Zac Boyd

Beast

[coldkingdomzac-blog]

A Slow Drain

It’s been a while since the last time I’ve posted to this blog. There is an explanation as to why I have not posted…and I wish there was a better one…but there isn’t. Nevertheless, the reason I haven’t posted is one that may seem a little taboo to talk about, and to be honest, feels a little draining to think about the reality of it all. However, I’ll try to be somewhat poignant in my explanation and do my best to keep it from sounding like a sob story or me complaining about things that are seemingly out of my control. So, here goes:

When we were on the road with Shinedown and As Lions, the boys in As Lions went to a show in Los Angeles. It was a show I was most definitely interested in attending, but I was more interested in seeing my family arrive after a long couple of weeks without seeing them. The show included one of my favorite sing-along hardcore groups; Underoath. I didn’t really know much else about the show other than the fact Bring Me The Horizon and Beartooth were also playing. I’m a casual BMTH fan, but knew nothing about Beartooth. 

With my family coming into town, I wanted to make sure that I was dedicating all of my time to their arrival, thus, I did not attend the show. The next day at one of our shows, Dave (drummer for As Lions) and I talked about the show. He informed me how bummed he was to have missed the entire Beartooth set. I had grown an avid respect for Dave by this point and trusted his taste in music. I didn’t give it much thought until we ended the tour and I found myself with very little to do other than write and avoid being bored in a Las Vegas hotel. So, I started scouring for new music and things to research in terms of moving forward with the band. Beartooth seemed like an acceptable place to start. 

Upon first listen, I enjoyed what I heard, but wasn’t sure if it was going to be something that I fully gravitated towards. While listening to the music, I do as I usually do with new bands that I know nothing about, and I started researching who they were and where they came from.

All the while, I was sitting in this Las Vegas hotel dreading the fact that I was stuck so far away from home with absolutely no money and very little else to do. It didn’t help that the tour had ended and I really had nothing more on my radar to look forward to in terms of the band. I began feeling drained and exhausted. My mind started wandering at what the potential next steps with the band were and also what I was going to do when I got home regarding personal finances. I left my job in December in hopes of focusing solely on working towards a career in music. I have to say, it’s 100% the opposite of a lucrative endeavor and has been tough to make any ends meet. Thinking about finances alone can be something that sends me into a complete tailspin of depression.

I sat in the air conditioned hotel room researching this band and trying to avoid the overall panic attack that was beginning to set in. Reading the lyrics as well as the back history of the band really started to open my eyes and shed a lot of light on some things that I’ve been dealing with over the past few years.

My wife and I have always described my personality as “moody”. There are times when I can be a peach and be having the best week of my life. Within moments, I can flip the script and be the most depressed mother fucker you’ve ever met in your life. I shut down. My typically open door of communication is non-existent and I want nothing to do with reality or anything social. I hate people and wear my emotion on my sleeve for all to see. Not even my wife or kids are safe from the pure devastation my “mood swings” would produce. Sarah (my wife for those of you who don’t know her by name), would always refer to these moods as me being “in it” and would do her best to allow me to work through them. 

Placing a finger on why my mood would violently alter was never something I’ve been able to do. Just this last week, Sarah and I started to discuss the possible futures of playing in a band. While some of the outcomes were positive, a lot of the outcomes were on the opposite end of the spectrum. I started to realize that all of the hard work that I’ve been putting into making this band work could (possibly) crash to the ground and I’d be left at square one all over again. Knowing myself and how I’m wired, I know I’d eventually find a way to pick myself back up and start over again in a completely new way, but the fear and anxiety of that failure weighed heavily on me, especially with the financial burden I have placed over my family’s head to pursue this dream. 

I could feel my chest begin to tighten and my breathing took on a new pattern. I couldn’t breathe as easily and felt my stomach start to churn. I felt a panic attack coming on and there wasn’t any way I could curb it other than to grab a guitar from my studio and hope to “creatively” write the feeling away. Having a guitar in my hand only assisted in pushing my fears of “failing” with music deeper and deeper. My emotions were running wild and all I wanted to do was curl up and cry.

It’s a difficult thing to be in a band that is trying to do things 100% DIY. Working so hard to get someone in the music industry to notice you and what you’re doing only to receive an onslaught of “NO”’s in working with you is, for lack of a better term, daunting. It’s exhausting working the business side of the band and receiving so many rejections. Even the proudest of people would struggle with it. When you come off of such an amazing experience of touring with a national band, but watching both bands continue on their touring journey’s and you’re at home scraping the bottom of the barrel to find a way to provide for your family…the uncertainty of being in a band starts to take its toll on you and you start to feel a bit discouraged. Mix that in with the overwhelming fear of failure, and it’s not a healthy drink to try to swallow.

I did my best to try and ignore the feelings that were sitting deep in the pit of my stomach. It clearly wasn’t working. I spent the entire day on Wednesday locked in my studio trying to create something simply for the sake of creating. I needed to know that outside of what I was doing with my band, I could create something that was wanted by someone else. I set out to write and record a song with the full intention that it was not going to be something I was going to use for Cold Kingdom. Maybe it was just me trying to convince myself that there is something out there for me whether it be Cold Kingdom or something different…I don’t know. It was an expectation I set for myself and one I achieved within the day. 

I finished the song and felt proud of my accomplishment. It was something I hadn’t done before: write a song strictly for myself and no one else. I wanted to share it with other people and see if it was something I could get someone else excited about. I needed the reassurance that my creation held some sort of meaning outside of being proud of it for myself. Perhaps it was just the people I sent it to, but the minimal feedback I received on the song didn’t really reassure me that my future outside of CK was really cemented in optimism. 

You’ll never hear me fishing for compliments. Hell, if you don’t like my music; cool. I do what I do because I love it. However, on this particular day, while dealing with these overwhelming feelings of despair, I needed someone to tell me that what I just created mattered. I needed something other than criticism and artistic critique. Any other day, I would have been fine not receiving it. This particular day was otherwise.

Thursday came around and I spent the day working on a job site trying to wash away the impending sadness that had washed over me with filling up the day with manual labor. While it somewhat worked, I could still feel myself slipping deeper and deeper into this depressive state. It was taking me over and there was nothing I could do to stop it or even bottle it up and hide it away. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I was stuck simply dealing with this shit. 

It was now Friday and I had to hole up in a van and drive 5 ½ hours away to a show in Racine, WI. I knew I wasn’t upset with anyone in the band, but I also knew that I didn’t want to be around anyone, let alone stuck in a box on wheels to play a show hours away from home. I was miserable and stuck inside my own head. As Sarah had said in the past; I was “in it”…..DEEP.

My poor band members. While I did my best to not take out all of these feelings on them, they still had to ride in a van with me as I sulked in my own misery. The night before, I had started to listen to a new group called, “Nothing, Nowhere.”. There’s not much for information when researching this group, but there was something about the vibe of the music and the words/emotion he was spilling into each song that really kept me listening. Every song is melancholy and sad. It was probably not something I needed in that moment, but somehow still was. I listened to the songs on repeat pretty much the entire trip out to Racine. I was sinking deeper and deeper.

The “funny” thing about both bands that I’ve listed in the blog post, is that both lead singers seem to deal with the same shit I’d been dealing with throughout the week, but have never been able to pinpoint until relating to their music: anxiety.

