Wednesday, June 1, 2009
1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... The lights go on, the band starts and the room erupts into chaos. Pamplona, Basque, has historically been a great Metal crowd, and tonight, they are proving themselves once again. As I explained in last month’s issue, Basque considers itself an autonomous state within Spain. The people of Basque country are very hard working and proud. Every time that I’ve been there in the past, whether it had been with Ill Niño, or Machine Head, I could’ve told you the same thing. When a crowd gives off that much energy it makes us play harder. This exchange keeps escalating. It’s like the crowd and the band are equally pouring gasoline into a fire that eventually engulfs the entire room.
After having a show like the one we had that night in Basque country, it recharges your battery. I had been having a rough tour up 'til this point; most of us on the bus were deathly ill with a pretty bad winter bug. On top of that, I was experiencing stomach problems from something that I had contracted during the prior U.S. tour. But, during the show, the adrenalin takes over and you don’t feel anything else. You don’t feel it until about 20 minutes after you walk off stage, when the endorphins wear off and it all kicks in twice as hard.
That night was the last of the five shows within Spain. It was a perfect finale for the Spanish segment of the tour. We were now headed to Montpelier, France, for a filler-show and then off to the U.K. for the final six shows before flying to Russia. We would be playing two shows in Russia and one in Belarus. It would be Ill Niño’s first time in both countries, and we were all looking forward to the adventure. We were hearing every day that the ticket presales for all three shows were doing very well, so we were expecting great crowds.
To get to the U.K., we have to travel on a two-hour ferry from France, to the White Cliffs of Dover. The cliffs have great symbolic value for Britain because they face towards continental Europe across the narrowest part of the English Channel, where invasions have historically threatened, and against which the cliffs form a symbolic guard.
The ferry has a parking area for cars, truck and buses below deck, and shops, bars, restaurants and gambling machines on the above decks. It’s illegal to stay in a vehicle while the ferry is at sea because if it sinks, the parking area is sealed off to keep the water out of the upper decks. If that happened, anyone caught in the parking area would surely drown. The last one of these ferries to go down was over 20 years ago, so most of us are willing to take the risk to get a good night’s sleep.
We usually try to make it to the ferry by around 2 a.m. so that we arrive at British customs at around 4 a.m. This is the best time to get through because they are usually understaffed at these hours, and there are no lines, so we usually skate right through. There were no problems at customs and we were off to London for a much needed day off.
We have mixed feelings about touring the U.K. We usually do well in London, Birmingham and Wolverhampton, but as a whole, the U.K. dates are some of the smallest crowds that we play to in the world – it gets sort of depressing sometimes. Part of the reason for this is that the British press, especially magazines like Kerrang, and Metal Hammer, have a strong influence on what the Metal fans listen to, so, to a certain extent, they kind of control what bands are popular in the U.K. It usually goes in a cycle, too. If you’re a new band with a good amount of hype, the British press will praise you. After you’ve been around for a few years, they will put the same amount of energy into tearing you down … and if you survive that, then they will praise you again. Ill Niño is at the point where we’re just starting to come back from the tearing-down phase, and starting to see glimpses of the re-praising period. So it’s a tough market for us right now, although we still have our core fans that have always been there through thick and thin.
On the day off, an English friend of mine had brought me some antibiotics. By this time, the bug that I had been traveling with during most of the tour had moved into my sinuses, lungs and ears. I think my lowered immunity also caused me to get a tooth infection on top of it all. The antibiotics seemed to help a little, temporarily, but they also made my stomach 10 times worse. The infection eventually came back, so it actually did more harm than good.
As expected, the London show was incredible, small but incredible, nonetheless. The same goes for Birmingham, but the rest were a little under filled. However, the fans that where there were true fans, and we truly appreciate their support, so we still put on the best show that we could.
The last U.K. show was in Bristol. Bristol is a city on the southwest coast of England, east of Cardiff. It was also the official last day of the tour. It was the last night that our support acts, God Forbid and Exilia, would be sharing the stage with us since the Russian and Belarus dates were fly dates that we would be doing alone. All the bands hung out that night, drank, and said our goodbyes. “Ends of tours” are always a mixture of happiness and sadness, especially when you get along really well with the other bands, like we did on this tour. I eventually passed out in my bunk around 4 a.m.
