Okay, where were we? Slayer. That’s right. So, after all the craziness that was the first couple weeks of the tour we finally settled into our digs for the rest of the tour and met our driver Jens:
Things you should know about Jens:
The man can drive his ass off.
You don’t want to eat his hummus, or he will kill you.
If you’re a promoter that ripped off another band he was working for who happens to be at the show he is at, you best find a ATM because he will shake your ass down for all that loot. (Did that make any sense? I don't care.)
After a quick bro down with him, we made our way to Interlaken where following a night of hanging with some road homies and watching some Rammstein… Wait, I have to say something right now. I, like a lot of people out there, have never given a good goddamn about Rammstein. Never got the allure. But after watching them live—HOLY FUCKING SHIT! I couldn’t tell you what one of their songs sounds like but their stage show is insane. Fire shooting everywhere at all times, dudes on treadmills, crossbows shooting flames, face masks blowing flames, guitars blowing flames, gigantic mechanical bull penis things that hose the crowd with foam. It was like Gwar on PCP—on acid. I would love to shake every one of their crews aloe coated, skin grafted hands and tell them what a great job they are doing.
Back to Slayer, the day we played Slayer was the headliner, so we snuck side stage to check out the riffage:
After about a half hour LJ invited us into the dressing room. We assumed that the band had already left and strutted in like the cock of the walk only to walk directly into the entire band chilling out. John immediately blurted out something like “I don’t want to be a fan boy or something but you know, it’s like, you know…” We were off to a great start. After multiple shots with the band that left us a little too at ease, the boys got some photos with the band, who were cool as hell to us, and then Slayer’s tour manager came in and told them it was time to go. They had to catch a flight. On the way out the door Kerry King turned to us and said “Take whatever’s left, we can’t use it.” Thus began the great Slayer Dressing Room Pillage of 2013.
Then we grabbed a trashcan from the hall way and started a crammin’:
To be honest the next few day were a blur. There was our breathtaking stateroom on the ferry over to the UK with the finest sleeping faculties that money could buy:
I guess it’s not really all that surprising that all the photos I have from the UK and Ireland look something like this:
I did try to get this guy to give me his pot of gold:
After the shows in the UK we hopped a flight over to Poland for a show. Once again we had first class accommodations:
After Poland it was over to Genève where a buck-naked couple stormed the stage and danced around for most of the encore. Of course I missed the entire thing because I set up merch behind a tree, which I thought would be “ A nice little place to spend a Swiss summer’s eve.” Idiot. Nerd Idiot. Nidiot.
Okay, this is just getting stupid. I started this file on June 25th it’s now July 10th and I’ve made it like three days since the last entry finished or someshit. I’m gonna have to go all word butcher on your asses and trim the fat. You know, tell you all the basics that you need to know about a bunch of shit you really don’t need to know about.
At Hellfest John shared his love for the art of dance:
We played a show in Gigors et Lozeron that was so bitchin that Aaron’s head exploded mid set:
Sucked in the sights in Milan:
I wish he had blindfolded me so I wouldn’t have this burned in my brain until death or I get an elective lobotomy.
We were pretty excited when we pulled into the Graspop Festival and saw this:
Did a little shopping:
David picked up a new axe:
Nothing all that out of the normal really, just your average dudes chilling like muthafucks.
Tour To Live!
P.S. Tour wrap up will be coming soon. Or later. But hopefully soon. But probably later.