I allow myself to get overwhelmed by everything in my life I’m working on or dealing with. I feel as though I’m a strong individual and can handle all of these things at one time all while dealing with someone else’s problems at the same time. I’m a problem solver and I pride myself on being so. It’s the “problems” I don’t have complete control over that start to take over my mind thought and the process of working towards their resolution. I think of the possible, yet sometimes non-probable, outcomes and let the fear of the unknown take over. The anxiety of these issues causes panic attacks and I have trouble breathing, sleeping or even functioning on a normal level. There’s a possibility this has caused a lot of my boredom and frustrations when I’m in a job and feel stuck, needing to find something different to “challenge” me. 

There aren’t too many words that can truly describe this feeling unless you yourself have experienced in one capacity or another. 

I don’t write about this because I’m looking for sympathy. I write this because it’s helping me find some clarity in how to deal with said issue. I mentioned earlier that this subject may be a little taboo for some to talk about. Believe me, it’s something that’s hard for me to want to put a term on either…but it’s real. Anxiety is real and a complete bitch. I’m still struggling with the decision of whether I sit down and talk to a professional about this or not. My pride keeps me from sitting and discussing problems that I am already well aware of and am trying to get a grasp on with fighting them from my own mental state. My fears keep me from talking to them on the instance that these professionals recommend I medicate this issue to assist with the panic attacks. What if it curbs my creativity? What if it completely fucks up my drive to want something so much more out of this music endeavor? That takes away a good part of the chemical material that makes Zac Boyd; Zac Boyd. That scares the shit out of me too. Enter yet another equation into the endless cycle of anxiety and the fears it brings to light.

There is help. I’m glad I’m starting to recognize what this could possibly be. Now, it’s just a matter of sucking up my pride and sitting down with someone who could possibly help me better than myself. I will continue to push for what I want from this music industry. I will continue to push for the success of Cold Kingdom. I will always push myself to be creative and explore new avenues with my drive towards the business aspect of it. Having music to be able to relate to has helped me open my eyes to what I’ve dealt with for years, and I couldn’t be more appreciative of that. There is help out there. I’ll find it. Perhaps to the very few reading this blog that find themselves around me, this will help somewhat explain why I am the way I am sometimes. It’s not just me being an asshole ;)

Enjoy some of the music that has helped get me through some shit times this week:

[coldkingdomzac-blog]

4.21

The tour with Shinedown and As Lions officially ended 4 days ago. 

My initial intention was to sit down and blog every day of the tour. That clearly didn’t happen. I knew that a tour of this magnitude was going to be a lot of work; just how much work was something I wasn’t entirely prepared for. 

I’ve always known that touring life was something that I want to do. Hell, I’m currently writing a book that highlights all of the highs and lows I’ve experienced while being a working musician. Reflecting on a lot of the shit that I’ve done/gone through while working towards the ultimate goal of being a paid musician really puts a lot of things into perspective. This business is an unforgiving fickle bitch. Most people see the aspect of being on the road as nothing but a party. Better yet, the perception of being a touring musician encompasses a life of glamour and constant vacation. It’s really anything but.

Life on the road is not only tough on a personal level, but it’s also difficult when you’re thrown into a van with 5 other people of whom you’re unfamiliar with their regular/daily routines. Tensions can run high and annoyances deep. Working through those circumstances is really the true testament of a band.

I found myself with very little free time this entire tour. Believe me when I say; I’m not complaining. When it comes to band life, I’m a fucking workaholic. I put my nose to the grind stone and push for every opportunity afforded to us. One will rarely find a moment where I’m not constantly searching for the next step for the band to take. I figured blogging about our experiences was going to be a good outlet to really showcase all of the hard work we have been putting into this band. We know we’re not entitled to or owed a goddamn thing. What we have we worked very hard for. We’ve been blessed that we’ve made some pretty clutch decisions.

Showing up to the first show really highlighted exactly how much work was going to go into making these dates as successful as they possibly could be. Here’s a little light shed on what goes into being an opening band on a national tour:

Load in

We were instructed to show up at 1 o’clock every day to every venue we were playing. Shinedown had a full production team behind them. What this includes is two Prevost buses, a semi truck containing all of the gear/lighting rig/sound stations (monitors and front of house), stage crew, merch crew, tour managers, stage managers, etc. Shinedown shows up at 11 to the venue and the crew gets to work. The lighting scaffolds get set up, the sound engineers start to run all of their lines and stage hands are present to get the drum riser and guitar rigs in place for proper performance. Both As Lions and Cold Kingdom wait in the wings until all necessary items have been loaded in to the venue and are in proper placement for the crew to take over initial setup. When given the instruction, both bands are afforded hired stage hands that assist in bringing all gear into the venue. Our gear is then set in a specific spot in the venue where it will be out of way of all working personnel in the Shinedown camp. The drums get set up with their appropriate mic placement clipped on to each individual drum; the guitar rigs are plugged in; in-ear monitors are set up and ready for soundcheck; merch is unpacked and set up appropriately for highest point of sale; guitars are restrung when necessary and we play the waiting game.

In Between

Once all gear has been accounted for and ready for loading on stage given the instruction, the band has plenty of time to roam the halls/basement/upstairs of the venue. We’re given what’s called a “God Pass”. The pass allows us to move about the venue with little to no question. Sometimes, as in Reno, there’s so much to explore that we’d run out of time to find all of the nooks and cranny’s available to wander into. Other times, there’s very little to see in a venue; a green room and the show floor. Very rarely would we get the chance to leave the venue in “fear” that the stage manager would require something from us. Should we not be available to comply with the requests of the stage manager, it reflects poorly on how we are handling our business. Being a baby band on our first national tour, it was of utmost importance for us to portray nothing but a professional demeanor. 

Stage Load

After Shinedown completely their soundcheck for the evening, the drum platform was disassembled as well as the ramps set up on each side of the stage for Zach and Eric. The lighting crew would remove the mirrors set up at the front of the stage that reflected the lasers provided by the Shinedown camp. Once all necessary performance pieces were removed from the stage, it was time for As Lions to load their gear onto the stage and prepare their soundcheck for the evening. Being from the UK, the bands management rented them a driver/tour manager/sound engineer to handle those pieces of the business every night. Inevitably, there would be a bit more time involved to get the pieces into place for him to set up his pieces of the puzzle. Mic snakes would get changed out and different lines would be patched into the main sound board in order to facilitate their sound through his equipment. Once all of their equipment was set up, properly mic’ed and ready to roll, the band would run through two of their songs to make sure everything was up to par for when they took the stage. We became very good friends with these Brit boys and did everything we could to help in moving the process forward more smoothly. 

After the two songs of sound check, it was now time to tear down their drums, find a place for them to strike that was easily accessible for when we completed our set, set up Chris’ drums and wheel out our rigs for placement. Some stages took a little more intricate thinking to be able to accommodate all of our gear and others were more than ample amounts of space for us all to fit and be able to dance around. We would run all mic lines to the drum mics so graciously provided to us from Electro-Voice, plug in DI lines into our guitars rigs, run the in-ear monitors for Dani and have a main mic line and a backup mic line ready for that rare instance the main mic goes down during the show. Some nights would be behind schedule and only allow us enough time to run one song for sound check. Other nights, we’d find ourselves with a plethora of time and be able to really dial in our monitors for show time. Regardless of the amount of time we had for sound check, we always found ourselves with a maximum of an hour before showtime. It wasn’t uncommon for us to finish with our sound check and start to see bodies flowing through the doors. Our sound check would always finish damn near the exact same time as doors being opened for people to file in.

