Another day and we are still running around. Even though there is less travel involved this year opposed to last year, I definitely feel as if we are constantly in transit. Wake up, shower (maybe), have a boss coffee, figure out the trains, get to the venue, set up the merch table, then start shooting, break down merch table, start drinking, get back to where ever we are sleeping, finish drinking, sleep maybe for a few hours, wake up and do it again. I maybe have about thirty minutes of time on my ass and then its right back at it, but it feels good. Exhausted, smelly, boozy, but good.
I missed the first set of the night because Ryohei and I had some much needed beers while walking down the sidewalk of Asakusa, a quick relief from smoke filled venues, and noise overexposure, but I didn't miss Funeral Moth, my second day of seeing their set in a row. That's how good they are, I could see this band everyday for a week and not be bored of it.
The wonderful one woman doom project called 目玉湯鯨, or The Eye of the Whale, blew all of our minds. It was hard to pin this one down, slow repetitious bass tones with programmed drums and various noise, its one of those shows that only Japan can produce. Her performance onstage is a perfect reflection of her music, swaying slowly, receding to the back of the stage at times of pause, incredibly well thought out, performed, heavy doom.
注射針混入豚 (or Needle Contaminated Pork) cautiously and meticulously approached the stage, donning an anti-bacterial suit, gas mask. After a few minutes of carefully realigning everything he just erupted from minute one, charging into the middle of the crowd and started blasting some beatdown riffs over programmed death metal drums.
I actually had a thought today that I was bored with regular day to day operations, and I couldn't figure it out. Then finally, I realized that I wasn't being assaulted by Su19b and Disrotted every night with a gross negligence to the wellbeing of my ear drums. I miss the sights of people collapsing from the weight of maddening sound.
It feels a lot like withdrawal, like nothing in Chicago is loud enough now. I can't really think of two like minded bands that could tour to that massive sound capacity, a new tolerance level has been set, and I might never get back to that spot.
At the end of every Disrotted set, Adam usually stands still as Dean's last guitar notes ring out, and that ringing becomes not only the swan song for that frequency of noise but also for any preconceived notion that you had seen a loud band before. After a quick dinner with all the musicians, our main dude Bernie directed us to the hotel so that we could have approximately three hours of sleep before the most grueling trip of tour.