Embarrassing Shows You've Seen & Bands Insulting Each Other Onstage

[I Am Not Marty Feldman]

I don't go out much these days, but I thought of this today, for whatever reason.

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I was maybe 20.  Drove up to Chicago to see the Kill-a-Watts play the Fireside Bowl.  The opening band was a suburban punk deal, obviously comprised of dorks, all of them wearing Punk 101 t-shirts, two of them wearing diff DK tees.  The guitarist and bassist would actually stop playing in the middle of songs to extend a middle finger to the audience, and in-between songs, the singer would say something like, "Fuck you! We're [etc.]."  After they finished, they started breaking down their gear, and I saw the attractive female guitar player from the Kill-a-Watts approach the guitarist and say, dripping with sarcsasm, "I really liked the part where you guys flipped everyone off."  He was visibly embarrassed and sheepishly said, "F-F-FUCK YOU!" I loved it.  Kill-a-Watts took stage and were genuinely pretty obnoxious (and good). 

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I swear I saw a hardcore band once -- can't remember which -- play before another Ryan Adams-lite alt-country band that sang a lot about drinking whiskey and the usual -- can't recall them, either -- and as they finished, the singer said, "Tom Petty's after us."  I think it was in a Milwaukee basement.  Tom Petty band was not pleased as they began. 

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2010: For whatever reason, I find myself in some dumbass Manhattan sleeve-tat pro rock club.  First band is from either Westchester or Long Island and is comprised of teens who most assuredly had to beg their parents to play in THE CITY on a school night.  They're a mish-mash of high school misfits, an assortment of varying archetypes: there's the Guitar Center student who has a full stack, wearing a flame-pattern button-up and is eyeing his fingers as he plays with concentrated studiousness; the bassist who is doing Kris Novacelic as best he can, complete with low-slung bass; the drummer with a manchild goatee and double-bass drums and those glossy all-black Slim Jim sticks; and a singer who is doing a Hot Topic permutation of Iggy, shirtless, wearing silver/rubber hip-huggers with go-go boots and flailing all over the stage -- and off the stage, too, since there's no one on the floor watching them.  Of the ten people in attendance, all of us are sitting on cushioned benches lining the room, and two of the spectators are laughing louder than the band is playing.  The singer is rolling all over the floor, his chest and back covered in bar grime, and even he has to stop and laugh as the band misses cues and notes and whole verses and choruses and the two jokers in the audience are heckling him like mad.  I'm pretty sure one of the hecklers actually goes to the bar, gets a beer, hands it to the singer and says, in between songs, "I will give you this if you stop playing."  They do.  The next band gets on, and it's a pretty tight & pro & good white co-ed r&b unit, and as they close, they call someone from the next band -- a glammy rock deal -- on stage to accompany them on guitar for a cover of "Dead Flowers."  The glam guitar player takes stage, preening the Thunders hair and checking his clothing for lint and etc.  And as the song begins, it's clear that he CANNOT play the song.  Can't figure out the chords at all -- any of the four chords.  Can't even understand the timing of the song.  The guitarist for the r&b band actually starts yelling the chords at the guy, who's still floundering.  Looks great, though.  It was painful. 

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When Busy Signals played Gonerfest in -- what was it -- 2008, I'd retreated to the parking lot just before our set, right as Ross Johnson & Jeff Evans began theirs.  I'd brought a bottle of Malort with me from Chicago and shared it with friends as we shot breeze outside.  I went inside to use the bathroom at one point, and Zac from Goner, looking a bit red, said, "Hey, sorry -- they'll be done soon."  I said, Thanks, no problem, took a piss, and went back outside.  A bandmate grabbed me and we went in to begin playing.  After we finished our set, a number of people approached me asking what I thought of Johnson & Evans.  Then one of my bandmates -- the one who stayed indoors -- said, "Yeah, I heard one of the two guys onstage say, 'Up next, some noo-wave sheeeeeit!' just before we played."  Later learned that they devoted a significant part of their show to completely skewering us before we played.  Was sorry I missed it.