When I woke up the next day around noon, it was raining; the bus was parked at a gas station a few miles from London-Heathrow airport, and across the street from an old, English cemetery. We were parked next to a big van that was going to take most of our equipment to the cartage company that was shipping the stuff back home. We had to separate what was going to Russia with us and what was not. Having to do this in the rain seemed like a fitting end for the week that we spent in the U.K. The bus was unusually quiet. Everyone seemed to be in a somber mood. The rain, which started as a trickle, was now becoming a downpour while people were still trying to separate their luggage outside. As the rain started to crescendo, Laz, our bassist, who still hadn’t separated his luggage yet, looked outside at the rain … and as the mood on the bus seemed to be at its darkest, dreariest, English peak, he turned to everyone and with a smile on his face he said, “Hey, does anyone have an extra umbrella?” His joke brought everyone on the bus to laughter instantaneously. At that moment, the clouds seemed to magically separate enough to allow the sun to shine through, then the rain stopped, and everyone was in a good mood again. It was weird but that’s really how it happened. It was just what we needed, too, since we were about to begin the most anticipated, yet most difficult part of the tour. We were almost at the finish line.
We flew on a Russian airline that I had never heard of before. The plane was very old. I think it was a DC-10 still flying from the '70’s. The walls inside the plane were caked with tar and nicotine left over from the days when smoking was allowed on flights. The bathroom was the dirtiest I’ve ever seen on a plane. The meal didn’t look bad, but the only beverage choices with the meal were wine, vodka or tonic. They had soft drinks, but they were a special request.
I’m usually not nervous about flying, but Dave is. His fear of flying has made him quite knowledgeable on the subject. He’s like an encyclopedia when it comes to airlines, airplanes, airport procedure, etc. ... He can tell you what airlines have the newest fleets, what models of airplanes go down more than others and what country has the most number of crashes. I knew the latter because he told me about three times before we got on the plane. Yes, it’s Russia. More planes go down over Russia than anywhere else. So, I was a little nervous, especially after seeing the inside of this plane.
I think we were all a little relieved when we touched down in Moscow at about 2 a.m. As the plane was pulling into the gate, Diego, our rhythm guitarist, pointed out the window and said, “Look!” I looked out my window, which was on the left side of the plane, behind the wing, and saw what looked like an airplane graveyard. For miles and miles, there were hundreds of old planes that were rusting away in the snow. I was surprised at how old the Moscow airport looked, and how small it was, too.
The three days in Russia and Belarus were spent mostly in hectic travel with scraps of sleep here and there. I didn’t get to do any of the sightseeing that I would have liked to, but I was able to see some of the country from passenger van windows. The image that stuck in my mind the most was seeing old, dirty, and unsafe-looking nuclear reactors that were still being used.
We made it to the first show in Yekaterinburg in just enough time to play the show. The second day in Moscow was the same. There were fans waiting for us as we pulled up in the van. I tried to sign a couple of autographs before I was aggressively escorted into the venue by private security. These guys looked as though they were ex-KGB agents in their fifties, trying to make a living in the new Russia.
The Moscow show was beyond words. It was a 1,500-seat venue and it was packed wall to wall with extraordinarily loud vodka-drinking, Russian lunatics. From the beginning of the set to the end it was just pure adrenalin, although most of us were just running on fumes at this point, due to illness, exhaustion, and the brutal travel schedule.
After the show, we went to the hotels again. This time we had to take an eight-hour train to Minsk, Belarus, at 6 a.m., which meant that we had to be in the hotel lobby by 4 a.m. I don’t think anyone even slept since lobby call was so early.
The train was an old, coal-powered train. I had only seen coal trains in movies but I had never seen one in real life. The burning coal has a very odd smell. It was a vintage toxic chemical smell, different from the more modern toxic chemical smells of today. As you’re inhaling it, you can just feel how bad for you it is to breathe that stuff. Dave was able to strong-arm the promoter into springing extra money for us to have sleeper cabins since the shows were doing so well. So, I popped an Ambien as we were pulling out of the Moscow station and finally got about six hours of half-decent sleep. How wonderful it was.
Belarus was a fantastic, but a more intimate show and a nice way to end the trip. There were a few technical difficulties, such as the panels of the stage literally coming apart beneath my feet and having to worry about falling about eight feet through the stage. But I was OK with that considering everything else that I had been through on this tour. I just picked a sturdy spot on the stage and stayed there the entire show. When the show ended, I felt an overwhelming sensation of relief. It was a hard tour, but we had made it to the finish line, and WE finished strong. It was time to go home.
