25-06-98 The Rubb. Tampa, FL.

Everyone I meet of my age in Florida wants to leave. They all hate it. It appears to be a place for fat old people to crisp in the sun and then die. Tampa though seems to be a place for MTV's 'The Grind' to be permanently filmed. The streets are packed with fake breasted women in crop tops and pierced belly buttons strutting around looking plastic. Jocks in shorts make the counter part and the whole thing is most definitely not my bag (daddy-o).

Pre-show I do an interview with a video jockey. He's a nice enough guy. Very interested in the band, very enthusiastic. I don't mind doing interviews. I see it as an opportunity to air the band's views, and I am gratefully and respectful to people who have the guts to put weird music like ours in their programmes. The bit that gets me is the station IDs. You know the kind of thing: "Hi, this is J.S.Clayden from Pitchshifter and you're watching KNRTV." If only it were that simple. The problem is that these guys always have ludicrously long station names and show names and it's simply impossible for someone as fried as me to remember the whole thing and convincingly reel it all off in a smooth enough manner so as to appear like I know what the hell I'm doing. Tonight is no exception my friends:

"Can you just do some station IDs for me Jon?"
"Sure."
"OK so I just want you to say - 'Hi this is J.S.Clayden from Pitchshifter and you're tuned to Superrock Alternative Punk Indie Noise Half Hour on KNRZZT TV, Crazy Terry's Mega Metal Mania Better Music America Meg Mix 11705, DON'T TOUCH THAT DIAL!"

Good god. I'll need electro-convulsive therapy to remember half of that shit. Eight takes later and I finally get it.

"Hi, I'm Jon the singer from Pitchshifter. You're tuned to . . . the TV. I like to make a complete tit of myself regularly by messing up station IDs whilst filming in the street so that members of the general public get to share my agony - DON'T TOUCH THAT DIAL!"

The gig is full. We go on to a rapturous applause, which is still catches me by surprise no matter how many times it happens. I like it, but it still catches me by surprise. Someone has found the 'Arctic' setting on the air conditioning and the hall is freezing. The crowd are easy going and they get into the gig with a little breaking in. We even get a couple dancing on stage. They're so cute, both strutting their fancy foot work. I dig them for about half a song, then I get bored of being nice and trip the girl over and boot the guy off stage. Well, what did they expect?

After our set I go onto the side balcony before Gravity Kills play and look at the crowd with Kurt (GK's drummer). Some folks catch a sight of us and start to applaud! Crazy. I go back stage and grab a hand full of cookies and throw them out. The crowd keep cheering and ask for more cookies. I throw the whole box down. I feel more robin Hood then Mary Antoinette, but who the hell am I to judge anyway? Bloody foreigner.

After show I cruise the strip with two old friends that I haven't seen since the last time we played the USA. Greg and Big daddy. The stage manger and drum tech for Florida death metal act 'Obituary'. They're still the same. They still smoke weed. They still look at girls. They still like to have a laugh. We go for a slice and stare at the prosthetic harvest strutting the pavements. Land of the free (nose job).

Back on the bus there are two gothic girls. One of them just turned 21 and Johnny and D are giving her her first legal beer while the other one is 33 (although she doesn't look a day over 16) and has a 2 year old son waiting at home (in the dark I guess). They are sweet enough and we stick them on the guest list for the next few shows.

On the way out of town we drive down the main strip. As I'm sitting their looking out of the window one of the girls sitting outside a club on a bench seat jumps up, sticks her twelve and a half inch tongue out and hikes her skirt up to her knees. She's not wearing any panties and her pubic hair is shaved into a vertical strip. Her eyes are wide like she's tripping and she's sporting a very chemical smile. This place is just as fucked as Lake Buena Vista, only instead of plastic Mickey Mouse ears, everyone's got plastic knockers. Get me out of here.