Campaign for Death Metal Purity 2010: Buried in the nameless sands and mountains of antiquity...Prescott, Arizona

I manage to grab a goodnight’s dreamless snooze before I have to meet up with the guys at 12:00 PM on Monday. I arrive fashionably late as Thorgrimm, Abominator, and Hellfiend rearrange the equipment in the trailer. Bodybag in turn arrives even fashionably later than I do. We’re very fashionable guys!

We dump one of Bodybag’s guitar cabinets and his effects case off at the studio which frees up some room but not a lot. There’s not much else we can unload as practically all of the equipment is necessary. I thought about dumping my bass flight case off since it’s particularly large and heavy. But I don’t have another case (soft or hard) for my Moser and I’m not too keen on taking my new B.C. Rich out on the road just yet. Screw it. I’ll keep it around. It’s a handy flight case and can probably be dropped out of an airplane at 30,000 feet and land with barely a scratch. I guess that would matter more if we were flying...

Off we go to Arizona! The desert sucks though. Stupid nature. Thorgrimm starts to worry because the SUV temperature gauge rises past the normal level. We’re hauling a heavy ass trailer, with five of us in the vehicle which is also packed with stuff and up and down desert mountain roads so the SUV is really getting a workout. I mention to him that if the temperature got really high, a last ditch resort would be to turn on the heater which should pull some of the heat away from the engine. [Note: I just read an article that this particular method of cooling down an engine is minimal at best, especially with newer vehicles.] Bodybag confirms this by nodding and mumbling (he’s more mechanically inclined than the rest of us). Thorgrimm blasts the heat and we roll down the windows but the desert wind doesn’t do anything to relieve the sudden blast furnace we find ourselves in. It’s scorching but luckily the heater doesn’t stay on for long.

Our way to Prescott takes us through backwater, almost dead towns in the middle of nowhere. There are communities that look like they’ve shriveled up and are nearing death, yet they hang on to that small sliver of life. It’s almost depressing but Hellfiend suddenly kicks on some Steel Panther and we start cracking up at the lyrics to songs like “Asian Hooker” and “Death to All But Metal”. That lightens the mood a bit and diverts our attention away from crumbling Native American reservation communities and tumble-weed choked deserted villages.

Up, up, up into the mountains we go! The scenery changes from bleak desert landscape to green trees and modestly well-off mountain communities full of white people. Now this is more like it!

The area of Prescott we find ourselves in is the sleepy small town district. It seems rather active as we pull in late in the afternoon and it looks like they still have decorations up from the past weekend’s July 4^th celebrations. Hod and Cardiac have been at the venue for a couple of hours and Beer from Hod is schmoozing it up with a local lady and her dog. Mostly with the local lady though.

I run and do a quick inspection of the venue. The stage is small and room for equipment, much less band members, is pretty much nil. I guess I shouldn’t be expecting any kind of large stage and top of the line sound gear at a joint called The Drunken Lass.

We unload equipment and I take a quick walk down the street to try and find a place to eat. I see a few but nothing really grabs me. Plus most of them look either too fancy, expensive or they’re just coffee shops with a small sandwich counter. I get back to the venue and Adam from Cardiac tells me about a pizza joint further up the street. Thorgrimm has the SUV so I ask Abominator, Hellfiend, and Bodybag if they want to head to this pizza place. Guess we should have waited for Thorgrimm but our stomachs were guiding us so any thought of waiting around was out of the question. While we walk, we see what we assume to be the token black family of Prescott. Fascinating. Thorgrimm eventually joins us and proceeds to curse and call us fags for leaving him behind.

There are no other bands playing tonight and it looks as if Prescott is going to be a truly dead show. No one is there except for a handful of locals who closely resemble hippies with meth problems. One older lady in shorts way too high for her age comes roaring out of the dark of the night screaming with this guy in tow. Turns out she isn’t really screaming but actually singing. She fools a lot of us. Bodybag comments to her that she has the voice of an angel. Hellfiend adds on to that and says she has the face of a Mack Truck. I probably heard this all wrong. This same lady goes around and kisses everyone on the mouth as a form of greeting people. Luckily something shiny pulled her gaze away from Abominator and me so we were spared some mouth herpes.

Hod takes to the stage first and plays to Cardiac, Gravehill, and about four locals. A couple at the bar gets into Hod and the chick keeps stroking Beer’s head and pants. I guess the husband or boyfriend doesn’t mind. Some random guy walks into the bar with a bald head and a red sports jersey on. He has a beer and stands there making these aggressive movements towards Beer and I think the guy is going to try something. I think we’re all ready to pounce on this whacked out tweeker dude if anything goes down. Luckily the douche-bag gets kicked out.

