I wake up on Gravity Kills' bus. No one else is around but the bus is still rolling. I can't figure out what's going on. I must have slept about ten hours. Maybe the rest of the guys got dropped off somewhere and the driver is taking the bus to get something fixed. I ask the driver what time it is."Six thirty."
"Six thirty at night? I went to bed at 4 am I've slept for fourteen hours?"
"No, six thirty am. You've been in bed for two and a half hours, everyone else is still asleep."
Great. My body isn't even running on UK time. 4 am here is 10 am at home. Who goes to bed at 10am and gets up at 12.30? I've lost it. It's Black Sabbath's fault. Aw what the hell. Playing with Black Sabbath is worth losing your mind for. I go back to bed. ". . . just like witches at black masses . . .
The House of Blues is on Disney property. Deeply embedded in disney property to be precise. Lake Buena Vista is exactly the bit of America that the rest of the world laughs at. Fat holiday makers in baseball caps and shorts with their white socks to their knees, ambling around buying Hard Rock Cafe T-shirts and drinking milkshakes. Lake Buena Vista is a plastic coated facade and I fucking hate it. The security guard asks me:
"Why is everybody so down on Disney man? It's all just harmless fun for the kids. What's your problem with a little fun"
"Walt Disney had a giant syringe that he used to suck the imagination of a nation's youth straight out of their heads. Kids don't need to think anymore, they can experience someone else's imagination. Combine that with the fact that Disney's new animal theme park 'accidentally' killed about 12 rare animals this year, he ripped off the poor cow who did the original voice overs for Snow White and the fucker's head is probably cryogenically preserved in a tank with a set of alien Mickey Mouse ears unceremoniously grafted to it and you can understand why everyone's 'so down' on Walt-fucking-Disney - OK!"
"OK."
This guy hates me now. It just all came out in a burst. I came over all Rumpole of the Bailey for a second there. It's the lack of sleep. " . . . sorcerers of death's construction . . ."
The show is great. The crowd already know who Pitchshifter are and they show their appreciation for us throughout the set. Thank you all. My leg is still really hurting and so I take it easy tonight. No balcony jumping. I wear bondage trousers to limit my leg movements and force me to slow down. When the music gets going I find it hard to sit still. I ask the crowd if Walt Disney is their Dad. I tell them that tonight's show is another attraction:
'Pitchshifter Land - real live punks from England, please don't feed." I think they got it, no one threw anything.
After the show we hang out upstairs in the House Of Blues. Someone tries to convince me that we should go the 'Pleasure Island' a Disney run fun Island where you pay $20 to get in and then you can go to any of the bars and clubs therein without cover charge all night. Greg (Pitchshifter's tour manager) has worked out a deal so we can all get in free because we're the band. Fuck all that. I can't see any difference between MacDonalds and Disney and I'd rather not fund either thank you very much. You can shove your plastic Mickey ears up your arse and I don't believe there's ANY pleasure on 'Pleasure Island'.
It's one million degrees in lake Buena Vista. I get snagged by some fans on the way to the bus. They are young and excited and happy and genuine, and it's a pleasure to talk to them. They just really like the music and they just want to tell me to come back and play again soon so they can bring their friends. They don't want to tell me how 'Kick ass' I am or how much they fancy the bass player or ask me if I'm from London. They just wanted to tell me that they really like the new songs and can we come back and play again soon so they>can enjoy the music live again. They're too young to have developed any pretensions yet. I like them. The kids are all right Mr Daltry.
It's my first night on our new bus. I've been travelling with Gravity Kills and so I haven't experienced the new bus. I crawl into my bunk. It's six inches shorter than my bunk on the other bus. i can't physically lie down straight. My head and feet get jammed on the wooden boards at each end.
Spine-o-biffida here I come. Seven and a half weeks left. I like it.
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