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2006 or 2007: Busy Signals begrudgingly agree, after much badgering and a number of obvious false promises of dough from one Wreckless Derek, to play with the Plastic Letters at a coffee shop in a south suburb of Chicago.  We arrive at the "club" and it's clear that no one in attendance, aside from our band and the Plastic Letters, is older than 21.  We spend most of our time in the van or walking around the venue, which is nestled in a strip-mall seemingly removed from anything resembling the city some 30 minutes due-north.  We eventually head inside when we learn that it's easy to smuggle beer into the coffee house and they also allow smoking indoors.  I wander in as the first band plays.  They are four 17-year-olds dressed almost precisely like the Raspberries, the Knack and Incredible Kidda Band rolled into one.  They sound like Motley Crue or Turbonegro. Number of songs left in the set announced after every single song, thankyous piling atop one another after every other.  After an hour of originals and a number of Dead Boys, Jam and Ramones covers, we take the stage and play to about 50 teens who unfold lawn chairs, sit and cross their arms -- kids who were previously dancing, screaming, sweating, yelling and making out -- as they watch us play.  We end our set, exchange a series of smirks and funny looks with one another, then retreat to a table.  I and the other member of the band who smokes light up.  A member of the first band walks up to our table and says, "I want a cigarette."  My bandmate says, "Then go buy some at the gas station over there."  The teen says, "I actually already have smokes," then affects a streetwise haughtiness and adds, "I just want a light."  I don't say anything and hand him my lighter.  For what seems like ten minutes but is probably two, we all watch as he attempts to stoke the light -- over and over and over again.  He can't do it.  My bandmate says, "Christ, just let me do that for you," and does.  The teen puffs on his cigarette, coughs violently, and then looks at our female member and says, "What are you doing later?" 

[I Am Not Marty Feldman]

Just remembered: during that wonderful one-man band phase in the early '00s, I saw a guy spend 30 minutes setting up his equipment at the Mutiny, one of the fucking worst bars in Chicago, then take the stage and forget everything he ever knew about his songs in front of about 50 people.  He was done in five minutes.  I actually felt bad for him.  He was embarrassed. 

[TVeye77]

More like "Embarrassing Shows I've Played"!

[I Am Not Marty Feldman]

I want to read those stories.

I once played a show with the first band I joined, the Creatures of the Black Lagoon, in Gibson City, IL.  It was a bowling alley in a "city" of 500 people.  We were heckled to no end by a throng of massive bikers, and after a bit of push-back on stage, I was pretty sure I was about to get the shit kicked out of me.  I didn't.  Clipped a deer's leg on the way out of town.  Broke my headlight.  Actually a fun night. 

[TVeye77]

One group played 2 gigs. The 2nd gig was at Acme Underground, NYC. During the first 30 seconds of a song, the singer (drunken singer) fell off the stage. He took his mic & stand, my mic and stand and my monitor with him. The people from the club put the monitor back all the way at the side of the stage. I couldn't hear any vocals after that. I sang backing vocals in all our songs, but they didn't give me my mic back. The singer thought it was really funny. No one watched us. We broke up right after that.

Just as well. This group suffered from an identity crisis from day one. We played fake synth / goth music. We recorded a 3 song demo with a British hip hop producer... These guys weren't even on drugs, I was the only one. It was pretty dumb...

[I Am Not Marty Feldman]

Played a frathouse in 2002.  Actually went over surprisingly well until I started talking to people after we played.  Never carried shit out of a show faster than that.  Played their rival frat a few months later, in the basement, and jumped up while playing and knocked my head directly on a crossbeam.  Fell flat and was incapacitated for about one minute.  Would later do the same at a club in Japan -- look, Ma, I've made it. 

