massive submarine plonked right in the middle of it. We have a good feed, everyone in the supermarket is fuckin sound, more or less demonstrating the general attitude of countryside Aussies to us: friendly and curious. Except for the tough cunts who sit in their car staring at us and then drive off, roaring “see ya, faggots!” out the window. Toodle-pip, chaps!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span lang="EN-GB">By the time we get back to Melbourne it’s fuckin pissin rain; we head round a few gaffs to pick up some gear (and an Anji) for the show tonight, then head to the East Brunswick club where it’s on. They’re famous for their Monday night food, all of which has vegan versions. I go for the chicken parma and it’s amazing. Like a gorgeous pizza without the bread…aw yeeeah. There’s a fuckload of people there, all chowing down on various delectable delights. $12 pitchers of beer too, so we start lashin a few of those bad boys in. </span>Jæppe’s in a world of pain after the night before and can’t even get a beer in, never mind food, so he has a couple of vodkas. There’s a good crowd for the gig, which starts a bit late much to Timmy’s irritation, causing him hassle. There’s a lot of hass going round actually, with Jakob in a bit of a fowler aswell over being kept waiting over an hour for his food.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Some crusty kid outside starts jive-talkin me about it being funny when you find peoples’ cameras and how sometimes it takes a ransom to get it back etc. He’s referring to Jæppe’s camera, which he lost in Goongerah. Timmy’s mate found it and gave it to this joker to bring back, who thought he was being clever. When he found out it wasn’t my camera he gave up. The gig starts with Debacle, spraying their crusty grind across the place like dogpiss. It’s a decent venue, a back room to the pub/restaurant, good PA and a nice size. Much to my surprise my cousin turns up with her mate and we have a good chat, it’s their first DIY punk gig and they’re having fun. Circuits play next and they’re decent; a pretty big crowd has shown up, and it’s shaping up to be a surprisingly good Monday night show. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We start and people are up for it, a few mad cunts going bonkers, jumping off speakers and shit, but the real fun comes with the audience interaction, causing a bit of kerfuffle with some sensitive sorts that ends up going on for days. Introducing <span style="font-style: italic;">Total Annihilation</span>, I say “fuck smack” into the microphone and the smart cunt from earlier with the camera shouts something at me. You know the type: crust as fuck, oversized piercings, missing a tooth, round about 25 and massively disenfranchised with punk, becoming nihilistic and cynical when it turns out that it wasn’t so easy to change the world as it seemed at 19. He’s standing at the side of the stage, so I say something along the lines of “ah, here’s the cunt who stole our bassist’s camera!” and put the mic in his face and ask him to repeat himself. He mumbles embarrassedly and declines, so I slag him off…not such a big-mouth now, are ya. Turns out I’m wrong and he’s the biggest-mouthed cunt ever. We continue the set and I manage to embarrass my cousin by getting everyone to welcome her to her first punk gig. Camera Crusty tries to get my attention and between songs I give him my ear; he says that he would’ve said something earlier only if he did apparently half the crowd would be thinking “of course that smacky’s giving out, he stole their camera to buy smack”. Paranoid? …nah. He’s all on for a big discussion; I tell him I’ll talk to him after the gig. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Introducing <span style="font-style: italic;">World Enslaved</span> I crack another hilarious joke; with people in the crowd shouting something about Denmark, I tell them that they should “give Australia back to its rightful owners…the English”. Most people get the irony of an Irishman telling a former British colony that the English are the rightful owners of it, never mind one who’s in a political crust band, but there’s a always a certain percentage of folks at a punk gig who are rabidly awaiting any chance to take offence. Some of them walk out. We finish the set amidst a pandemonium of crowd lunacy; I talk to my cousin for a while and discuss doing a Kreator/Sarcofago styled dirty metal band with Yeap from Pisschrist: yusss! Then we pack up and head back to the various places we’re staying. Surprisingly awesome Monday!<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style=";font-size:85%;color:red;" >Day Twelve: January 11<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style=";font-size:85%;color:red;" ><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">After a proper good sleep we wake up to Alice in a state of emergency, with massive floods in Queensland meaning that the area where she’s from is in serious danger. She’s understandably worried about her mum, as the phone lines are down and she can’t get in touch, and we spend most of the day watching the news as the death toll rises. The scenes are mental; insane flash-floods have swept whole towns away, and footage shows cars, boats, even whole houses floating amidst the debris. It’s the worst flooding since 1974 and it’s the only thing on TV. Alice finally gets in touch with her family and finds out that her mum is safe, though a number of her friends and relatives are still at risk. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I cook a Thai yellow curry in the afternoon, and we stay in all day. The rain hasn’t abated since yesterday and continues in a heavy downpour, which, mixed with the stifling humidity, means that there’s fuck-all to do all day except get monged and catch up on internet nonsense, tying up the loose ends of the Asian part of the tour etc. We watch some stupid documentaries about sex: <i>Virgin School</i> and <i>A Complete History Of My Sexual Failures</i>, both of which are pathetic and annoying, especially since shitty internet sites mean we don’t get to see the end of either. Timmy comes over just before we go asleep to pick up/drop off some gear and tells us about receiving a funny phone call at 1am; turns out an irate crusty had called him up complaining about the racist in his band who’d said they should give Australia back to the English and wanting to tell me I’m a fuckhead or fight me or some other such nonsense. Guess who? Yep: camera smacky. I’d forgotten to talk to him after the gig since it was more interesting to talk to my cousin, and he’d evidently poured his frustrations into the nearest available vessel: an excuse to be politically offended.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Now, anyone who knows me is fully aware of my, shall we say, “robust” sense of humour. I’d like to think that they’re just as aware that I’m willing to discuss anything and try to make my point of view as clear as possible. At a stretch, I can see how such a joke might offend someone, if taken out of context. If someone says that Australia should be given back to its rightful owners, the first thing that comes into anyone’s mind is, naturally, the Aborigines. A fairly apt subject, I would say, for introducing a song with such lyrics as <a href="http://www.lyricsvip.com/Nuclear-Death-Terror/World-Enslaved-Lyrics.html"><i><span style="color:blue;">World Enslaved</span></i></a>. Yet I was under the impression that Aussies were known for having an appreciation of the darker side of humour, and such a comment would be taken as it was meant: a joke, and not a statement in earnest. Perhaps I over-estimate that people would be aware of Ireland’s 800 year colonial history and the genocide and deprivation suffered by millions of people at the hands of the English; the destruction of our culture and language; the famine, the horrors perpetrated in the name of Christianity and all the rest of it. And yes, I can understand how indigenous land-rights is still a sore point with Australians, and a valid one, since the Australian government has been horribly remiss and blatantly unapologetic in making up for the damage of past generations, whilst Ireland has at least achieved independence since 1922. It may just be that Aussies outside of Australia are more stereotypically full-on and difficult to offend in contrast to the common-or-garden Aussie at home. Regardless, I’m still baffled that in the context of who I am, who we are, where the joke was made, and what the subject of the song it introduced is, that someone still managed to get offended. Never under-estimate the punks, eh?