Show Time

The hour before playing the show always seemed to be the time that would progress the quickest throughout the entire day (with the exception of the actual stage time, of course). This interval of time was always most brutal for me to go through. I was excited to play the show, but was also always nervous about how many people were actually going to filter in through the door to be able to see our band play. These crowds, after all, were ultimately what was going to afford us to continue this tour. If we weren’t getting in front of as many people as we possibly could, we weren’t going to be able to sell merch to self fund what we were doing, not to mention be able to successfully come back to these areas to be able to play for reasonable crowds. A band only survives by word of mouth and its fan bases willingness to “sell” your band to their friends. I eventually realized it was in my best interest to not venture out onto the floor to see how the crowd was filling out. It was smarter for me to wait until I actually took stage to witness the influx of people there to witness the carnage we produce on stage. I never play a different show due to the amount of individuals in attendance, but it’s always nice to know you’re playing for a relatively good amount of people. Especially when we’re this far away from home in a market who doesn’t know us from Adam. 

Every night when I’d take the stage, I’d look out into the audience and feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for this experience. There was never a show I’d look out and think, “Dammit...I wish there were more people here.” The crowds were always amazing. We played to multiple sold out venues. Not a lot of bands, local or not, can say they’ve had that opportunity on their first tour. We’d get on stage and deliver our 25-30 minute set of rock with as poignant of precision as possible. We were playing for keeps. This was cut throat and we weren’t taking it easy. Every night of this tour, I walked off the stage feeling as though I stepped out of a swimming pool. There will never be a time I don’t give it my absolute all. I feel everyone in Cold Kingdom delivers the same sentiment every time we get on stage. To me, that’s what really sets us apart from most other bands trying to accomplish the same feat as we are.

Every night, it felt that as soon as it had started; it was over. We’d end with The Break every night, and every night I’d hear the cheers from the audience I’d get a feeling of “Bummer....that went far too quick” and I’d find myself wanting more and wanting to get to the next night to do it all over again.

Load Out

We just threw down for 30 minutes giving all of our exhaustion and efforts and leaving them on stage. At a typical local show, even the opening band would have the opportunity to simply tear down their gear off stage, put it to the side and enjoy the rest of the evening. When the headlining band is finally done with their set, that’s when tear down occurs and every band loads their shit out the door. A national tour is a completely different story.

Once our set ended, it was a mad dash to get all cables wrapped up, drums dismantled and everything Cold Kingdom related off of the stage. Once our gear was removed from the stage, we’d typically help the As Lions crew get their drums on stage and positioned in order to make a smoother transition for all parties involved. Then, we’d have to stand back stage and quickly assemble all of our gear back into order so we could load the trailer up. With the exception of San Diego where we got to leave all of our gear in the venue overnight, it wasn’t uncommon for all of us to miss their entire set. The guys were loading the trailer and Dani ran back to merch to make face with possible new fans and “sling” merch. Sweating our asses off and being drained from the set we just played, we were still required to move quickly and get all of our equipment out of the venue ASAP. When As Lions was done playing, our shit needed to be free from the hallways so they could do the exact same thing before Shinedown took the stage. It was always a mad scurry to get this accomplished in the amount of time allotted.

End of the Night Push

I never missed a Shinedown set. I watched them decimate the stage every night. I watched as they taught me what it meant to be a real working musician and be successful at what you do. The second the note of the last song would hit, the band knew they needed to be present either at the merch table or standing with a handful of CD’s out front of the venue. While we know it’s important to sell merchandise to a new market, we also believe in the notion of connecting with the people who will ultimately be our support system. 

Once Shinedown ended their set, it was a chaotic mad dash for everyone to either exit the building or congregate around merch. Some people wanted to purchase merchandise, others wanted a picture, or some wanted both. We got to a point where we had to open multiple CD’s every night before the show to keep the movement of bodies flowing steadily so we didn’t have a slew of individuals trying to open CD’s asking for signatures. Which, let me tell you, is a weird and new feeling to me to have people want to take pictures with me and ask for signatures. It’s a humbling experience and one I’ll never take for granted.

The final body would leave the establishment and our job of packing up merch would take over. Every night involved a count in and a count out of all merchandise brought in to the venue by the band. There we were, three bands, counting merchandise and calculating the amount owed to each place we played and to the promoters involved with the show. Luckily, we had a seasoned vet in Mike Grothe that came along with us on the tour who took care of all of that shit for us. God bless that man!

Once merch was packed up and the venue/promoter were paid, it was time for us to file into the van and make our way to our next destination. We’d either find ourselves driving through the night to get half way/full distance to the next show, or we’d post up at a hotel and wake up early the next morning to drive to where we were playing next and be there no later than 1 o’clock. 

As I stated in the earlier part of this post....I have found myself with very little free time this entire tour. Even now, as I sit at a hotel in Las Vegas, I find myself scouring for the next piece of opportunity for Cold Kingdom to work towards. There is so much for us to take advantage of, it’s just a matter of finding the right way to reach out and take hold of it. I refuse to settle for less than what I feel we’re worth. However, I know that’s going to take nothing but hard work and dedication. This is what I do best. It’s the salesman in me. I’ll always push and always reach for more. This industry can tell me “no” as many times as they want. It’ll be me laughing when I’ve surpassed their expectations of what a successful band should be. 

Thank you to everyone who supported this from the start and who continue to support CK. Thank you to the new-comers who are putting their faith into our brand of rock and roll. Thank you also to the haters; I need your fuel too!

Onward and Upward.

[coldkingdomzac-blog]

4.4

We are now officially past our 2nd show in the run of dates with Shinedown. I knew this tour was going to be a lot of work outside of the actual shows we’d be playing. However, I never realized just how much work was going to be put into simply being present.

There is so much behind the scenes work that goes into putting on a show/production of this size. This is a “dumbed down” scale for Shinedown as they’re coming off of playing arena tours this past summer, but the production of these “smaller” shows is still nothing short of goddamn incredible. Their light show is on point. Their stage crew is spot on with change overs. Management has everything on a tight leash but still as relaxed as can be. 

We show up anywhere from 1 o’clock to 3 in the afternoon for load in. Naturally, Shinedown has to have all of their gear and stage props set up before any of the other bands can get their shit in and set up. These venues have had minimal amount of room for load in. As a result, we have been loading all of our gear out of the van and trailer, setting it aside so it’s out of the way, and patiently waiting for our instructions that it’s our turn to set up our gear and get our sound check rolling. 

I like to consider ourselves pros when it comes to the load in/load off portion of working any show be it national or not. We have all of our gear in “live in” road cases. So, getting our shit off stage when we finish our set is easy and quick. This results in happy stage management and smooth changeovers. Naturally, this reflects in a positive light on the band. Being new to this touring game, we want to make as good of an impression as we possibly can.

Night one at the Rialto Theater was incredible. Standing on stage playing to a sold out crowd and looking out to an attentive audience who was hungry for MUSIC was indescribable. The crowd followed instructions for the clapping parts and were more than eager to chant along with us during the chorus of “The Break”. It was exciting and breathtaking all in one fell swoop. It’s an amazing feeling, and one that keeps me humble every time I experience it. I get to feel that damn near all month long.