After Hod finishes their set, the couple at the bar starts to argue. The guy grabs the girl and says, “Let’s go bitch!” She responds by grabbing someone’s half-finished beer and tells him, “No, I ain’t done with my beer!”

Husband/Boyfriend: “That ain’t your beer, bitch!”

Wife/Girlfriend: “It is!”

Husband/Boyfriend: “No it ain’t! Grab your shit and let’s go bitch!”

Classy stuff my friends. Better than any reality show on television as far as I’m concerned. One of these days I aspire to end everything I say after talking to a woman with “bitch” and still have her follow me out of a local dive bar for some sexy sexy times.

Cardiac Arrest takes the “stage” next and play to...you guessed it, Hod, Gravehill, and still around the same number of locals. They shred and I grab a couple of goofy pics of Adam and Jim actin’ da fool.

By the time Gravehill’s set starts, there’s practically no one in the bar except for the Hod and Cardiac guys. We decide not to put on any armor or blood and just jam out a set like at practice. We change our name briefly to “Mortuary Mountain”. Get it? Not “Grave” “Hill” but “Mortuary” “Mountain”. Get IT?? It’s nice to let my hair out and just jam without being hindered by the helmet, armor, and spiked gauntlets. After one of our songs, Abominator sees some locals walk by outside and yells at them to get inside the bar. They walk in but I think they’re afraid to leave because of Abominator’s stern order for them to stay and watch us.

Despite the shitty turnout in Prescott, it actually morphs into a fun and interesting night. All of us were more relaxed and not as on edge. Plus it’s the second show of the tour we aren’t late for...two for two ain’t bad! The few locals that hung around were interesting and the jukebox was full of metal songs and the owner of the place let us have free reign of it. Much metal karaoke was had. The owner also tore up our entire bar tab, bought merch from each of the bands, as well as giving money for gas out of his own pocket. Very cool guy. Of course he probably feels guilty but we take what we can get!

After screwing around outside in drunken debauchery, organizing everyone to load the trailer and van is a bit of a challenge. It gets done though. Slowly, but it gets done.

Hod and Cardiac decide to hit the road and head out to Texas immediately. Gravehill decides to stay in Prescott and get some rest before heading out the next morning. We have a day off before the Austin show so there’s plenty of time to rest and travel.

Stuff White People Like

"Stuff White People Like" (I didn't write this shit, but I think it's funny.)

Rock Climbing

For much of human history, when a human being saw a mountain in front of them, their reaction was, "Damn, I wish this mountain wasn't here. Why can't someone just blow a hole through this?" One day, after many roads and tunnels had been constructed, a white person thought to himself, "You know what? I'm going to climb this, look around, then climb back down. The view from the top will be worth risking my life." And rock climbing was born.

The appeal of the sport has grown in recent years, as cities and college campuses have opened indoor rock-climbing facilities. Now urban white people can experience all the thrill of climbing up something, looking around, and then climbing back down - which is the only goal of rock climbing - without having to take a long drive. There is no gold at the top of the mountain, no secret lair, not even a snack bar. The only reward is self-satisfaction and the opportunity to say, "Dude, crazy weekend. We did the summit of {insert mountain name}. It was intense. Me and a few buddies are planning a trip to Peru to climb."


Red Hair

White people with red hair are one of the rarest types of white people that you can encounter. Their hair color was created by a northern European mutation that will likely be extinct in the next hundred years. Enjoy them while you can!

The role that red hair plays in white culture is not necessarily essential to understanding white people, but it is helpful. White people associate red hair with Irish roots, allowing redheads to constantly remind others that they have an "ethnic" heritage.

Many white women are envious of red hair and will dye or declare that they want to dye their hair some shade of red. This is because red hair is seen as both natural and less mainstream, thus giving it two very desirable properties.

Campaign for Death Metal Purity 2010: Sour Home Los Angeles

The trip home is almost uneventful. Thorgrimm starts us off in the wee hours of the morning right after the San Francisco show and takes us on this weird, back road journey. We are following Hellfiend’s directions and I guess he wants to take us on a scenic route. Scenic routes in the dark really don’t work out too well but I imagine that the terrain is really pretty and I fade off into a weird dream. William Shatner was in it. I can’t remember that much, but fuckin’ Captain Kirk had no patience for people being late to his Social Studies class so we fought each other like in a Star Trek episode; all cheesily choreographed with the stupid music playing in the background. Ironically, I don’t think I’ve ever watched an entire episode of Star Trek all the way through.

