| grayline tour stories |
| GRAYLINE TOUR STORIES |
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| Thursday July 19, 2001 Notre-Dame-Du-Nord, Quebec |
| Darren poured his heart and soul into yesterday's entry so I (Pete) decided to do today's. We're in Notre-Dame-Du-Nord at Darryl's house. There's only three of us because Nick is off being the wage slave in Toronto. He is going to rejoin us for a supposed show on Friday night. So the day starts off innocently enough... you know, wake up, eat, etc. We're supposed to be playing some club in Notre-Dame with Darryl's band Billy Jack. Originally the show was supposed to happen at a strip bar. Totally rad with us. Playing punk rock with naked babes all over the place. Different, but definitely memorable. Then Darryl tells us that it got cancelled because the owner forgot that he had booked in male strippers that week. Shit, that's even better!! We wanted to play it for sure now. We would be guaranteed to have a rabid female audience. We would all then get naked as well and end to a standing ;) ovation!! Everyone was getting laid for sure!!! (note to girlfriends: we're just saying that, it makes us look more manly) (note to everyone else: wink wink ) So over we go to talk to the strip bar owner. He likes the idea, but says the dancers won't like the competition. We see some of them... pansy beefcake motherfuckers. Let some real men up there ya steroid freaks. So, off we go across the road to the alternate venue Darryl booked for the show. Jesus christ.... So anyways, we're off to New Liskeard 15 minutes down the road to pick up the pa system. While heading around town we don't see any posters for the show. We're supposed to play 2 days in Notre-Dame. Tonight's club show and an all-ages Saturday at the community hall. Darryl has told us not to bother with the saturday, but what the fuck, we're here and if there has been promo put up, we're gonna play. He was also supposed to come through with a Friday show but that is looking like a big no go. I'm not impressed with that, but what the hell. After getting back with the pa we go and set it up at the club. The bar owner is a fucking cunt, and we quickly set up our equipment to much bitching and complaining about how much stuff there is and "how loud is it going to be?" Darryl tells her not to worry about it and there will be lots of people out tonight so chill out. So sensing disaster around the bend, us Grayline boys head off to New Liskeard and put up some posters for the show. We talk to a few people but nobody wants to make the drive out of town. We get back to the club about 8pm and the bar lady is freaking out, wanting to know when the bands are gonna start. Since Darryl's band is on first and their equipment is all set up, and seeing as it is his show, we tell her to talk to him when he shows up. So when 9pm rolls around and Darryl isn't there, bar cunt starts yelling at us saying she has "an agreement that there was supposed to be live entertainment from 8:30 pm until 2am and you better get fucking playing or you're not getting paid." We laugh at her and phone Darryl. He says he's coming right down. At 10pm he shows up and the bar cunt is foaming at the mouth. "You guys don't mind playing 2 sets do you?" he asks us. Fuck yes we mind. We're only playing as a three piece and there's a limit to how many good songs we can do without the extra guitar. The answer is not many. Barely enough for one set. We hate surprises, and this one is unexpected. Billy Jack start to play and as soon as the first song is done, the bar cunt sreams at them to turn the volume down. Seeing as how it is at a minimum already, due to the small bar size, the request is laughable. "We can't turn down the drums," she is told. "I don't care," Super Cunt screams. "I'm losing customers because they can't hear the jukebox!! Turn it down now or you're not getting paid!!" After every song Billy Jack play she is yelling at them. The three no teeth, video lottery addicted regulars glare through glazed eyeballs. There are maybe 10 people there to watch the show. Somehow BJ make it through their set and then it's Grayline time. Trying to soothe the potential savage beast from the get go we launch into a tried and true redneck classic: AC/DC's "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap". Randy can't solo worth camel shit and it sounds like a cat caught in a fanbelt. Turns out these shit for brains like country. Especially bar cunt. "Turn that crap down now" she yells, "I can't hear myself think!" Whatever, so we launch into the next song and halfway through, BAM!! the power goes out then comes back on a couple of seconds later. Hmmm, freak lightning storm? "I told you to turn down the goddamn music" she's screaming at us. "Turn it down or I'll turn the power off again!!" Turn the power off? Again?!!! YOU FUCKING DOUCHEBAG WHORE!!!! DON'T FUCK WITH OUR MOTHERFUCKING SHIT YOU ROTTEN CUNT!!!! Darren is screaming at the bar bitch and her husband, boyfriend, brother, whatever the fuck he is that pulled the switch. "Fuck-you, you inbred pieces of shit!! You could wreck our fucking equipment assholes!!" Randy boots a mic stand and it goes crashing into a table. The next thing is a big crash as all the dums and cymbals are being knocked over. I pick up the bass drum and send it flying through the air. SMASH!!! Then goes the snare. SMASH!!! Then the floor tom. SMASH!!! "The