The rock n roll band, Blacklist Royals, is currently on their fall U.S. tour with The Goddamn Gallows. While they’re on this tour, they will be doing an exclusive blog for us. You can check out their second entry, after the break.
We’re reaching the end of our east coast tour, and I find myself having a hard time summing it up. You see, there are two different types of tour stories – there are the anecdotes musicians tell to impress chicks and quell their parents’ disappointment, and then there is the real story – shared only with other road dogs, if at all.
People usually assume the details left out are the juicy ones – the too-wild-for-TV, cocaine orgy kind details that rock-n-roll is famous for. But in truth, the details we omit are usually the depressing ones – the realities of a disappointing and often dangerous life on the road.
For instance, I can tell you all about Nat singing “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” at a Pittsburgh Karaoke bar, but I can’t rant about the crooked promoters, fucked-up shows, or the dealer pushing behind the club in Philly. I can tell you about the pilot in Dayton who’d been waiting six years to see us play, or the sweet fan who gave me the shirt off her back, or about seeing Rancid in NYC…but I can’t tell you about the stockades of assault weapons, the white power gangs, the militias, or the even more loathe-worthy music biz scum we encountered…
No, that stuff’s nothing but a buzzkill.
I wish I had an entertaining way to round out this blog, but I don’t. It just wasn’t the kind of tour. It was the kind of tour that can’t be experienced on a digital tour bus. It was the type of tour that can only be understood by those passionate, ballsy, or stupid enough to hit the highway in search of rock-n-roll…and if you happen to be one of those fools, I don’t need to tell you shit.
You’ll experience it soon enough yourself.