christ666's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "You know, for a time I really considered writing policy," he said as he cut his fourth line of coke As of last Thursday, this diary is now twenty years old. I'm still trying to figure out exactly how I feel about that fact, knowing I have two decades worth of hyper emotional drivel for people to enjoy. I wanted to write a meta entry encapsulating the ridiculous stuff that I put in here, but I never got the chance to sit in front of my computer. It's been an all around crazy weekend. I had band practice Thursday night to prepare for our Not Treefort show on Saturday, but we spent the majority of the hours waiting for Brandon to show up. Jam was supposed to start at 7:00, and we get a message in the group chat from Bran that he's running behind and will be in shortly. After a few messages asking if he's okay, we finally hear from him at 8:45 saying he fell asleep, and finally shows up at the bomb shelter around 9:00, just enough time for us to run through the set once. The next day, Bran sends a message in the group chat saying we didn't need to keep posting our show on our socials every day, ensuring us that people would come. Now, I appreciate Bran's opinion and his right to share his views with the rest of us, but I feel like it's kinda Advertising 101 to promote the shit out of your gigs. Eric took particular issue with this opinion, considering he's been booking and advertising shows for nearly twenty years, and responded with a smart ass quip about some of the rookie shit Bran has done on our Instagram in the past. This set Bran off into a tirade of resentments and grievances he's been feeling over the last few years, mainly at how he's always treated like the kid brother in the band, and that we constantly give him shit for mistakes or mishaps on his part. There's some truth to this. We do treat him like the little brother who fucks up, but that's only because he plays that part so well. So many simple, dumb mistakes the dude has made has made it really easy to tease him about how naïve he can be, from bringing a meth head drifter into our rehearsal space full of expensive musical gear, just because he couldn't tell the guy no, or for posting a poll on our social media asking if anybody would be offended if we threw our tenth anniversary show on September 11th. I chimed in a few times to suggest Eric could try and be more sensitive with his digs if Bran could just not take every comment so seriously, or with less tantrums, but after reading multiple paragraphs of the same shit recycled over and over, I gave up. Eventually Eric and Bran just kinda relented and it worked itself out, but I'm sure that's a fight that's going to pop up again in the future. Day of the show, we meet up at the bomb shelter for another run through of the set, before tearing down gear to load into Red Five. It was the first time riding in the van since the Split tour in 2019, and I couldn't help but start vibing on all the positive energy that permeated inside. I couldn't help but smile as we snapped into our routine of stacking amps, cabs, instruments, and merch Tetris style into the back, and rolling together to the show in one ride. Unless we replace her engine, this is probably going to be the last year for Red Five, but I'm so stoked to take her out for the Tahoe Fest and the big tour in September. The plan for Not Treefort was to have six bands perform: Hummingbird of Death ...with a barbecue on the back patio when doors open, as well as the half pipe for skaters to enjoy between bands. Eric grabbed a stockpile of beef patties and hot dogs, while Gavin from Texas Ketamine brought asada, and Ken from Blackfriar was gracious enough to offer to grill while we handled getting everything else ready. The first hurdle when we arrived was the half pipe, which rested against the back shed disassembled. There's one section in the back patio of The Shredder that perfectly fits the half pipe once put together, but Justin, the owner, had rolls of chain link fencing and twenty five foot tall aluminum posts that needed to be rolled and tucked out of the way. So, for the next forty five minutes, Eric, Cushman from Infected Stench, and myself began the arduous process of awkwardly lifting and hauling around all this material before finally having the room to put the pipe together, which itself is in pieces that weigh 500+lb each. At one point, Eric turned to me through a sigh and said, "This'll be good, Josh. We'll be all swole before we go on stage." "Yeah, and too sore and tired to lift our instruments," I said. After getting everything put together, I started unloading the merch onto a table inside, while Ken began prep work on all the burgers. Stormpeak was opening, so they were already on stage doing their soundcheck. Stormpeak is made up of John D from Alpha Ascension, and Tyler from End of All Flesh, neither of which had played a show in like five years. It was really great seeing Tyler, considering End of All Flesh was sort of the big brother band for Mortal back when we first joined the scene. A lot of times if a death metal show was happening, EOAF and Mortal would be on the bill, and Tyler was always the friendliest of the group: offering us weed to smoke, complimenting us on new stuff we wrote or merch we put out, and always willing to help us move gear. EOAF disbanded due to drugs and legal issues, and he had quit playing for a good while, most likely because he was tired of always playing in groups with toxic bandmates, but John has always been a level headed dude, and he's a great musician, so I look forward to seeing what the two come up with in the future. 