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style=";font-size:85%;color:red;" >Day Thirteen: Jan 12<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style=";font-size:85%;color:red;" ><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We get up around 9am to get ready for our long drive to Adelaide, where we’ll be playing tomorrow. We take a quick look at the news; much of the city of Brisbane is now about to go under, and we later hear that Jane and her gang are out in Mad Max gear roaming the streets and terrifying the population: Surf Crusties Must Die! It’s odd to think that where we’d been hangin out just days previously was now under water, Burst City included…guess that means I won’t be getting the speaker cable back which I forgot there! Anji and Jimmy from Debacle/Pisschrist are coming with us, so we pick up the van and gear and hit the road. We’ve decided to go part of the way along the Great Ocean Road; a much longer though much more interesting route. We drive out to Bells Beach, known to most people as the site of the final scene from Point Break: where Jonny Utah finally catches Bodie, and then lets him go to ride the 50 year storm. I'm keen to hit the surf but Timmy's quick to dissuade me: “back off Cormchild, seriously!”.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIvCU_5vtUgUOfGyk9JaLljyCU9akynTyrrStaLIllUXk7n0GjPikhLLi8ySwAgFS9fsIFBYID2Zx-W1T2bYlni_oNmWu9HDXH-8Qkv8qIa89CohOm45rbEH2nQm1oerYc8ZXtou3Q95M/s1600/DSCN1685.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIvCU_5vtUgUOfGyk9JaLljyCU9akynTyrrStaLIllUXk7n0GjPikhLLi8ySwAgFS9fsIFBYID2Zx-W1T2bYlni_oNmWu9HDXH-8Qkv8qIa89CohOm45rbEH2nQm1oerYc8ZXtou3Q95M/s400/DSCN1685.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563139496389893058" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s a day of beautiful scenery, from the winding coastal roads along the multi-hued azure Pacific to the inland hills and plains. We have to double back and take a different route since the coast road is blocked by a landslide due to the wet weather. We spend most of the day monged courtesy of Jimmy and so I take a break from the driving; as night falls the most beautiful sunset I’ve seen in a while moves across the green trees and grassy plains, the sky going through multiple hues before fading to full darkness. More mongage and I get a bit of a kip, and we finally arrive at 3am at the Animal House warehouse where we’ll be sleeping whilst in Adelaide. Christing Heck but some of these drives are fuckin crushing.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Fourteen: Jan 13<sup>th</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Unsurprisingly, it’s pissing rain when we wake up. I don’t actually wake up till about 12, which is glorious…haven’t been having the best or longest sleeps. We read a bit and check out the Animal House; it’s frickin awesome, a huge place, rented as an “art space” but with people living there. We decide to head into the city to get some food and coffee, though the torrential downpour means I’d honestly rather hang out at the warehouse. But I’m hungry and want coffee so I head with the others.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCBnxriyYgaWt45TfXbkeQv7IZJEm7vdO8UuhIUOmd3SFAvVOs0J45cb1j3XLXUqIZHr-nJaQMojDEgzOLD_ly3ItB9isogNz4ESNbyx03_jjtpdIhNhgEubY92ACiIh0ul0SjvOqDTSkC/s1600/DSCN1693.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCBnxriyYgaWt45TfXbkeQv7IZJEm7vdO8UuhIUOmd3SFAvVOs0J45cb1j3XLXUqIZHr-nJaQMojDEgzOLD_ly3ItB9isogNz4ESNbyx03_jjtpdIhNhgEubY92ACiIh0ul0SjvOqDTSkC/s400/DSCN1693.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563139862769822194" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We go to Chinatown to get some food, as the Laksa there’s been recommended as some of the best you’ll ever try. There’s all sorts of mad Asian food and hundreds of people busily lunching in the large food hall we go to, and I am tempted by some of the crazy lookin $6.50 pile-your-plate-as-high-as-you-can deals…but it’s for the Laksa we came and goddamit I’m having Laksa. Though I’m also tempted by the Wet Ho Fun. But the Laksa is GOOORGEOUS. If you’ve not tried it, it’s a spicy coconut noodle soup; the variety I had was Mixed Laksa and had tofu, chicken, prawns and something odd and fishy in it, all of which was of great quality and flavour. Afterwards we go back to the van to find a parking place closer to the city. It’s not really possible, so we park somewhere closish and walk in the rain. It’s fuckin miserable and I really don’t feel like traipsing about in the wet looking for record shops, so I get a takeaway coffee from somewhere and head back to the van to read.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGlhfw3iJ-VS0R2cptpTn3o_s4OOGB9zx7r_kGRN6HVOL7OXXgzwmMn9biFzuBOl123lSJqWghqM3t_h_hQiN17vxuPe8PYNgINgIuOXE2XisN9Lw8ZPkuir24qFlshVD_yhMML0i7vrJ/s1600/DSCN1696.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGlhfw3iJ-VS0R2cptpTn3o_s4OOGB9zx7r_kGRN6HVOL7OXXgzwmMn9biFzuBOl123lSJqWghqM3t_h_hQiN17vxuPe8PYNgINgIuOXE2XisN9Lw8ZPkuir24qFlshVD_yhMML0i7vrJ/s400/DSCN1696.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563139864044388722" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s great to get away from the constant onslaught of sociability… I read my book for a while and am quietly astounded by the manner in which Virginia Woolfe can invest the most painful existential, almost metaphysical, meanings into everyday life, situations and characters. And successfully describe the frankly mad ways that women's heads work. With a brain like that, it’s no wonder she topped herself.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Anji, Adam and Jæppe come back to the van, having gotten sick of the record hunt. Anji’s got a newspaper and we have a look at the pictures of the Queensland flood disaster, along with the various grisly and heroic stories of rescue and death. There’d been continuous shots of a family stranded on top of an SUV over the previous days, two parents and a boy. In a morbid turn of events, it seems they’d died after it became impossible to rescue them. The extreme weather conditions are in fact now spreading across Victoria and into Southern Australia, meaning that we may be in trouble tomorrow if we take the usual route from Adelaide back to Melbourne.