TLASILA 1, Metelkova Anomie 0...

We've just rolled into the cold water flat where we'll be spending the evening. I'm cold and wet from the gig at Metelkova, and steam was seen jetting from my head as I stumbled from the club. A Belgian noise fundamentalist performed a 90-minute (!) opening set of ever-decreasing profundity; when the slowed-down vocal samples and vinyl-pop filters wrenched into his laptop queue my only urge was to destroy.

We took care of business in less than thirty, grabbed the cash, and got the fuck out of rainy old Dodge.

Learned in Split that Luca from 8mm completely fucked us, so there'll be no gig tonight in Treviso. He confirmed the show months ago with an enthusiastic fusillade of messages, but apparently preferred instead to sit on his fat fucking ass and do nothing. I should have grown suspicious when he failed to respond to my emails regarding venue info, cell phone numbers, etc. That this cunt has any sort of reputation at all is utterly mystifying...

Enough. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

We're off in a few to more welcoming Italian climes...

Love (with appropriate shards of opprobrium),



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