We waited around forever, for Bruno to make his toilette. So long, in fact, that we had no time to go to Andy’s house for coffee, showers, laundry, and internet. I was most disappointed about missing out on laundry. It’s day 12 and I have one pair of clean socks and underwear and no shirts. My jeans are pretty much able to stand up by themselves at this point. It wasn’t to be. The traffic to Ansbach was continuously bunching up and we didn’t roll into the small town of Ansbach until around 7pm. We never asked, but it appeared as thought the club was some sort of Christian youth center. I kept cringing as the Croats kept tossing around the MFers, but our hosts didn’t seem to notice or mind (or just seethed indside?).
The bass amp started buzzing again during sound check, so we popped the back plate and discovered yet another connection had broken. It appeared as though it was an attenuator circuit that wasn’t being used, but Jason soldered it back together anyhow and it seemed to take care of the problem. The show was supposed to start at 9, but since no one had showed up, they kept pushing the start time back. Finally after ten, Joe 4 played to a ground of six or seven kids. They really dug it, banging their heads to brittle metallic fury of the Croats. What a great band. I still haven’t gotten tired of seeing them night after night. We played to the same group of kids. They also watched enthusiastically as we pounded through a pretty darn good set. I’m not sure the people that ran the place were so keen — the emocore before and between bands seemed to indicate that ours was not the genre of choice. The flat we stayed at was clean and comfortable. I climbed into a little loft in the living room, kicked off a couple of YouTube uploads and went to sleep.
