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The Plaza, London [Mar. 23rd, 2007|09:10 pm]
So many plans we had, so I randomly send off this email to this guy called steve, who runs a night called Chaos Vs Cosmos, he offers us this gig with a french band called Yolk. Sounds good. hells yeah.

we rent the van, get Guy to drive and head down to london. which seemed pretty stress free, we eat fresh sandwiches with italian salami and listen to frank zappa.

I'm fucking shit at this, my apologies before: Steve Chaos Vs Cosmos calls me a few days before the show telling me the original venue can't be used, he doesn't tell us why, I later find out that its because of a murder or something. heneyway the gig gets moved to this place called the plaza, which looks like its owned by the Krays, a fear washes over me as we enter, this wave of terror becoming practically tsunami-sized when i was told no one was soundchecking because of similar fears.

During the first band who I think were called "Am A Animal" I look at the landlord and landlady's faces. fuck fuck fuck, they're shocked, they're appauled, what are we to do? I don't want to spend the rest of the year dead, especially seeing as I was so close to the end of it (the year, not time or my life or anything).

I chat to Steve Geisha briefly about my concerns, as we watch BB Blood.

It is now our turn to play. SUNN O))) style we stack our amps as high and as close to each other as possible, we hit some chords, have severe power difficulty (ie stuff isn't turning on) set the laptop up and just launch into it.

It was good, similar problems, can't really hear the drums, can't really work out if it's skipping or if we're out of time, but actually turns out to be a really good show, with a good appreciative audenice who seem to like it. One of the best machine gigs anyway.

End up chatting to loads of familiar faces, really started to freak me out that I actually now recognise people who go to our gigs in London. Saw Andy, Chris, that guy who's name I always forget, you know the one, tall guy, you mean the guy who's really tall, yeah, yeah, that guy, I know that guy, what's his name?

Met Terry Edwards a man I am on a remix album with.

Good gig.

YOLK were amazing, really truly stunning. listen to them now!!!
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Habitat (Fooltribe Little Festival), Italy [Mar. 23rd, 2007|09:09 pm]
After a slow day off the next show is a five band bill in the middle of nowhere. This is where we meet Amavo. Oh Amavo, it was love from the start, within moments I had imagined moving into your house in venice and performing a multitude of thrilling abominations upon those wonderful bodies. Amavo, come to me, stay with me, I have enough love for both of you, I'll fill your fucking life with disgraceful pleasures.

It is for this reason I'm glad the gig went really well. I played through this amp called an Engl. Which sounded sweet.

I spend the rest of the evening chatting to Amavo, trying to convince them to come back with us. They decline, they didn't speak much English and I don't speak any Italian.

They've stopped replying to my emails now.

How I love them.
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Hybrida, Italy [Mar. 23rd, 2007|09:07 pm]
Fuck I was hungover that day, to be honest I was hungover each day, luckily that only seemed to last for a few minutes as I slept right through breakfast everyday and was immediately presented with lunch and more wine. The drive seems to take us all day, when we get there we seem to be playing by this beautiful river complete with waterfall. The venue itself is like a little art space, I find out later the whole building was a silk factory.

Soundcheck goes ok for about 30 seconds before we realise that the bass frequencies are causing the hard disk on my laptop to skip. Fuck. We try and make a little soft throne for it. It seems to solve it for the soundcheck at least. Then we all sit down and get fed this never ending supply of delecious food. I think I ate a testicle. It was a soft white spongey meat, it was very tasty if it was a testicle. This very attractive man kept on filling this jug back up with wine. before we play I'm already fucked and trying to pick up this girl who I realise now was clearly married or something to the guy with the neubauten tattoo, to be fair I'm not actually sure how clear it was but I remember steve telling me this was the case and saying how it made sense. anyway, gig was balls, laptop did skip, did an extended wall of sound. Felt like shit afterwards. Chatted about Whitehouse with some people and this very attractive and also very fucking insane venezuelan woman kept, well, being attractive and insane.

This is where I go blank. I remember speaking to this girl she said something along the lines of "you shouldn't drink so much" I responded with something along the lines of "ain't nothing wrong with me, I can still fuck!".

