Thursday, 24 June 2010

Evile Infecting Nations 2010 tour.Madrid.

The coffin I wake up in has made me freak out throughout the night, the ceiling is so close that if it were made of glass it would be dense with my breathe. I have carpet burns on my knees from trying to get undressed for bunk and dressed again in the morning. And I feel horrible, after sweating too much due to the total lack of air or ventilation. Fuck this, the suns out and I’m getting out of this hell on earth bus. Oh no wait, South Park is on in the back lounge, I’ll just watch one.

Paul got no sleep last night, sleeping against my advice in the front lounge. He was freezing, it was loud and there is no curtain across the front window. The fool. We will for sure be swapping back tonight. Now I’ve experienced the nightmare bunks, I’m happy to go to the back lounge instead.

Madrid is warm and sunny and we are on time which means one thing is finally able to happen. Stock check of the trailer. I been needing to do this since Wolverhampton but weather has not permitted. The label and management probably hate me by this point. It takes under an hour to get done, and I make sure I have a guy with me the whole time to keep an eye out for thieving scum while I rummage through disintegrating boxes and count.

I set up the merch stand and stress about the lack of lighting, this is another ‘do what you can’ night. No Gaffa tape rule. Nico, the Spanish promoter bought me some today bless him, at least I don’t need to worry about it tomorrow. Today though, is a bit messy with regards to displaying the t-shirts and I give direct instructions to Elad from The Fading and Kevill from Warbringer not to come and interfere with stupid questions about how I’ve displayed their merch.

I’m selling all three bands merch, which is cool until you get them coming up thinking they know better, which they don’t. You don’t see me going up on stage and giving them stupid arse pointers while they play. It will invariably be about how one of their t-shirts doesn’t have both front and back displayed. Because there is no room.

The rules are as followed. Headline act gets first display, opening band last. That means that often, the opening band will not have much room. Headline act always gets both back and front shown. The other two will if room permits, otherwise not. Stuff like that, all pretty obvious. I keep butting heads with these two though and it’s starting to get on my nerves. I am here to sell Evile merch and while I am more than happy to do the other bands too, especially since it brings me more money sorely needed, they also need reminding now and again that they can do it themselves if they are not happy with my work. Which of course shuts them up since no one wants to be stuck on the stand all night having played a show too.

The venue is filling up fast and there are cheers and chants as The Fading walk on. Spain just fucking loves it eh?! God love them! The Fading are clearly stoked and play a blinding set, while down at my stand I get a photo of two cute Spanish girls in their newly purchased Evile tops. Thought the guys might enjoy this during one of our slideshow moments. My laptop has a slideshow option with the funniest lounge, Jazz music behind it, and we like to upload my photo’s and play them through every couple of days, laughing at each other and the lame arse shit we have been getting up to when bored.

The Fading singer, Ilia brings up the whole football thing again, this time evoking boos and hissing. Best leave that one in Barcelona eh! Other than that they played their usual strong set and left the stage to rapturous applause. I start chatting to a guy at my stand with an American accent and turns out he is a scout for Road Runner records. So of course I give him one of my flyers and tell him to check out my writing. Never know, he might want me out with one of their bands?! Fucking hope so, I’m loving this road life. Do miss being warm though. And comfortable when I sleep.

So I spend the most part of the night feeling completely inadequate because the bloody Spanish chicks are so damn hot. And Thrash Spanish chicks? I just feel like a fat and pasty, beached whale, beast of a sub human next to them. Above the audience, the bands laundry is hanging over the balcony, attempting to dry. I say the bands, I think it was just Joel’s. I’m pretty sure Warbringer wash but don’t change their clothes for weeks at a time, and The Fading bought enough clothes for six weeks, being their first tour and all. Not that anyone smells. No so far anyway.

Earlier today, before we were let in the venue, a bunch of us watched some Pantera documentary that was on the bus hard drive. We were talking about how gnarly the shows looked, and Kevill made a very valid fucking point. Now days you can’t get close to the crowd and go all out with them ‘cause there’s a 10-foot pit between you and them. And most venues have banned crowd surfing or stage diving. It’s fucking bullshit. The spirit dies with that sort of rule making.

Big turn out tonight, the biggest we have had to date. By the time The Fading are off stage, it is full house. 200-300 crazy Thrash fans! Tonight is rocking, everyone is happy and in good spirits, this is what it’s supposed to be about. Not fucking Kerkrade with its empty room. Not fucking Wrexham with its cold and empty room. Not Sarrbrucken with it’s stiff as corpses audience. This. Madrid. Packed with good people.

