Home / Tour Diaries / AntiProduct Tour Diary / AntiProduct Tour Diary – Entry #7, 8/17/05

AntiProduct Tour Diary – Entry #7, 8/17/05



by A.Product

AntiProduct has just been on tour in Europe, including some former Eastern Block countries! They’re off the road now, but that has only given frontman A.Product (aka former Life Sex & Death guitarist Alex Kane) time to collect his hazy thoughts and recount them just for you! Whenever he has an update, Mr Product will give us tales from the grottos, gypsy camps and gulags that dared to book AntiProduct on their recent tour.


Sorry it?s taken so long, kids. You can let go of your breath at last. We?ve been touring in Ireland and England with Marky Ramone doing two full sets a night (one of AntiProduct and then backing Marky playing the Ramones tunes) and all I can say is, God, we rule! Anyway, go to www.antiproduct.com and buy merch?

Back to our tale.

April 11th, Olomouc, Czech Republic

If Poland was a nightmare, the Czech Republic was the dream following. I wake up to the smiling face and tapping on the window of the van by Ales, who would be our guide/promoter and guru over the next few days. To say, 9 people sleeping in a van after fleeing Poland and driving literally through the night (much to the credit of censored) was a weird vibe is something of an understatement. You could smell the weird on us by this point. Monno has contacted Ales (who had given his mobile to his super-fine but shy girlfriend) and Ales had come to save us. I?m in Ales? Ford pick up and he?s telling me how in the Czech Republic-the former Czechoslovakia-the first thing they were taught in school, remember that these dates were in Eastern Europe which was all still Communist while you were listening to Winger albums, was ?Russia Is Your Friend.? Ales himself looks not unlike anyone of your neighbours though, as Western clothing and ?rap? hand signals, courtesy of MTV awards shows, etc, are pretty much universal by now. So we drive and drive, now you know why they call it being ?on the road,? through small and warm winding roads. It?s sunny and life really seems to be like a different place after our journey through the hell of last night?s gig, which seems like it happened months ago already.

Ales informs me you can buy 5 acres of land here for about 15,000 Euros. That?s pretty fuckin? cheap. We get to his gaff, which, I shit you not, is a 24-hour bowling alley in the middle of this tiny town outside Olomouc and we are immediately treated like humans, if not Gods. Here?s your free food (a table spread with all the finest meats and cheeses and fruits and coffee and chocolate and?well, we fuckin? wept when we saw it.) He tells us our rooms are across the street and would we like to nap before getting lunch and going to the venue. FUCK YEA, MOTHER FUCKER. Now, as everything over here was Communist up until just before Nirvana got huge, they?ve had to rebuild a whole lot of shit and I kid you not when I say, they have built well. Everything is the best of the best and brand new. Including breakfast, we paid 7 Euros a head (about 10 bucks) to sleep in the cleaniest, friendliest, sunniest rooms I?ve seen with smart lights (that know you?re in the room as well as if it?s dark). After the nap, we all are pretty eager to get some bowling in and D?Angelo kicks our asses into dust. Here?s more coffee and go ahead bowl another game on us. It?s fuckin? Mecca.

We go to lunch to a restaurant Ales family runs and one again are treated like kings and queens to some brilliant seafood dinner and wine. By now, me and Greg are seriously considering moving to the Czech Republic and I still am. One of my favourite movies in recent years, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen with Sean Connery, was filmed here and I can sure see why. And the girls here, fuck me running! Beautiful with cheekbones like carved marble and a twinkle in their eyes that says they know better than think of you like that. The ancient statues and pillars that live in the square between the restaurant and the hotel infatuate our own lovely ladies. You see vestiges of fallen Communism everywhere but shinning through there is ancient history almost blossoming from underneath. Insane, really.

We bowl a bit more and head to the venue, which is where Ales found us this morning. Feed, bathed and watered we?re much better now. We get to the venue and see we?re playing with several Death Metal bands?screeeeeeeeeeetch!

No, not death metal bands. Not this whole vibe, please! Right, well boy was that screeeeeeeeeeetch outta line. Sure, there was no stage, the PA was worse than the one at practice and we were headlinig an archway but everything else about the gig was utterly devastating. It was an absolute blinder that saw me being carried over the entire crowd for about 10 minutes post gig, Lady Clare having the drummer from the Death Metal band on right before us, who spent most of their set stabbing his own neck with his drum sticks, timidly walking on our stage and kissing Lady Clare?s dainty hand mid-song after spending all of our set with this wide-eyed and innocent smile plastered all across his death metal face.

Cwej even managed to not get laid again but he did make a fool of himself as only he can at the merch stall to the very pretty girl bass player from said Death Metal band (I?d tell you their name but I couldn?t read the logo) by somehow managing to tape himself into immobility?did sell her a shirt somehow though. Whoever remained after the bar closed and it was after hours time, which was EVERYONE, then proceeded to help us carry our gear to the van. It goes so much quicker when 75 people move your gear, but I?d never seen anything like it. Such hospitality and immediate open friendship. Stunning and life affirming to say the least. I befriended this dude who spoke no English and I speak no Czech, obviously, yet somehow, we TOTALLY understood each other and spent the rest of the night ?talking? without saying a word. Just looks and nods. Fucked up if you think about it but I don?t think I?d done any mushrooms. Sometimes, you can be tired and beaten and broken and broke with no anything to smile about and all of a sudden, in the middle of now where for no reason, suddenly life plants one of it?s little kisses on you and you just go, you know what, this doesn?t suck and tonight was one of those.

