Friday 8 February 2002
Midgard Comics
DEVILCAKE | NAUGHTY NEIGHBORS | ELYSIUM | APOSTASY
lineup: Mike Gourley, Mike Chuck Bill, Ian Stewart, Todd Skaggs, Darrin Ailes, Nancy Roberts

Friday. They said DEVILCAKE on the radio during the event listings in the afternoon. Which made me want to run around the whole floor with my hands in the air. Which would be totally out of character for me at work. I've been thinking about that a lot lately. My work image has almost nothing to do with me personally. I've just finally figured out that if you wear glasses and you're quiet and never talk to anybody, people naturally assume you're smarter than them. Beyond that it's just no fun being a dork when the average age of most of your coworkers is older than your parents. Anyway.

So the event listing went like this: "and tonight at Midgard Comics - you know that's a very young crowd there, mostly catering to the 18-and-unders. Tonight, Naughty Neighbors, Devilcake, Elysium, Apostasy."

And he mispronounced the last two to a hilarious degree. Bah ha ha ha ha ha. But yeah, he said Devilcake on the radio.

I got to Midgard embarassingly early. Or at least I thought it was embarassing. I was fighting Friday evening rush hour traffic to get there, fer feck's sake. And I could see the DC posse from Cleveland Ave. We're so numerous.

Todd had blue spiky hair (temporarily of course) and Nancy was dressed like a goth maiden or something, I don't know. Darrin and Mike Bill both wore their ghouliest jeans and black t-shirts. Props to Darrin for representing with his King Crimson shirt! Nice one. In the sensory overload that was our first gig in 6.5 months, I forgot to say HEY DARRIN, NICE CHOICE OF T-SHIRTS.

Then Gourley rolled up with Brian The Photographer and .... drumroll please.... Mr Gabe ! I said "holy shit, back from the dead" when I shook his hand. Gabe used to play guitar in the original Devilcake and it was actually his idea to name the band Devilcake. He was a kick-ass metal guitarist, very very good at playing the coolest guitar solos. He also always picked up on my stupid riffs very quickly. When everybody else would still be struggling, he'd get it immediately. He was so talented it kind of made me jealous, or at least it made me want to compete with him! Fortunately for the world I was on drums while he was on guitar and it never panned out. Which is good because he would've destroyed me.

I finished shaking Gabe's hand and he said quietly "I just got out of prison today."
And I'm supposed to respond to this how? So I said "holy shit."

"Yeah, I just got out of prison. I was hooked on heroin for a couple of years. It was terrible. But I learned a lot in prison. I'm going to be more proactive now."

So I said "holy shit."

Then he talked about how he missed playing music and how great heavy metal was and Celtic Frost and Godflesh and the Melvins ruled. Wow.

I knew Gabe had problems with the law over the years. Hell, even ten years ago he was a loose cannon. The worst part about that for me was that he was so good to play music with that it was really hard to just dismiss him as being a criminal or a drug addict or whatever the deal was at the time.

Anyway, it was very good to see Gabe but in a way it made me more nervous too. What if he didn't like Devilcake?

He showed me his tattoos - a huge Celtic Frost one on one bicep (with the heptagram logo from the Morbid Tales album cover) and a big Motorhead head think on the other one.

It was determined fairly quickly that we were going on first, so we took all of our shit in and set up at a sickeningly comfortable pace. It was Mike Bill's first gig with his new Jackson Randy Rhoads and I was excited for him. It sounded kick-ass at practice on Wednesday. And it looked amazing. How metal we suddenly became.

We set up and kind of lingered nervously for a while. They opened the door and we talked to the soundman/booking guy while the place filled up slowly with youths. The soundman told us about this band that played there that came out with a cello and how all the musicians play like 12 different instruments and he thinks most of them went to Berklee and they're all obsessed with horror/b-movies. I said "okay, we quit, it's already been done."

Todd started the keyboards for "Marshmallow." Then the house lights went down. Gourley came in whenever he felt. "eat them from a bag." Okay. Long pause. "Eat them from a can." Whatever. I give up on counting or staying on time. It's going to be that kind of show.

Gourley had a new look going, this was kind of a Satanic Mafia Priest vibe. I like it. I can't wait to see the pictures.

The new version of "Marshmallow" is just keyboards and vocals - with Nancy getting her opera on at various parts - until the second verse, when the whole band kicks in.