The next day, we began our two-day journey back to our other lives. Five flights later, I finally arrived in Denver. I made it home around 2 a.m. of the second day, and just collapsed from exhaustion. I spent the next week lying on the couch, recovering, healing, adjusting ... another tour under my belt, another job completed, another payday, and now I get to enjoy my family. :)
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by Ahrue Luster
After having a show like the one we had that night in Basque country, it recharges your battery. I had been having a rough tour up 'til this point; most of us on the bus were deathly ill with a pretty bad winter bug. On top of that, I was experiencing stomach problems from something that I had contracted during the prior U.S. tour. But, during the show, the adrenalin takes over and you don’t feel anything else. You don’t feel it until about 20 minutes after you walk off stage, when the endorphins wear off and it all kicks in twice as hard.
That night was the last of the five shows within Spain. It was a perfect finale for the Spanish segment of the tour. We were now headed to Montpelier, France, for a filler-show and then off to the U.K. for the final six shows before flying to Russia. We would be playing two shows in Russia and one in Belarus. It would be Ill Niño’s first time in both countries, and we were all looking forward to the adventure. We were hearing every day that the ticket presales for all three shows were doing very well, so we were expecting great crowds.
To get to the U.K., we have to travel on a two-hour ferry from France, to the White Cliffs of Dover. The cliffs have great symbolic value for Britain because they face towards continental Europe across the narrowest part of the English Channel, where invasions have historically threatened, and against which the cliffs form a symbolic guard.
The ferry has a parking area for cars, truck and buses below deck, and shops, bars, restaurants and gambling machines on the above decks. It’s illegal to stay in a vehicle while the ferry is at sea because if it sinks, the parking area is sealed off to keep the water out of the upper decks. If that happened, anyone caught in the parking area would surely drown. The last one of these ferries to go down was over 20 years ago, so most of us are willing to take the risk to get a good night’s sleep.
We usually try to make it to the ferry by around 2 a.m. so that we arrive at British customs at around 4 a.m. This is the best time to get through because they are usually understaffed at these hours, and there are no lines, so we usually skate right through. There were no problems at customs and we were off to London for a much needed day off.
We have mixed feelings about touring the U.K. We usually do well in London, Birmingham and Wolverhampton, but as a whole, the U.K. dates are some of the smallest crowds that we play to in the world – it gets sort of depressing sometimes. Part of the reason for this is that the British press, especially magazines like Kerrang, and Metal Hammer, have a strong influence on what the Metal fans listen to, so, to a certain extent, they kind of control what bands are popular in the U.K. It usually goes in a cycle, too. If you’re a new band with a good amount of hype, the British press will praise you. After you’ve been around for a few years, they will put the same amount of energy into tearing you down … and if you survive that, then they will praise you again. Ill Niño is at the point where we’re just starting to come back from the tearing-down phase, and starting to see glimpses of the re-praising period. So it’s a tough market for us right now, although we still have our core fans that have always been there through thick and thin.
On the day off, an English friend of mine had brought me some antibiotics. By this time, the bug that I had been traveling with during most of the tour had moved into my sinuses, lungs and ears. I think my lowered immunity also caused me to get a tooth infection on top of it all. The antibiotics seemed to help a little, temporarily, but they also made my stomach 10 times worse. The infection eventually came back, so it actually did more harm than good.
As expected, the London show was incredible, small but incredible, nonetheless. The same goes for Birmingham, but the rest were a little under filled. However, the fans that where there were true fans, and we truly appreciate their support, so we still put on the best show that we could.
The last U.K. show was in Bristol. Bristol is a city on the southwest coast of England, east of Cardiff. It was also the official last day of the tour. It was the last night that our support acts, God Forbid and Exilia, would be sharing the stage with us since the Russian and Belarus dates were fly dates that we would be doing alone. All the bands hung out that night, drank, and said our goodbyes. “Ends of tours” are always a mixture of happiness and sadness, especially when you get along really well with the other bands, like we did on this tour. I eventually passed out in my bunk around 4 a.m.