Sunday was my birthday. Being away from home and not spending that time with my lovely girls was difficult, but soaking up this experience made the day much more easy to “tolerate”. We played a show in Mesa, AZ. I’m not going to go into a shit ton of detail about any of the events of the evening, but let’s just say that local bands mentality’s really do not change from location to location. Both of the local bands played their respective time slots, and both local bands packed up their gear and left. Regardless of the fact that most of CK stood up front for a desolate room to support them playing our show, both bands packed up and took off after they were done playing. Although it sucked they were jackwagon’s about playing the show, it was refreshing to see that this happens everywhere you go. Some local bands will stay local for a reason. That’s all I’m going to say in regards to the evening.

We got back to the hotel where we made ourselves some Caribou Lou’s and cracked open some beers and proceeded to celebrate my birthday the only way a band knows how: we drank until we couldn’t feel feelings anymore. We were loud. We were boisterous. We sang songs loudly/obnoxiously. Of course, we broke into the outdoor pool area and made use of their piss colored hot tub and freezing ass cold pool water. By the time we awoke the next morning, I couldn’t believe how hotel room had exploded. There was shit everywhere, which could have only amounted to everyone having a great time the night before. We packed up and made our way to San Diego where we would be playing 2 House of Blues shows.

House of Blues is amazing. The staff is friendly and ready for a night of rock and roll and the overall atmosphere of everything just exudes energy and excitement. Everyone in the SD crew kept apologizing for the lack of space we had on the stage. It’s funny to hear national bands and their team talk like this. “Small” stages are what we are accustomed to. Hell, it’s what we thrive on. Being on stage at the House of Blues San Diego felt like home. It felt like what we were most used to. Having a minimal amount of space on stage keeps me confined to my own personal bubble on stage. That can sometimes be a good thing. If I get too much room to wander and dance around, I have a tendency to span the stage more than some of the other members resulting in a taking away attention from the band and the music. Give me my bubble, and I’m confined to my own limits!

We played our set with precision and grace. I wish I could put into words the feeling of looking out to a packed house. Looking up into the balcony and seeing nothing but bodies and faces looking at your every move and nothing short of an adrenaline rush. Who needs drugs when you can just go on stage every night and lay waste to an unsuspecting crowd? I’ll take the stage any day.

We play again at the House of Blues tonight. I’ve never played a room twice in such a quick turn around. Back to back nights only means we’re primed for what to expect from this stage and it’ll be that much more tight for us in terms of playing. That excites me. If we crushed it last night, I’m anticipating great things from tonight. 

Last night was fucking packed. There will be another 700 bodies in that small room tonight from what there was last night. That’s hard for me to wrap my head around when I think of how incredibly packed that show was last night. Where they’re going to fit 700 more people in that cramped little space is beyond me, but I’m up to see them complete their own challenge!

We got to leave all of our shit at the venue overnight. No load out means no load in today. The beach is calling my name. I plan on soaking up some sun and rolling out to Hodad’s for what Zach from SD has expressed to me as “the best goddamn burger you’ll ever eat”. This experience can only be described as incredible. If there was any other word that could replace incredible, I’d be happy to use it. I am eternally grateful and blessed. 

[coldkingdomzac-blog]

3.28

Life this past week seemed to move in fast forward. 

There was so much I knew I needed to do in order to prepare for leaving behind my family and life for the better part of a month. Organizing everything I needed to accomplish into some sort of “to do” list was impossible though. There’s always something new that pops up and requires immediate attention. On top of preparing all of the necessary mindless details, we were also preparing for our tour kickoff show in our hometown. This also required a plethora of planning and preparation which diverted time away from the specific details of tour prep.

We played a show in Mankato, MN on Friday the 24th. We haven’t played Mankato in a while, so my expectations were that we’d have people who came out to the show, but was weary of the amount that would actually be in attendance. After the week we’d had dealing with the bus bullshit, it didn’t matter if there were only going to be a handful standing in front of the stage; I was ready to throw down and release a good amount of the anger that had accumulated as a result of the week from hell.

After receiving a phone call at 11:30 PM on the 23rd from the mechanic shop in Wisconsin stating the bus had been fixed and was ready for pickup, Jason and Evan made the 2 hour trek to pick it up and the 2 hour trek to drive home to pick up the remainder of the band waiting at the practice space. Seeing the bus pulling up to the practice space was a comforting feeling. Our home away from home was functional and ready for some more road abuse. Jason parked the bus, opened the door and welcomed me aboard. She sounded better than she’d ever sounded before. The engine was purring and running smoothly. We had our tour rig back and it felt amazing.

“Is the oil gauge supposed to be reading this low?” Jason asked me quietly as he pointed to the instrument panel. Peering down at the dash, I saw what was peaking his dismay. The needle for the oil gauge was resting much too close to the “L” rather than the “H” stating our oil pressure had dropped significantly. This wouldn’t have worried any of us had it not been that the High Pressure Oil pump had just been changed out on it the last week resulting in an ungodly amount of cash for the repair.

“Just shut it off, give it a break and we’ll load some stuff up and check its stats then. She’s always been a little finicky with the instrument panel.” I said somewhat trying to reassure myself it was just a fluke and the engine was cycling through some new parts.

Jason shut the bus down and we proceeded to load gear into the trailer and situate the interior of the bus for comfort purposes. We spent about an hour at the practice space taking our time while loading the necessary pieces of equipment and merch. The time finally came around that we were ready to hit the road and hightail it to Mankato to play the first of 2 local shows.

Per usual with a diesel engine, I turned the key on to cycle the engine/fuel pump. I waited the appropriate amount of time before turning the key over to fire up the engine. The bus roared to life. However, it wasn’t but a minute before we heard it sputter and shut itself off.

“Did you do that?” Dani nervously asked.

“No.....no I didn’t.” I replied trying to mask the worry and frustration in my voice.

Cycling the key yet again, I turned the ignition over hoping to fire the bus back up: nothing. The engine just cranked and coughed.

If you’ve read my previous post about the frustration of dealing with this bitch of a bus, you could probably imagine the feeling of anger that rose quickly within. I will spare you the expletive ridden banter about exactly how I felt. Use your imagination to paint that vivid picture...or just read my previous blog post and you’ll understand. 

We were stranded outside of our practice space. Our bus just got “fixed” and here we were, in the same position we had been a week earlier, only this time in our own city. 

While sitting in the bus, we all got on our cell phones and started making frantic phone calls to diesel mechanics around the area. We knew that if the mechanics in Minneapolis were anything like the mechanics in Osseo, we were going to be hard pressed to find anyone that was willing to work on a weekend.

A slew of phone calls were made. To feed our anger, we were running into the same goddamn situation we had in Osseo. Mechanics working on a weekend seemed to be unheard of.

Finally, my phone rang with an unknown number. I don’t usually answer unknown numbers as I don’t care to deal with the ridiculous amount of telemarketers that seem to have surfaced over the last few years, however, this time something prompted me to answer the incoming call.

“Hey, you just called about a bus?” the voice on the other end of the phone inquired.

“Turns out I’ll have a mechanic in shop that specializes in those engines tomorrow. If you want us to come tow it in, we’ll have someone available that’ll be able to take a look at it.”

Finally....a semblance of good news. Agreeing to the tow, we arranged for someone to come pick up the bus and yet again take a look at what was ailing our home away from home.