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Everyone else returns and we head back to Animal House and spend a profittable few hours in the rehearsal room there putting the final touches on the four new songs we’re going to record in Osaka. They’ve all been well road-tested and are ready to be locked down…time passes quickly and we head back towards the city to get dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant with a sound chap who lives at the Warehouse, Villa. We also pick up a crate of Boag’s and some longnecks. The food is great, and we get the unspoken details on the Ungdomshuset eviction from Jakob and Christina, it having been impossible to get the full story before the trials were over and served their sentences. Fuckin mad shit. This weird white-haired chick in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt who’d been making gestures at Anji in a public toilet earlier mysteriously appears, to Anji’s considerable horror. The Zeppelin menace bounds up like an excited puppy when poor Anj heads out for a ciggie…Christ alone knows what she wanted, but Anji’s discomfort is obvious.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjojcKEOkWcnfxcsZt2267a0dc3UJ8blWJPYeWRZEfv7NJkiUE7lJSev8wo-wZOF8L897ZfX6kscqusXHlGrrl5-XKml0a6CTiU2NTpDibB0iWTTaDaY7EQRO6LICGxACOzq0Glrr9b7c/s1600/adelaideweirdo.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjojcKEOkWcnfxcsZt2267a0dc3UJ8blWJPYeWRZEfv7NJkiUE7lJSev8wo-wZOF8L897ZfX6kscqusXHlGrrl5-XKml0a6CTiU2NTpDibB0iWTTaDaY7EQRO6LICGxACOzq0Glrr9b7c/s400/adelaideweirdo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572774494523641250" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We head to the gig in high spirits, an the first band have already started. Iron Worzel, they’re decent, in the Iron Monkey/Eyehategod vein of sludge. We watch them, get our drink on, and then see Prison Bitch destroy with their Siege-like brutality. It’s two members of Space Bong and Hydro Medusa; seems there’s something in the water down in Adelaide. Or maybe the weed. We also find out that it’s the murder capital of the world, per capita, with the highest instance of serial killings globally. Even cooler than that is finding out that the soundman was in Autopsy and Suffocation, playing on albums like <span style="font-style: italic;">Effigy Of The Forgotten</span>. Amaaazing!</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We play well, do all the new songs and they’re all tight and feel good, and people seem pretty into it, but bright frickin stage lights mean it’s difficult to see. Then in the middle of it this hairy joker hops onstage and grabs my mic and demands to know who made the joke about Australia. Intrigued, I ask him what joke? About giving Aussie back to the English. Ah yes. T’was I, admits your humble scribe. Hairy doesn’t do or say anything and the soundman boots him off. The rest of the gig goes well, we finish up and I go to find the dude who jumped onstage. After a bit of a search I find him sitting in the pokie room, pretty drunk. I sit down and talk it out with him and he apologises, saying that he’d heard the story differently…from his mate in Melbourne who’d already phoned up Timmy about it. Captain Crust Camera strikes again. I’ll be havin words with that chap when we’re back in Melbourne. The dude’s a South Amercian guy who’d moved to Australia and was passionate about land rights and so on. He’s alright and we sort it out.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmG8A3iHNyVqJnaliAjRZDu5baUANxtOfCIumLeDTgl3wJ3jmrlChqHS3NHy9TYRHMJmbptoTKWE5WdAiOqhktwbuGR7MLkKnfPolPfTjyjoYGiaNDxcI1BUjKEv_yXSSLmHBg6rCWEq5g/s1600/IMG_2940.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmG8A3iHNyVqJnaliAjRZDu5baUANxtOfCIumLeDTgl3wJ3jmrlChqHS3NHy9TYRHMJmbptoTKWE5WdAiOqhktwbuGR7MLkKnfPolPfTjyjoYGiaNDxcI1BUjKEv_yXSSLmHBg6rCWEq5g/s400/IMG_2940.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572776731228846338" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I go and chat with the soundman Josh and the guitar player from Spacebong, whose name I have, rather shockingly, forgotten. There’s a couple of real enthusiastic older crusty dudes who’ve come down from the mountains for the gig, the first time in three years they’ve been at one, and they’re loving in. Really enjoyed the gig and were keen to have a chat about moving out to rural Australia, that being myself and Anji’s plan (let’s see if it happens!). Drinky drinky drinky and the ol’ Australia For The English debate pops up again. This time from a very drunken girl and some other dude, who’ve been talking/arguing with the others about it. They’ve heard a slightly different version again, that being that the comment was said in Danish from the stage. Australian Whispers –great stuff! We have a bombastic argument about my right (or lack of) to make such a joke due to Ireland’s colonial past, and we don’t agree to disagree. We eventually leave, I high-spiritedly denouncing her as a white European who doesn’t have a clue about the plight of oppressed people, such as myself, for example. She’s yelling insults and the whole scene is fantastic. We get back to Animal House and drink a load, get stoned and realize that we have to get up in four hours to leave for Melbourne. It’s gonna be an extra long drive back due to flooding and certain roads being covered, so even leaving at 8am we’ll be hard pushed to make it in time for our second-to-last Australian show. The party dies immediately and we all bed down.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Day Fifteen: Jan 14<sup>th</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We get fuck-all sleep, again, and clamber back into the van still drunk and groggy to start the journey to Melbourne for our final show there. Serious flooding means that it’s dubious as to whether we’ll make it at all today, never mind in time for the show, but we decide to take alternative routes, the long way round being better than no way round at all. I slip in and out of fitful sleep for hours, and just feel weird. The drive is relentless, Jimmy’s Js the only respite. There’s 10 of us in the van, with some friends Natalya and Banz getting a lift back from Adelaide to Melbourne with us.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gwFr7ehrXIwnxbMURUoisXqMaavuHz3Nm0tscuZcXU4wn9xYj8zNAlYzcE7DLzleeb8IvOh2C4bpsArxSXo1yIBhlxAjg2R485rtzCg5fI_3m3HIqerE-oT1r4h47soWtFQbaNJp3Bdy/s1600/IMG_2948.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gwFr7ehrXIwnxbMURUoisXqMaavuHz3Nm0tscuZcXU4wn9xYj8zNAlYzcE7DLzleeb8IvOh2C4bpsArxSXo1yIBhlxAjg2R485rtzCg5fI_3m3HIqerE-oT1r4h47soWtFQbaNJp3Bdy/s400/IMG_2948.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565789426452944994" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">We stop at a supermarket for food and I take over the driving around 4pm. It’s actually a surprisingly dry sunny day, though all around us is evidence of the flooding. Many road sections are completely covered, so we have to drive very carefully through them. It’s all too much for me and I get bored and start going way too fast down these shitty potholed roads. It’s fuckin great craic, total Star Wars deathstar madness, weaving round the bad sections in the road and overtaking wildly. Naturally it’s tremendous fun. It gets a bit much when I overtake a car with a caravan and a truck on front of it and swing back in just before an oncoming car would have wrecked us. People are shouting and roaring, and admittedly it was fuckin stupid. But I have to do it one more time, just because, and when we stop for gas a few people separately ask me to slow down cos they’re freaked. Pack of wussies. Nah, it’s fair enough, but fuck it’s boring to drive slow when you’re in a hurry… So, I slow down and settle in for 5 hours boring drive to Melbourne. It’s shit and takes forever. Going through the flooded parts is fun though. We eventually get there around 9.30pm, exhausted.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The show is on at the Black Goat Warehouse, a place where a few of our mates live and put on shows. There’s a lot of people and a good buzz, and after an initial half-hour of shell-shocked post-drive inability to focus on anything, a few beers do the trick. There’s a couple of bands before us; the first one play a WITTR style post-hardcore take on black metal. They’re good at what they do but the style doesn’t really turn me on. Then Kromosom play and are frickin awesome! Then we have to go on and I’m expecting it to pretty much be dull and a bit painful.