[atsonicpark]

I was just re-reading an old Big Black tour diary, and I was wondering if you guys knew of any more interesting tour diaries online? I know there was a pretty cool Kim one from a long time ago. Let's get a comprehensive list going!!

Anyway..

Big Black final tour diary:
http://petdance.com/actionpark/bigblack/tourdiary/

Thinking Fellers Union Local # 282, 3 tour diaries:
http://www.tful282.com/diaries.htm

Girls Against Boys tour diary:
http://www.gvsb.com/us_diary/index.html

[batreleaser]

to live and shave in la 2 tour diary
"Here's a bit of commentary on the tour by our own Misty Martinez:
Baltimore first, cuz it was the best EVER. Weasel and Nandor each took a half hit of acid just to help liven things up--turned out that was way unnecessary. Before any of the bands really kicked in, the Baltimore Rowdy Crew had already torn apart the "lounge" area, overturning all the couches and chairs and tables, piling everything in a huge heap in the middle of the room. People were climbing over the furniture mound like monkeys, getting scratched up by protruding staples, yelling, running around, etc.
Weasel and Nandor pretty much stayed outside before we played, Nandor chanting desert incantations while Weasel danced around on the street. The Rowdy Crew kinda hinted that things were gonna get crazy with their multiple belt look, hammers, diving and racing suits, running shorts, leather cuffs, sweatbands, different shoes on each foot like, "watch out, we got stuff planned." Boy, did they ever! We started playing and Rat realized he forgot to record our show, so he immediately ran into Nandor and knocked over all his drums. Total piss-off. Rat thought it would sound like we had just started if he went over and pressed record while Nandor re-set up his drums.
Anyway, after about three minutes a huge freakin' riot busts through the door--about 15 people armed with shovels and hammers and other tools, plus crazy boomboxes, ceramic plates, and wooden objects. They came right up to the stage and start breaking everything, smashing plates with a hammer right on my crotch and up my ass! People were pouring beer all over my wig and butt, spanking me, spitting on me, one guy even bit my --hell yeah!
Nandor and Weasel were out of their minds, peaking at this moment, Nandor spitting stage blood all over the place, on his drums splattering, in people's faces, on himself, freaking out. Weasel was wearing tiny black latex short shorts and boots, and that's it. Oh, and a lot of sweat, which made his shorts start to slide off--ooh la la. I was on his back while he sang "We Are The World," and one of the BRC dudes looked at him like, "Your time is UP," and unplugged the mic. Then like 10 people rushed the stage and grabbed Weasel. I flew off him and hit the floor.
So all these people are carrying Weasel out the door against his will... he's kicking and screaming and I saw the look of terror on his face so I followed the mob, jumping on peoples' backs, kicking them, jumping on Weasel to add dead weight. Almost got a few toes and an arm broken. They threw Weasel in the back of a pickup truck and tossed a blanket over his head, and he thrashed so much he scrambled outta there. Rat and Nandor kept playing, oblivious to the lynching outside. Weasel would squirm and the Crew would attack and throw him back, and this went on for several minutes. Finally Weasel ran back inside, frightened out of his wits, and got on the stage and just started packing up everything, desperately trying to restore some order to the utter insanity. It's all a blur from here, I was totally beat and twisted, came back from outside looking like a rape victim, don't know what really happened.
According to Rat, he smashed a beer bottle on his head and then went outside and rolled around in the street while playing his violin. Nandor ended the set with a white-boy rap. The sound guy pulled the plug on him and all that was left was a huge pile of rubble.
And Rochester was pretty outta control as well. We played on an "Open Mic" night, which would seem lame as hell to an uninformed outsider. Those in the know, however, expect a ghaotic evening of retarded whack-off bands and superbad grunge bands alternating to form a garish plaid of indulgent unbearableness. People showed up hours eary to sign up--this wasn't no arm-twisted night of heartbroken poetry--because they get excited about playing. Imagine that! Not jaded fuckheads! All right!