I’ve had an idea that I want to patch up a pair of my denim hot pants and stud them and that. I love denim waistcoats covered in so many patches, you can barely see the denim. Ones that have taken years to get like that. I want a pair of hot pants like that. I also want to make a massive Vivienne Westwood-esq', ball gown made out of denim and patches. That would be fucking rad. Not for me to wear, just to do.

Back at the workstation I have embraced my Spanish brothers and sisters by learning how to say fifteen in their language! I am terrible and learning languages, I still can’t remember any of the Hebrew that the Israeli bunch have taught me and they talk it around us all the time, so this is a big fucking deal form me. The whole front 5 rows cheers when Ben from Evile comes on stage to help Shaked change the drums with Nic. They are all sharing Ben’s drums and have different requirements to play so help each other with change over’s. I don’t know if Ben notices the cheers but it was fucking epic!

What is also epic is Warbringer’s stage entrance. They all go off after tuning their instruments and walk back on together. The audience loved it, I laughed my arse off. Kevill’s voice sounds totally distorted from the get go, massive delay going on, makes it sound like they are playing a stadium This does not stop the mosh pit of course. I wonder if he asked for that or if it’s the soundman on Acid? A kid up the front gives Laux some of his beer and Matt, Ol and Joel all watch the first bit from the balcony. The crowd are surfing by ‘Total War’ and I drift off in to my own world of girl. I want some red spandex. I miss my perfume. I miss getting drunk at the Crobar.

I get pulled out of my little dream state of getting drunk at the Crobar with all my friends while rocking red spandex and smelling all lovely and fresh by some dudes who want a photo with me. With me! Safe bruv, lets go. Earlier today some dude who had been watching a parking space for us all morning, had been insistent in us all signing a flyer he had. Including me? I explained I wasn’t in the band but Ben was laughing his arse and got me to do it. Weird guy.
Some hot girls come by and get a couple of Warbringer t-shirts in XL so that they can cut them up. Like their style, it really is the only way to rock the band tees in a stylish way. Warbringer do an encore and Kevill wraps up the set by diving in to the audience and crowd surfing for a while.

Everyone rushes to the merch stand and the air con unit above me is pushed up a notch in to full blast. Oh joy of fucking joys, I’m freezing again. Another couple of people ask for photos with me and I’m starting to feel more comfortable with it. I think it’s mostly ‘cause I’m tall and blonde and they are not. This didn’t happen as much in the Scandinavian countries when we been. Also I am a banging hot Thrash chick! Ha!

Evile prompts crowd surfing immediately and everyone is singing along to Infected Nations. They give their most amazing and mental performance to date and the room is electric.
Two girls ask to get their photo taken with me, I am on fire. That or I am a freak show hag in Spanish land and they are all laughing at me behind my language barrier.

Ol pisses around between songs, playing the riff from Fear of the dark, which prompts the crowd in to singing along and raises the vibe in there even more. An inevitable stage invasion starts and I am desperate to go and join the mosh pit for a bit. Can’t we all just stay here and the three bands can have a residency? I could work the bar, we all learn Spanish and live happily thrasher after.

I am still fucking freezing under this fucking air con unit, why is it always me? Of course I have started drinking, the vibe is too good here not too, and I’m hoping it will numb the coldness. Honest. I get a shot off the barman who has helped me with change all night when I give him discount on a t-shirt too, which doesn’t help the drunkenness.

It was such a shame that we had to leave straight after. We got to piss about and drink for a while but an early bus call was needed so that the two drivers, Chop and Steve, could get to Lisbon for the next day without fucking up their Tacos. Don’t know what that is, some sort of card that they have to swipe every time they drive to make sure that they stay within E.U regulations and don’t drive dangerously long.

We clamber on board and continue drinking while watching Predator. Kevill is wasted ‘cause I gave him vodka, which is apparently not a wise thing to do because he can’t handle it. This makes for hysterical commentary throughout the film, banging on about how “that’s our fucking Governor man!” Very happy with the Arnold as Governor situation. “Our Governor won vs. the Predator dude!” Hw wants to do the merch money for the night with me but I have a rule. I like to do it on the night, give the bands their money. But not three hours after the show when I am knackered and he is twatted. He is insistent that he is not and I say fine, after the film.

After the film, Kevill is out cold. The next day we all thoroughly enjoy showing him photos of his Chaplin sharpie 'tash and the poses we did around his passed out self.

I kick everyone out of the back lounge once ready for bed except for Adam, who is my favourite and fall asleep in my bench nook while he drinks the rest of the vodka and watches the Time Bandits. At some point, I come round to him and Joel laughing at it and tell them to wind it up, I need to sleep and it’s too noisy. And bloody 7 in the morning. Turns out the drunken fools had the surround sound on.

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