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDu0QCiW7-gWI_HjNy2XBDrlKOBZDrYDWttjSPsl9r3DvoGufgDgNR-t2CUCo7r2IMB9po4OQfynbOYvOxphS0VRII67ngJFPJPZSPIK-S8OvnSQ1c6bYG5fft837bm1tfrTB5xcWLIys7/s1600/IMG_2955.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDu0QCiW7-gWI_HjNy2XBDrlKOBZDrYDWttjSPsl9r3DvoGufgDgNR-t2CUCo7r2IMB9po4OQfynbOYvOxphS0VRII67ngJFPJPZSPIK-S8OvnSQ1c6bYG5fft837bm1tfrTB5xcWLIys7/s400/IMG_2955.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565789521915166978" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm; font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s actually amazing! People go fuckin <i style="">mad</i> and we’re sounding the best we have so far. That point where you’ve played around half a dozen gigs and everything’s totally effortless, and every show feels like the tightest you’ve ever been. I nearly shit my pants when I’m picked-up and crowd surfed without prior consent…I feel violated, to be honest...it’s just not fun when you’re trying to play guitar and have to choose between your head and your axe regarding which will take the blow if you’re dropped! I make a few more explicit references to the songs with which I previously caused offence, only this time being more frank about what they’re about. People seem pretty happy about it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Afterwards we hang out and drink and then head back to Thornbury to sleep around 3am.</span></p> <span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >Day Sixteen: January 15</span><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" ><sup style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">th</sup></span></span><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div><span><span><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" class="Apple-style-span" > </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">Wake up around 9am and I could easily sleep another 5 hours. But it’s not possible, as we’ve to get to the airport for our final Aussie show in Tasmania. Alice has made a delicious breakfast of scrambled tofu, beans and mashed spuds, so after we’ve eaten myself and Adam bid adieu to the others and leave. It’s a gorgeous day, warm and sunny, a nice break from all the rain.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">We get the gear together and a mini-bus picks us up from Timmy’s place and drops us at the airport. There’s some nonsense involving surcharges for not checking-in online (Tiger Airways: the sketchbag cheap-as-fuck Ryanair cunts of Australasia –avoid if possible) but it doesn’t matter as we all enjoy being able to parade around the airport with our instruments, allowing people to imagine we’re a much bigger, more successful, profitable and exciting band than we really are.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5dz4k5CK7TbEvX7G-rAdBGkwoklX5KAERROTzi6qPFo5S7YUf8MAIgt1nx_sd-piIILKlCYLHTjTzZfa_i5zT73RKTwozcIG6koL5DLr4qtGkb-PnVFcs97ELSH_-6nb1f5OVDwfZhdv/s1600/IMG_2982.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5dz4k5CK7TbEvX7G-rAdBGkwoklX5KAERROTzi6qPFo5S7YUf8MAIgt1nx_sd-piIILKlCYLHTjTzZfa_i5zT73RKTwozcIG6koL5DLr4qtGkb-PnVFcs97ELSH_-6nb1f5OVDwfZhdv/s400/IMG_2982.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565786360289464306" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">The flight is short and we arrive in Hobart around 4pm and get a shuttle-bus right to where we’ll be playing and staying: The Brisbane Hotel. It’s a charming little dump, a nice bar, somewhere between an old man pub and a metal pub, a very decent gig room with a monstrous PA, and two hotel rooms for us. And a tab on the bar…aw yeeeah.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">We get food from the bar, it’s excellent, the others getting vegan burgers or burritos while I go for the Reef & Beef…a big steak in a seafood sauce of prawns, scallops and calamari. It’s amazing. Afterwards we head down to the harbour; there’s currently a big free music and performance festival on in Hobart and we have a few beers on the grass with some avante-garde solo violin going on in the background. We get back and soundcheck, and then start drinkin and chatting with people. There’s this long-term ex-pat Polish girl, Agata, who’s hilarious, full of madness and wisdom in equal measures. It doesn’t look like there’s going to be much of a turn-out. The supports are three breakcore DJs and a band called Society Death Something, who are just alright. The final breakcore DJ is amazing though, full on harsh noise clashing with pop hits in a sublime manner, only improved by the dude’s full-body golden Tron suit. Even better are the crowd, all sorts of crazy people going nuts in pretty random ways.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrTP_dRTQUleFanuPhPBeJSecjSU6fttXwVyNycrCgxLTU0C2-UAaitPtnn7c0iAW0AxckeKyWrPWzlIGZ1c5yS7SDixGgBMuxLN4GN8JxluqnS2HPk8I9DbjmtyMSYTGyxnUsjFZfXJ4C/s400/DSCN1735.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564110803840556386" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></span></span></p><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">It’s time to play and we sort our gear out and get ready. The room fills up and suddenly it seems there’s a lot more people than earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">We play and again it’s fucking great; all the new songs are perfect, the old ones tight as a dolphin’s arsehole, the breaks and stops inch-perfect. Such a pleasure to play well and especially for an appreciative crowd, who are going bonkers. There’s various crowd banter and it seems I’ve found a better balance between piss-taking and more serious dedications…just in time for the last gig in an English speaking country. A fuckin awesome show and the best way to end the Aussie leg of the tour!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">…but the night’s only just beginning of course. Immediately following the show a metal dude comes up and thrusts a handful of buds in my hand, “I dunno if you smoke but <i>awesome</i> show bro!” and heads off. Yeah dude. We head into the bar and I chat with Agata for a while. Then start drinking with a vengance. Tassie cunts are mental, people drinking out of shoes and all sorts of other assorted nonsense. It turns out that the cook, Alex, is guitarist and vocalist in a band called Ruins who I’d previously been in contact with, awesome Tasmanian black metal, so we chat a lot and get on well. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">Then this German guy that I know from various metal shows and festivals in Europe comes up and says hi. I’m surprised to see him there, having only met him through various metal friends in <st1:city st="on">London</st1:city>, <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Dublin</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">Berlin</st1:state></st1:place>, places like that. We talk for a bit, though I’m not that bothered; I’d seen him earlier and said nothing as I always found him arrogant and had a bad feeling about him. Which is proven correct when he starts coming out with racist shit. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">Asking why I left <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">London</st1:place></st1:city>, I explain my reasons, and he responds “Yeah, it’s disgusting, full of Pakis and Indians”. I tell him that my girlfriend’s Indian and ask him what his fuckin problem is. He tries to backtrack, explaining that it’s okay because they have the same problem in Germany with the Turkish. I tell him to fuck off, that I don’t want to listen to his racist shit. He acts all hurt and wants to talk, I shove him hard and tell him to get fucked and the people I’m talking to hustle him away. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">Cue long ranting about racist dickheads and what they deserve.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">Not long after he starts getting agro with some other dude over by the pool table. Seeing my chance I run over but the bouncers are already there, breaking it up. I threaten him and the bouncers drag him out but won’t let me out, amidst shouts from him that he’ll see me again and we’ll sort this out. Fuckin right we will. There’s another 10 minutes of trying to get outside after the prick, but when the bouncers finally let me he’s just taking off in a cab after a bunch of shouted threats. Pfffff…probably for the best.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfLdhNTVSqpOCh01QQbyhiVeJ7NLHdbjRgnLz_lw3G6uhD3uKbCdLFFmaRpTgpFPPYM_PjdIXbiBUC-WvhHxd2Eb1Xqx0cKnJQepjxqb0Z7yJ6UNinv2_y5zwhJVBf5lyqRwbRWPK4n9f_/s400/DSCN1769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563141885688021746" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" /></span></span></p><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /><br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:78%;"><span lang="EN-US">We head up to our hotel room with a bunch of sound fuckers and some more beers and do a few bifties. </span><span lang="EN-US">Jæppe decides he could do with a bath and fills her up and gets in. Someone reckons he’s a bit too hot in there and needs cooling off and gets the fire extinguisher and does just that. He seems to like it, but after another bifty or two he freaks out, jumps up, grabs the fire extinguisher and heads for Christina and Jakob’s room screaming that he’s gonna get them. Ooooh shit…<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">I leg it after him and somehow he’s prevented from extinguishing C&J…luckily, since I’m sure it wouldn’t have ended in a happy way. The madness continues and one of the dudes with us, a sound lad called Tim, tells us about the Philip Glass concert the next day…I’d love to hear him play, but the tickets are $100…I reckon I’ll try to sneak in.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">The room’s full of a fuckin dry lemony odour and extinguisher powder, so I go and have a kip in the other room instead. Fuck knows what time it is, but it’s light outside.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" class="Apple-style-span">Day Seventeen: January 16<sup>th</sup></span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><sup><br /></sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">I wake up to Christina and Jakob talking loudly, way earlier than I’d have liked to…take it outside you bastards. Tim leaves, his plan being to get back to Melbourne a day earlier to take care of some things and spend some time with the missus before we leave to Japan.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">I can’t go back asleep so I get up and we decide to try and find somewhere to get breakfast. Everywhere’s closed, but there’s a nice farmers market with some good stuff that we reckon we’ll come back to if we can’t find anything better. We get a coffee somewhere and hang around. Hobart is dead. Very sleepy little city, more of a big town really, population around 200,000. It’s nice though, if a bit too easy-going.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">We go back to the farmers market but they’ve just closed up…shite. No food. So we head back to the hotel. An ex-girlfriend of Jakob called Anna actually lives and works in <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tasmania</st1:place></st1:state> as a conservationist, working on a solution to the epidemic currently threatening to completely wipe out the Tasmanian Devil population. The poor little buggers are developing facial tumours that grow to bigger than their heads, stop them eating and eventually starve them to death. She’d been at the show the night before and made a plan to meet us for a trip up Mount Wellington, which overlooks the city and is reputed to be fantastic. We make contact and she’s gonna drive some of us while the rest of us can borrow her mate’s yute. Yesss!!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">That’s at 4pm, so first I have a bit of a read and finish off <i>To The Lighthouse</i> and then take a walk to find something to eat since I’ve had nothing yet. Adam and Jæppe sleep and Christina and Jakob go for a walk.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">I get a meat pie and then head down to where the free festival is. I go to the box office and tell them that I’m here to review the Philip Glass concert and ask whether I should pick up my pass there or at the venue. They say at the venue, so I head down towards there along the harbour. It’s a gorgeous area of town; it could so easily be smelly and dirty but instead it’s fresh and vibrant, clean and welcoming. There’s various places selling fresh fish, I’m not that hungry after my pie but I can't resist and get a “Bag o’ Treats” of prawn, calamari, crab and a load of other stuff…yum. I’m sort of tired and halfway to the concert venue I decide I couldn’t be bothered and fuck off back to the hotel.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfR5d7UmWorrG9zkJ7Ddr7eINfiBOHSGptcj1PBPh45HTVz_jE4CyCnpkWxSABc-Ug9BnaXfNPNEFILafjaxXk4EEXJQplk6ki2hC6pprZ3_WyuEgTs4zYtLHfUzcBn2q5mrSoN6xH5Wlv/s1600/IMG_3005.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfR5d7UmWorrG9zkJ7Ddr7eINfiBOHSGptcj1PBPh45HTVz_jE4CyCnpkWxSABc-Ug9BnaXfNPNEFILafjaxXk4EEXJQplk6ki2hC6pprZ3_WyuEgTs4zYtLHfUzcBn2q5mrSoN6xH5Wlv/s400/IMG_3005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565786566550407826" border="0" /></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">Anna shows up and squeezes us all into her car and we head over to pick up the yute; a yute, if you don’t know, is a “utility vehicle”, basically an Australian pick-up truck. They’re fucking awesome. The others go with Anna, and Jakob & I take the yute. Unfortunately it’s an automatic, but it’s still fuckin cool…he’s gonna drive up the mountain and I back down…yeehaw! The scenery is gorgeous, green forest and strange firs and plants, with an increasingly amazing view over Hobart. It’s about a 10km drive to the top, and when we get out it’s breathtaking. Strange rock formations atop the peak of the mountain provide a 360-degree view of the island, all of the city, the harbour and a number of bays, with the coast stretching off in both directions and towering forested mountains running inland. It’s amazing, and I spend about half an hour just sitting and looking. We have a walk around, and the whole thing is totally energizing, revitalizing, especially since the day was beginning to look like a bit of a write-off.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjggPYFAOEnXkDTkjAhIV3hupeddlD3rsvKYH_p8Fv0pj3-He5W5m9AlwlW1MPLoJOkwdBqTo387XLWyp0h7Z-dVCUgCyWGLDjaEPqOkg5hPSlYMRwtogU9h1JwKwpryQKO8tYiYvv0xct3/s400/DSCN1807.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564110788836469506" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></span></span></p><div style="font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></span></div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">We decide to have a barbecue at Anna’s and drive back down the mountain. Vroom vroom, beep-beep!! Pick up some food, rum and a case of beer. We head back to her place and set-up on the patio, have a beer and a smoke, a few capirhanas and get the food on the grill. There’s tons of it and we’re all starving and totally stuff our faces. It’s around 9pm now, and as part of the music festival John Spencer Blues Explosion are playing, who some people are keen to see. Someone tells me it’s a bit like Mr. Bungle. We stroll down there and watch for two minutes. It’s nothing like Mr. Bungle. It’s insipid boring shite. So we sit down and start drinking. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">The legend known as Big Bird turns up and we have a drink, together with some Canadian traveling punks we’d previously met. We stay there for a bit and piss it up. We were gonna head back to the hotel, but Big Bird’s up for a proper drink, as are myself, Jæppe and Adam, so we decide yeah, fuck it. Heading out of the place we bump into Tassie Tim and a bunch of the madsers from the night before. He’s buzzin off the Philip Glass concert, some of the others have attended too and agree that it was phenomenal. Arse…hopefully there’ll be another chance sometime.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">It’s their mates birthday, who’s also there and is staying at a fancy hotel, and no-one's sure what to do. While we’re deciding where to go and what drinks to get, the impatient Danes leave and it’s just me and the Tasweigans. We head up to the fancy hotel and have a drink and a spliff, but the drinks soon run out, so we head to the all-night bottle shop. A crate of Boag's and we head back to the hotel, bumping into one of the Canadians from earlier. She’s got a guitar and back in the hotel she gets it out and starts strumming and playing. She’s fuckin good at it too; energetic bluesy hillbilly nonsense, usually which I’d have little time for, but drunk in a hotel room is pretty good. The guitar gets passed around and it’s all sorts of silly nonsense, Dirty Old Town and that kind of thing. One of the hotel owners comes in, Ivan. We find out that we’ve run up a bar-tab of $450 the night before. Holy fuck. Luckily they took in enough on the door that we’ll still get decently paid too. The Canadian dude has skipped a bag of pies and sausage rolls, so we microwave those fuckers up and eat ‘em up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">As the crate of beer gets lighter, someone comes up with the bright idea of putting my studded jacket in the microwave. I don’t know who. The results aren’t as spectacular as hoped for. In fact, it’s only when we take my jacket out of the microwave that I seem to realize what’s going on. I stamp it out before Big Bird realizes it’s still on fire and puts it in the toilet. In the fucking toilet. As if it wasn’t fucking gross enough.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">Canadian girl keeps looking in the mirror. It’s weird. There’s a corner mirror by the sink in the room and every two seconds she’s casting sidelong glances at herself…insecurity is one thing, but seriously love…you look grand, don’t worry about it. I tell her so, but she doesn’t register…cos she’s looking in the mirror again. The beers all gone, the others have to go, and things are getting a bit flirty with Ms Mirror, so I fuck off to the other room and go asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Day Eighteen: January 17<sup>th</sup></span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><sup><br /></sup></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">I’m woken at something past 9, having gone to sleep fuck knows when. Once again I’m wrecked and could do with a lot more sleep. This tour’ll be the death of me. Our flight is at 1.05pm so we need to get to the airport. There seems to be something going on with some people annoyed at each other and various moping and bad humour going on. I’m not even going to ask.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">The two Canadians and Big Bird had stayed in the room with Jæppe and Adam. Since the Canadian dude had slept in an outdoor public toilet the night before, no-one seems to mind too much. The smelly trio have showers and I feel a glow of good samaritanism in getting those poor kids off the street…even just for a few hours. Without even riding any of them. We’re having trouble finding a taxi company or bus to bring us to the airport and I can’t find anyone to get paid…pain in the fuckin arse. We manage to get through to a cab company, but the fuckers never show up. We phone again and it seems we’d given the wrong address. It still never shows up. We have to be there 12.20pm to check in or they won’t let us on; Tiger are legendarily cuntish about late check-ins.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">We phone the company again. They say we’ve been picked up. It turns out that someone’s after robbin our fuckin taxi on us. The dude rings up the dispatcher and gets a bus on the way to us. A taxi arrives at 11.53 and by this stage I’m fuckin stressed to bits. It takes a fuck of a lot to get me stressed, but when I’m there, it takes twice as much for me to calm down again. Going through my mind is my trip to Nuclear War Now! Fest in Berlin last November, after which we missed our flight back to Dublin by <span style="font-style: italic;">seconds</span> due to pernickety nazi cops at the passport control…there wasn’t another flight that day and we had to wait until the day after…if that happens now, we’ll miss our flight to Japan and everything will be fucked. We get to the airport at 12.14pm, six minutes before check-in closes, and I jump out with all the passports and run to the desk. We make it just in time and check our instruments in. Fucking hell.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">After all this I’m unable to calm down for hours. I don’t want a coffee because it’ll just stress me out more. I don’t want a beer, even though I do, because I’ve been on the piss for weeks. I settle for water.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">We get back to Melbourne and take a taxi to Edwin Street. Alice and Tristan are preparing food, as there’s a plan to have a big “Goodbye Australia” dinner at Collins Street, since neither Christina, Adam or Jakob will be returning there. To be honest it’s the last thing I feel like doing; all I want is silence and solitude. But I suck it up and be a nice boy. It definitely helps to have a massive fuckin bifter.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:78%;">I consequently spend the afternoon taking three times as long as I should to print out our itineraries, Japan and Malaysia and Singapore contacts, dates, online check-ins, baggage restrictions, etc. I’m stressed to fuckin bits over it, since from here on in I’m the main organiser in the band. For the other tours it’s generally been Christina doing the booking, and Timmy’s been the man with the plan for Australia. But with this Asian trip being my baby, organised through my contacts there, I’m gonna be the one holding the bomb when it goes off: not a state of mind natural to the likes of me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;font-family:courier new;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" >I get as much done as possible and we head down to Collins Street. There’s tons of amazing food; lasagna, tempeh, salads, curry, rice balls and loads more… almost too much. Almost! A few beers and a bifty and we head back around 9.30pm; I’m anxious as there’s a few things needing done and we have to get up at 4am for our flight to Tokyo. I need to pack, sort out some last organizational duties and update this fuckin blog thing…by the time I get to bed it’s almost 2am.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="courier new" style="margin: 0.1pt 0mm;"><a href="http://nucleardeathterror.blogspot.com/2011/02/nuclear-diaryhea-part-ii.html">CONTINUE TO PART II...