I awake as the sun starts to rise and Thorgrimm pulls over to get gas. I take over driving duties but decide to grab some donuts before we take off. My acid reflux has been hell over the past couple of days plus my appetite is returning so I’m pretty hungry. If you have acid reflux or GERD, you shouldn’t eat quickly or bad stuff will happen. Well, I am so hungry that I just start choking down donuts and I forget all about my malady. I get in the driver’s seat, drive about 20 feet and suddenly feel the donuts start to come back up along with some tasty stomach acid. I hop out and puke for a couple of minutes while Thorgrimm, Abominator, and Hellfiend make fun of me and talk shit, “Oh, so that’s how Corpsie keeps his trim figure!” Haha. With friends like these...

I drive for a couple of hours and then Abominator takes the wheel. We pull up to Thorgrimm’s pad, I leap out, grab my stuff, get the keys to my friend’s car, and speed off to my pad for a shower, shit, and sleep. I don’t sleep for long though as I still have to wash a few clothes and get ready for the show in L.A.

Eventually I head back to Thorgrimm’s place and we all chill for a few before leaving for The Blvd.

We arrive at The Blvd apparently late (around 7-ish). There is another tour package in town so this show is a merging of the two in one location. Insidious Discrepancy, Disfigured, and another band are playing as well. Somehow and for some odd reason, Fatalist is put on the bill second (instead of in the regular tour line up that we’ve been doing) and since they are using most of our backline, it delays the show! What the hell? I just don’t get why Fatalist is going on now. So right off the bat we start hauling shit in fast so they can get set up to play.

Another disappointment of the night is the fact that locals Imminent Death had played already and it was barely after seven o’clock! I wanted to check them out but it looks like I’ll be delayed in completing that goal yet again.

By the way, East L.A. on July 4^th is quite an experience. You don’t know if people are setting off fireworks or firing guns. All you hear is “pop pop pop”. Also, are those screams of people having fun or getting shot?

I hang out for Fatalist, some of Disfigured, and a little of the one man act Insidious Discrepancy. The one man acts are cool I guess. It takes some talent to put all that shit together but the music is so chaotic and artificial that it’s hard to get into. I decide to vacate the area and hang outside.

I meet with friends and talk to a number of people. Tom from Cardiac and I head next door to this hole in the wall Mexican place and have some of the best tacos in L.A. for only a buck each. Cheap, good food rules the schools!

I should mention that Cosmo Lee of invisibleoranges.com and a freelancer for other metal zine outlets is at the show. Always beside him is this brooding, large guy with a camera. Honestly, the camera looks like a prop. I bet he’d be more comfortable with some brass knuckles and a steel pipe than an expensive piece of equipment like the camera he holds. (Note: Cosmo’s review of the show can be found here: http://www.invisibleoranges.com/2010/07/death-metal-purity-tour-the-blvd/ It’s an amusing piece on hair in heavy metal...)

So this entire time I’ve been texting and calling my friend. “I need you to pick me up from the show. You’re my ride home. It’s important that you come to the show tonight. You’re on the guest list.” Oh, did I mention I lent him my car? Well, he replies early on, “Yeah, no problem.” Showtime for Gravehill creeps up and still my friend hasn’t arrived. I try to call several times and get no answer. I leave a couple of voice mails and send a few texts. We’re about to hit the stage when I finally get a text response, “Dude, I fell asleep. It’s too late now to head to the venue. Sorry!” I am furious! I want to punch something real bad. I feel my jaw muscles clench and I see shades of red flash in front of my eyes (literally). My smooth laid out plan to get home early for some rest falls apart. I try to use that negative energy and focus it in my performance but it hinders me. My mind isn’t really there and I go through the motions but I’m not into it. I’m a pretty laid back guy and slow to anger and this is the first time in a long time that I am enraged. I don’t like that feeling. I’m a happy go-lucky corpse fondler. Not an angry one!

After we play, we hang around and drink for a bit. Someone asks if I’ve seen the merch table and I remember seeing one in the back. When I come out with the table, I get a scolding from the promoter that I had his table. Turns out ours was already in the vehicle. The Corpse just can’t get a break!

Los Angeles turns out to be a night filled with ups and downs. I make it home eventually, shower again, and manage to get some sleep before our trip to Arizona starts in the morning.

Campaign for Death Metal Purity 2010: San Francisco...we almost missed you!

We all converge on a Denny’s in Portland around 9:30 AM but the restaurant is packed and we have no time to wait around. It’s decided to just head out on the road because we want to get into San Fran at a decent time.

Thorgrimm, Abominator, and I pile into the packed SUV and the rest of the guys cram into the van. From the looks of it, this trip is going to be very uncomfortable for everyone.

