TheOXBOW.com: OXBOW - Trouble That Will Trouble The World

Tour Diary: 1995 > Page 1

We're picked up by Manuel, the tour promoter from Splatter Promotion. Tom, our drummer sniffs cautiously and says 'Manuel the German'? That sounds about as legit as 'Ivan the Spaniard!' Much to Manuel the Swiss' consternation we call him Ivan for the remainder of the tour. They take us out to meet the intrepid traveler Tomas Venker who when we last saw him was crouched over the dying body of our drug addict video guy Karl in San Francisco. He looks about the same. Tomas, not the drug addict video guy who is now, rest his soul, dead.We meet Tomas at this horrible looking concrete building in Stuttgart...it looks like a fucking commie jail with its piss-colored, yellowing windows and soot-stained concrete. He says its his school. We ask, 'what's it a school of?' He says 'Architecture.' Absolute genius.

Tubingen

Notable because it sounds like another name I might give to my dick. I'm attempting to learn how to say suck my Tubingen in Germany as I feel this will come in quite handy in German speaking countries. Anyways 5 bands on the bill...we step into the backstage area where this rather brash young strumpet says to me 'What is your name?' I say 'Eugene.' She begins calling me 'Bluegene.' I am annoyed not visibly so however. She is in one of the opening bands, speaking of which...we've been staying with Markus from Die Funf Probleme...he's a beautiful cat, really, and I have much love in my heart for him and must thank him for the copious amounts of food, as well as the beautiful hair care products that I used liberally on my modified Little Walter Konk.

The bands that play before us are cool and the girl from the opening band that calls me Bluegene now still calls me Bluegene but rather than continuing annoyance I now feel a wholly new sensation and it comes from the crotch area.

We play after this band that has a real healthy Russ Meyer fixation...they treat us like they think we suck though we have yet to play...even on jetlag, drugaddled low energy I think we can give a halfway decent show.....And we do...Micho announces us and we play. It is good. People yell 'Kill Kill' at us during the show...I'm not sure if this is what they wanted us to do or what they wanted to do to us.

The day after in Stuttgart we see some of the world's oldest hookers. Worth the price of admission alone. Also: NOBODY in Europe smokes more than the Germans and of this they should be proud.

Nijmegen

We can't pronounce it but we figure it must exist because of the road signs. We get to meet Fred from Brinkman records, the label that puts out our shit in The Netherlands. The Dutch have to be the healthiest and most beautiful people in Europe but their incredibly weird fucking language has made them much more arrogant than they need to have been. Plus they seem to be still smarting over the Dutch fall from grace as a world power and their current relegation to the status of wacky clog dancing, tulip growing, windmill tending people who are too ignorant to build their houses ABOVE sea level. We're admittedly a little bitter as the Dutch chose to not sleep with ANY of us. Fred takes us out to dinner and I, in full asshole fashion, order the most expensive thing on the menu...it's a meat dish with meat. Fred, a guy who seems like he NEVER gets angry, smiles at me (who seem like I'm ALWAYS angry)...

At our show the woman doing stage sound comes up after the gig and complains to Niko: Your singer showed his penis....I wanted to stay and keep doing my job but he kept showing me....I wanted to flee the penis, I was disgusted. Niko tells her that he understands her confusion at the sight of my penis and wonders that it's strange that no one else in the entire club had a problem with the penis. She then tries to kiss Niko...these wacky Dutch.