Category: Music

We’ve been lucky to meet some awesome people on this tour, like Jim the GWAR truck driver. He let us stay in his hotel room the night before our much anticipated show at the Rave in Milwaukee.

Notice a name missing? I guess were are not as anticipated as I thought. No problem, we will make numbskulls of these Milwaukeeans yet. I mean, it’s not like there’s fuck all to do there anyway, except get sprayed with blood one night and Faygo the next. Oh, and one can visit the home of Frederik Pabst, creator of the cheap swill we rushed to buy before 9 pm (Milwaukee’s inexplicable cut off time) the night before. Admission is twice that of getting a six pack. I opted for the six pack.

The day of the show, we grabbed Jim and headed for a matinee of The Thing. Good enough, but not great. At least it wasn’t a remake, but a thought out prequel. It was nice to do something vaguely normal in between all these shows and night drives.

The show itself was a lot of fun, other than all the power turning off during our set and people from the crowd wandering to the backstage where people had valuables. To make it more fun, I pretended it was the old Milwaukee Metal Fest and that we were being extorted a grand to play opposite Opeth or something. Ah, the good ol’ days.

We drove out a bit and got a cheap hotel for what turned out to be just a few hours. I woke up around 7 am and like a jolt remembered we had to cross back over to EDT. We were going to lose an hour. Never mind that we didn’t even check our tour book about the early load in because of FOUR local acts playing. We were afraid of being read the riot act when we arrived late in Detroit, but ETID was even later. And the locals even later than that. We were the least irresponsible! Yay!

Harpo’s in Detroit… there is no bigger venue that is so horribly ill-prepared to put on a big show. They didn’t have enough mic’s, not to mention the ones they did put up didn’t work. They had locals on two stages in the same room playing Blink 182 covers in between the touring acts’ line check. Total bullshit. Luckily, ETID’s great sound tech, John, has taken to helping us as a means to help himself & ETID keep the show going.

But the Detroit people… they know how to fuck shit up. The crowds were awesome for everyone, if not even a bit too rowdy for GWAR. Oderous yanked one potential stage diver off stage and threatened another guy who threw shit at him. I confirmed the next day that he has indeed fully beat the shit outta unruly bohabs in full GWAR attire.

For my part, I enjoyed our stage invader, a 9 year-old who I lifted up in my arm to be cheered by the crowd of hundreds. They were probably disappointed when I handed him back to his dad instead of drop kicking him.

Awesome crowd… and I was told far less Nazi punks than normal. Oh boy, all those swastika tattoos sure do stick out after just one has been shown to you. Way to go, Detroit. Luckily, we met Brian and Kate who loved Dystopia so much they hugged Dino and offered us a place to stay. They also made us flap jacks and eggs the next day. Faith in humanity restored via breakfast fixins.

Only to have your faith destroyed once again in Indianapolis…

Just kidding, Indianapolis. I realize mENSA scouts aren’t exactly clammoring to check out any GWAR shows for potential members. I was happy to see my old MDF buddy Erica, as well as my buddy Adam I had met when Ludicra rolled through before. The show was a lot of fun, but the dick bag who was begging for a $2 discount on one of our cheap ass shirts because he “just spent $140 on Every Time I Die merch!” can bite me. My rage was quickly dispelled by the kitties at Adam and his girl Weronika’s house.

After driving through Chicago twice, we finally got to play there the next day. We played the House of Blues, or House of Stairs as Jizmak referred to it. It is an amazing rock star style, if not tiring, venue. It takes up five stories from loading dock to penthouse backstage. My legs still hurt. There were back stages tucked away for everyone, a top notch crew, awesome dinner, showers, and even secluded booths in the mezzanine where we enjoyed watching GWAR like second-rate Statler and Waldorfs.

Notice the lack of wires on stage. I have to admit, for years I’ve dismissed wireless systems as fucking rock star BS. After having a klutz dressed as 7′ tall robot knock your cables out night after night, I’m rethinking wireless systems as god damned practical. Andy from Every Time I Die also uses a Hughes and Kettner Red Box, a DI speaker simulator for guitar that eliminates the need for a mic in front of the guitar cab. Pretty cool, but not very punk. Apparently for us, punk is getting constantly unplugged and having gear break down. It’s hard to be so TRV3.

After the show, we were supposed to stay with my friend Will from Indian. The show ended early in accordance with Chicago laws regarding all-ages shows. I thought it was a good time to get some sleep and recover some health before the next slog of drives. GWAR and ETID had other ideas and took my boys out for some self-medication. I woke up alone in the van, still parked in the morlock tunnel underneath the House of Blues. Around 3 am everyone returned with stories of penthouse hotel suites, VIP rooms at the Hard Rock, and lots of alcohol. I’d gotten the short straw and it was placed in a cup of coffee for what became another night drive.

Delerious the next morning and with a few hours to spare, I was pulled onto Route 66 by giant statues aside an antique mall.

