Thursday November 20th, 2003 - Shaun Nixon and Friends, AFB

Now, I know that most of you read these journal entries expecting to hear about the more amusing aspects of life with the band and the antics in the shows. However, there was nothing funny about this show in any respect and therefore I'm going to abandon my standard journal format and just tell you exactly what happpened.

We arrived for load-in at 6:00, about the time the show was supposed to start. We had heard some questionable things about Shaun Nixon's ability to organize shows, but being optimistic guys, we assumed that for a show of this magnitude, there would be a fairly rigid schedule of acts with short set times for some, and longer times for others. Shaun had promised us half an hour from 11:30 to 12:00.

After loading our gear in, we promptly found Shaun to find out what was going on. He proceeded to hand us a hand-written listing of all the bands (on which we were not included) and asked us to pick a time. He had already given away our time slot to someone else. But that's fine, we're flexible guys, we decided to take a 10:00 time-slot instead, it actually worked out better since a few of us had to be elsewhere after the show.

So, the night progressed. Bands started showing up and much to everyone's surprise, Shaun discovered that attempting to have 30 acts in a single night is just not possible. Asside from this stunning realization, Shaun gave no indication that he had even the slightest inkling of what was going on at any point. In an effort to salvage the night, dozens of acts were turned away at the door (some from Toronto, Kingston, Chattam, Guelph) because Shaun had fucked up. Many were downright pissed off and understandably so. Many also were counting on the show to provide them with gas money to get home, as Shaun had promised. And, despite the rather poor turn of events, redshift decided to stick around, figuring at least we'd get the chance to play even if it was to no particular crowd, since we had already confirmed a ten-o'clock timeslot.

Not so! Ten O'clock rolled around and after the previous act had finished, I went to confirm with Shaun that we were on next. But, it turns out that Shaun, in true Shaun Nixon fashion, had completely ignored the order that he had established previously and given our slot to not one, but two other bands. So, needless to say, we were all thrilled. Three of us had to be out of there by eleven o'clock to make a prior engagement and Shaun Fucking Nixon had given away our timeslot. Not only that, but he had booked up the 11:00 to 12:00 spot completely so that there would be no way we could play until 12:30 at the earliest. So, we said fuck it and left.

Now, in the grand scheme of things, this didn't really bother us. We live in town and it really wasn't a huge deal for us to turn around and go home. It sucked that we couldn't play, but after a display of incompetence of that magnitude, we were quite happy to give a big "fuck you" to Mr. Shaun Nixon and walk away.

However, Shaun, if you read this, your treatment of the bands that had driven from out of town is absolutely inexcusable. Its one thing to fuck over a local band with nothing really to lose, but if you book bands from Toronto or Kingston and tell them that (a) they can play, and (b) they will be paid, MAKE SURE YOU HAVE A SPOT FOR THEM TO PLAY AND MONEY TO PAY THEM YOU IRRESPONSIBLE JACKASS. That aside, not once did you apologize to us for fucking us out of a show, nor did I hear you apologize to any of the other bands. It seemed to me that you couldn't quite understand why people would walk away from a disaster like that. It was because you fucked up, Shaun. If you're going to organize a show like this, make sure you know what you're doing.

For those of you unable to attend the show and unfamiliar with Shaun's work, DO NOT support shows put on by this man. He's irresponsible, he fucked over a lot of bands, some of whom lost a great deal of money in the process, and he fucked over a Hamilton venue that is trying to support the local scene. For those of you in bands, DO NOT accept an offer for a show from this guy. You will get screwed over one way or another. Shows like this are the very reason why many people are disappointed in local music and the very reason why many bands have so much trouble getting themselves out there.

And Shaun, you owe a lot of bands and performers an apology. Myself and my other band-mates will not be attending any other performances that you are organizing or involved with, and I will do my best to ensure that everyone I know in the Hamilton scene knows exactly what kind of a joke you and your shows are. We as a band don't expect a reply to this from you, nor do we want one. We only hope that you read it and realize how completely disgusted ourselves and a great number of other bands are with the ridiculous irresponsibility with which you conduct yourself. Fuck you, Shaun Nixon.

Sincerely,

Andrew, Dave, Daryl, Matt.