[TVeye77]

Me and the same singer had an alternative rock band after that. We played 4 gigs and broke up. After the 1st show, someone came up to the singer at the mall and asked "Were you in that band the other night?" He said yes and these girls started telling him about how we were one of the worst bands they'd ever seen in their life. Before every gig, the other guitarist and drummer and bassist would get so stoned that they would Suck and forget our songs. Me and the singer would say "You guys are too stoned, you sound like shit now." and they would answer right back. "No. We sound better now!"

We broke up On Stage at the last gig, at Connections in Clifton, NJ. The bassist spit in the singer's face and told him to go fuck himself.

[I Am Not Marty Feldman]

We broke up On Stage at the last gig. The bassist spit in the singer's face and told him to go fuck himself.

Now we're cookin'!

[AggravationOverdose]

Discontent a late 80s style hardcore band from Grand Blanc, Michgan had their frat boy-lookin' singer throw a shit fit and quit halfway through their first show. A long, lean Zodiac Mindwarp-lookin' motherfucker I'd never seen before jumped up onstage, grabbed the mic, sang like a madman, and finished the set. I dunno who dude was, I never saw him again, but the transition from a horrible to pretty excellent band during the same set was hilarious and awesome.

[I Am Not Marty Feldman]

Saw the lead singer from the Hellacopters freak out in the middle of a song when a white trash dude gave him a Hitler salute about ten years ago.  Best part of their eight-hour set. 

[I Am Not Marty Feldman]

Forgot about this one: first legal 21+ show I saw was the Mistreaters, Detroit Cobras, Baseball Furies and Lost Sounds in Milwaukee, at the Cactus Club.  I drove over three hours to see it, as the Lost Sounds were my favorite band at the time.  All the bands were good, but the Cobras were grating for obvious reasons.  (That said, their drummer was simple & incredible.)  Drove up to Green Bay to see the Lost Sounds the following night, and Jay said something like, "We played with the most pretentious fucking band in Milwaukee last night," in ref to the Cobras.  And he was right.  And the LS were even better at the white trash bar in GB that night.  Fuck.  They were really something at that point. 

Worth noting: that GB show was one of the first shows the Catholic Boys played with Eric back in the fold on drums, I think, and they were really fucking good.  Covered "What Gives?" and "Do You Love the Nazis?" and it blew me away. 

[androo]

i posted about a show like this a few years back i will always remember when X played in paddington sydney '83 (ish). ian rilen still at the bar drinking while the band are ready to go on. he is loudly saying stuff to them like "fuck off, i don't wanna play" "play without me" "i don't feel like it" etc. so lucas & cafiero get up on stage and start playing without him. rilen keeps drinking at the bar while their roadie tries to cajole him into getting up on stage. but rilen's having none of it and only gets louder and more abusive. meanwhile lucas and cafiero are up there playing away unfazed by their missing bass player. eventually the roadie manages to get rilen on stage and is trying to strap the bass on a very unwilling bassist. after much struggling the roadie manages to get the bass strapped on the reluctant bassist. the next battle is to get the lead from the amp plugged into the bass, but as soon as he plugs it in rilen pulls it out again. this goes on for awhile. the other two play on. after much pulling out of the lead the roadie firmly gaffer tapes it in and rilen actually plays a few bars of whatever song they are doing...then he stands on the lead and it comes out again. by this time the roadie has completely lost his cool and jumps onstage to plug it in again and starts shouting at bassist. reluctant bassist takes offence to this and takes a swing at roadies head knocking him off the stage, then promptly falls over himself. a now hurt and enraged roadie clamours back onstage to kill the belligerent bassist, when bassist sees this he takes off the bass and swings it at the roadies head. luckily its only a glancing blow. the band other two now look over and smile knowingly at the scene on the other side of the stage. meanwhile a now murderous roadie and pissed off drunken angry bass player are going at it like a pair of mismatched cage wrestlers in a fight to the death. the other two play on. the fight is now off the stage and in the crowd. eventually they are dragged off each other and separated by members of the crowd. the other two finish the song look at each other shrug their shoulders and say "goodnight folks that's it". great show!

