Love the stories here, helps me get the stones to recant what I'm about to:

Few years back was slated to play a party outside detroit, so one would think there would be all sorts of clued up kids, right? well, there are gobs of C.U.K. in Detriot, but they sure as hell we're coming to THAT party.

I knew it would end in tears before even going on - - that much was obvious just from watching the crowd. But it was a friends party and besides, I had set up the bloody PA for the night and had to have it back to the rentals the next day, so there was no escaping the coming carnage.

I decide, "well eff it, I'll do as I please" and open up with some crazy whining, pounding Petite Prince track. Bad choice. Within 15 minutes the crowd is def. not dancing and starting to get violent looks in their eyes, as if I had been sent by a hall pass from Lord Lucifer himself. They start yelling that its "their party" and that I'm effing it up and worse. Then some dork actually crawls his sorry ass behind the decks and takes a needle off a playing record. Should have cold-cocked him in the flipping throat, but then, I am responsible for all the PA, right? Certainly could not afford a riot that destoys all the gear...

Looking for a graceful exit, in desparation I start talking to the crowd through my headphones telling them I'll wrap up if they just keep their heads. Meanwhile my friends, who were on the queue, were hearing people - - who were leaving the club - - saying, "there's some *&^% German in there and he won't take any requests!" (?) And telling people on the queue that the party sucks and so forth. So my friends get through the doors thinking they would catch the beef of the set only to find me in the bathroom looking stupid.

Oh yeah, about that time I looked in the mirror and to my shock I saw that my lips were pretty much black, so it looked like I was wearing black lipstick. Industrial anyone? Turns out the little bit of coca that we had earlier that evening had totally dried up my sinuses and so semi-dried blood had been dripping down into my throat. I was so nervous earlier that I kept licking my lips, which had effectively coated them with blood. "Erm, this IS the Skinny Puppy gig, right?"

Holy Crap, its no wonder they wanted to see the back of me. The worst part is that I had to wait around all night and then break down the PA - - sick joke that. But I did the best I could and didn't spit the dummy and make things worse for my mate who was promoting. What else was there to do?