Friday November 14th, 2003 - Quarters

Load in at 5:00. Soundcheck. A resounding chorus of "Badgers badgers badgers badgers badgers badgers badgers badgers badgers badgers badgers MUSHROOM! MUSHROOM! Demo our covers of "Baby One More Time" and "Faith." Dave practices the chicken dance. Play some more songs. Sound is good. Andrew kicks his amp a lot because it sucks. Off to the radio station. Very brief interview in which we fumble through a description of our sound and stump the interviewer regarding the track number of "First Breath After Coma." Got to plug our show like press whores. Back to Quarters for beer and food. Daryl finds a hole in his pants: "What the fuck? Was I humping a cheese grater?" Andrew hasn't eaten all day and is strangely drunk strangely fast. Sian Evans opens and puts on a surprisingly energetic acoustic performance. Girls that rock out acoustically are hot. redshift approves. redshift takes the stage. Aside from Andrew's amp cutting in and out, the intro song is now brilliant. Andrew kicks his amp a whole lot more in an effort to stop it from squealing. After Fall, Dave does the chicken dance to drum accompaniment. The crowd rejoices. Why are the whale sounds so funny? I'm trying to be dark and moody here, do you mind?? During the instrumental, Andrew takes a walk into the crowd, finds a spot to sit down whilst still playing. Back on stage! Andrew forgets entire first line to Entropy. Ah well, its still a damn-hell-ass amazing song. Andrew finishes song and makes a lot of noise. Andrew is suddenly attacked by the soft, supple lips of Daryl. Wow, our drummer is a good kisser. Best show ending ever. I have never laughed that hard. I now think our entire audience at the show is convinced that we are gay. Not so! We just keep our promises. What a great show. Oh, and Daryl wasn't humping a cheese greater, he's just so good that his own drumming blows the crotch out of his pants. We have a feeling it probably blew the crotches out of the audience members' pants, but we didn't have the resources to investigate. Prologic goes on. Much metal is played. The crowd rejoices. Fabulous Righteous takes the stage. Now that is one funky band. Chris Isaac cover? Brilliant! And so the show ends. What a great night. Thanks to everyone who came out.

Friday, November 7th, 2003 - AFB

8:00. Load up the gear. Many an insult is dispensed in standard redshift pre-show ritual fashion. On the road. Hmmmmm...seems Ferguson makes a little jog at King. We can't turn right on King. Fuckin One-Way streets. Ah well, lets turn right anyway. Nearly hit guy running across road in process of driving the wrong way down a one-way street. Well done. Arrive at AFB. Load gear in. Counterbalance arrives. Hey, the guy I almost hit is their guitarist. Ummmm...sorry. Beer and pool. Andrew is a terrible pool player. But so are the rest of the guys, so I don't feel left out. Felony Grasp fails to arrive. Dave and Andrew get pissed off at stupid bands. Show finally starts at 10:45. Counterbalance does a good job. Chris jumps from stage and lands flat on his back. Well done. Kengkh goes on. Is that a business card on his head? Entire crowd leaves the bar. Now we're really pissed. Fuckin ungreatful kids. Its a freakin Friday night! redshift goes on in front of a massive eleven-person crowd. Still kicked ass. Played new addition to "In Hands." We're all very pleased. Andrew's guitar is insanely out of tune on "The Surgeon" and his amp starts to fuck off for a bit. First time playing "A Game of Chess" in quite some time. Feels good. On "Fall," Andrew's amp completely goes nuts. Andrew gets off stage to request some duct tape whilst still playing. Andrew decides on "Even in Sleep We Are Building Monoliths" as the title for the instrumental. And finally, we demo "Entropy" for the first time live. Ends up being our best song of the night. Dave does rock-star leap from the stage, hits the ground, wobbles a bit, trips on own feet, rips patch cord out of guitar and falls on back. What a finish! Pack up our shit and go home. Andrew's knee is almost useless after a rather active show. Hooray. The end.

Sunday, November 2nd, 2003 - The Hideaway (St. Catherines)

4:00, Matt arrives at house. Pack up van. Where the hell's Corelli? Drummer-boy shows up late and tactfully avoids packing up equipment. Jerk. Suffers severe punching. Ellie arrives and watches the end of the original 70s Batman movie. Funniest pre-show movie ever. Everyone piles into my van and Matt's truck. Head to St. Catherines. Ellie commences interview. Standard band-questions, and then, "Has this ever gotten you laid?" Much laughing. Dave decides that he is like kool-aid because he dissolves in water. Andrew can't decide what candy he would compare himself to, so answers, "The French Revolution." Interview continues with hilarious consequences. Arrive in St. Catherines. Find The Hideaway. Nobody home. Wander around the plaza for fun. Dave needs to pee. Daryl repeats everyone's observations long after they've been made because he's cool like that. Daryl realizes he's on security camera and therefore humps a door. Find a sign that claims that the Hideaway is closed due to death in some family or other. Daryl assures us that everythings still okay because he talked to Miranda today. Turns out everything is not okay, club just decided not to notify Miranda or any of us. A great deal of swearing ensues. We all pause for a deep breath. Swearing recommences. After we're all out of curse-words, we get very angry and drive home. No show for redshift. There is much weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Dear owners of the Hideaway,
The members of redshift would like to extend our condolences to you and yours regarding the apparent death of someone close to you. We would also like to take this opportunity to extend to you a serious punching for being irresponsible jerks. We understand that this is a difficult time for you, but its really not too much trouble in any instance to ensure that if you're going to close your business, that you take care of any loose ends involved, such as a four-band AIDS benefit. A simple phone call to the promoter asking her to contact all of the bands would have sufficed. It certainly would have been more effective than the marker-on-white-paper sign tacked to your door which really doesn't help us until after we've committed ourselves to two hours of driving and $20 in gas. So, basically, what I'm trying to say is that as a gesture of our gratitude, we would like to extend to you our middle fingers and call you a bunch of wankers. I realize this may seem insensitive given your circumstances, but really, a twenty second phone call is not too much to ask even during this period of grief. Especially when we know for a fact that this didn't just happen tonight but that the club has been closed since Friday. Again, fuck you, and we hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