I sit in the front seat trying to play navigator with the GPS as Thorgrimm handles driving duties. But Portland is fucking all of us. There are so many one way streets, dead ends, and closed off streets due to July 4th festivities, that we get lost several times. It takes us over an hour just to get out of the city.

We find a Denny’s several hours outside of Portland and it’s decided that stopping to eat is the plan. Bodybag and I chill inside the Denny’s waiting for a table while everyone else is outside. Two older lovely ladies come in, sit on a bench, and immediately start hitting on us saying they love our long hair. Bodybag is immediately drawn to them because of their unwashed, oily hair and faded four-leaf clover tattoos on their wrists that should be green but have devolved into a fungal-colored abomination. But then the truth comes out that they really like Carl (the guitarist of Hod) so we let him know as the two ladies snort and giggle like horses. Carl’s not interested.

The SUV has some minor trailer trouble so we pull over at a gas station and get our resident mechanic and overall tool, Bodybag to look at the loose wheel fenders. He retools some things, tightens others, applies silicon and other crap and affirms that the fenders are secure. Good enough! We head out again.

I begin to worry because we have a serious lack of time issue. I mention it to Thorgrimm which gets him to start worrying. Thorgrimm freaking out is not fun to be around, but I figured I should bring the subject up on whether we would actually make the San Francisco gig. It takes us too long to get out of Oregon and we are just entering Northern California late in the afternoon. We still have several hundred miles to get to San Francisco and the sun is already beginning to set.

I take over driving duties in Northern California and try to make up some time once we’re out of the mountains. We hit speeds of 85-90 mph on the I-5 south which probably isn’t too wise with a driver who’s inexperienced at pulling a trailer. Fuck it; we are determined to make it.

Thorgrimm has finally found the San Francisco promoter’s number and informs him of the situation. The promoter doesn’t seem too disturbed by the situation and keeps a cool head. He tells us to keep up the speed and we’ll make it.

Neil from Fatalist is calling Thorgrimm consistently. Fatalist has been at the venue for several hours and they are freaking out that the rest of us aren’t there yet.

We arrive in San Francisco and pull up to the venue (Thee Parkside) with only minutes to spare! Another three minutes and the show would have been shut down! Fans and friends who have been waiting at the venue help us unload quickly. Fatalist sets up and starts their set within ten minutes of our arrival. We all agree to play limited sets and cut songs due the lack of time. The door and sound guys are very fucking cool. Apparently they’ve all seen Gravehill play Frisco in the past and are really looking forward to seeing us play again. They even ask if we are going to bother putting on the armor and blood because of the time crunch. We tell them that we are getting decked out no matter what and several “fuck yeahs” are heard. Or “fuck yous”. My hearing is pretty much shot.

Several friends of mine show up in San Fran and it’s cool to see them. Unfortunately I barely have any time to hang out and chat and I feel like an ass. I apologize for not hanging out more but they understand.

The transition from each band is almost flawless since we’re all using the same backline. Cardiac Arrest goes on after Fatalist and slays, then Hod immediately starts setting up. Hod delays a little because Beer has to take a shit. Luckily it seems he must have cut his poop short and wiped deep cause less than a minute later, Beer emerges from the bathroom and they proceed to rumble.

Though the crowd sports maybe only 30 people, they are die hard Hessians that love metal and purposefully stayed around to watch us play. As we rage through our shortened set, the countdown is on. 15 minutes until the power to the stage is turned off. 10 minutes...5 minutes... It looks like we have to play an even more abbreviated set. But after the countdown ends, people are yelling for one more song and the stage manager comes up and tells us to just fucking play. This rules. We jam through two more songs and end the night with a bang. The patience of the promoter and the people who work at Thee Parkside just really rocks and I’m grateful they even let us play seeing as how late we were.

The work doesn’t stop there though. I strip off my armor and immediately begin breaking my gear down and hauling it outside. I open the trailer and again, Dennis, Thorgrimm, and I start to load shit up. I’m exhausted and I finally convince someone else to take my place in the trailer so that I can catch a breather for once and give my back a rest. I begin to see a pattern though of those who are helping to load up and those not even willing to get near the trailer. I’m very aggravated about that and this is only day two of the tour. Hellfiend is aggravated himself about being cooped up in the van and so room is made for him to join Thorgrimm, Abominator, and me in the SUV. We take off immediately for Los Angeles while the van stays behind and the rest of the guys crash at a local’s pad.

Note: There was some more shit I added to this that was quite humorous but fucking "blogger" decided I was using some stupid html code and nothing was saved. Technology is awesome.