And when we did finally kick in I don't think we've ever sounded so Marilyn Manson. Not that that's a bad thing in itself but never have we as a band ever said "okay, let's make this sound like fucking Marilyn Manson." It just came out that way.

It was patently obvious from even before we started playing that audience, though numerous, was too high on puberty to understand what was happening on the stage. I'm working on a theory about the generation gap between Us (gen x, the late 20s/early 30s fucks) and Them (20 and under). The punch line of the theory is that their generation has grown up on things We have embraced ironically. So that they can wear Weezer t-shirts with logos based on Judas Priest logos with a straight face and not even think it's funny on any level. They just like Powerpuff Girls because it's everywhere, not because it's a send-up of every cartoon cliche We grew up seeing. Irony is completely lost on them. That's the theory anyway.

But I also think that the median age of this audience prevented it from really communicating anything collectively.

When we play at High Five and people don't like us, they give us the finger (or two), they yell FUCK YOU, GET OFF THE STAGE and basically let us know we're not wanted. When they like us, they'll stand there and yell and clap and yell song titles between songs and that's what I'm talking about. Collectively, people are in tune with their emotions and they can give a band instant feedback. Which, even when it's bad, is still vital.

So imagine rocking your BRAINS out to a wall, ten kids deep, of people just standing there with their arms folded. Or paired off talking to each other. It was tough.

I usually get confidence when the whole band kicks in. The volume is soothing and my bass parts just breeze past and if I'm lucky I can get some good rock poses in. Last night it was like talking into a phone and not knowing if anybody was on the other end. I mean, you know they're there, right? But they're not saying or doing anything.

Which is fine. Just stand there and clap if you're going to be all pubescent about it. Just stand back when the shit hits the fan.

None of Gourley's schtick was working. These kids had no clue. He was working it like a champ and there just wasn't anybody home on the other end. Like Andy Partridge said after XTC played in Rio: "It was like asking your mother to listen to Captain Beefheart when she's trying to do the vacuuming." It's like talking philosophy to a baby. They don't dislike you exactly, they just don't understand a fucking thing you're saying.

Right. So "Marshmallow" yielded to a bruising "Wienermobile." Not just the tempo, but for me the actual playing of the song was becoming painful. The reason is simple: I was tense. I was squeezing the piss out of the neck and my picking was sloppy and wasteful. I dropped a few picks, which is just dumb. I drank too much water between songs and I thought I was going to yak a couple of times. Maybe I should've.

After "Wienermobile" was the threatened ode to The Police in the form of the intro to "Walking On The Moon". Again, silence from the audience. Don't these kids ever watch TV? Surely they've seen the SUV commercials with that song on them?!?!?

That was slam-dunked into "Pie, Hair Pie" which was so old-school it made me cry. And just like you shouldn't have chocolate without peanut butter, neither should you have "Pie, Hair Pie" without "I Want A Big Mac." Wow. It was, wow.

The audience was just a wet blanket by this point. We were kicking their asses and they were just standing there. What did they want? If they didn't like us, why didn't they go sit down or go back outside? Or tell us to fuck off?! Something!? Jesus, give us a bone! (Christian Death joke)

I recall "Deez Nuts" getting something of a nod of approval and I had the sense that they liked "Cereal And Beer" though I couldn't quantify that or anything. Had we known the audience situation beforehand we could've loaded up on things like "Red Pop." Oh well. "Deez Nuts," began to remind me of Alien Ant Farm while we were playing and I started to feel really dirty. Euuughghhghghgh.

The sound system looked impressive but the soundman didn't run anything through it except vocals. So I didn't hear any keyboards, and everything else just sounded wimpy and thin to me. Note to self: in the future, always play too loud and encourage those around you to do the same. Is this Devilcake or are we covering John Cage "4:33"?

None of the new songs really rocked my scrote. None of the old songs did either. We weren't playing so hot for the most part. Me especially, I was all over the place due to nerves and conflicting energies (I'm tired! I'm wired! I don't know what the hell I am!). I loathe the Peavey bass so intensely that it was affecting me as a person to continue playing it.

Nancy was flawless and kick-ass as was Todd. Darrin and I both had some issues but not to the point of shutting a whole song down, which is one thing that's never happened with Devilcake onstage. Even when (oh nevermind). I know Darrin wasn't happy with his playing afterwards but I assured him - and will continue to do so - that it's all part of the deal. Some gigs rule and others suck taint and then there's some where you just get through it and go do whatever afterwards. Just like life.

