Skintaster
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Any of you ever keep them?
I did. Not always, but from time to time. I posted an entry from my time in Bozo Porno Circus on my Facebook - I have old band mates on there. The entry was picked because it didn't really implicate any of the rest of them in anything they might not want others to know about.
Here's the post, warts and all:
Our van rolled into London Ontario in the early afternoon. Our route hadn't allowed me to see much of the city, but the area where the venue was located had a run down, skid row kind of feel to it. This was somewhat distressing, because the promoters had promised us hotel rooms for the night, and the venue was attached to one.
Our group entered the building to discover a small dark room with a dismal looking bar, populated by destitute and shady looking drunks Probably homeless alcoholics that had scratched up enough change to drink there. We asked the bartender where the hotel rooms were located, so we could get settled in before loading in our gear.
"It's a shithole", interjected one of the bums A troubling review if I ever heard one.
After being directed up a flight of stairs, I arrived at one of the rooms, and it was indeed a shithole. It was actually a small series of rooms - A "Suite", I suppose. The bare wood floors and walls were all uneven, and the furniture looked as if it had been culled from a dumpster somewhere. There were two beds, and I tentatively touched one It seemed to be stuffed with straw.
Realizing that this was the sort of bed that people rented to die in, and that it was most likely soaked with a variety of human body fluids, I sat my duffle bag of clothing and supplies on the floor. Seemed safer. As if to contradict that impression, a swarm of cockroaches streamed out from under the bed and up the wall the moment my bag was set down.
"We can't stay here tonight", I told Lori when I met her in the hallway. Having seen the other room, she seemed in agreement.
The club itself, was in another room located next to the dying bum bar, and was surprisingly, not too bad. It looked like a fairly standard punk bar, with a huge open floor, a slightly raised stage on one end, and another bar running along the side. All in all, not the worst kind of place to play.
We got Chinese food delivered, as part of our food allowance provided by the promoter, and set up all of our musical gear and stage props. The stage was somewhat small for a group like us, but certainly not the tiniest we ever played on. It had the seemingly required "Support beam on the stage" design feature that seems almost universal for clubs, but at least this time, the beam was located off to one side, and not right smack in the middle.
Playing "gothic and industrial nights" all over the country, one eventually learns that certain things are unavoidable - Badly dressed, aging goth guys that wear top hats are one of those things, and support beams in the middle of your stage are another. You learn to deal with those issues.
I got dressed in the roach hotel, trying not to make contact with any potentially contaminated surfaces - Basically any surface. The opening bands were local punk rock bands, and both did their thing. The crowd grew as the night wore on, and by the time we took the stage, it had swollen to a respectful, if not exactly large number.
I was distracted during the show by a small group of young females pressed up against my side of the stage. One of them kept trying to grab my leg when I got close, and when I looked at her, she very clearly mouthed the words "I'm going to **** you" several times. Her whole group looked like they were probably in high school, so this was distressing to encounter.
One thing that most people don't understand about playing shows out on the road somewhere :
If there are people or situations you don't want to deal with, you're basically screwed if you're in the band playing that night. Unless the club is huge, and has a great backstage area that's off limits to the crowd, your escape options are generally limited. A dedicated "fan" or crazy person can find you easily, and this was something I encountered regularly while touring. Plus, as a member of a struggling band, I always felt like part of my job was to be somewhat friendly with any potential fans People tend to remember musicians that treat their fans like shit.
So, as our show wrapped up, I weighed my options. Since I didn't want to get pounced upon by any sexually aggressive jailbait Canadians, I didn't wait to mingle in the club for long. As soon as we got off the stage, I headed to my not so nice hotel room to hide out for a while. I had time to change into my after show clothes - Basically a tee shirt and warmup pants, when there was a frantic knock at my door - I hoped it was a bandmate, but I knew I knew it was the teeny boppers from downstairs. And so it was - When I cracked the door open, all of them tried to push into the room.
So I was in the hallway among a gaggle of too young, horny teens, in a foreign country, with no bandmates anywhere in sight. The one that had been grabby when I was on stage was a pretty blonde girl, and I basically made a lame excuse - I told her I had to run downstairs, but would be back in a minute.
So no. No Jimmy Page moment, where the guitar player suddenly says "**** it, I'm 30, she's 15, this will be fine."
Instead, I ran downstairs, and discovered that the rest of the band were heading somewhere with someone to smoke some weed. "That "Somewhere with someone to smoke some weed" thing happened constantly when we toured, so I knew the drill. I got the keys, and sneaked off to our van to lay low.
Thirty or forty minutes had gone by with no sign of the rest of the band, and the club had mostly emptied out by then. As I sat in the van, I finally saw the young blonde leave the club- She had such a sad look of dejection on her face that it actually made me feel guilty for a moment. She walked down the street eventually disappearing into the night, and I hoped that any rejection she felt would soon subside And I'm sure it soon did - Probably the next time another band rolled into town.