The Pink Elephant antique mall was a fun visit. We made a bunch of new friends with the locals who were likely afraid of our large pockets on first glance. Nothing more adorable than a metal head antiquing.

I was happy to find and buy everyone Not heads. Yo Charlie, watch the beat!

We ended up early at the show in Sauget, right outside St. Louis. I passed right the fuck out and woke up in time for soundcheck. Pop’s is big club surrounded by industry and strip clubs. Everyone was seeking grub, but it was only by delivery, save for the Penthouse strip club next door that was manned by a 4-star chef. I headed over and gained free entrance with my tour badge. I was pleasantly surprised by the wonderful pasta primavera with a side of three topless girls simulating sex with each other to a techno backbeat. All class.

We’ve had a lotta luck with shows so far. By that bar, this show was a disaster. First, nobody remembered to wake a slumbering Scott until one minute before we hit the stage. Then, after Sean announced the first song, Dan discovered the power on his side of the stage was off. I lost my strap on the first note. Sean broke a string. I had a pedal failure and had to get into a monkey – robot fight to fix it while holding up a crumbling mic stand. When it thankfully ended, the crowd showed us all due patience and didn’t boo.

The revelers of the night before, Dino, Sean, and Dan, were assigned the night drive ahead of us on hungover tummies. The price of living large. After an uneventful ride back north to more cold and rain, the Twin Cities loom in the foreground and I’m bundled in my Snuggie. I wish it was a superior Slanket, because this tour is likely to get colder and wetter as we head back towards the Great White North.

Doktor Ross Sewage
www.doktorsewage.com
filling in at the Creepsylvania Hospital’s traveling burn ward

Half way. That’s about how my body feels at this point. Half way to the shitter.

It’s a lovely day off between Milwaukee and Grand Rapids. GWAR is off jet setting to play the Jimmy Fallon show, and I don’t envy them and their schedule in the slightest. For me, it’s time to reflect on the last few days. So, driving, rain, sweat on top of old sweat, more rain, and drive. Yup, that’s the gist of it.

Being on this tour has been rewarding and awesome, but fun? The term is relative. The lack of sleep, the tight scheduling, the onset of the cold in the air and in our bodies… all for < 30 minutes of glory in a molding costume. Yeah, it's worth it. We drove all night into New York to secure a parking place for us, which became securing a parking place for ETID as well, who showed up later. We’ve also been made to use their cabinets with some frequency now as the stages get shallower. That’s fine, but when I asked, “well, what are the Ohms of their cabinets?” I was answered, “it doesn’t matter, just plug in.” Ummm, bullshit. Unless someone wants to buy me a replacement NOS 40-year-old power transformer, those Ohms are to be checked. With a couple Marshalls at 16, two Oranges at 16, and a pair of Aguilar for bass at 4 each, ETID’s cab set up works fine for us. But I had to run my head at 2 Ohms to run both bass cabs, because, “two on the road, you half the load.” (tm & c Ross Sewage 2011) Or, it likely would’ve been safe running at the previous setting of 4 Ohms with just some lost volume, because, “up with tubes, down with solid state.” (tm & c Ross Sewage 2011) The show was sold out. Awesome, but I had to duck off to see my friend Laurie in another bar because we have less guest spots than members. That’s rough. Then we drove all night to Cleveland. No sleep till outta Brooklyn. We had a few hours with our pal Süree, slept for few after the show, then onto Toronto and Canada. Rain, rain, rain as we loaded in. We played, and then as we do every night, loaded directly out. About 100 people were still in line in the rain when we plowed our gear through them as ETID began their set. That line included my friends and guests Amanda and Kevin. Sorry, guys, it just wasn’t in the cards to see us. Instead, they got reach arounds from security just in time to see GWAR. We were given some beer and told to take it to our backstage: the van. As the openers, we get the last of the takings. Largely, our backstage has been our van. To be sure, the GWAR crew with Germ, Bob, Matt, and Gibby have been as accommodating as possible. They find space amongst their prepared props night after night for us to change into stage garb and make space for our schtick. The generosity and sharing on the part of the headliners of this tour has been amazing and noted. And then it’s out the door. Kevin and Amanda put us up for a few hours sleep and made us some amazing cookies that we ate while we waited in customs to get back to eating freedom in ‘Merica. It took about three hours, twice what we anticipated. In America, it’s guilty till proven innocent. We waited out in the cold while they X-rayed our van, presumably looking for all those Canadians we were sneaking in to work in the poutine fields.

That made us pretty late for our show in Grand Rapids. We made it just in time for our soundcheck. On this level of touring, I think we we are still seen as the fuck ups. Sure, I’ve been playing and touring since before half the tigers in the crowd were even born, but I guess I’m still more punk than punctual.

The show still went off and we had a good set. We’ve worked on our show a bit as we go, hugging our pander bear tightly. These crowds want more blood, so we are giving them more than when we started the tour. I don’t think they expect it from the first band: the crew at Irving Plaza certainly didn’t. Scolded for making a mess at a GWAR show? It beggars belief.