All the while, Evan was driving 40 minutes away from the practice space to acquire a vehicle capable of towing our 6x10 trailer that had sat full of gear for the past week and a half. One way or another, we were going to make it to this show and we were going to play our angry little asses off. There was no getting around our determination.

After a couple of hours dealing with the bus situation, we had a vehicle loaned to us, the trailer hooked up, and were ready to bounce to Mankato.

Now, after dealing with everything that we had had to deal with over the course of the last week, one would think that our spirits would be crushed and we’d be damn near on the brink of giving up. It was quite the opposite. Everyone in the CK camp seemed in good spirits despite the fact we were now on the cusp of not having a vehicle for tour, and we were leaving in a few short days. It kind of felt like we had been beaten down so much by what had happened, that we just didn’t give a shit anymore about mishaps and almost were expecting the worst. The common theme/reaction to these situations had subtly become simple reply of “Of course it did”. 

We played the Mankato Brewery that evening. The last time we played there, they were holding an event for a new beer they were brewing for a limited time and the place was fucking packed. It’s an awesome room with an even more awesome vibe. People come out for the craft beer and hang out for the music. It was rad. This go-round was  little different. There was no event. There was no new beer. There was nothing special about Cold Kingdom being at this show other than we hadn’t played Mankato in a very long time. As stated before, I was a little nervous for the turnout of the evening.

It didn’t take long for my fears to subside. The first band started to play and as I looked out into the open brewery, I realized that an amazing amount of people had already started to congregate. The more the opening band played, the more I watched as people began to fill in the floor space. By the end of the evening, the Mankato Brewery had a full floor of patrons. We played our set to a crowd of people ready and eager to sing along to each song we played. The anger and frustration of a week of being shit on was starting to slowly fade into the atmosphere. I had the following evening to look forward to still. We were going to be releasing our EP and spending the evening with all of our friends and family to see us off onto our tour with Shinedown. The sense of worry dealing with the bus was just simply going to have to wait. 

Saturday was a busy day. Getting everything together and prepping for a hometown show and trying to make it as special for everyone can be a cluster-fuck work. Getting to the venue and making sure all of the lighting has been set up and is functioning properly; working with the sound board engineer to make sure he’s got everything he needs; making sure all of the bands have their guest lists written out and submitted to the proper personnel; working with the venue to ensure the night goes off without a hitch....there’s a lot to do when getting ready for a hometown show that you have set up. Our day isn’t just spent for the hours worth of time we get on stage and throw down. It’s literally an entire days worth of work.

When I was told that there was a line of people already outside of the venue, I hardly believed it. When the doors opened and people actually started rolling in and working their way straight to our merch table, reality finally set in that this was going to be an amazing evening. 

We sold out of our exclusive tour kickoff t-shirts in under an hour. The first band hadn’t even started playing yet, and we had sold out of a piece of our merch display. What an incredible feeling. Watching people in the crowd run around with the exclusive t-shirts we’d offered that evening felt great, but seeing the vast display of CK merch that has been available over the course of the past 2 years I’ve been involved in the band was an even more amazing feeling. For the first time in a long time, the amount of love and support the band receives from fans, friends and family was abundantly visible when scanning the crowd. 

I stood on stage that night looking out over the at-capacity room of the Fineline and got chills. It was everything I could do to not get choked up when addressing the crowd and trying to explain the amount of gratitude I felt. I have never felt so blessed to be a part of something as I did that night.

Now, let’s fast forward a little to Monday morning.

My phone rang with another Minnesota number that I didn’t have in my log of contacts. This was different though as I was fully expecting a phone call from the mechanics shop with a very minuscule amount of hope that we were going to have a running bus in the next few hours. My hopes were, of course, dashed.  

“You have no oil pressure. There are shards of metal in your engine from god only knows where. The mechanics that fixed your bus in Wisconsin should have seen this and known better than to put in a High Pressure Oil pump. That part is already shot. I hate to tell you, but you need a new engine. That’s not a one day fix. That’s not a 2 day fix. That’s a LOT OF DAYS fix.”

The lack of surprise in my voice was more than likely evident while I spoke softly and calmly to him. I knew deep down that something more than a simple fix was going to be wrong with our bus. It was inevitable that we were going to receive the news that we didn’t want to hear. Luckily, I had been proactive the day before and contacted a local fleet rental and inquired about renting a van for the tour. The band manager pointed me in the direction of an individual who deals with musicians on a regular basis renting them vehicles specifically for their tours. After cutting us an amazing deal, we agreed that renting a 15 passenger van for the tour was going to be our best option.

Tuesday rolled around and I wasn’t even close to being prepared to leave for a month. I threw as many clean shirts, underwear and socks into a duffle bag and called it good. As long as I had my guitars, computer and phone, the rest could be figured out from the road. 

Evan showed up at my house with a damn brand new van, we loaded the trailer, said goodbye to our significant others, gave the kids as many hugs and kisses as possible to last me for the next week and half before I see them again, and we drove off to pick up the rest of the CK crew at the practice space.

We didn’t know how far we were going to get in the course of driving on Tuesday. We allowed ourselves a few days to plan for any sort of error that would present itself to us. We wanted to keep the drive relaxed everyone’s spirits high. Having to rush an 18 hour drive is never beneficial to anyone.

After arriving in Omaha and spending some time with friends from the area, we hopped back in the van for another round of driving. I wasn’t tired quite yet and wanted to get as far west as possible. We drove until 3 AM before we finally parked at a truck stop for a little shut eye. We woke up at 6:30 and resumed our drive where we’d find ourselves spending a little time in Denver which is where I’m currently writing this blog from.

The reality that we’re doing this is finally setting in. It’s been 10 long years since I went on my first tour. I spent many years on the in between wondering if I’d ever get back to that spot that I’d be able to relive the glory days of being on the road again. I worked many jobs where I’d eventually succumb to boredom and quit. I searched high and low for a job that I’d not only love, but that would allow me to spend some time traveling about giving me the same feeling that the band gave me so many years prior. I was scared and nervous that I’d never get that chance to be on the road sharing music with people that I was part of creating. Now, the opportunity is here and it’s all becoming a much more clear reality. 

We meet up with the Shinedown crew in a couple of days to kick off the month with them.. We don’t play on the 31st, but we get to spend the evening watching them throw down and hanging with their crew. It’s such a humbling experience to think this is all happening. I’m feeling blessed, excited, nervous and a little anxious all at once. I’m ready for this next chapter. I’m ready to deliver our brand of rock to the masses. 

Game on.

[coldkingdomzac-blog]

3.22

What a fucking awful weekend. 

If there was any way that I could have fast forwarded through the weekend and came out on the other side when life wasn’t completely shitting on me, I would have.

The week started with the trailer company telling us that our trailer was going to shit and wasn’t going to last a long distance trip: drop a good amount of the money we’d been making on a new trailer.

Next, the bus breaks down on us and we have to cancel a show, thus leaving us stranded in bumfuck nowhere. 

The even bigger problem with that sentiment, is that I always feel I have to be the problem solver for the band...well, fuck...not just the band, but always. As a result, there ends up being some sort of an expectation that I’m just going to be the guy who takes care of the shit because I always offer to do so.

I’m the guy who has the experience in situations like this. I’ve dealt with the good, and I’ve inevitably had to deal with the completely awful side of being in a band as well. So, without question, I’m always happy to offer my “expertise” in resolving a terrible situation. Not only does the situation get dealt with, but it helps in keeping a positive attitude present throughout the remainder of the group.