</a><br /></p></span></span></div></span></span></span>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-12963340270237608202010-12-07T16:17:00.000-08:002010-12-20T17:32:28.950-08:00TOTAL NUCLEAR ANNIHILATION 2011<span style="font-family:courier new;">This is the craziest fucking tour we've ever booked...six weeks of madness in Japan, Australia, Malyasia and Singapore! Artwork from the demigod of Japanese punk art SUGI, we'll have limited shirts and screen-printed posters with this design on the tour and a discography CD out on Japan's <a href="http://blog.crewforlife-records.com/">Crew For Life Records</a> and Alternative Distribution.</span> <span style="font-family:courier new;">More detailed info on our </span><a style="font-family: courier new;" href="http://www.nuclear-death-terror.com/shows.html">website</a><span style="font-family:courier new;">.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7S-lcXAGIOPKpWi_VRaq4xfzhUOwC3u9TGZIvDUqyLzu2hMNGJ82AdHZo4kzO0xyhukonMPnG59ZT_ZR0AJr38OL78UHmuW3s1w_P2ngxZDSfKfb1TwaPremDpkypChso2GzuBrmE-s5x/s1600/finaltourposter.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7S-lcXAGIOPKpWi_VRaq4xfzhUOwC3u9TGZIvDUqyLzu2hMNGJ82AdHZo4kzO0xyhukonMPnG59ZT_ZR0AJr38OL78UHmuW3s1w_P2ngxZDSfKfb1TwaPremDpkypChso2GzuBrmE-s5x/s400/finaltourposter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552941960448070146" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-57106405380833476792010-12-07T15:36:00.000-08:002010-12-07T16:07:09.994-08:00Nuclear Death Terror - Total Annihilation EP<span style="font-family:courier new;">Released last year on Plague Bearer, these three songs were originally intended for a 4-way split LP with Guided Cradle, Instinct Of Survival and Visions Of War which never came to light. Artwork provided by cult Thai master of darkness Sickness 666, his first foray into crustdom as far as we're aware. This is the heaviest crust we've so far recorded...and just a hint of what's to come.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtEK4-SYnYUADmn7-atuAN9c-kAkMVDtFKBSbj4Ohy-crUrtZ9k4WhYwWhZ_zH-Gn8ynmfEJ_CiOd_yJVQtSk5MwXRoYgZEpz6WlZUMVthy9qJIdobFTsrbUC-qFGvzgwtSqOqAFUKk0Va/s1600/ta.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtEK4-SYnYUADmn7-atuAN9c-kAkMVDtFKBSbj4Ohy-crUrtZ9k4WhYwWhZ_zH-Gn8ynmfEJ_CiOd_yJVQtSk5MwXRoYgZEpz6WlZUMVthy9qJIdobFTsrbUC-qFGvzgwtSqOqAFUKk0Va/s320/ta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548095031923873074" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">1. TOTAL ANNIHILATION OF THE SELF</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">2. MINDCHAIN<br />3. DEVOLVE TO SUBMISSION<br /></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br />DOWNLOAD: <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?b8eed7i2upnukja"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">NDT - Total Annihilation EP</span></a></span>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-11664605400825906232008-10-19T13:47:00.001-07:002010-12-07T16:01:20.155-08:00Nuclear Death Terror - Ceaseless Desolation EP<span style="font-family:courier new;">Here's our latest 7" EP, released on Plague Bearer Records a few months ago. Three new hymns of nuclear desecration and a Celtic Frost cover. Enjoy!</span><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgciWZ5zcFlbKub3hSg3aPBNNVO3U96znDoAEGqLdy4isTgWI2BOYBT7N2uDwFVdvyeEfMijPmdoD60_hzPPxUuiHEd5OdrIP1MiDvj7Lsjb4IEKZ3LlvJDEOImatNd9S7i_7BTzVjmUSMn/s1600/cd.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 223px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgciWZ5zcFlbKub3hSg3aPBNNVO3U96znDoAEGqLdy4isTgWI2BOYBT7N2uDwFVdvyeEfMijPmdoD60_hzPPxUuiHEd5OdrIP1MiDvj7Lsjb4IEKZ3LlvJDEOImatNd9S7i_7BTzVjmUSMn/s320/cd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548094652894933986" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">1. WORLD ENSLAVED</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">2. CHAOTIC ALLIANCE<br />3. THE DARKEST AGE<br />4. MORBID TALES (Celtic Frost)<br /></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br />DOWNLOAD: <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?mzn3hkm1yne"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">NDT - Ceaseless Desolation EP</span></a><br /></span>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-57946123584750277902008-08-02T13:40:00.000-07:002008-08-02T13:52:10.785-07:00Metal Maniacs - Interview<span style="font-family:courier new;">Here's an interview from Metal Maniacs Vol 24, No. 7 - September 2007. </span><div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></div><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083446-6f8"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230025154569166658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3za-cyQUyu29rgtbKuSP1aUgIPh0OLVo75jm0u8IUK3h9jO7d9UQmvaZ2wSDFxe_h6qHG6ShTVa31XuW5VWEILrQktil86IMy9UryKxHb3jjBPT6heaR4bhrYR-zRdt9ilKkButzR36Zp/s320/MMs.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br /></span><div></div><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083021-2ea"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230023973268992306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKVSvFGvmBf0k0FdDXJeO9oDtGffQkMMvER3FEfmRDZ2luB4JCoiA_fMPucU2-IzNWJmST_3cFxLM6OIiv1lJwopZ3fKnOmhCYsxSzUHTN0E6XmlJwpiCEWPJfcpQE9wpMXcFL8lsRjke1/s320/MM1s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br /></span><div></div><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083022-3ff"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230023980194673394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzej9WD6K13vjtSKD28bDBT9295_GgpgifXpV8Y-Z4WxacQd0VbdkAOVIRTz-nb_3Er4itFah3zObFVgn-tk49QYkWYsMzSQRD_2TwDpLG7b6CoARRaPJrORYl-2T3HIDAFzfR2reBMX5h/s320/MM2s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083023-6d1"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230024381810118466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0DJrwznwdkBhggxofLZAeMlwrzWFFZqsxH70MSppgtZaCJg6CulUZaNAgm7xpqcxSonWOugEnxmzDk7eg-5xY1iBOm_cgdjX2_oVkkPoNJzFVZA0JqLsj08yvoBM8F1o-Jm0RtBMJ0IHF/s320/MM3s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br /><br /><br /></span><div></div></div></div>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-20189564546107110982008-08-02T12:53:00.001-07:002008-08-02T13:40:49.815-07:00Profane Existence - Interview<span style="font-family:courier new;">Here's our ridiculously long interview from Profane Existence 52/53, Spring-Summer 2007.</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083343-b30"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230021324504953874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqGw-Qc1O6yAPx7K-29lLbp0j2oWywYiI56GZrjIZhMJ1BlvQJnCZoz_YKcZBk3XHkgVScqrEi8AjM2AFxacjymnTad5dlNiei5HwVsBHddDzOTjFk-EtGRZstxwCmNgnV04xn-A4_6G56/s320/PEs.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083413-438"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230011466125467362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXxn4hkY3r0QSpuF7WfPwPTspzfCRmaPBMcGd4RMI56gpEfkQ2Q0VfBJtYmT7N5_bEfgA0Z5fYl2b_vRzVQZg0MAFcB4TOBdYoV2tTB4bxAVz3MOyn7Wrhhp-mGgijcr35g7GRDkIQhFDt/s320/PE1s.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083445-028"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230011462880946818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhut0Or7AsOj5A5_-6a34K-KPGNDO5DzAIf3FYd1DX1SQvBvXX2dL7XCqPQnTh2uGV77xIuPc6Rkud_rEjzIqRZxunsMwzjardQddtWJh2gSk7uXezV_h3TOIBZOGnG2uTUf1aBq6pdH_q5/s320/PE2s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083393-e3d"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230019279539240178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWoptcGZLTrZ4sAdum4mFm7ZpTA70hKKvBgY71pLvtIGa3KjOg-1iKmQqVK_WyL3GFzjC8Pc7TpJhCHu_NBqztacXvTc3mZwaaNTZE-cIKzOXAimPJ9DCZ28BGolA9C_bQ-kBJRtuxlwCD/s320/PE3s.