Our new favorite brand of blood is Ben Nye’s Mass Casualty. We got this from propmeister Scott’s pal, Jim Stramel. We stayed with him in Norfolk, VA after he did a great job as our robot killing monkey-man on stage. He had used the Mass Casualty blood in his movie, “Degenerates Ink.” (a rolling slaughterhouse of blood and ink). He also used it in a music video he did. After he shot the video, the blood left on the ground was so convincing the cops were called in. Fuck to the hella yeah. It’s a great powder mix, dilutes well, and IS NOT corn syrup. No more corn syrup blood! EVER! It’s the worst, corn syrup lobbyists be damned.

From this very blog, I had received an email from one Damian Master, who offered to put us up in Grand Rapids for the eve and fix us breakfast. Looks like all my tour bitching online has worked out to some much deserved pity! In all seriousness, Damian also plays music, and he understands life in the road can be hard. I think I might’ve heard that sentiment expressed in a song or 5,000. These oases of kindness are alway appreciated, and bands should always give these tigers swag. Also, his dog Mike ruled.

Now, after the leisurely break, we are off to Milwaukee to hang out with GWAR truck driver Jim and hopefully see The Thing. Not his thing, the movie. Then, back to it… the final half. As opposed to the second-to-last half.

“How the wheels keep rolling
And another sign post gone
Baby, can’t you hear me calling?
Like a sad whale song…

Sad whale song, baby.”

Doktor Ross Sewage
www.doktorsewage.com
filling in at the Creepsylvania Hospital’s traveling burn ward

Location:S Lumber St,Chicago,United States

Question: why do I gotta see you guys at a GWAR show that’s soooooo expensive at $25? [average]

That’s a question that’s come up from a few downloading 1337 punks online as our sorry asses have been asked to be on this big tour. We normally play much smaller, cheap shows. The price is fairly commensurate with the quality of the show going experience we are able to put on. So why is a GWAR show so expensive? Ney, that shouldn’t be the question. Why is a GWAR show so cheap?

Here’s me and Matt Maguire, production head, slave, artist, performer, all-around amazing dude. This is around noon in Manhattan, the beginning of their day after driving all night.

Go-time o’clock: the crew is up and ready to go. They’ve got a rented truck plus a gigantic trailer attached to a tour bus to unload. Jim and Gibby… yes, hard at work.

The crew consists not only of Gwar slaves, but also hires locals from the club. Some of them seem used to it, others take quick snapshots with loose props.

Local crew member “Spider” is looking to get squished.

All these people will be working from noon until 2 am, approximately. Today in New York, the elevator inside Irving Plaza is broken. Sa-weet. Those are 300 pound steel set pieces holding guitar cabs. To quote Darth Vader, “Noooooooooooooo!”

Some crew will work much longer, cleaning. The entire club is covered in plastic and disposable carpet. I guess they don’t wanna be redecorated in fake-blood pink.

As the gear comes up, Matt and Bob Gorman (another long running and amazing Gwar slave / performer / artist) hang every band’s banner and set about assembling the stage themselves. Presumably, they are the only ones who can, as the directions are written in Antarctican.

Once it’s all set up, it’s a masterpiece akin to a Broadway show, except portable and way more durable. It’s also safe, quite unlike the Spider Man set.

This set has to be constructed over and over again, hold people, gear, and props, and be subjected to the rigors of blasts of liquid. And that’s just the fans cumming in excitement.

Speaking of liquid, slave / performer Scott goes about mixing that with a special pigment imported from France with water in giant canisters.

These will be pressurized with air by a large compressor. Physics finally used in real life. In this case to simulate 40′ ejaculation streams. The prof would be proud.

The crew then helps all the opening bands load in our gear. All on the dime of not us. Eventually the band, who also helps prep the stage, comes out around 3-5 for a decidedly ungory sound check with their sound engineers and tour manager. I assume these humans on stage to be the best local GWAR cover band around. After sound check, they are killed and eaten for their power.

By the time the attendees get to see the show, they hopefully enjoy a couple of openers like Sean’s Band and Every Time I Die. Then they blissfully witness an hour and a half or so of GWAR blasting them with blood and playing some ripping metal. The tigers think they’ve done all the hard work in the pit, making sure their white shirts are besmirched with pink fluid.

Never mind the incredibly hot costumes onstage and the amazing stench afterwards. There’s clean up and load out to do. Hopefully showers, too, lest the bus driver gets singed nose hairs.

It’s all in a day’s work for these scumdogs of the Universe. This doesn’t even factor in all the time designing and making the stuff back at the Slave Pit. So unquestioningly hand over your sheckles and feed yourselves to the world maggot, human. GWAR is in town.

Doktor Ross Sewage
www.doktorsewage.com
filling in at the Creepsylvania Hospital’s traveling burn ward