When I woke up the next day around noon, it was raining; the bus was parked at a gas station a few miles from London-Heathrow airport, and across the street from an old, English cemetery. We were parked next to a big van that was going to take most of our equipment to the cartage company that was shipping the stuff back home. We had to separate what was going to Russia with us and what was not. Having to do this in the rain seemed like a fitting end for the week that we spent in the U.K. The bus was unusually quiet. Everyone seemed to be in a somber mood. The rain, which started as a trickle, was now becoming a downpour while people were still trying to separate their luggage outside. As the rain started to crescendo, Laz, our bassist, who still hadn’t separated his luggage yet, looked outside at the rain … and as the mood on the bus seemed to be at its darkest, dreariest, English peak, he turned to everyone and with a smile on his face he said, “Hey, does anyone have an extra umbrella?” His joke brought everyone on the bus to laughter instantaneously. At that moment, the clouds seemed to magically separate enough to allow the sun to shine through, then the rain stopped, and everyone was in a good mood again. It was weird but that’s really how it happened. It was just what we needed, too, since we were about to begin the most anticipated, yet most difficult part of the tour. We were almost at the finish line.
We flew on a Russian airline that I had never heard of before. The plane was very old. I think it was a DC-10 still flying from the '70’s. The walls inside the plane were caked with tar and nicotine left over from the days when smoking was allowed on flights. The bathroom was the dirtiest I’ve ever seen on a plane. The meal didn’t look bad, but the only beverage choices with the meal were wine, vodka or tonic. They had soft drinks, but they were a special request.
I’m usually not nervous about flying, but Dave is. His fear of flying has made him quite knowledgeable on the subject. He’s like an encyclopedia when it comes to airlines, airplanes, airport procedure, etc. ... He can tell you what airlines have the newest fleets, what models of airplanes go down more than others and what country has the most number of crashes. I knew the latter because he told me about three times before we got on the plane. Yes, it’s Russia. More planes go down over Russia than anywhere else. So, I was a little nervous, especially after seeing the inside of this plane.
I think we were all a little relieved when we touched down in Moscow at about 2 a.m. As the plane was pulling into the gate, Diego, our rhythm guitarist, pointed out the window and said, “Look!” I looked out my window, which was on the left side of the plane, behind the wing, and saw what looked like an airplane graveyard. For miles and miles, there were hundreds of old planes that were rusting away in the snow. I was surprised at how old the Moscow airport looked, and how small it was, too.
The three days in Russia and Belarus were spent mostly in hectic travel with scraps of sleep here and there. I didn’t get to do any of the sightseeing that I would have liked to, but I was able to see some of the country from passenger van windows. The image that stuck in my mind the most was seeing old, dirty, and unsafe-looking nuclear reactors that were still being used.
We made it to the first show in Yekaterinburg in just enough time to play the show. The second day in Moscow was the same. There were fans waiting for us as we pulled up in the van. I tried to sign a couple of autographs before I was aggressively escorted into the venue by private security. These guys looked as though they were ex-KGB agents in their fifties, trying to make a living in the new Russia.
The Moscow show was beyond words. It was a 1,500-seat venue and it was packed wall to wall with extraordinarily loud vodka-drinking, Russian lunatics. From the beginning of the set to the end it was just pure adrenalin, although most of us were just running on fumes at this point, due to illness, exhaustion, and the brutal travel schedule.
After the show, we went to the hotels again. This time we had to take an eight-hour train to Minsk, Belarus, at 6 a.m., which meant that we had to be in the hotel lobby by 4 a.m. I don’t think anyone even slept since lobby call was so early.
The train was an old, coal-powered train. I had only seen coal trains in movies but I had never seen one in real life. The burning coal has a very odd smell. It was a vintage toxic chemical smell, different from the more modern toxic chemical smells of today. As you’re inhaling it, you can just feel how bad for you it is to breathe that stuff. Dave was able to strong-arm the promoter into springing extra money for us to have sleeper cabins since the shows were doing so well. So, I popped an Ambien as we were pulling out of the Moscow station and finally got about six hours of half-decent sleep. How wonderful it was.
Belarus was a fantastic, but a more intimate show and a nice way to end the trip. There were a few technical difficulties, such as the panels of the stage literally coming apart beneath my feet and having to worry about falling about eight feet through the stage. But I was OK with that considering everything else that I had been through on this tour. I just picked a sturdy spot on the stage and stayed there the entire show. When the show ended, I felt an overwhelming sensation of relief. It was a hard tour, but we had made it to the finish line, and WE finished strong. It was time to go home.
The next day, we began our two-day journey back to our other lives. Five flights later, I finally arrived in Denver. I made it home around 2 a.m. of the second day, and just collapsed from exhaustion. I spent the next week lying on the couch, recovering, healing, adjusting ... another tour under my belt, another job completed, another payday, and now I get to enjoy my family. :)
