Sur ce repaire de sales délurés qu’est VisualMusic (je vous lis depuis suffisamment pour le savoir, bande de gros dégueulasses), je remarque qu’on pense rarement aux femmes. Bougez pas ! Votre bon Gégé est là. J’arrive. Alors pour vous belles créatures, une vidéo de The Bronx sur le site hyper sexy Playgirl.com. Le groupe claque son titre « Youth Wasted » entre deux strings de beaux et luisants stripteaseurs. Parce qu’il n y’a pas que la Fistinière et la bière dans la vie.
[i]“As much as I do not want to write this journal, I promised you I’d write them “at least once a week”. Good, bad, happy or sad… so this is what has to be done. 2-11-13. That is the date we fired Adam Duce. That is the day that I had to tell Adam that after 21 years of being in a band together, I just couldn’t take it anymore.
That is the day I said “My hope is that this can be amicable.” The words sounded like someone else had spoken them. It was like being outside of my body watching someone else deliver these painful words. But, it was me saying it. And we all said it.
We had our say sitting in our jam room in Oakland. Dave said it. Joseph (our manager) said it. Phil said it. We all said that we couldn’t take being in a band with him anymore. That if this didn’t happen, we were going to break up the band. It was hard. One of the hardest moments of my life. It was also a long time coming. We may have fired Adam on 2-11-13, but Adam quit Machine Head well over a decade ago. He just never bothered to tell anyone… but we all knew it.
Contrary to popular belief, being in a band is tough. Really fucking tough. It’s the toughest sonofabitch you’ll ever come across in your life and it will beat the living shit out of you 80% of the time. Many times it feels like one big rollercoaster, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. There are wins and losses seemingly every single day. Being in a band is one of life’s strangest gambles.
But when you do win, when you win that 20%, well… it truly is salvation. It’s what makes eating the other 80% of that shit-sandwich bearable. It’s where “those” stories come from. It can be the best job you’ll ever have and unquestionably one of the hardest you’ll ever have. But until you’ve done it for 20+ years, you have no clue. Until you’ve held a band together for 20+ years, you really don’t know jack shit about it.
You think you do.
You don’t.
A band is a dysfunctional family. A brotherhood, a family business, and a renaissance-era-court. You’re room-mates in studio-apartment-on-wheels for years-at-a-time, 24-hours-a-day. Plus you’re in the pressure cooker of the spotlight, every move analyzed, read into, or attacked. Everybody wants something from you, everybody wants to be your friend, everybody loves you, everybody can do so-much-better-for-you-than-the-people-you-have-now. Some people try and turn you against each other, and everyone wants to take credit for your success.
Often time you’re enemies. At odds and fighting about something, but “pretending” everything is “fine” onstage.[/i]