By some incredible stroke of luck we appear to have stumbled upon the holy grail. Here in the epicentre of beef, deeply entrenched in cow country, we have parked up near a vegetarian health food supermarket and cafe. A fucking mirage in a see of beef. I run inside, so excited I'm half dressed. There's Tofu and Tempeh and Soya and rice milk. There is a God. I stock up on health. No more cheese melts or fries for me you bastards I have soya products to defend myself.
Gravity kills have taken a few days off to relax with their wives.
Pitchshifter being a bunch of soap dodging dateless computer nerds have gigs booked on the days off. Tonight is a free show. We get paid and the kids get in free. I don't understand how it works but I like it. If we could still get paid but the kids could get in free every night I would be really happy. >We'd never do an empty gig. That logic is unfortunately shot to hell. The are fuck all people at the Electric Lounge tonight. It's Sunday, It's hot and it's the day after Independence day. Doomed.
The promoter Charlie is a really nice guy. He really loves Pitchshifter and he's very hospitable. he does all he can to help us out and it's so refreshing to meet someone like that on tour. The gig itself is a soul crusher. A tiny audience with yesterdays hangovers. A big practise. We grin and bear it and soon it's over.
After show Charlie takes us to his other club. He opens up the club just for us. We turn on all the laser lights and crank up the PA with some drum'n'bass. Johnny and Jim and the T-shirt girl dance around like demented skiers on acid. There's free beer and the woman from the grassy knoll and the Propellorheads LP. Your average Sunday night. This way to the mothership.
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