Under Pressure US Tour - Day 10 - August 3, 2007

New Brunswick, New Jersey...

I can't remember much of the morning in New Brunswick. We didn't stay in town to do anything more than find a supermarket to eat out of on our way out. I really enjoyed the drive up to Syracuse for the most part. The forests, the rolling hills, and the occasional tired old town that we saw made me wish I could just wander the streets and look in old store fronts. We had concerns to stay on top of though. It was still hot out and our van was still overheating. We tried to find a speed and a driving method that would keep the temperature as low and as long as we could. This meant coasting down hills and timing our acceleration into an approach as best we could. We got stuck in some road construction a couple hours away from our destination, Syracuse, but while it had us worry whether we would make it on time to the early all-ages show, it did give the van a break. And as it turned out, all the other bands were running late.

We pulled up to one hell of a large house that looked to have been built around the turn of the last century. Chuck, the promoter and who also sings in BLACK SHEEP SQUADRON, was there to greet us. The show was still a while from starting. Only a few members of the opening local band were around.

As it turned out, not that many people showed up. But those who were there were friendly and seemed to be in the mood to have a fun evening. It's hard to be bummed out about that. The opening band, a female-fronted hardcore band who's name I can't remember, finally started. Although there were three other touring bands missing in action--probably stuck in the same stretch of road construction as we had been--the show had to go on. I crossed my fingers hoping that at least DRY ROT would make it.

We waited around for a while after the first band's set wrapped up. Chuck gave us the call to set up and get ready to play because there was still no word on any vans showing up. I was hoping to play later, and in front of more people but what can you do? We played a pretty solid set, and just after we finished, both DISNIHIL and DRY ROT pulled up to the house.

DISNIHIL went on first and played TRAGEDY-inspired hardcore, and by the time they were done, THE JURY from New Jersey had arrived and they played a solid set of fast snotty hardcore punk.

DRY ROT closed the evening and once again failed to disappoint. Small, cluttered show spaces are ideal for this band. Their bassist Cam stumbled across an old pair of rollerblades and put them on. He didn't appear very comfortable standing with instrument in hand. I wondered if we'd be in store for a concussion this time around.

Drew showed no signs of having recently suffered an chemical burns to his bodies and lurched and jabbed across the basement. At one point he started pushing Cam around on his rollerblades and miraculously, Cam managed to stay on his feet. Towards the end of the set, Drew put on the inserts from said rollerblades and put them on his hands, and then a large plastic bucket over his head. He howled away and banged the microphone onto the bucket and Cam finally had his feet fly out from under him as the band descended into another chaotic ending.

Chuck paid us out from the door, then had everyone follow him to a nearby gas station where he put some gas into all of our tanks. That was really decent of him, certainly doing that out of his pocket as not that many had paid to get in. I've since found myself occasionally in a similar situation, where the local support decided to stay home on the evening of a show, and I haven't hesitated to help make a band's trip a little more worthwhile if I can.

While everyone else went to Chuck's house, DRY ROT went with us to a nearby all-night supermarket to grab some food. For some reason I had a lot of fun walking through the store, the air conditioners blasting, the bakery dark with the skeleton crew all hovering around the cash registers, turning to look down an aisle and see someone familiar every time despite being so far from home, laughing at Joe for his ridiculous meals involving clearance items such as liquid cheese spread or dinged no-name clam chowder soup...

After hanging out in the entranceway of the supermarket for a while, comparing deals and meal selections, we made our way to Chuck's place. Folks were already settling in for the night. Drew and Jordan were preparing noodles in the kitchen, so I set with them for a while and talked about some great psychedelic music that I had been getting into as of late, like VULCAN and ARTHUR BROWN. Conversation was later steered over to concern about Drew's burns. He showed me the damage. I suppose it could have been a lot worse but I had no desire to ever find myself in his state. After a quick bite it was time to crash hard. Joe was out on the 2nd floor deck, surrounded by some guys who were smoking cigarettes and chatting. Almost all of the house's floorspace was taken. I rolled out my sleeping pad and stretched out, much to the dismay of Mike, who found himself too close to my feet. A couple of portable fans that we had brought with us on tour were plugged in and I drifted away to the loud hum.

"Dragon Cake" from My Poetry Is Out Of Control by Jason Penner

My errant communication to God:
"Out-sized, out-matched
An elongated, soft-bodied invertebrate
An inch at the most
I'll call you Dragon Cakes"

God pays me a visit:
knock knock

Me answering the door:
"Oh-wandering one
Why don't you stay a while?"

God's retort:
"I am a god, you faggot!
I could fit not even a toe
inside your house
But let us see
What I can stuff in your butthole!"

Impostors
Taking it to glorious new heights

[For those stumbling across this and not aware of an earlier entry in which I explained both the concept of "honking" and my mandate to write one poem a day no matter what, I offer no apology.]


Dan.


Hanging around outside between bands in Syracuse.


DRY ROT at a house in Syracuse, New York.








Drew throws a bucket over his head and adds percussive sounds with the handy microphone.




Drew attempts to feed himself into a portal a.k.a. "the bucket".




Don't bother arguing this; there's nothing more fun than hanging out with friends at a supermarket in the middle of the night.




This is what a bleach accident does to your flesh.





All of Jason's photographs from Under Pressure's 2007 US tour can be found here.