I did. Not always, but from time to time. I posted an entry from my time in Bozo Porno Circus on my Facebook - I have old band mates on there. The entry was picked because it didn't really implicate any of the rest of them in anything they might not want others to know about.
Here's the post, warts and all:
Our van rolled into London Ontario in the early afternoon. Our route hadn't allowed me to see much of the city, but the area where the venue was located had a run down, skid row kind of feel to it. This was somewhat distressing, because the promoters had promised us hotel rooms for the night, and the venue was attached to one.
Our group entered the building to discover a small dark room with a dismal looking bar, populated by destitute and shady looking drunks Probably homeless alcoholics that had scratched up enough change to drink there. We asked the bartender where the hotel rooms were located, so we could get settled in before loading in our gear.
"It's a shithole", interjected one of the bums A troubling review if I ever heard one.
After being directed up a flight of stairs, I arrived at one of the rooms, and it was indeed a shithole. It was actually a small series of rooms - A "Suite", I suppose. The bare wood floors and walls were all uneven, and the furniture looked as if it had been culled from a dumpster somewhere. There were two beds, and I tentatively touched one It seemed to be stuffed with straw.
Realizing that this was the sort of bed that people rented to die in, and that it was most likely soaked with a variety of human body fluids, I sat my duffle bag of clothing and supplies on the floor. Seemed safer. As if to contradict that impression, a swarm of cockroaches streamed out from under the bed and up the wall the moment my bag was set down.
"We can't stay here tonight", I told Lori when I met her in the hallway. Having seen the other room, she seemed in agreement.
The club itself, was in another room located next to the dying bum bar, and was surprisingly, not too bad. It looked like a fairly standard punk bar, with a huge open floor, a slightly raised stage on one end, and another bar running along the side. All in all, not the worst kind of place to play.
We got Chinese food delivered, as part of our food allowance provided by the promoter, and set up all of our musical gear and stage props. The stage was somewhat small for a group like us, but certainly not the tiniest we ever played on. It had the seemingly required "Support beam on the stage" design feature that seems almost universal for clubs, but at least this time, the beam was located off to one side, and not right smack in the middle.
Playing "gothic and industrial nights" all over the country, one eventually learns that certain things are unavoidable - Badly dressed, aging goth guys that wear top hats are one of those things, and support beams in the middle of your stage are another. You learn to deal with those issues.
I got dressed in the roach hotel, trying not to make contact with any potentially contaminated surfaces - Basically any surface. The opening bands were local punk rock bands, and both did their thing. The crowd grew as the night wore on, and by the time we took the stage, it had swollen to a respectful, if not exactly large number.
I was distracted during the show by a small group of young females pressed up against my side of the stage. One of them kept trying to grab my leg when I got close, and when I looked at her, she very clearly mouthed the words "I'm going to **** you" several times. Her whole group looked like they were probably in high school, so this was distressing to encounter.
One thing that most people don't understand about playing shows out on the road somewhere :
If there are people or situations you don't want to deal with, you're basically screwed if you're in the band playing that night. Unless the club is huge, and has a great backstage area that's off limits to the crowd, your escape options are generally limited. A dedicated "fan" or crazy person can find you easily, and this was something I encountered regularly while touring. Plus, as a member of a struggling band, I always felt like part of my job was to be somewhat friendly with any potential fans People tend to remember musicians that treat their fans like shit.
So, as our show wrapped up, I weighed my options. Since I didn't want to get pounced upon by any sexually aggressive jailbait Canadians, I didn't wait to mingle in the club for long. As soon as we got off the stage, I headed to my not so nice hotel room to hide out for a while. I had time to change into my after show clothes - Basically a tee shirt and warmup pants, when there was a frantic knock at my door - I hoped it was a bandmate, but I knew I knew it was the teeny boppers from downstairs. And so it was - When I cracked the door open, all of them tried to push into the room.
So I was in the hallway among a gaggle of too young, horny teens, in a foreign country, with no bandmates anywhere in sight. The one that had been grabby when I was on stage was a pretty blonde girl, and I basically made a lame excuse - I told her I had to run downstairs, but would be back in a minute.
So no. No Jimmy Page moment, where the guitar player suddenly says "**** it, I'm 30, she's 15, this will be fine."
Instead, I ran downstairs, and discovered that the rest of the band were heading somewhere with someone to smoke some weed. "That "Somewhere with someone to smoke some weed" thing happened constantly when we toured, so I knew the drill. I got the keys, and sneaked off to our van to lay low.
Thirty or forty minutes had gone by with no sign of the rest of the band, and the club had mostly emptied out by then. As I sat in the van, I finally saw the young blonde leave the club- She had such a sad look of dejection on her face that it actually made me feel guilty for a moment. She walked down the street eventually disappearing into the night, and I hoped that any rejection she felt would soon subside And I'm sure it soon did - Probably the next time another band rolled into town.