redshift

Saturday, September 13th, 2003 - Clark Hall Pub (Kingston) - Late start. Very efficient packing job. Four guys crammed in car. 350 Km. Chicken Dance at the gas station. Dave says, "So intense!" a lot. Soundcheck. What monitors? What's the buzzing? Where's Obsidian? What's going on? Pre-show Chicken Dance. Showtime. New song. Levels all wrong. Crowd sits there. Andrew falls down on monitor. Sound guy looks concerned. So intense! Crowd sits there. Cute Bartender. Sicilian Kiss shot. Andrew solos with shotglass. Rockstar. Crowd sits there, applauds a bit. Show's over. So intense! Audience sits there, applauds a bit. Drunk girl loves redshift. Lets get drunk. Beer beer beer tequilla tequilla tequilla beer beer beer. Wait, who's driving? So intense! Cynical Limit. 5 minute drum solo. Daryl actually falls down. Obsidian. Amazing. So intense! Turi in a skirt. Cover of Sweet Child of Mine. Fuck you I won't do what you tell me. Show's over. So intense! Fast food. Back to the Obsidian house. "Guys, my parents are asleep, we gotta be real quiet or we're in big trouble." "MOM!!!!!" Everyone laughs. Nintendo. Try to sleep. Realize everyone's on the front porch. Meet many random people. Nice rack. Air conditioning guy? What time is it? Oh, he's one of those all-night air conditioning guys. Five a.m. football in the street. Daryl and Dave cuddle. Drunk girl cuddles with Daryl and Dave. Everyone goes to get high. Andrew fears getting lost, so goes to bed again. Dave maps the topography of the world’s lumpiest futon. Andrew kind of sleeps on a pile of foam and sheets. So intense!

Sunday, September 14th 2003 - The Underground - Stumble up off the floor. Two hours sleep. Where are we? Oh, right. Kingston. Daryl fights with Nintendo. Wait around for Obsidian to awake. Nobody gets up. Leave a note + directions. Back on the road. So tired. Fast food. 350 km. Dave says, "So intense!" a lot more. Andrew doesn't fall asleep at the wheel. Barely. Pick up Amanda. Now five people + equipment in Saturn. Back in Hamilton. Real food. Shower. Find out about Obsidian problems. Panic. Pack up for second show. Load-in. 7:30: Where's Obsidian? Soundcheck. 8:30: Where's Obsidian. Crowd starts arriving. 9:00: Oh, there's Obsidian. Now where's the drummer? Round two. I want a keyboard that sounds good. Decent crowd size. Obsidian. Amazing once more. Come closer. Come closer. Get on stage. Turi humps Dave and screams into his ear. No skirt tonight. The Black Maria. Very good. redshift gets ready. Time to go on. New song again. Much better. Pretentious? Yes. Behind the Eye. Andrew is already bleeding. The Surgeon. No monitors, so singing is sketchy. A Game of Chess. Something feels wrong. Is this the right key? Oh well, I'll just attack this monitor. Andrew is now bleeding in two places. Daryl has broken a cymbal stand. We take donations from the Black Maria. Andrew sucks at stage banter. "Even silence is better than this." Tune-up. Andrew makes a run to the bar for stage props. Andrew creates moody atmosphere. "That's Black Sabbath!" “We are Black Sabbath” "You're wrecking my song." "You're killing our whale." Funniest intro ever. So much for atmosphere. Instrumental. Andrew plays with a shot glass. Takes a walk into the crowd. Stabs Megan with guitar. Oh, right, in front of the stage = feedback. Back on stage! Fall. Where's my ebow. Oh, there it is. Just in time. I wonder who's backstage. Oh, hello Black Maria, enjoying the show? Okay, I suppose I should get back to the stage. Andrew and Dave play fast. Andrew tries to break low D string at end, but can't. I love feedback. Show is done. Best show yet. Many compliments. Many thanks. No money for redshift. Ah well. Pack up. David comments on increasing pretentiousness. Andrew is pleased by this. Obsidian boys decide to head out. Load everything back into the car. Home. Beer. Bed.

Thanks to absolutely everyone who had anything to do with this weekend for one of the best times I have ever had in my life.