Monday, 4 July 2011

Deathfeast Open Air



Our first show of 2011 will also be our first blog entry since 2008. Obviously a lot's happened since that we haven't reported, but I intend to get on top of this tour-blog shit regularly in the future. So...

After a 3 hour rehearsal (our first since January!), we had a photshoot with our good friend Andy. Andy is an actual photographer, not just some jackass from the internet that owns a camera. This being said, having to sit still is something I'm no good at so it can be quite a weakening experience, as you can tell by my compsure in this test pic:


Nate doesn't look too chuffed either. Still, at least Tim and Trud were having a good old crack. After a few ales, we set off for Deathfeast Open Air. This is a great festival and is how I remember Fuck The Commerce Fesitval being in the early '00s before it became Fuck The Bands Festival a few years later. (We don't have time to go into this bullshit, maybe in another blog.) The lineup consists mainly of Brutal Death Metal bands from all over the world, there's about 3000 Death Metal Maniacs and it's 3 days of loud fast music, mud and lots of drinking. This year's headliners were Dismember, Grave and Misery Index, so we were expecting a good weekend! We'd decided to drive rather than fly, so we all piled into Nate's car and headed for the port of Dover. Tim had a can of Red Stripe and wouldn't give me any. See how he taunts:

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After the usual bit where we get pulled over for a 'random' search and a quick check of the vehicle (English customs and border guards are without doubt the friendliest and good humored we ever encounter on our travels) we got on the ferry. I've always liked ferry rides, it feels like the start of the gig, and there are fewer delays than when using Ryan Fucking Air, plus the drinks are cheaper, there's room to sit comfortably, and you're less likely to have screaming children in your ears. Or so I thought. There were kids everywhere, French and English. Kids annoy me. I have cats instead because a) they don't ask you for money, b) they don't act like tossers, and c) if they get pregnant you can sell their children. So anyway, we got through the journey no problem using a few drinks to medicate ourselves and block out the sound. I have honestly never seen Tim look so miserable whilst drinking a pint of cider as I have in this shot:


Got to an Etap hotel. Etap hotels are cheap and for some reason the showers are always blocked with body hair and body fluids (all types). Sat up for a while with the boys drinking the red wnie I'd bought on the ferry then decided to drop a valium and head to bed. The room was pretty bare, but they had a few magazines. Check out the kind of publications/services Etap offer their clientel:


Woke up the next day and after a hearty French breakfast and the obligatory shower with the blocked up plughole, followed by endless retching at the detritus that emerged from said plughole, we set off to the fesitval. We missed our scheduled signing/meet & greet session at the Metal Hammer stall due to the Twat-Nav going haywaire and sending us all over the Netherlands, so apologies to anyone expecting to see us there. Just when things couldn't get any worse, Tim stuck on his Small Faces CD. Check out how upset Mike Manure and Wrong Halford got about this:


Arrived at the fest to find it toally caked with mud. Didn't recognise any of the 8 people in the backstage area who were sat having a quiet chat. Not much of a vibe. The only decent toilets were at the other side of the festival, but the walk was definitely worth it, as they were the cleanest I'd ever seen at a festival. The guy before me had used all the toilet roll, but luckily I'd brought a copy of Terrorizer to read, so I wiped my arse on an Arch Enemy feature. (I knew Arch Enemy would come in useful one day):

[Picture removed on legal advice]

After a few drinks, some familiar Swedish, Dutch and American faces appeared and the backstage area didn't seem quite so lame. This is the best thing about festivals, seeing old friends, so by the time we hit the stage I was in quite a good mood, and suitably refreshed. Refreshed as a fucking rat in fact. We played a good set, and the crowd were awesome (cheers guys), especially the maniacs who braved the massive mud pit behind the first row of people. The new song went down as well as the old classics that we stuck in which was a good sign, then halfway through some dreadlocked German mentalist I know decided to get on stage and attempted to violently instert a pineapple into my rectum. I did the only thing I could with my free arm that wasn't holding a microphone, which was get him into a headlock and drop him to the floor, which I'm pleased to say I did without missing a single word. It's hard to know what to expect from festivals like this where it's all Brutal Death Metal bands, as we obviously have a lot of punk influences, but the vibe there was pretty sweet and the people we met in the crowd were all awesome. Unfortunately this was the last day so had missed some real cool bands, but we did get to see some great sets by Krisiun, Vader, Morgoth and Misery Index. It was Nate's 29th birthday too so, after we did a new meet & greet at the MH tent, we decided to get completely stinking and hung out in the backstage area until we were thrown out because the guy wanted to close so pretended the beer machine was broke. Here's a pic of Trud getting all officious and telling off Peter Griffin from Vomitory:


Woke up at 6am the next day to the dulcet tones of Trud snoring. Trud's snoring has been compared to the sound of someone on a motorbike trying to jump over a load of farmyard animals. Apparently me and him had got really drunk the night before to the point that the other 2 were sick of us and stuck us in the same room. This is usually a recipe for disaster because due to our almost identical appearances, we sometimes forget which one of us is which and everything gets VERY confusing. Anyway, something pretty bizarre happened here. I was brushing my teeth when Trud came in for a shower. As he stepped into it, a 1 Euro coin fell out of his ass crack and rolled across the floor. I have no idea why this happened or how it got there. My memory was pretty hazy, but I know there was no funny business between us. Have decided not to fire him as planned, if he shits coins it'll be worth keeping the bald bastard in the band a bit longer -you never know when you're gonna wake up in a strange place and need a cab fare home. Here's me really hungover holding up the limited edition Last Days Of Humanity vinyl I'd managed to get my hands on:


It took 15 hours to get home, but I'm ready to do the whole thing again at Obscene Extreme this weekend. New blog coming in a week or 2!