I also know I’m the most moody in the band. Mixing these two situations can result in a very tumultuous outcome. 

Monday finally came around. This was the day both Chris and I had been eagerly anticipating. There wasn’t a goddamn thing to do in Osseo, WI. We were on the outskirts of town and to make our situation worse, the town didn’t have any sort of access to Lyft or Uber. We were stuck at the hotel binge watching episodes of South Park on a commercial ridden Comedy Central and kicking back beers. The only other option we had, was to walk to a fast food joint and zone out, or grab a cheap pair of shorts from the Family Dollar and hang out in the hot tub. Among these options, neither was a time killer. They were all just pieces of the boredom puzzle. So, taking kind advice to visit the “attractions” of Osseo unfortunately fell to the wayside. 

The shop that our bus was located was a couple of miles down the highway. Instead of racking our brains to figure out how we were going to get there, we packed up all of our personal belongings and we hoofed it. 

Looking like a couple of out of place assholes, we were half way expecting that the local sheriff was going to pull over on the side of the road and we were going to end up in some sort of Rambo situation. With the mood I was in, the biggest difference was going to be that it would be I who drew first blood.

On the walk, I could feel myself getting more angry with every step I took. Chris and I stayed pretty silent and kept the small talk to a minimum. We were tired, bored, and overall just pissed off that we were sitting in this situation that we had seemingly volunteered ourselves for. We were seeing social media posts of the other band members, but had very little contact from any of them. It was beginning to feel like an “out of sight, out of mind” obligation that everyone had just left on our shoulders. The more I thought of it, the more angry it made me. I had volunteered to stay because I didn’t have anything going on. That was my choice. Feeling like everyone else was home enjoying their families and daily life began to wear on me though with the little to no communication we were receiving from any of them. I was letting it get the better of me. The week had completely shit on me thus far, and there didn’t seem to be any end in sight.

I felt my phone vibrate and pulled it out of my back pocket to investigate. I had a voicemail. The phone never rang...but somehow I had a voicemail and it was from the crew “fixing” our bus.

“Zac, we got the bus running...but there are some decisions you’re going to have to make.”

I tried calling back. No answer.

I was becoming increasingly more agitated. 

We finally arrived to the shop. Believe me when I say that it’s completely out in the middle of nowhere. It’s an easy find just off the highway, but there is absolutely nothing in a couple of miles proximity to the shop. The yard is littered with old diesel trucks, trailers and other parts related to a trucking industry. These shops can be a godsend because they’re hungry for the work and overly knowledgeable about everything engine related, or they can be your worst nightmare because they’re a bunch of back woods fucks that have no clue what they’re doing, but get lucky with older vehicles and farm hands bring their tractors to them keeping them in business. I was soon to find out which one we had “lucked” out with. 

As Chris and I walked up, the bus was in a different location than we had left it, and it was running. I walked up to the office to find big or little Tom. The office was locked. I made another phone call to see if I could find either. No answer. I was becoming more pissed off. The bus was running, and I won’t lie, the temptation to just hook up the trailer and get the fuck out of Wisconsin crossed my mind. 

Finally, across the salvage yard, I saw both Tom’s in a skid loader moving some of the random shit they had laying around the yard. Tom saw me as well and came over to me. 

“Well, we got it running. Did you shut it off?” he said pointing at the no longer running bus.

“No, we just got here.” Tom opened the drivers door to start it again. The bus turned over and reluctantly started hard. It was spitting and sputtering and overall just angry we were trying to convince her to do something other than what she’d been doing for the past 3 days.

“What’s the verdict?” I asked. “You said in your voicemail we have a decision to make.”

“It’s running. You can take the chance and try to drive it home. Otherwise, I think it’s the fuel pump. We can order a new fuel pump...but it won’t be here until the end of the day. If it gets here late, we can’t guarantee we’ll be able to get it done by the end of the day.”

“Goddammit. What are we looking at for price?” I inquired.

“I can write you something up. The fuel pump is going to be $600. With 176,xxx miles on your rig and an original fuel pump...it’s probably smart to have it changed out anyway.”

“Fine. Order the part and let’s hope for the best. We don’t have anything to do, so we’re going to hang out in your yard or on the bus and hang out until the part gets here.”

“Let’s talk about payment. How do you want to pay?”

“We have a card. We can pay you with a card.”

“Oh. Our credit card machine is down.”

Motherfucker....of course it is. “We have a checkbook. We can pay you with a check then.”

“It’s a Minnesota check?”

“Yeah. We’re from Minnesota. It’s a Minnesota check.”

“We’re gonna need cash. You can go to town and get cash.”

My blood was boiling. How the fuck were we going to get to town, when the only means of transportation we had was sitting in their possession? We had some money sitting in our cash box from the round of shows that we’d been playing throughout the week, but we didn’t have enough for the estimate that he had penciled up for me while we were talking. 

“Little Tom can run you to town on his lunch break. You can pull cash out then.”

Chris and I opened the bus and quietly sat on separate bunk beds. Neither one of us had to say a word to one another as we could collectively feel the frustration the other was working so hard to bottle up.

I called my wife and she agreed that if the bus hadn’t been fixed by 5 o’clock that evening, she would load the kids into her car and drive the 2 hours to come pick us up and we’d figure out our option after that point. By this time, I had already told my kids one night that Daddy wasn’t going to be home the night he promised. Having to tell a 2 and a 4 year old that Daddy wasn’t going to be home another night was out of the question.

With nothing more to do than sit around, we played hours of catch with the football that was in the bus and found whatever small talk would keep our minds off of the current situation. For the time being, it was helping me from becoming more and more bitter about being “the guy” that deals with these situations.

Time dragged on. Both Tom’s left for lunch in separate vehicles, but neither spoke a word of it to Chris or myself. We were left in their yard with no transportation, no food and minimal patience. When 3:30 rolled around and they walked up with a box that turned out to be our new fuel pump, optimism was running high with both of us. The shop closed down at 6 giving them plenty of time to get the part in, the bus running and us on the road well before evening set in.

I watched as the younger Tom crawled under the driver side of the cab. It wasn’t but 15 minutes and he had the part changed out. The repair was nothing more than 15 fucking minutes. It was more than likely something I could have done with the right tools. Turning the key to cycle the fuel through the electric fuel pump, Tom patiently repeated his process a number of times to make sure fuel was properly flowing to the engine. The new pump sounded glorious and much more healthy than the piece of shit he had just taken out. Now, it was just a matter of time before he turned the key and the fucker roared to life getting us out of this shithole of a town. 

Tom cycled the key one final time and finally turned it completely over to get the beast to start: nothing. He cycled the key a few more times and cranked it over again: nothing. The only thing Chris and I could do was look at one another and hang our heads in the beginning stages (well...for today) of defeat. 

“The lines probably have air in them. Let’s bleed them.” Big Tom said instructing Junior to get back under the bus and take the lines off of the pump and bleed some of the air out of them. 

“Ok. Everything is back together. Go ahead and try it again.”

Nothing.

It was now 5:30. I had already instructed my wife to not leave town as we were told this wouldn’t be a problem and we’d be on the road shortly. As of right now, we had no one coming for us. 