My favorite for the night was the Shambling Mounds (featuring members of Pengo). They dressed up as enormous piles of garbage and shook a little and moved around just enough to look sinister. One Mound was on the floor, rolling on a dolly, covered like a turtle with a large half-sphere shell made of rattan. So this guy who kept "warning" us that he was gonna disrupt our show attacks the turtle mound and starts jumping on the round shell thing. Nandor joins in, breaking off the outer-most ring. There was this huge round wooden hoop with nails protruding from the inside and like an idiot I start using it like a hula hoop. Then the original disrupter guy grabs a hold of it and yanks really hard, whipping my legs out from under me. I fall on my ass in pain--one of the long rusty nails had punctured the back of my thigh. Enraged, I got up and attacked the guy like a windmill, throwing punches to his face even! I've never done that before. He blocked himself and ran away like a whipped dog, ha ha!
But as for the TLASILA2 performance, all I know is at one point I was hanging by my ankles from Weasel's neck while Nandor claimed I was a white trash prostitute who'd do anyone. Everyone was jumping around, people were simultaneously aghast and excited, laughing and cringing...
Rat almost strangled to death the dude who I beat up, and that guy's wife was her own story altogether. While I was walking through the audience she grabbed me and made me hang on her, humping me in the air like a ghetto booty dance-off. I escaped, and she followed on stage, riding my ass doggy style, pummeling me with flat hands.
VERY loud, actually listenable at some points. Great way to end the tour--shredded and full of hatred, ready to rip each others' heads off, scum to the core. Overall, I was extremely shocked by friendly and enthusiastic encounters on this tour. I faced extreme disinterest and/or hostility the last TLASILA tour, which almost left me wondering: hmmm... is TLASILA2 *hard* enough? Did we actually look amiable on stage? Gotta say no to both my quries, truthfully, because the people who showed hospitality were truly insane and/or scuzz of the earth, rude to their mothers, babyfuckers at heart.
They're the ones who laugh at all the cripples we saw in Rochester, wanted me to slit their throats in Pittsburgh (found a rusty icepick on the floor and threatened, but didn't do much with it), begged to bite off my clit in Baltimore. All NEW FACES, too, so ha ha dissenters--your little plan to ignore us didn't quite work. Stay in your stupid wormholes. Go ahead and pray that karma will catch up with TLASILA2, but guess what? God isn't listening to you. I realized I made the mistake of calling us TLASILA (not 2) for the Baltimore revue, but so did the rest of the small percentage of the world who gave a shit this last week.
We're not trying to play the band off as TLASILA, because that's not who we are. We're TLASILA2. But at the same time, who fucking cares? Weasel said we could call our band Michael Jackson if we wanted. Rat's testing this with TLASILA3 (which is pretty close to just being The Laundry Room Squelchers) is also going to tour under the names "Harry Pussy 2" and "Sonic Youth 2," just to get more people to their shows. They made a fake TLASILA2 CD, which I haven't heard, and also a fake Harry Pussy 1975 CD. So then some of the Pengo guys made a fake TLASILA2 1975 CD and it's really good! Too bad there are only 15. Ask Vixo99 for one. Please make more fake CDs! Every time one hits the market an indie rock band breaks up. More trash, less trash.
On a more positive note, it really was nice to talk with women this time 'round, instead of dodging beer bottles. At least one was hitting on me, too! The men in the TLASILA2 crowd weren't such pussies, either, balls-out asking to hang with me. No chance in hell, of course, but the bold moves were appreciated.
Baltimore left me fired up for living. So much energy, plenty of attractive people, few who seem to care what others think of them. Lots of dreams thrown around, I like that. I hitchhiked through there three years ago and the guy who picked me up was at the TLASILA2 show! AND the guy whose mother's house I stayed at three years ago let us stay with him again. I love things like that. Little points of overlap. Makes you feel like the world is your home, it doesn't matter where you go. "