[bradx]

man, this is pretty bad.  i mean, i could sit here and tell stories all night long.  jesus.

i mean, my first "real" band (band that played actual punk shows) was fronted by jamie evolution, who loved to spraypaint swastikas all over the place.  he's the one responsible for this masterpiece from the back of last sons of krypton "teenage trash" single. 



i was living in my van at the time, and drove it across town before seeing his fresh paint job.  needless to say, i was not real excited about it, but at least RJ had a camera.  i got some spraypaint and painted over it, parked across town the next night, and woke up the following morning with "GOOK" painted on the door. 

anyhoo...  yeah, i was in a band with these guys.



so where was i?  oh yeah, 1994, manitowoc wisconsin.  our band the stickpinz scored an opening slot for a gig with urbndk and rkl.  jamie is already fucked up out of his mind on a couple bottles of robitussin when we pick him up.  there's a pretty good crowd there, the oldest member of our band is 16, the youngest 14.  we kick off our tune "don't worry about me (worry about yourself)" which has the lyrics "I'm a nazi supporting white national socialist."  the song ends, and the people watching do not clap.  they dont make any sound.  they just kind of stand there, a few of them with their mouths hanging open. 

hey, the guy was one of the only kids i knew who was hip to decent music at that age in this small city.  i didnt give a shit about the content of his lyrics, i was just psyched he was capable of writing lyrics and singing punk rock music and wanted to practice and get drunk with us every day, all summer long.  and he was just as willing to sing the shit the rest of us wrote, like our guitar players anti drug anthem, which he would sing "drugs are for FOOLS - like YOU!" while stoned out of his mind and drunk off his ass, hahaha.  none of us particularly enjoyed his nazi posturing, but it didnt bother us enough to do more than roll our eyes and say "bullshit" either.

anyways, a short time later we were outside, and jamie literally threatened EVERYONE to fight.  people were pretty much just feeling sorry for him and trying to avoid contact, but eventually someone got pissed enough to punch him and toss him in the gutter, and finally spit on him. 

that was the beginning, and it wasnt exactly uphill much from there.  most of the really bad stuff i wont even tell, because it sure doesnt make me look good even being involved in it.  i dont know how else to explain it but the friendship of the damned, people who hung out together not because we particularly liked or enjoyed each other's company, but just because we were all so sick and fucked up in our own ways that nobody else could tolerate us. 

1995 - a 17 year old jamie evolution already looks like an old man



so yeah, after that we played mostly parties and didnt get any more "real" punk gigs.  1995, me, ann and RJ are hanging out all the time, trying to get a band going.  RJ would try to write songs, stuff like "pedro is a spic", "ringo is gay", and "kill the elf" but he had no understanding of verse/chorus or even basic song structure, so it was just random bar chords, different every time.  finally we settled on a process of writing down arbitrary numbers selected at random just so we could have a bass and guitar playing the same notes each time. 

everybody hated us.  even the people who didnt know us, once they talked to the scene kids about us, we would be cut off.  nobody would book us and nobody would even share a practice space.  we were pretty much fucked.  jamie took to carrying a lead pipe around after some kids made him take off his jean jacket and watch as they burned it in front of him.  the few times we did manage to get put on a bill, everyone would go outside while we played.  this was a trend in our hometown that continued well into the time last sons of krypton were in their heyday.  100 people would be at a show, and there would be 15 of them inside when we played.  people were constantly picking fights with us.

it was halloween and me, ann, and a kid from my new high school had a band called "man in space".  we did mostly crappy covers, including a "punk" version of the mister ed theme.

http://youtu.be/PT6Ql3z6fvg

the school was having a halloween dance, and they said our band could play.  afterwards, there would be a pie eating contest downstairs in the band room.  everything was going great until most everyone left for the pie eating part, thats when the rest of us who were hanging out bored in the auditorium/cafeteria decided to trash the place.  we were tossing chairs, smashing pumpkins, just totally wrecked the place.  i had a camera and was shooting video.  you can see that video beginning at the 2:05 mark.  note pumpkin smash by dude on the right at 2:27

http://youtu.be/0gKRcMSLLFc

eventually the kids in the contest and the chaperones came back upstairs and saw the damage.  luckily they didnt think to ask to see my video tape!!!  anyways, we told them that some other, bigger kids we did not know had come in and trashed it.  one girl was sobbing hysterically, just crying because she was so sad that we smashed her pumpkin.  the janitor refused to clean it and left the whole mess for monday morning, for the principal to see in person.  the police were also called.  it was not to be the last time we incurred the wrath of the two rivers wisconsin high school staff, because just a few short months later...