5:00 rolls around and the doors open, while Ken starts grilling in the back. The band is so used to gauging show attendance off of responses on Facebook, and with 35 marked "going", and another 85 marked "interested", our experience told us that there would probably be about 20-40 filtering in throughout the night. Further supporting that was the twenty or so people that were kinda lounging around the tables at 5:45, fifteen minutes before the show was supposed to start. Then, out of nowhere, as 6:00 arrives and Stormpeak starts to play, all of a sudden there are 60+ kids in front of the stage, already bobbing their heads to John and Tyler shredding their progressive death metal. Their set is only twenty minutes long, but by the time they blast their last chords through the speakers, there are already another twenty kids in the crowd, all of them screaming in applause. This is when I remember that Facebook is kind of a dead platform that's kept alive by older folks like us, and not really a reliable barometer of what kids are into these days. I was in shock at how packed the place suddenly became. That shock then turned to entrepreneurial greed as I noticed all the kids wearing shirts from local artists, so I straightened out our shirts, cd's and buttons, and set up the display rack to highlight our 10th anniversary baseball tees, anxious to abscond with all the patrons' cash. Next to me at their merch table was Jon from Hummingbird, and him and I would bullshit throughout the night about merch and the bands playing. At one point I stop by the bar to grab a beer, and chat with Justin about our kids, and the overwhelming sense of lost time as our kids grow exponentially faster. He taps my glass with his own beer and says, "Cheers to fathers, man". The next band was Texas Ketamine, who we really were to thank for the attendance. This band rolls with Barn, another Boise band that seemed to have gone moderately viral on YouTube and Reddit, and have amassed a decent following at all the shows they play. Barn opened for us at our 10 year show, and while we had an amazing turnout, probably half the crowd had left by the time we went on stage at the end of the night. Naturally, we started to assume the same thing would happen, with a peak attendance during TK's performance, and slowly dwindling down as the other four bands went on, leaving our optimism matched against our skepticism. But all that skepticism started chipping away as people came to the table to buy a shirt or a cd, or when I'd lean over to look out the back door onto the patio and see the barbecue going amazingly well as Ken flipped burgers and grilled steak. I kept seeing members from other bands that weren't playing that night, or newer, younger promoters that were carrying the torch from people like Robbie who had been booking shows in the treasure valley for so long. There was a definite vibe in the air that this was more than just another excuse for locals to play, but instead a celebration of the extreme music scene in Boise, with it's more *ahem* seasoned alumni in Mortal, Hummingbird of Death, and Atheras, joined by new inductees in Texas Ketamine, Barn, and Brutalism. One of the reasons I love playing shows is not just the joy of performing for an audience, but to add to my growing collection of merch from other bands. I was able to pick up an Atheras shirt for $10, and Jon let me trade three of our cd's for a Hummingbird shirt. Texas Ketamine had a few shirts at $25 each, a pullover hoodie for $40, and a cd for $10. Now, considering the cost of production for all this stuff, it's not outrageous to be asking these prices. But the numbers seem steep for a new band just breaking out onto the scene, and up to that point, I had not seen them play live, so I decided to wait to purchase anything until I could hear their performance. The music was pretty good. I caught myself doing a few light headbangs or drumming my fingers on the table. At one point in between songs though, the drummer and guitarists start improving a little musical interlude to pass the time while their bassist adjusted something on his gear. The singer pulled the mic up and said," That's not one of our songs. But can you imagine hearing that shit every day at rehearsal? Fucking amazing. I'm so lucky to be playing with these guys." The frontman performs in tattered overalls, covered in massive amounts of fake blood. Yet his comment was so positive, and beyond any attempts to look extreme or shocking for the crowd, it made me connect with very similar feelings I've felt with my band and the musicians I played with. It was such an "awww" moment, I ended up spending $100 on their merch to support these kids on their journey. I was manipulated by sentimental musings....smh.... Texas Ketamine finishes and vacates the stage, and we've already sold a decent amount of shirts and cd's. It's around this time of the night that I started reflecting on all the times I wondered why I was still doing this grind as a struggling musician, performing a genre that's not particularly lucrative for income. Thinking about every time we've strained our backs hauling in heavy amplifiers and heavier cabinets, playing to crowds of zero, and sitting at merch tables watching people buy everyone's shit but yours, it can obfuscate all the romantic reasons why you joined a band in the first place. But then there are amazing nights like this when it all suddenly becomes worth it, being