"Fribble" came off a little too Korn for my taste but oh well. You'll have that. Gabe was front and center for the whole set. I was so tempted to give him the bass for "Fribble" but I didn't want to freak him (or myself) out.

Steve the video guy was there, getting digital footage for the "Marshmallow" video he's working on. And Brian The Photographer got analog footage with Todd's camcorder. So we should at least have something decent to look at.

And yeah so anyway, after "Fribble" we got all arty on their little teenybopper asses, which was a complete waste of time. I mean honestly, if "I Want A Big Mac," with its three notes of E, G and A go over people's heads, then what chance does "Tear Off Your Head And Shit Down Your Neck", which is largely in 5/4 have? I axe you?!

My role at gigs is to be a cheerleader for the songs. To jump up and down when the audience should feel inspired to do the same. To stand there and look moody when we play ghouly parts. And when it's time to fuck shit up, then I fuck shit up.

Everybody already knew it was coming, except the kids. Everybody read the pre-eulogy of the Peavey bass on this very Live Journal. Everybody knew the only reason I was playing that piece of shit was because... there's a spacey improvisational hard-noise break for the last 10 minutes of "Shit Down Your Neck." As soon as we hit the break last night, I strummed the open strings on the bass and threw my hands in the air. The bass swung around limply. So I strummed again. And again I considered giving it to Gabe. But instead I let the strap reject the bass, which sent it soundly to the stage floor. Ooops. I hope that looked like an accident to somebody. I'm sure it didn't.

I threw my pick at the bass and then kicked it a couple of times. I jumped onto the body and nothing happened. So I stomped on the pickup and then some of the strings broke. I stomped it some more and then I dragged it to the edge of the stage. I set it up at an angle between the stage and floor of the club (the stage was only a couple of feet high) and jumped onto it. I felt like Paul Stanley in 1979 when he couldn't get his guitar to break properly at the end of the show. I jumped higher and stomped harder. The body gave way, then the neck. It was in three pieces and then I picked up one of the pieces and pulled off the volume knob, which I gave to Gabe. He then joined me in stomping the piss out of the rest of the bass. The neck was broken in half but still connected. The body was in at least three pieces and the pickup was on its own somewhere.

The stomping lasted several minutes. I brought out my real bass at that point and just barely finished the last part of "Shit Down Your Neck." When we finished, Gourley thanked the other bands and I think I interrupted him to say "FUCK PEAVEY" into the mic. Sorry about that.

Very shortly after the lights came back on I heard someone ask Gourley if we wanted a gig. I thought "sweet, now THAT'S how it's supposed to work. we rock like fuck and then we get another gig."

I packed my gear as quickly as possible and I was exhausted. My neck was ruined, my shoulders ached, my eyes hurt. It was good. As I was packing, at least two kids came up with pieces of bass and asked if they could take them. Go for it, I said.

I was carrying my too-heavy bass amp to my car (parked too far away of course) when Nancy said "Ian, come here - they're fighting over your bass in the parking lot." And sure enough, youths were tossing around bits of the Peavey. Ha. As it should be.

I snuck all of my gear out to the car and helped Darrin get his shit out. We loaded out fairly quickly all things considered.

Bits of bass were being passed around with alarming glee. Kicked around the parking lot, thrown, tossed, then finally carried. Who knows where they all ended up.

We got paid cash money from the soundman and we were in the parking lot, chilling and deciding who was going to Longhorn Steak House on the other side of the parking lot. It was at this point that part of my bass was thrust back at me by a kid who asked me to sign it. Was he kidding? It didn't matter. I signed the thing and told him he was now the owner of a chunk of my soul and that he had to take care of it. I could've been his dad lecturing him on why he needed to go to college. God.

Yeah, so like we went on around 7:30pm and we were done by 8:30 and I was home in bed by 10. We made $48 that I'm aware of, which will go into the band fund to make the next batch of t-shirts hopefully. And my neck is still killing me. Ow.

W E PLAYED:
Marshmallow
Wienermobile
Pie Hair Pie
I Want A Big Mac
Sacrificial Leg Of Lamb
Pizza Party
I Can't Believe It's Not Satan
Cereal And Beer
Deez Nuts
Fribble
Tear Off Your Head And Shit Down Your Neck