“I have an obligation at 5 that I was supposed to be at. Can we take you in to town and drop you off at the McDonald’s? We plan on coming back and working on it tonight to get it running.” Tom said.

Starving, this seemed like a plausible enough option, so we agreed and jumped in the truck to head to town. Speaking with Little Tom on the way into town, he seemed positive that they were going to be able to fix this problem. He assured us that diesel engines are just finicky and will create their own problems when messing with fuel systems. The air would work itself out of the lines and they’d get us on the road tonight still.

“See you in an hour or so.” he said as he dropped us off.

Chris and I ordered our food and sat down in the McDonald’s lobby to wait out whatever obligation Big Tom supposedly had at 5.

I made another phone call and let my wife know exactly what was going on. I instructed her that everyone was positive that we were going to be on the road still and that it’d be later, but I’d see her and the girls later that evening. 

We sat in that McDonald’s until 8 PM with no word from either Tom what the fuck was going on. To make matters worse, none of the gas stations surrounding us was allowing me to take cash out of their ATM’s to be able to pay for these services and get us on the road when all was said and done. Feeling a bit furious, Chris and I decided to say “Fuck it” and start walking back to the shop. It’d be another couple of miles...but we were tired of waiting with no feedback.

We barely got half a mile before a truck pulled over on the side of the road in front of us. It was both Tom’s in the business truck.

“Get in. We have a problem.” Big Tom said from the drivers seat. “We got back from dinner (this was apparently their obligation) and turned the key and she fired right up! Then, on the test drive into town, it just died. We hooked a tow rope up and pulled into another mechanics shop.” he informed us.

“So, the bus is still not running??”

“It won’t start again. Just does the same thing it did before.” he said calmly. “Here she is.”

We pulled into the parking lot of another shop. Anything Tom was saying at this point was lost on me. I couldn’t hear over my frustrations and anger. The only thing I caught of him babbling was, “There’s nothing else I can do. These guys are in Eau Claire tonight and won’t be here until tomorrow morning. You’re going to have to wait until then.”

Once again, we were stranded in Osseo for the night. Calling to tell my wife and kids I wouldn’t be home for another night was torture. My eldest started to cry because she wouldn’t see me for another night. My wife felt angry and hurt because it was still me who was dealing with this situation while everyone else in the band was comfy in their own homes cuddling up to their significant others every night that I was away. I shared in her sentiment, but knew there was nothing more that I could do to remedy this situation. Out of money, Chris and I knew it was going to be a cold evening on the bus we’ve called home.

“You guys want to pay us now?” Tom said breaking the silence.

“No. No I do not want to pay you now. I want to know what the fuck is going on with the bus. We’ll take care of it tomorrow when we know better what the fuck is going on.”

“Ok. Want me to lend you some money for a hotel?”

“No! This is draining our bank account right now. We won’t have the money to pay you back. We’ll sleep in the bus.”

“It’s gonna be cold.”

“We’re aware of that. We’ll just have to bundle up with the extra blankets.”

With that, Chris and I climbed on to the bus, plugged in the tv and Xbox and played some video games in hope of forgetting about everything we’d went through that day. It didn’t take long before we were frustrated enough and our boredom took over. We turned in for the night around 11 o’clock.

It’s damn near impossible to sleep when everything that you’ve been dealing with for the better part of the last week just runs through your head. Music doesn’t sound as sweet, so you throw your headphones to the side hoping for some sort of peace. Freezing our asses off, I forced myself to keep my eyes closed and slowly drift away in slumber.

My alarm went off at 7 AM as this was the time I was told the shop would open and they’d be able to get started on the bus. Chris woke up with me and we made the decision it was best to not take the chance they’d get the bus fixed in a reasonable time and call someone to just come pick up our pathetic asses. Like the beautiful saint she is, Chris’ mother agreed to jump in her car and drive the two hours their to pick us up and drive us the two hours to get us home. At 8 AM, someone finally showed up to assess the situation.

Plugging in his scanning tool, Austin the mechanic informed us that we were having some major problems with our high pressure oil and that was more than likely the reason we weren’t getting the bus to start. However, this was just a diagnosis and there wasn’t any way he’d have the room to be able to fix the bus for us. Once again, we were sitting with our thumbs up our asses not having any sort of way to get the bus fixed and return home with our gear.

There was no way I was going to be able to stay positive any longer. My anger and frustration took over. There was no reasoning with me. 

I walked across the street to another mechanics shop and explained my situation. With his head in his hands, he reluctantly agreed to take the work and see what he could do to get my bus operational again. The only other place in town that was willing to work on it said they wouldn’t be able to get to it until next Monday....we leave next Tuesday.

As I walked back across the street, both Tom’s were fumbling around under the hood of the bus.

“I think it’s an oil pressure problem.” No shit Sherlock. I did research the night before while in my bunk and I was able to come up with that. Way to know your shit.

“There’s just nothing more I can do. Wanna square up with us now?”

“Fine.” I hopped in their truck and gave them the money for the tow, time and labor they’d put into it. I wasn’t happy...but I didn’t have much else of a choice. These motherfuckers still had my equipment sitting in my trailer at their property. After bitching at them that the price was different than they had quoted me, they knocked off $90, bitched about how many bills I had and told us goodbye/good luck.

“Can you at least hook a tow rope up and get us across the street to the other mechanic??”

“No. We don’t do that. They have people that will tow. Good luck.”

Mother. Fuckers.

Walking across the street and explaining the situation, everyone in their shop stood with their jaws on the ground as I was explaining the situation and how we had been treated by Tom.

“He won’t tow it over here?! It’s across the street!!” they exclaimed. “That’s classic Tom.” Where was any of this information when our weekend started?! Classic Tom?! For Christ sake! Had I known about these yokel motherfuckers in the first place, I would have avoided their shop and thanked them for the tow. Now, I’m at my 3rd mechanic shop with no fucking answers why my bus won’t run and I’m about to leave for home 2 hours away hoping that something positive will come out of the entire ordeal.

Without any other options, we were picked up and driven back home to the practice space where my van awaited our return. We dropped off the guitars that we brought home and proceeded to the back parking lot where my van sat.

The van was completely out of gas. You see, what I didn’t mention in the beginning of my story, was that the bus batteries were completely dead the Friday we left for our first show. In order to charge 2 batteries, the vehicle jumping the bus has to sit and run for a long(er) period of time. I was already low on gas when we got to the space, but working out a jump for well over an hour didn’t help our woes at all. So, I had to stop into the gas station to put a little bit of gas in my tank.

The pump didn’t print my receipt. I walked inside and asked for a receipt. Walking out of the gas station, I could only feel what I can describe as a sense of dread. I was beat down. I was feeling defeated. This weekend had to end, but not without finding just one more way to completely fuck me. I glanced at the front of my van and saw some sort of liquid dripping from under the engine. My first thought would have been that the engine was cooling and dripping some sort of moisture it had built up. Only have driven a block, this surely wasn’t the case. It didn’t take me too long to realize that what was quickly draining from my van was its anti-freeze. 

Mother. Fucker.

I quick hopped in the van to start it and move it out of the gas pump parking position. It. Wouldn’t. Start. 

With anger/worry/disbelief, Chris hopped out of the passenger side and we both threw our arms in the air offering a multitude of curse words to the sky. It took everything in me to not make a scene and beat the piss out of my van right there and then. I was bound and determined to get home though. I jump into the driver seat, pumped violently on the gas pedal and cranked that piece of shit until she started. After it finally fired and was running, Chris hopped into the passenger without even having to be instructed. He knew the ride home was going to have to be quick.

