Amsterdamned oh Amsterdamned
Damned with dirty hands in the Netherlands
Well, unfortunately we are not in Amsterdam, but we are for sure in the Netherlands, the region of tulips and triple X-fingertips. A happy country today, since it’s pleased to kiss the soft lips of the boys of Deathglam. This city is Dordrecht. (Not to be confused by Undressed.) And the seagulls of the local rivers make the members feel calm since some of them is from a little fishing village called Electric City, and they are pretty much grown up with seagulls on their shoulders. Deathstars enjoy animals. You guys take care of them. Like eskimos take care of seals..
Anyway, this tour is from now on called the ”X-ray Tour”. Why? Well, we learn to see under the skin of the band. What we got to know from from the bonestructure of this dysfunctional constellation today:
Deathstars do not trust anyone – just like Steven Seagal. Well, that we already knew but lets explain it further: We don’t trust our recordlabels, we don’t trust our management, we don’t trust our publishing companies or booking agencies, but most important of all – we don’t trust ourselves. N.O.T. A.T. A.L.L.
This is the reason why: We are our own biggest fear. You call it Deathstars – we call it Judas. Yesterday our busdriver Scott was changing our bedclothes. Cat was discovered with ten pairs of Whip’s socks and the singer’s friend ”Günther” (his pet - a little lively desertmouse, which he thought was roadkilled days ago) in his bed (How can a cat want a live rat in his bed?), while Whip was discovered with private sensual poems, that Cat has written for his girlchild, in his bunk, plus Cat’s Burton snowboard (!). Bone had appearantly taken three Lois Vuitton t-shirts and a pair of KISS-action figures, which belong to Nightmare, while the lead guitarist had Bone’s stock of lubricans for the loins and a well hidden pair of limited Boris Becker Adidas-shorts which Bone got from a tennis-legend ferry in Dresden 2005. Skinny was almost killed because he had stolen three pair of underwear (used) from ”Anthony the Tourmanager”, but his health was spared since Anthony discovered that Skinny also had a little post-it paper where he had painted himself and Anthony riding a shiny golden winged horse soaring high in the nightskies above Paris. (A romantic pic that was kind of disturbing for the rest of the band and made them uncomfortable.) Anthony thought it was so emotionally touching that he gave Skinny a hug, and then let him keep the dirty underwear. Deathstars is a sneaky little mötley crüe of nasty secrets and the gang is of course very unreliable. Let’s put it simple – they are assholes, but they like it.
Having that said – which we assume that all of you know – the band is strolling around on Benelux-soil with their heads high and feeling sporty, neat and cocky. They are comftorble in the roles as horrorish exibitionistic musicians and they are the first ones to say that the gig yesterday in Luxembourg was an excellent experience of desperation, eroticism and crowleyesque drama. They are pleased about everything; The venue, Rockhal, in that city is the only place which they’ve discovered so far, is having - for them – a terrific sound. On stage at least. Nightmare was actually questioning the manager of the venue for a long time about prices for monitors/wedges and it didn’t take long until he had ordered new equpiment behind the back of his friends - on the band’s account – for 57 000€, to the other guys silent but frightened faces.
Cat is the new one who has started to change a bit, but in a kind of good way we must say. (Bone is still weird, by the way…) While in Paris, Cat went out and got a some novice book about psychology. He sat silent and read for eight hours and then, next to the daily papersheet-schedule, he appearantly had posted his own agenda… How about this: Cat believes he’s a psychologist (!!!), Next to that daily productioninfo about soundcheck, interviews , gigtimes etcetera that is taped on the wall in the bus, is now his note about which guys in the band that has an appointement with him in the upper backlounge of Dante (the tourbus), and which time they must come to see him. Ehh… The guitarist thinks that he is a shrink! Well, the members are seriously unstable, so they really can’t say that they are displeased about this since they need to get some heavy things off their chests, but it is still very fucked up. Cat is having scheduled appointments with the dudes from his own band, talking through their mental issues, childhood and current emotional data. Hmm… Whip has so far appointments with doctor Cat every second hour. How about that.
What the members are doing right now:
• Bone is watching Star Trek as usual.
• Skinny is celebrating his 14 years of having dreads by drilling a whole in the back of the iPig to see if he can squeeze in Robin’s (Sonic Syndicate) portable plastic pussy in there so he can have intercourse with the musicanimal while listening to Led Zeppelin.
• Whip is playing Guitar Hero and is doing phone-interviews,plus listening to Jeff Healey with the busdriver Scott.
• Nightmare is looking for white vintage Les Paul-guitars and a cheap trumpet. He wants a lot of trumpet on the next album. Scary…
• Cat is reading another psychology-book in a café somewhere close to the venue.
Skinny found a disco ball in the backstage that he immediately became one with. He claims the acoustic is really good inside.