This is Google's cache of . Google's cache is the snapshot that we took of the page as we crawled the web. The page may have changed since that time. Click here for the current page without highlighting. Google is not affiliated with the authors of this page nor responsible for its content. These search terms have been highlighted: smelly melt banana Nagoya 9/16/97 Japan show one: Huck Finn The hostage, who cares about the big take over. I was out for blood. This night. First landing on Japanese soil. I had to spill American blood! Melt-Banana sound check was assume. A couple new songs and a cover. It was an old punk tune from the early 1980's. They played it so fast I thought it was Bad Brains. I new the melody but did not know the song artist. Later Yasuko told me it was Jello's Swine Flu. All I know is they smoked it and the Bad Brains would have trouble keeping up with that one. The Melt-Banana set was short. Agata seemed unhappy about his sound. From my experience that was a short set and I've seen more sets of Melt-Banana then any other human. Rika & Sudoh were on. Totally locked in together. Tight! The new songs were HOT! Disposable Weather Cock was slow. Yasuko talked about the Plainfield / Melt-Banana split record and the tour. I wondered if she would talk to the audience in Japan? I was into to their set. Finally A Melt-Banana experience in Japan. FIGHT NIGHT. Whats your fright number? It was the theme! There wasn't a thing stopping me from killing tonight. I could have ate live snakes tonight. Like popp'n little toadies in my mouth. Like tossing babies across the room. I won and the show hadn't even began. Was weird to see us in their clubs. Four of the most American looking bastards alive. Then There was the creepy crawler. This happens every tour, every time, no matter where or with what band. Out of the dark corners crawl a creepy American human from San Fransissyco. Why should tonight be unlike any other night? Slithering from one end of the club to the next, I tasted all these kids with slanted eyes. Then Bang here is the ugly but proud truth of it all. Out walks one of the lowest forms of life "A Plainfield Brother" Not a fan, We hates them! But a fleshy creepy white male. Tattooed Black and Blue with road warrior status. Shannon Bells Old man. Mr. Troy Tattoo your fucking dead baby Now creep. There it was, one of us, He says smelly you and the drummer look like an American Circus come to skin all the Whores in Japan. HELL-FUCK he was right. I hit the stage and demanded respect. They were clapping before we hit one note. Just a clod hopping those yellow bellies into a frenzy. First song `Throw Pillow' I drew BBLLOODD. Then I crooned them with Roxanne's song. `Ottis Spunkmeijer' had me touching everyone of those kids. I was in heaven. The crowd seem to love anything I tossed at them. Just hooting and a hollering too. It was as close to a traditional fight night that you'll ever see from the likes of PLAINFIELD. The band was on, ITOKO was HOT, he burned me. I promised my self that I would watch him more the next night. I wanted to Rock on his clouds. I want him to react with me. The passion was set. The stage was burnt down into a Texas fire ant party. Sudoh of Melt-Banana took the stage, Took his GIBSON and we hit the `back door love affair'. T'Was a road traveled long and hard to get us there. Now the first was set in granite and history. Troy slithered out as fast as his snake like body came in. I never saw him again, to this day he has not creepy crawled back to Plainfield. Oasaka 9/17/97 Japan. Show 2 Fandango. Oil, Water and DEATH FIGHT NIGHT 2. Mike's dead. He died. I watched part of his brain get carried off by a cock roach. We were playing in front of expensive Whores tonight. The streets were filled with them. One by one I watched these over priced cocktail waitress, panty barbs bend. I saw their heads tilt backwards, after my knife tossed their throats open for a faster breath of air. Their gowns adorned with the sight of fresh human cells. Gasping for one more realist thought as their heads come to rest between ones back shoulder blades. Oh-Shit the city is alive and life beats on. Like a beast I sought for survival. One of my men were down. I was gong to have to prevail in a shed of torsos. Melt-Banana were ready to stand toe to toe. This night they were all on. Four of them in unison. All beating to finish what has been started. I swirled around the floor during Melt-Bananas set, looking for my victims, watching those who were participating. Eyes were tossed and limbs were felt. I knew this crowd like I know my family. Who was to be hated and who was to be loved. Melt-Banana jumped up the action a bit tonight. Tight from start to end. Beating par now. Grinding the tunes together to make a hot, humid, sticky, sweaty mess for me to eat. Tonight I watched, like a falcon. I knew who was alive, who was prey. Slowing taking the stage like the victor abound. Two songs, swinging the lasso. Giving my `INU' doggy another love song, Roxy True Love. My heart was racing as I sang to my lovely photos of My Dog. Every night I sang and howled to her. Time to pull the knife. I took two stools from the creators of the bar, stood them erect on MY