show is fucking over!!" I yell and start taking my cymbals off the stands and throwing them in the middle of the bar. CRASH!!! CRASH!!! In the meantime Darryl has busted into the bar office and is punching holes in the wall and smashing glasses. "I'm calling my son!!" the bar cunt yells at us. "Call you little boy, you bitch!" I yell at her. "He can go fuck off and die in hell with you, you piece of shit!!" Randy and Darren have most of their stuff packed up by this time. Some people in the bar are yelling for more music. "We're not playing at a bar run by assholes," I yell. The son shows up and is standing at the side glaring at us. Fuck you, dipshit. This isn't your battle. Fuck off back to your sewer you fucking rat fuck. Darryl tried to get money out of the owner since she had promised a $150 guarantee. She of course said no and Darryl told her he would start a boycott of her bar and that we would have played all night if she hadn't turned the power off. We're not a jukebox, he told her and the volume was at a minmium. It's not our fault she didn't realize what booking a live band entailed and she should have been more lenient. So therefore she should pay us. Bar cunt proclaimed that since her promise of music from 8 till 2 hadn't been met, no money. He told her that a lot more people were going to show up and everyone was going to go across the street to drink unless she paid us. We were already telling people to go drink across the road. Since most of the people there were women we told them to go look at the cocks on display and have a good time. The bar owner panicked and said if the bands started playing again she would dish out the cash. Darryl asked us to set back up again and we told him no fucking way. Bitch face could go fuck herself. We'd rather lose $150 than sell beer for a bunch of dicklickers. Darryl told us about the damage to the office and said how they wouldn't figure that out till much later, so it would be totally punk rock to get paid for playing after we'd lost it on them in addition to the damages they would discover later. No fucking way. Billy Jack could play if they wanted, but fuck this we said. Billy Jack set up and played all the songs they knew. It was like 12:30 and they were done. People were yelling for us to play some more. "You barely played" somebody yelled out. "We played long enough for some asshole to turn out the power. We're not giving them a second chance. Fuck them!!," we yelled in the direction of the bar. Darryl was frantic. "You guys gotta fucking play" he said. "They're gonna pay you and they promised not to turn out the power". People were starting to come in and they wanted the business. "Fuck them," I responded. "If they want some fucking entertainment to keep the customers happy, I'll give them some fucking entertainment." I got up on stage and grabbed the microphone. Some stupid country shit was on the jukebox. "Turn off the fucking music!!" I screamed into the mic, "Turn off the fucking music!!! La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la," I babbled over and over until they turned the jukebox off. Alright motherfuckers, you want entertainment to sell beer, here you fucking go... The Pete Ellery comedy hour. All the tricks I learned over the years from going to Yuk Yuk's and studying emcees and front men blasted from the stage. I was on fire tonight ladies and gentlemen. Constantly trashing the bar and it's owners while having fun with as many audience members as I could. People were definitely entertained but they wanted music. "You want fucking music?" I asked. "Yes, play some fucking songs!!! Grayline!!" they yelled. "Well the assholes at the bar think that we are too loud and they turned the power off on us before. DO YOU LIKE IT LOUD NOTRE-DAME? " I screamed!! "I can't hear you!! I said DO YOU LIKE IT LOUD??!!!" I shouted again. They were roaring YES!!!. "Scream for me," I yelled "Grayline Grayline Grayline Grayline" and they screamed it over and over. "If you want us to play we'll fucking play as long as the bar promisies not to turn the power of or we'll fucking destroy the place!!!" I snarled at the audience and bar. Randy and Darren said what they fuck and we climbed on stage with Billy Jack's stuff and turned the amps up as loud as they would go!!! "Let's rock motherfuckers!!!!" Randy screamed and we plowed through a quick hard fast set before leaving the stage with another hearty round of "fuck you's" for the bar. Darryl ponied up with some cash and we got the fuck out of there. Not before hanging out with some of the locals in the parking lot though. They had come from the strip bar and loved seeing the naked men. That could have been us and it would have been a fuck of a lot better than the shit we went through. We headed over to Darryl's and I crashed while the others went on the hunt for a party. Bigras from Billy Jack managed to get separated somewhere and didn't turn up until a day and a half later. Somebody was jumping out windows and Randy had some girl trying to put the make on him. Who cares when it's all said and done. I actually threw my drums across a bar.... |
| I think that quite possibly the loudest sound I have ever heard was when Pete threw his ride cymbal through the air and it hit the floor. That noise was one of, if not the most intense sounds I have ever heard. Just fucking deafening. It fit the anger of the moment for sure. Darren |