Of course, the place was fire bombed later and everyone was killed except for us but whatever. Anyway, we get back to the Casa de Ales, more food, desert, bottles of wine, conversation, all night bowling, pool (I destroy Cwej and Monno while I notice the complete lack of (censored) and Julian) and foosball. We crawl drunkenly across the street to our awaiting beds and smart lights and head off to sleep to see what tomorrow holds not believing that yesterday (the ?P? word) ever happened.

The dressing room conversation was whether girls actually do fart or not. I?m not telling?

April 12th, Hradec Kralove, El Diablo Club

Before leaving the safe and friendly confines of Ales and his world unto itself, we, me and Greg and Monno, with Cwej as our cheering section bowl a few more rounds. Julian and (censored) appear to have been left behind at the gig until they both emerge groggily from their rooms. Hmmmmm, I wonder but it?s better if I don?t. Ales and his babe have made us the breakfast of champions taking up two tables just to house the food (all of which was REALLY tasty) and I wanna blow this guy by now.

So, we?re off to Hragghhhhdech Kradololvia or something. This gig ended up being the second worst gig we ever played. Shit, total fuckin? shit, period. I?ve seen it on video since (we got most of all the tour on Lady Clare?s miniDV) and we played good but it was just rotten. First off, we get lost on the way and for some insane reason no one in the crew wants to ask the locals where the fuck this club is. Generally, a few weeks into a tour just about anything will set you off and make you want to kill but stupidity really gets on my nerves and I can not suffer fools, EVER. So, picture me, angry and lost, walking up to strangers, stinking, filthy, open wounds everywhere from bashing myself around Europe every night, going up to little old ladies in the street and asking them for ?El Diablo Club? of all fucking things. I may as well have been an invisible mute for all the good it did me asking. Milena finally figures it out somehow, which only makes me more angry as I watch Cwej staring at a map just to make it look like he?s trying. I?m like, why can the little 23 year old girl who?s in the band figure it out and no other fucker can do so let alone make the fuckin? effort. Whatever.

We get there and it?s a dump, of course and the bar staff looks at us like dirt. I?m already like, you cock suckers we just came here to play for no money because we dare to dream and you just are corpses resenting us our lives. So, we?re off to a good start. The PA is blown, which sucks when you spend 8 hour days rehearsing making sure your harmonies are better than the Beatles and the Beach Boys and Abba and Queen. Soundman is nice but has that ?Please take me away. I?m being held prisoner by my own life? look about him. He?s also invented a mic stand for drums, which looks great but just gets on my nerves for some reason. I should talk.

We ask for coffees from what must be the coolest trendies in Hrararar Crakosahh and they say I need to speak to the promoter, who?s nowhere to be found and even now I have no idea who he was. On to the gig.

No one?s there and the ones that are are wound up so tight their balls should have exploded at the sight of us. We rock and sweat and rock and they just can?t let go. By now I?m yelling at ?em thinking, last night we were floating on air, why do you all suck? Still it?s our responsibility to set the tone for the room but nothing is working. Then, the mistakes start. We start playing bad with bonehead not thinking fuck ups. Now I?m just angry as all shit.

We finish this set, which was more like a bad movie that didn?t know how to end and then the real bullshit starts. First there?s the fight as the bar staff beat up the sound guy when the sound guy tells the clown who (unbeknownst to me) had made his way into the dressing room and started jerking off to Marina. That?s a real bad idea, by the way, because Marina takes no shit what so ever, ever. Apparently, she beats this dude into a pulp while kicking him repeatedly in the balls and smashing him in the face (fair enough) and shoves him out of the dressing room. I?m breaking down gear now just wanting to get the fuck out. Sound guy tries to get him out of the building and the bar staff beat up the sound guy?!?!?! Huh!?!?!? Anyway, after trying to grab Lady Clare, who beats him with a mic stand drawing blood and causing him to limp away (I guess being stupid means you learn slow but these girls will kill you if you try to touch them and they don?t want you to, seriously) we?re packed and very ready to split but by now feeling a bit concerned about the state of where we will be sleeping tonight.

Once there its, yes, we need to leave someone in the van as it?s a really bad neighbourhood (ah, good). We get upstairs and the nine of us are meant to sleep on the floor of someone?s roommate?s room. There?s rotten (what I assume to be) apple juice molding away in bottles in the kitchen and our dinner is a huge vat of something brown. Me and Greg look at each other and ?Plan B? kicks into action. ?Hey, this is really great but I can?t get 9 people on this floor. Sorry. Thanks. Gotta go. Bye.? And we?re outta there. No disrespect intended, but if you can?t put the touring band in good digs DON?T FUCKIN BOOK THE TOURING BAND in the first place! You know, Joe Strummer died of fuckin? MS that he got from someone spitting on him back in the day so who the fuck knows what was living there. ?Fuck that,? was our unified response and off we drive?and guess wha, the drive sucked balls as we found ourselves lost in Prague for 3 hours during rush hour traffic at 6:30 in the morning, but I don?t wanna give too much away just yet.

Stay tuned as Alex Kane (pka A. Product) takes us to the next installment of the AntiProcolypse Now, AntiProduct in Europe.


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