stage, asked for the prettiest ONNA in Japan. Took one look at Yuko and Placed her on the seat of love. I then asked for the Ugliest human in Japan! Looked to the stage left and there he was. A fro filled, frizz head of a man. Some insolent faced boy from the dead sea. A man so "pit bull" like I would have tossed him a bone. I Plugged him by the back of his hair "like my daddy would" Plum threw him on his stool and began the blood letting. Pounding out "Here Comes DA Boss" slowly like a roll of lead casings rocking down a Giant hill. I was swaying and a singing to both of these humans. Trying to bring them together through a devoid of faith, a blood ritual. A Blood letting at its fucking worst. Forcing kids to be splattered with my life line, My passage to the next world. It was truly one of the greatest moments in Plainfield history. I forced my self upon these beings for 45 minutes more. Mike Haybaler stomped his way through the set like a wounded Tiger. Never once dropping a beat or missing a cue. ITOKO was father figure sex linked snipe Hunter tonight. He took his solo. He took it like an Angel taking the key of heaven from Jesus. He's on the roof with a fire bucket. I cooled him has he played me some git fiddle keg settling music. Later we rocked in Unison like we were fucking KISS or Alice Cooper. Then FUCKING ZZ TOP! Passion was in the eyes of all those who attended. I Was starred at from across the room like I was John Wayne and Charles Manson all wrapped like a cotton candy man. I felt black, Not black as in skin. But black as in alone. Black as in, How did I get here. Black as in terror stricken eyes. Black as in the power of persuasion. I was feeling Old. I was feeling like the dirt of the desert. It was completely dark around me the whole time Plainfield played music. In this blackness I felt dead. Sudoh took the stage again, wearing a cowboy hat, Red Flannel shirt and a Bow tie. He is now Clem Pitckens. The Dallas Cowboy from Texas. When old Dixie hit the ground Clem started a picken and A grinning. Double leads, Double harmonies. `Just Got Paid Today.' And paid in full I was! Tokyo 9/18/97 Japan. Show three: the Loft. I played it clean. I buy, she cries. Today I Brushed my teeth in the rain on the side walk. I just loved watching those little people crying as I spit in their roads. Soiled their cement, Touched their private moments up close and personal. Today I was loud, beautiful and pregnant. My inner most demon has surfaced. He walked the streets of Tokyo today. Watching the children as the walked to school. Prayed on the weak train wrecks of Japanese eyes. My demon was in charge and held the light to my eyes. This would be the night to end all Plainfield shows. This one I would kill the demon. Melt-Banana sound check was great. I was getting my dose of radiation from them. Soothing my ills and mending my distance between us. Plainfield played Jazz for about and hour. Then we did some ZZTOP and Ted Nugent. Mike Haybaler is back In full gear. Home game, Home run and Home wrecker. Playing drums for a Homosexual. The Melt-Banana Set was the best one of this "ARUMPA" tour. I kept dancing and they kept playing faster. I kept yelling Faster and Yasuko told my Demon to calm down. They played, I danced. This went on until they stopped. At one point I looked up at Melt-Banana and watched them explode. I saw their faces bulge, veins pound, gasping for air, then they all exploded. They all met at the drum set, blazed by united colors of flame red. I was thinking to my self, "How the fuck can anyone top that?" They just denigrated in front of 150 human pair of eyes. Melt-Banana attack the character or reputation of Plainfield. They were so fucking tight I wanted them to Conbust instantly. Melt-Banana were Capable of igniting and burning their selves right there. NOW!. In fact I woke up and they told me I was acting like I was on fire. There was something seething inside of Yasuko something I never saw before. Power I never heard, passion I never touched, prowess of a cheetah. It was opposed of my world. It was a mess, it was beautiful, it was light and disarranged. Things seemed to be out of control where her art was projecting from. Melt-Banana have it! Like old Rock & Roll, it's wild, its dangerous, it's sexy and gleeful. Truly a view I had never seen before. I vision I had been blinded to. "Chaos reins in Dance." ASSFORT. I'd seen them. They bored me in America. I was to old and ugly to be lead astray. But these rocker rejects were ready for me. They handed me Japanese Girls like it was candy. High Heels and war paint. These bitches were not my type. I hated these kinda girls in school. Assfort took the stage like they were the fucking Japanese "Dead Boys." I was shazamed by these light weights, turned heavy hitters. All three of the front men took care of business. Hitting one another, bouncing like an early pogo party. The drummer was killing the tubs. Lose fitting jeans and tattoos smothered in beer. ASSFORT just tore down the stage in less then 20 minutes. Mike Haybaler and I watched the whole set. The pace was set. Now it was up to me to rebuild my character and take over the mess the other two bands just piled up. It was a feast of a king. No ransom