supported and acknowledged for our contributions to the Boise scene, and appreciated for the music we make. It makes you tough enough to endure more strained backs and empty shows, just until we make it to the next successful show that validates our existence as a band. Atheras is next, and the room is packed with people. Nobody is leaving. Everybody is into it. Kids are windmilling their long hair in the pit, while moshing breaks out anytime the band slams out a breakdown. More merch sold. I spy Eric walking a plate of asada over to Justin and the other bartender as Ken starts to shutdown the grill. I'm on my fourth glass of Mac and Jack's and with the occasional rip off my pen, and the 30mg of adderall I took when door's opened, I'm currently feeling what us guys in MSA call, the "triple-threat". Octopoulpe, a one man band from France, was running late to the show, arriving just as Atheras was finishing up, so Mortal offered to be on deck, which honestly probably worked in our favor. We head back to the green room to start stretching and going over last minute stage notes, while we wait for the stage to clear. With our ten year show being a disaster sound wise, I'm anxious about what our mix is going to sound like, but thankfully as we soundcheck, the feedback is non-existent, and our vocals sound loud and clear in the mics. We open with our cover of the TMNT theme, dedicated to Justin and the Shredder, and before the song is over, we're performing to our best audience we've ever had at the venue. Circle pits, long hair whipping in the air, the blasting sound of screams from the crowd each time we finish a song... the whole set was invigorating. It certainly wasn't an A+ performance, but the mistakes we make are small and seem to go unnoticed. Quite a few times the boom of the mic stand would push away from me when I'd lean in to scream vocals, leaving me to quickly swat it back into place, which I'm sure was comical to watch. All in all, we're finishing our song Connery to bombastic approval, and as we start unloading gear, people begin gathering at our table ready to buy more merch. It's around this point that people started filtering out. Octopoulpe plays a very unique set that seems well received by those who stayed, but unfortunately, by the time Hummingbird is on the stage crowd size is down to 40-50, which is still a great amount to be playing for at 11:00 at night, but I still felt bad people hadn't lingered a little longer. Hummingbird has been around for soooo long, I feel like they deserve to be playing packed houses by default. To their credit, they played their full set as passionately as ever, and hopefully they ended up making a decent amount of money by the end of the night. Speaking of which, it takes about another hour for everyone to start clearing out and for the bands to start packing up. Eric settles up money from the door with Justin, and we find out each band did EXTREMELY well with their take. Combining our percentage we earned with our merch sales, and adding that to our band fund that was already flush with cash from the ten year show, we're actually on track for either our next run of merch, or for album production to be paid for without any personal investment from us individually. We've finally gotten to a point where the band is beginning to pay for itself, and I can't be more proud of that accomplishment. We celebrate by our usual tradition: walking downtown for pizza and beer at Piehole. Even the cosmos seems to be on our side as we are divinely blessed with extra pizza due to Piehole making an "error" with our order. It might be dumb to be so excited about free pizza, but I took a picture of our bounty anyway. Cuz that's the kind of loser I am. We finish at Piehole, walk back to the van, and drive back to the bomb shelter around 1:10 am. We tiredly unload our gear back into the band room, while Kort and Bran call it for the night. Eric, another guitarist from another band who shares the rehearsal room with us, and myself opt to stay behind and smoke a bowl to unwind. Said guitarist then pulls out a bag of coke he scored at the show, asserting to me that he decided he was going to do some. Him and I have always had interesting conversations, due partly to him having plenty to say, and me being unable to keep the topic on track. We start talking about anything from the media, to local music, to past life ambitions that are no longer relevant, all while he pulls out his guitar from his case, and cutting lines of cocaine on the body. "Pretty rockstar move," Eric said. "Snorting lines off my guitar? Heh, yeah," he said back. He offers me a line, which I humbly decline, saying," You know, if it wasn't three in the morning and I wasn't just driving back to Caldwell to my house with three children, only to stay up playing ps4 for another half hour, I might take you up on it. But for now, I'll pass." I'm on the freeway heading home around 3:10, thinking about what could have made the night better, if anything at all. And no matter what scenarios I mused over, whether it be people I wanted to be there, or things I could have done differently, I mostly felt extremely satisfied with how well everything had gone, and it made me hopeful for the Boise scene going forward. Our next show is in May opening for death metal legends, Malevolent Creation, and a week after that we leave for Tahoe to play pretty prime slot on a three day metal festival. Good things. 8:55 p.m. - 2022-04-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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