Tizio very politely woke us up. I was in a hotel. A Hotel? surely I didn't get that fucked? turns out we were staying in a hotel anyway. Awesome.
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500 Rock Club, Italy [Mar. 23rd, 2007|08:56 pm]
Yesterday we were introduced to the local lambrusco, a wonderful naturally sparkling red that fucks you up. The 500 Rock Club has pictures or Fiats everywhere, I think we worked out why, but for the life of me I can't honestly remember. We're playing with a band called Longhorn Slim, they are this kitch-kinda-rocakabilly band from New York, all of there songs are about love, and to be fair all sounded the same. But hell, I don't know about these things, maybe I'm wrong, I can accept that I am. There is a limiter on the PA, this means we can't get the drum machine loud enough, we're working on borrowed amps and they sound odd, my guitar levels are all over the place, steve's amp is mighty quiet. Still we press on with soundcheck, give up, get more lambrusco and head upstairs so us, longhorn slim, and our tour managers can eat. I have this fish pizza thing with this chilli olive oil thing. It is awesome.

I am sat at the far end of the table opposite Tizio and next to this very thin man who has been travelling with the guys from the US, he is an American himself and I guess that's why he's there. I am told by one of the longhorns that this thin gentleman "collects drug addictions". I figure he might have some interesting stories, his main addiction seemed to be with downers, he never mentioned smack or anything, though he does mention he's a writer more than once.

I'm an ok guy, I just wanted to get really fucked up and enjoy myself, given that the show was doomed from the start, but they don't seem too interested, plus we're given these drink tokens so we only have two more drinks before we play... or so we thought.

The performance was just fucking average, my guitar signal kept cutting in and out which I checked the next day so it must have been the venue, we couldn't hear the drum machine, most people left, didn't sound great. We kinda plodded through it, wen't through the motions, walked off stage dissapointed. I went to the bar and asked for a lumbrusco. They didn't charge me... This was indeed an interesting development. So I became a one man Italo party machine. Ended up chatting to this guy with a fantastic moustache about Italian horror and disco. It was great. Steve found out much later about the free lambrusco.

I guess I had a great time. Eventually.
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The Stanstead Airport Incident [Dec. 7th, 2006|04:06 pm]
There we were, we stayed up all night, caught the bus to Heathrow, then onto Stanstead, everything was going our way, check in wasn't for a while, score, cigarette, looking at women, big trolly full of equipment, the bag holding my FX about to burst.

There it was Bologne Forli, Italy, cool, queue.

"Hi there, we paid for these bags already, can you tell us how much the excess will cost?"
"Ok, that'll be £36"
"Ah" I replied.

Fuck, we'd fucked up.

"You'll need to lose 7Kg" Replied the surly check in fella
"You see," I replied, desperate to be as polite as possible "these are guitars, we can't dismantle them, they'd be useless."
"Oh!" I think he grinned "They're musical instruments? Then they'll be £21 each, each way"

So apparently we had to tick a box for musical instruments when we bought the tickets. I moved over to the ticket desk to try and discuss how we could solve the problem.

"Can we be invoiced?"
No we couldn't

Essentially we had to pay for them now, or we wouldn't get onto the plane. There was a place we could leave them. I went to investigate. Per day, Per Item it was around £10 I think either way leaving them for 6 days would cost us a fuckload more.

I turn to Steve "Right, we're going to have to beg for the money"
Steve looks shocked.

So I walk up to someone and explain the situation. No
Again. No.
Again. "No, I don't think so" says the posh suit wearing cunt, as he counted his money. Fuck man, we only needed to make about £10.
Again. "Weall!" Cockney cunt "That tough luck," I replied "You'll die very fucking lonely"
Then some kind gentleman gave us £2 saying he understood.
Another kind family gave us around £1 in change.
A kind woman gave us £2.
We check a cash machine, no luck.

I go speak to a nice Jamacian family and explain the situation, they say they understand but cannot help. So I move on, next thing I know Steve yells out to me. The lovely family had given us £5.