would be posted. The forgiveness, not ever. I was shaking with adrenalin. I hated every soul that tinkled around this joint. I was going nuts. I swore that I saw my brother Dave in the shadows of the club. I kissed each picture of Roxanne before we started. I Howled to her and I let the macabre begin. Great songs tonight, my favorite set. First song, mic stand to my skull. I could feel the crack of the steel against my flesh. The rush of pain to my brain. I felt the bone swell right that instant. One fist of furry and One fist of steel. Bam, Boom, Bang, Blood fell from my eyes to my flesh, through my beard and dripped on to my heart. The second song seemed like hours away from here. When Mike Haybaler started the tune I thought it was and Olympic race. "Sour Chow" just beat like a punk anthem. Fast as hell and Haybaler screamed out the words with me. Like a race to the grave, like a breath of cold November stench. It looked to me as the audience was in a trance. Just having their brains picked over. A die hard woman fan up front. A militant `Ed Gien' fan stage right. Terrified but curios young boys stage left. I sang to my fiends. The ones who wore robes. The Big Black Bear played a solo that frightened my demon. I ran to the streets of Tokyo to show them my Fear. Only to find out I was inside their minds. The fear was coming from those who scurried along the side walks. I returned to the stage from the street. The Big Black Bear was On top of the honey barrel, pounding out Licks of SUN Dried Passion. I sang for all the glory to me. I screamed for every ounce, I worked to get here. I sang for my entry level postion in hell. Old Man Sudoh was here tonight. He watched me bleed twice in One night. He watched my 4x4 demon turn to a 7x3 Night of Horror. Mike Haybaler sent me into a two step hoe down. He sent me to hell with extra pitch forks. I danced the hillbilly this night for Him. I showed the rhythm of a white demon with no teeth. I commanded everyone to shut up. I took the silence to a personal moment. I heard the critters of America from the Japanese stage. Across the waters, into my death filled ears. Clem Pitckens took the stage, SUDOH Jr. Played his heart out again. "Great White Buffalo" and "Jesus Just Left Chicago." Small sounds started to fill my ears. The sounds of pumping veins, healing white blood cells and the sound of pain. I was DEAD, I was not living for 19 minutes after this show. People talked to me, that is the only thing that kept me from going into shock. I was outside of my realm. I was outside of what ever was honest. I was only evil inside. I saw A face I have never seen. I saw a secret time. Before; I waited to see. Now I have seen a new face. A secret face of an Angel. If there were not any days off, I would be dead to the human race. Three Days Off. Tokyo 9/18/97 Japan Show Four: The Milk. Swelling Panic revenge. This was it. It was the night of Barn Burning. The ending of a chapter. The brutal slaying of a lamb. All that I had fought for, all that I had carried would be dropped on this night. It was our last show of Japan. Melt-Banana sound check was typical. Everyone was way too picky. I watched like a baby watches the tv. Starring blankly. Tonight was a Rave with two live bands. You Guessed it. Plainfield and Melt-Banana. I rode a plastic naked girl tonight. I watched Melt-Banana from A distance tonight. I was meditating for behavioral problems. Not that they would go away. I was attempting to rescue them, the "daze" off left me frigid and pink. Melt-Banana were good tonight. But not as great as they were at the loft on the 18th. I sucked it in and swallowed. That was the last Melt-Banana live I would get for at least a year, maybe six months? PLAINFIELD Ghost Town. It seemed to be dragging on tonight. Every beat took a minute to react. It took hours to finish a song. I was stopped in my frenzy, I was held to every movement, I was touched by every note. It all seemed like a dream now. Like a circus gone awry. Tonights set was divided in two parts. Blood soft and Blood hard. I literally climbed the walls tonight. I danced on the bar and sang to my dog. I'm not sure if I hated my self or the people watching. But I knew something was wrong. Faces started to look familiar. Breath started to smell familiar. People started to look into my eyes. The Band rocked tonight. Mike Haybaler played like he was a king. Kimo dropped to his knees in power, Dave was at his peak. The band played as a band! We talked, made fun, and touched each others spirit. Clem Pitckens now played 9 songs with us. Filling in the Plainfield tunes and passing onto ZZ Top and ending with "Were An American Band." It was way too fucking loud tonight. Rock & Roll. I can barley remember the blood this night. I know I bleed twice. But by Now It Seemed Normal. What seemed like days was just an hour. What seemed like years was just a second. It was all over. I felt blinded. I felt like It was some weird kind of high school reunion. It was to much like a grave. It seemed like a passionate lover had died. The music, the emotion, the world it had built was gone. It left me alone again. It left me as a naked human. Flesh against stone. Death is all I see. (end page 10 - japsmell.html)