No words were spoken. I went well over the speed limit. I ran multiple red lights. When I did have to stop, I threw the van into neutral and kept my foot on the gas only dropping it into drive when the light would turn green and I had room for movement. Hell or high water, I was going to get home, or close enough to walk. At this point, I could give 2 shits what happened to the van.

On the verge of over-heating, I finally pulled into my driveway and parked the van in the garage. It was its turn to be out of sight out of mind. I’d spent far too much time feeling that way this weekend. Now, I have a pool of anti-freeze in my garage and my van won’t start. A beautiful end to a beautiful week(end). 

I’m slowly regaining my composure. My anger is slowly subsiding about the situation as I have instructed the band that I will not be involved with the outcome from this point on. I feel like a complete dick saying shit like that...but I also know there needs to come a time that it’s not just me offering to deal with predicaments. I’m going to burn myself out. Hell, I’ve come damn near doing so feeling beat down by the course of everything that’s happened to me over the last week with the band.

While I know this too shall pass, I’m exhausted and need the break before we leave for our tour next week. Being in a band is no different than having siblings. We bicker. We fight. We bitch at each other. However, we go through shit together that can only make us stronger. While I’m frustrated with this situation, I know I’m not the only one going through it. I just need to learn not to take it all and let it rest on my shoulders either.

Regardless of how much experience I have doing band shit, everyday is going to pose something new for me to learn. This is my band lesson. Hopefully it’s the last for a while!

[coldkingdomzac-blog]

Life on the road

We’re a little over a week from leaving for the Shinedown tour. Life is exciting and somewhat nerve racking as of present. Leaving my job and focusing strictly on my music and being a touring musician is an exhilarating thought, but is also somewhat burdensome all in one fell swoop. The idea of being a broke musician and having obligations in the form of financial woes isn’t appealing to everyone. Why would it be? However, since the age of 15, I always knew that I wanted to be a musician in one capacity or another. Chasing this dream will always tear at the very core of my being. I’m scared. I’m nervous. I have anxiety on a regular basis about what the near future holds for not only me, but for my family as well. If I were to say otherwise, I’d be a liar. This is the dream. This is my life, and I love it.

We’ve been playing weekend warrior for the past few years now hoping that we were going to catch some sort of break that would continue to keep us on the road doing what we love. Having the opportunity to open these dates for the Shinedown tour became just that opportunity we have been working so hard for. In order to be as polished as we possibly could, we knew that we were going to have to sacrifice our weekends and travel regionally to be able to be a solid unit. The month of March has seen us playing 2-3 days every weekend anywhere from 1.5 to 6 hours from home and then back to do the daily grind throughout the week. While it’s exhausting, it’s definitely gratifying all at the same time. Regardless of all of us catching the flu over the course of the past month, we’ve still muscled through every show we play and deliver our brand of rock and roll every time. Sometimes, the show just cannot go on....

Today, March 18th, was unfortunately one of those days that every band dreads having to experience. We played a fantastic show last night in Chippewa Falls for St. Patricks Day. There was a rowdy crowd in attendance who wanted nothing more than to join in with us in singing every word to every song they knew and even joined in singing on songs they didn’t know through instructions and crowd participation. It was a great precursor to what our weekend was going to amount to. Our next destination was going to be Fort Atkinson. To say we were excited was an understatement. Every time we’ve played Fort Atkinson, we’ve always been treated like family by the venue. Hijynx Bar and Grill has always felt like an oasis in what can sometimes feel like a shit-storm away from home. Not every venue treats you like the crew at Hijynx. Any chance we have to get back to Fort Atkinson, we’ll take. We love those cats.

As is normal while we’re on the road, we woke up in our home away from home (the bus in a Walmart parking lot). After brushing our teeth in the parking lot, we enjoyed some Taco Bell and hit the road to arrive in Fort Atkinson a little early. After leaving Taco Bell, there was nothing that seemed out of the usual to cause any of us any worry. A few miles down the interstate, we pulled off into a Cenex gas station to fuel up. 

The gas tank on the bus is large. It’s needs to be in order to tow a gigantic trailer and 6 bodies across the country. After dropping $100 on some diesel fuel, we were ready to hit the road again. The sentiment was nice, but when the bus would only turn over and not actually start, the panic and worry started to set in. After a couple of tries, the bus finally fired and was running, ready for its road testament. We didn’t even get as far as the exit to the interstate before the engine turned itself off and the gentle roar of the 6 liter diesel went completely silent. So, we had to pull over on the exit right in front of a “No Parking on the On Ramp” sign. Perfect....

Pulled over on the side of the on ramp, all I could do was check fuses and look on the surface for anything that was visible to indicate the possibility of a novice fix. Unfortunately, there was nothing. Here we were, 3 hours away from our next destination, and we were stranded.

Phone call after frantic phone call, we contacted every possible diesel mechanic in the near range of being able to tow an RV with a 6x10 trailer in tow. Finding a mechanic, diesel or not, that’s open on a Saturday is the most fucking frustrating thing (besides the actual broken down bus) you can ever imagine. It baffles me that businesses are not open in prime time business hours when over the road transportation seems to be at its height. Maybe that’s just the South Dakota farm boy work ethic in me talking...but Christ. 

After finally finding someone willing to answer their phone and drive their rig out to assist in our predicament, we waited to hopefully receive a little bit of good news and hopefully be on the road to playing our gig. If there’s anything a working musician hates, it’s having to cancel a show. I hate canceling ANY show, but having to cancel one that I’v been looking forward to is a much worse feeling.

Tom and Thomas finally arrived on site. I felt a little comfort knowing that this was a father and son mechanic shop. Perhaps that sounds weird, but again, being a South Dakota raised kid, I’ve never really trusted big name mechanic shops. I’ve always felt the small town mom and pop shops were more willing to treat you with honesty and not view you as their personal checkbook. 

We fumbled around under the hood. Fuses and relays were checked. Antifreeze was filled. The undercarriage was inspected for any possible damage that could cause some sort of immediate problem. To our despair, there was nothing we could do while our rig was on the side of the road. Shit. Just our luck. 

“Well, our shop is slammed with work right now. The soonest we can get to it will have to be Monday. There’s nothing we can do today or tomorrow. We just have too much work.”

The wind had just been removed from our sails. We weren’t going to make our destination tonight. The show was going to have to go on without us and we were going to have to find some sort of lodging for the evening. 

The thought of having to spend a shit ton more money on repairs is not a good feeling, especially when we just had to drop a stupid amount of money on a new trailer this week to be able to survive rolling out to the west coast. We’re at the mercy of our bank account, and being starving musicians, that’s not saying a whole hell of a lot.

I’ve got to look at the silver lining of things though. We leave in a little over a week. After being told our axle was going to shit and our bearing were shot on our old trailer, it was time to upgrade and be safe while embarking on such an amazing opportunity. Having the bus break down now means we don’t have to deal with this bullshit while making our trek across country. This shit sucks, but hell, it could be far worse. What am I doing now? I’m shacked up at a Super 8 in Osseo, WI watching March Madness basketball finals having some beers with some good friends. I’ll be here till Monday waiting for the final outcome of what’s wrong with our bus. If you’re close by the area, by all means, bring Chris and I more beer.