The last
The last thing they needed was some parasites harassed friend for a ride on the packed tour bus. And I realized that Vivi and Kotome probably thought I could go on a train to the Wild Weekend. They did not know it was light years away and the useless British public transport system was crippled by the apocalyptic flooding. So the next time I saw the band - stripped tail hanging between my legs like a Viagra-retired - I kissed Vivi, Kotome hugged, and we spent the rest of the night an expression of our undying love for to drink each other while we are under the table. Current. The last
Gig at Camden's Dublin Castle caught the worst possible start. The band before the headliner Honeys had promised to give them a drum kit for £ 40 because, in contrast to Japan, British live houses do not have residence kits. An hour before the latex body shows the band's manager wants another 20 pounds. I'm on the edge of the gouge his eyeballs with a penknife, I am eagerly stroking in my pocket, but must agree to the honeys than Ryo explains that cartons and cans will not cut it sorted.
Despite this, the Honeys surf indiscriminatingly ecstatic to garage-punk-and depth-charge. A Japanese Underground band beating the crap out of a slight chalky audience that was stunned by the sweet's drivel about the "new" laid-back British sensitive-rock scene of bands like Coldplay, Belle & Sebastian passed. Satisfactory.
The amount of jaw hanging around his ankles. Zombie Like. No moshing. No whooping cough. Only polite applause like a bad jazz club. Me? I'm smelling cordite in the air and tasting blood in my mouth, as Yuri, cries with her sadistic and Kotome with their ribs crack guitar into the audience. It's like chewing on a crowd vegetarian Sandwiches in Starbucks reading some "literature" on top of nail-bombed by Outlaw Left. And that's fabulous.
But after the gig, everyone wants a honey say a English editor, wetting his pants during a five-minute conversation, guys, they are of the London branch of the Japanese promoters and begging the band Smash to play on the next Fuji Rock Festival. Any weather is gob-smacked at the refreshing foreign volatile nature of this concert.
OK, that's not a big tour history. They are rare, because it is hard on the demented madness that was fun "time" and there are other things I can not go to. But basically, covers the honey of the Tour as the true punk princesses they are, while I handled it like a failed wannabe rock star.
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