We run to the desk. We hand over the money.

There was 10 minutes to spare before the gate closed.

We breath a sigh of relief.

Everything goes ok.

Plane ride was ok. I read for the most part.

We get to Italy and Tizio our tour manager is there, we explain the situation and he sorts us out with Cigarettes, wine and food.

He is our hero and we sleep all the way to his house.

Later that evening after more sleep, we head over to the house of Giovanna and Nat who cook for us, we are very grateful for the hospitality. Nat turns out to be in The Oxes, so we chat about mutual people we know and end up watching Rambo 2 dubbed in Italian. Then the new South Park episodes.

I sleep soundly that night.

Life tests me sometimes, it really fucking does.
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Epicurian Lounge 14/10/06 [Nov. 30th, 2006|05:59 pm]
For some reason Steve has been awake for hours, I however have not been, I sit up, my ugly naked body revealed to the world and ask him how long he's been awake. Hours it seems.

The solution is simple, I have yet another shower, Steve and I leave to find milk and breakfast. We still have no money for glamorous things so we buy Cornflakes and Bananas. My breakfast also includes a healthy dose of ultra-strength painkillers, a tour essential, this is why I had such a bad time before. Tea and a cigarette, we pack up, thank Tim and head off to the wonderous taaan of laaaaandaaaaan.

It takes about an hour to leave Manchester.

On the road, we end up listening to the new Melvins album 6 or 7 times on the journey. I spend my last 50p on a tasty apple. The apple gives me strength, it was a tasty apple. Apple of strength and so on.

The drive through camden takes too fucking long, why? I'd like to blame the FASCIONISTS but it really was the traffic.

We find the place. We see Big Joan's van. We go in search of:

After soundcheck, Chris who put on the gig gives us food. He is awesome. Also the epicurian lounge is really nice, way nicer than we're used to. The toilets are clean for one thing.


We play first. We're awesome. It takes 40 minutes to change over because Steve disappears and I have to pack up everything myself. It would make me angry, but I'm too tired... then the Beer runs out.

This is ok, at least we got beer.

Now, the gig we were supposed to play was in this other place, that I cannot name for reasons I'm about to reveal. The other place is an awesome turbo-party place that we've played a few times (earlier this year infact) but the police started sniffing around, going through Big Joan's, Ours and Arabrot's myspace page looking to shut the place down. Fucking cops. So the gig got moved, which meant we ended up playing to a more hipster crowd, who didn't really like Geisha or Arabrot, we didn't care, we were just happy to be fed and liquored up.

After Big Joan play, who were great. Geisha and Arabrot headback in the van of doom, necking red wine and beer and singing Prince at top volume.


Kjetil said the immortal phrase "Look at us noise rockers!"

We got back and lamented the end of the tour by watching Nick Cave DVDs and feeling sorry for ourselves.

Poor Geisha.
Poor Arabrot.

The most fun I've ever had.
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Star & Garter 13/10/06 [Nov. 27th, 2006|03:47 pm]
Fuck I was hungover, somehow I managed to find the £1.50 required to purchace a fentiman's ginger beer while we waited outside the croft to get our equipment. At this point I was still disappointed that the Norweigans were unimpressed by Tasty Stop, Bedminster's best breakfast. I had a chocolate milkshake with mine, it was awesome.

We load, we sweat, we drive onward to Manchester. We bump into Big Joan at the petrol station, Ironic as we are playing with them in london the next day. I don't remember eating anything, everyone was quiet in the back of the van, I had to direct, which was stupid as thinking made my brain hurt.

We've played the Star & Garter before, last time it was so loud my hearing was fucked for 3 days, "Cool" i hear you yell and yes it probably was, I don't remember.

The gig was so-so, I think it was largely an "indie" crowd who didn't really understand. That and we fell out of time, well I blame Steve and he blamed me so it was the machine's fault, which of course it couldn't have been.

the Set was the same as the night before.

Arabrot cleared the room, they didn't seem to unhappy about it though.

We head back to Tim from Stranger Son's flat and drink:

Tim got quite drunk and started falling all over the place. We had much fun wearing a wayne rooney mask that freaked us all out. Then we passed out.