LAST SONS OF KRYPTON were born, and had our first opportunity to play at my old high school in manitowoc's BATTLE OF THE BANDS, which one of the other loser bands was fronted by a dude who offed himself not long thereafter after failing to graduate on time, but i digress...  (i have a tape of the show)

back to the city between two rivers.  our brand new band is given the opportunity to play a halftime show on two rivers community access cable television!  i assumed nobody was watching or gave a shit about locally televised high school basketball games, but 1995 small town wisconsin was not ready for the likes of I DONT WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL, which i had never even considered the content of, to be offensive, other than the FUCK YOU SCHOOL'S NOT COOL part of the song, but anyways, apparently some folks didnt care for it, so first thing monday morning i was called down to the principals office, and hollered at, to which i could only snicker, having (literally) over 200 detentions on the books (they would have weekend "double hours" detention where kids would sit 8 hours and get credit for 16) you could not graduate until you did your detentions, which was fine with me, because i had no intention of graduating anyhow.  so old man "mr wood" is in my face "YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?" and i am like "yeah. its pretty funny" hahaha, because, what do i care?

we recorded "atom bomb" a few days later, and i dropped out of high school.  in addition to last sons of krypton, with RJ, who was a legit great punk singer and front man, i had another band, the dropouts, with my friends who were all dropouts.  jamie evolution, the less talented but still cool young local punk singer, had graduated from racism to misogyny (gonna grab you by the hair and tear the shit out - show you what pain is all about - kick you in the head until you are dead - i want you to be dead, girl.)  and we were churning out the hits, and, and, AND, my dad's neighbor turned out to be in a way cool garage punk band that needed a drummer, so i was doing that too. 

in manitowoc, where there was a thriving punk scene, we couldnt get noticed, but eventually the demos started turning heads and ears up in green bay, and we snagged an opening spot for THE BUSINESS.  we were TBA on the flyer, and there were lots of manitowoc folks at the show not expecting to see us walk in with our guitars and shit.  we packed four people, two amps, and a basic drum kit into this gremlin.  i have a tape of the show.  we rocked the place, of course. 



i mean, i could write a book about this shit.  god, just the dropouts have so many ridiculous stories.  its 1998, i am 19 years old now and have experienced being a runaway, and eventually ending up homeless down in florida.  i am back in my hometown, with nowhere to stay, and not really giving a fuck.  spoiler alert: the night ends with me in jail. 

we were supposed to play this party, that we showed up just as the dude's parents were leaving town, with six kegs of beer.  that put the end to that plan, but in those days of yore before the cell phone was invented, folks in rural manitowoc county converged anyways, and we set out in search for a location for revelry.  there was a caravan of about 20 cars slowly driving from one farmhouse to another, until we eventually found a hopping wedding reception way out in the middle of nowhere, at a bar that had recently went out of business.  theyre cool with all the people crashing the party, because we have a van full of beer kegs, but to the credit of the original intended hosts, theyre determined to have our band play. 

by this time, we're not high school kids anymore.  we might have been 19-20 but we were well into our addictions.  the scene that originally excluded us has mostly evaporated as the posers go on to college and folks with motivation and brains move ANYWHERE BUT MANITOWOC hahaha.  simply by continuing to exist as a manitowoc punk band, we had generated a few supporters.  someone started throwing basement shows, they became a regular thing, it built up to this 6 keg night, and luckily, we had found a venue that seemed at least willing to entertain the IDEA of having us play.  the deal was let the band play, and we share our beer. 