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083392-b9d"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230011470693743682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WXgEkfNqn5H7oZsqlOCon2yxDs0JOXwll6GJXzF8LaltFGfhJWkWphpOADXXIQ_wqoz_rXGgkU9TJVdo2nkW6efifgj3LydGkhv81H5ztpZjU8zFtSV6WVjHf4tt4i9PNODSEP1Xb3_e/s320/PE4s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"> </span><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083390-e94"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230011476121008866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_CrDEPu0QsyA2RShxFpwM9_ksaioBvCvr-auogbrhPm0hjHro1UsLAxA_VZBjsNokJAajfMF71rxaTNdaYJY2PhVpvxuErTCBUBNvY9JfnrkxO2Gbl58GMGrFGkf0kP8bVujsyuLKka4/s320/PE5s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"> </span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzAlCaFC5yIFjBRX21dwX7tyT6Vc7Gvr4Im9oNX4HWpPoOZbByQA-9AxX79SI26d7n9QAC7Kg7JBqgRyKKH1wpB9pADPs7BkHvSIVWv-921m41vRHcaQJgvqhZLTD-qvcOqP2PEr_2m9sX/s1600-h/PE5s.jpg"><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></a><span style="font-family:courier new;"><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083388-558"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230014473760604626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5K5RLRkjOqQf97uokl6RshpidxxepjIB4IuBDjSDhMkSntyYzT-gPgrJGAhsjjHQj75YT2PtTVUlHjD3VUJs290sSETS9Pr6p7rjB2el14RTRN94MI3t3Uh3m0O7_aAkdyr7S8xRoEaEz/s320/PE6s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083487-432"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230016782877095986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89XwvXeFg2F7r8YlqWKcb32a06Miln5mxVfBJccv0GCe3xuGzrKaGJ5fVICa6FnX8DNWrmXWMMraN57yKOzzs_MDumBsaP_HV5TEmU83ljxxoe236S-zqputZR_gSykxnYQglIXRBvjrg/s320/PExs.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083387-cfb"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230014470991003570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmjo6xXTGnOIgPUEF-vG4L_AQjzbyVfWOoM1dy7Rxmq7a9Q1I3IYtuYqB3IFOGBCdh0w58HEkAI7dgBYlCmUht_VVsbmvYPdRUVpvD2N4y85nJKzO0izk6dG-qY2iWU-l5zHXknab9mYu/s320/PE7s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083347-c28"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230014470314084706" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGv6uaEPSJ2OQEU8F9V9EwJDMwybkrMB465TMcI5ITIVqolJWNBkGP0KwTkLg-zmRixJMEKeAeDL4ektrVhxEhXKvgDvPuiL1mY4xkKVvI4pWcRgNVOtS1DUKq4D-TBQSkFwLPxBm04kct/s320/PE8s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a> <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083346-85e"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230012316061831778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvn5I_dC21_AhvXxMIreMuBGA2JSeYpnu1ORtV28uIKbtVb2ltPP0GxWNBSIaI-CKxjLLAMS7SEPThdJcRNTTHLczCSCYHfhMOhR8xwYCB2Z8y-uOTlSVyKtiGMtvUQtLM2y4Vq6xy9ncC/s320/PE9s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083345-1f3"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230012321549880770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3mVKjBZraGuIgnpVuEvaq_2lwQYq1yxWn1TjKlRvWbRkYGZ_ZLaqZxyukjo0O4MA5UMiaGw_igK5y1gT72T_LRmGsZA1QHe7OFIgBM992lwwTeSh6vKH70YubBYII-oCT8Adh2v3fL0M4/s320/PE10s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083344-4f7"><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span></a><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083344-4f7"></a><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083344-4f7"></a><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083344-4f7"></a><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083344-4f7"></a><a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/5083344-4f7"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230014463807632498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXaNA_SQWE37iDOio4YVw6jGC2PzPBlXi6eXYCALplAGekCYyKnZ0Rz4pekUEIXbRcJkk8MAhzy9ch1P12bCO2j0kz3-UYLoDqyegILtF7WBgDN_8AbnTuxkETxmU3EVmHlvO5r1js3kxg/s320/PE11s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0vXmxk_kRniuizNhMqhA1jOoLklFpIfWemZRBb9Mi0hNVwroY3H9GbSJQpA48leSG-79pEP7oAWJIaOTwwcP51JcuDGCkimV1Nreys7EvPGggQ2OTOqHI-wguRakIx9cwN4T8ejxpE4C/s1600-h/PE8s.jpg"></a>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-80347689567223615492008-07-26T09:51:00.000-07:002008-07-26T13:21:34.024-07:00Cities To Dust - Video<span style="font-family:courier new;">Live video from German tour.<br /></span><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy16PDxtLugMv3_BX5TxbuaUENcU0QTraNUFCN_iPVVSTqg92i2mlwgIqfibUPTqwRrTrpqDuGmkXgjYBFp0A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-19562303834142590102008-07-24T07:32:00.000-07:002008-07-24T15:22:13.781-07:00Nuclear Death Terror - s/t LP<span style="font-family:courier new;">Here's our LP from 2006 in it's entirety, together with the artwork and lyrics.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: courier new;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqpsm4J2H7FkfXt2-Tpgk8mlVt-204a1KxQgVl0Nw0_fsB7oMO7ATPyeWH_PL6SxJe1cvjQkp_We1WSArLBv6Kh2yZvTwVn_9ChDdKE1WsIu0vUY1iULIDhtE2wXMUklu5Qe4S07COwKWd/s1600-h/albumart.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqpsm4J2H7FkfXt2-Tpgk8mlVt-204a1KxQgVl0Nw0_fsB7oMO7ATPyeWH_PL6SxJe1cvjQkp_We1WSArLBv6Kh2yZvTwVn_9ChDdKE1WsIu0vUY1iULIDhtE2wXMUklu5Qe4S07COwKWd/s320/albumart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226589511771273490" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">1. NDT</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">2. ARCHITECTS OF GENOCIDE</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">3. POLICE FUNERAL</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">4. A STORM OF LIES</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">5. IN THE SHADOW OF THE GALLOWS</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">6. AT THE ALTARS OF THE GODS</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">7. NIGHTMARE REALITY</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">8. SYSTEM CONTROL</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">9. BLACK UNIFORMS</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">10. THE SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF<br /><br />DOWNLOAD: <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?0guon99dba0">NDT - s/t LP</a><br /></span>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-998843563618207340.post-12772124675906417142008-07-24T07:30:00.000-07:002008-07-26T15:25:40.040-07:00Nuclear Death Terror - Demo 2005<span style="font-family:courier new;">This is our 2005 demo</span><span style="font-family:courier new;"> in MP3 format, together with the full lyrics, artwork, and other relevant info. I've been finding copies of this on blogs and in file sharing, most of which have got the song titles and other info wrong; this is the proper version.<br /><br /></span><a style="font-family: courier new;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCTcQDz8by6_DSLULdcm6boB2aO0yMYDdU_teVqQrTSSOBydxFTMyhrTz9fJNFBL9IvLRwfsiNu3yUAR-IXlMowXeFs_hpZCLhva3dPd2uz_7hMmv4ydnU7kYJGJBKbU006MINiAXwBaG/s1600-h/albumart.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCTcQDz8by6_DSLULdcm6boB2aO0yMYDdU_teVqQrTSSOBydxFTMyhrTz9fJNFBL9IvLRwfsiNu3yUAR-IXlMowXeFs_hpZCLhva3dPd2uz_7hMmv4ydnU7kYJGJBKbU006MINiAXwBaG/s320/albumart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227421027453390818" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">1. CITIES TO DUST<br />2. NIGHTMARE REALITY<br />3. SYSTEM CONTROL<br />4. LOST<br />5. POLICE FUNERAL<br />6. LIFE OF PAIN<br />7. NECROPOLIS<br />8. FINAL HARVEST<br /><br />DOWNLOAD: <a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?chtu4dm1zm5">NDT - Demo 2005</a><br /></span>Nuclear Death Terrorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00332519225127353033noreply@blogger.com2