Oh yeah, Annlynne (sorry if I spelt it wrong, or even got your name completely wrong) attacked Vidar with a Cactus. I laughed for a while. Though I probably shouldn't have.

Ahh memories.
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The Croft 12/10/06 [Nov. 25th, 2006|03:46 pm]

Our friends ARABROT are back, three dates of drunken noise rock debauchness. Tonight was at the Croft with Mea Culpa, who've changed a lot since I saw them last, I like it, it's more epic now, they'll probably hate me for saying this but a little more goth but not in a way that would be balls. Arabrot seemed slightly confused by them and Kjetil made references to their singer as "a bit like Freddy Mercury"... at least I think it was Kjetil who said that, might have been Vidar. Hmm. Anyway, I laughed.

Stranger Son of WB were fucking amazing, Steve called them Skronk-Pop, which is pretty good, like JSBX and Dr. Feelgood mixed with Sonic Youth, amazing songs, passionate performance. Ah yes I remember now, Will from Mea Culpa forgot something, so we had to cut Stranger Son's set time, they seemed happy with it. Stranger Son really blew me away.

I remember the Arabrot guys being hungry, they said they went somewhere. Their show was awesome.

We played and I thought we were pretty good.

Set was:

How To Kill A Career
von Dreck und Feuer
A Wilderness
Exploitation Cinema In The Workplace
I Feel Love

after the show. we obtained:

we then stayed up till god knows when listening to Ministry. Steve had lost my Big Black tape, the Big Black tape is still missing.

I mourn it.
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Espionage @ The Croft 23/09/06 [Nov. 5th, 2006|02:47 pm]
Fat Paul, who runs Espionage as well as Invada records, gave Geisha our first gig back in 2002? was it? I don't remember. I DO remember it was our first gig, and it was also at The Thekla.

The Thekla recently having been sold to the Rock City guys (as in Nottingham Rock City) meant that Espionage, the club for those who like to pretend they are spies had moved location. The Croft seems to be a place I spend a lot of time. Paul makes an effort though bless him, a familiar space transformed, a comfort rushes over me.

Tonight we play with a band called The Creepy Morons. Who have been recording with Kevin Shields I worship for ages, turns out mr guitar player has Kevin's Fender Blender, I cry a little inside.

Oh. This was also our first gig as a 2 piece.

So the night was good, everyone was having a good time, The Creepy Morons were great. We we're a little under rehearsed but I thought it was a good show.

I drink a lot that night and dance a stupid dance. I met germans they had discovered cider, and geisha.

Was a good night, fucked if i can remember the set list.
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Seymour's Family Club 02/09/06 [Oct. 29th, 2006|06:37 pm]
Still in the limboiest limbo of all olympic limbos. Simon our drummer from before Sean joined helps us by playing drums for us again. We play second on a bill with Trencher, who we've played with a couple of times, but still, they don't know who I am.

I realise that the guys I was staring at were not infact Trencher around 30 minutes later. However when Trencher do turn up, they don't know who I am. It's considerably less of a "deal" than i'm making out. Fuck it.

So I'm just really aprehensive about the whole situation, something doesn't feel right about everything, was it the fact that 3 days ago I was in Seymour's Family Club playing with a different band after I had come off my bike, still done the gig whilst bleeding and tender, memories perhaps? I think it's something else.

I go to the lavatory to check my cock, nope, nothing wrong with it, I give it a little jerk to make sure I can still get it up. So no problems there, what the hell is wrong with me. I have another cup of coffee. Smoke a cigarette. Seems to be going ok. Simon doesn't sit with us. Thought that was strange.

So we play, I only take half my rig and my amp doesn't seem to like the Fender Blender, it was just lacking in so many things, we play to about 10 people maybe? not so bad, just a big lack of energy about the whole thing.

Can't remember the set list.

I don't think I get drunk that night.

Simon doesn't help pack up and then leaves. Steve leaves with his girl. I don't have a girl so I stay, chat to Dan Bennett about music.

Trencher's Strobe Skull freaks me out.
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