Last time Pitchshifter hit Detroit we bagged a gig with The Melvins upstairs in the same venue.
This time we play downstairs with Gravity Kills. It's a small world.
Before the show we attempt to eat. I find that eating helps me to stay upright on stage and I try and do it before every show. We pull into the nearest restaurant. One vegetarian dish. We sit down and order. "No veggie dish today boys, it's off."
We hit the next restaurant.
A two thousand year old woman drags her corpse over to our table. The seats are broken. The table is dirty. The place smells like rotting meat. The waitress is rotting meat.
"What can I get you boys?"
As I lift up the menu to read it I notice the dead cockroach lying on its back next to knife and fork.
"A sick bag?"
"Excuse me?"
We leave. The anti-veggie detroit cartel wins.
The gig is weird.
Between us and the crowd are four big security guards instead of a barrier. They are all wearing FBI style in ear monitors with microphones and they all look mean. Now I know how Jim Morrison felt."WANTED, J.S.CLAYDEN AND PITCHSHIFTER FOR PUNK AND DISORDERLY BEHAVIOUR IN THE STATE OF OHIO."
We play our best around the security and I think we made our point. The people of Detroit dug our stuff and no one got billy clubbed.
Our only friend the end.
After show I watch the club next door get shut down by the police. I ask what the deal is.
"Last week they were fighting with 2x4
chunks of wood and a few weeks before that there was a shoot out. We're just trying to keep it down a little"
"Yeah."
I sneak back to the safety of the Shark.
My bunk is always patiently waiting.
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