the wedding party sent a guy to ask us some questions, he seemed leery at our shitty amps and crappy radio shack PA, but we assured him we could play metallica and sabbath and all that hard rock radio shit, and we would gladly play it all night long if they would just give us a shot.  well, rural manitowoc county does not have that high of a standard for their entertainment, and we did come with a whole shitload of free beer, so they gave us the go ahead and we tooted up some lines quick out in the parking lot.  jamie was wasted, he fell face first onto the ground and didnt even manage to put his hands out, totally fucked up his forehead.  bleeding, he leads us through our 15 min set of classics like "vietnam in the USA" (which only lyrics are "I want another Vietnam" x4 and then "VIETNAM IN THE U.S.A." x4) and the afore mentioned "Dead Girl".  we keep promising to play the cover tunes after "just a few more of our originals" and after FOUR HOURS of playing the same 15 minutes of music, over and over, we FINALLY play "louie louie" until they pulled the plug.  i have a tape of that show.  when we got back to town, i was wandering around aimlessly with nowhere to go when the cops snatched me up for a warrant for unpaid fines and i spent the rest of the weekend in jail.

another time we were playing this basement with a 50 gallon barrel of wop.  it was 6:45 and i was the drunkest i had ever been, in my life.  we could barely play and steve smut, who was on bass at the time, was pissed because he spent $1200 on a PA and i guess we didnt sound like the descendents or whatever.  so at the end of the set he hits me in the face with his bass and trashes my drums.  its like 7:15 or something, and i am wasted.  i am staggering through people's yards, and there is a family having a BBQ.  i walk into their yard, the father pulls his young daughter close as i projectile vomit all over their grass, while continuing to walk.  i pass out in the car for a couple hours, and then i go upstairs and piss my pants.  for some reason they decide to move the party to the vacant apartment upstairs where i am passed out with piss pants.  i am vaguely aware of a band playing and everyone partying around me, but i am too drunk to really move or anything so i just lay there, wet.  at one point jamie lifts someone;s wallet and they confront him about it, its one of the other bands drummer.  jamie grabs a stick out of the window and starts violently waving it around.  dude says to jamie "just give it back and apologize" and of course jamie responds "fuck you" so the guy drags him outside and is just taking his head and smashing it into the concrete in the driveway over and over, it makes a sick THUD sound over and over, and he just won't apologize.  that woke me up, and we posed for some pictures. 

https://youtu.be/Y4-dJl4gsB0



i have lots of other good stories, like getting kicked off the stage at midwest ripoff fest 2, or jamie attempting to steal all the door money from our chicago gig at empty bottle with loli and the chones and the brides...  i could go on and on all night but i have already wasted FAR too much time on this...

[bradx]

eh, you know what?  fuck it. 

the year is 1997.  me and ann have separated, and roy is on bass for last sons.  we're invited to play midwest rip off fest 2 in chicago, and the next night in green bay, with loli and the chones and the brides.  empty bottle won't serve us because we're all underage, so we tell jamie he can be our manager if he gets us some booze.  jamie was only 20 but he already looked 30, so he had no problem getting some bottles at the liquor store down the street.  thing was, it was a long drive and we were pissed off, so now we were gonna show the empty bottle what was up!  we were gonna be drunk as fuck, and if anybody messed with us, cops for instance we were gonna say "the empty bottle is where we got the liquor" hahaha.  we pissed all over the backstage area and broke the boom box, smashed it on the floor.  two of those liquor bottles were gone in about ten minutes between the five of us.  the show was kind of a blur, luckily i have a tape of it. 

http://youtu.be/zbOJ7eB_oxc

so right after loli and the chones finish their set, jamie goes up to the bar and asks for the cash, and i guess they didnt know who the promoter was or whatever because they actually gave it to him!  so he pockets it, and tells us we need to get out of there in a hurry, but doesnt tell us exactly why, hahaha.  so we're like "our shit isn't even loaded up yet" and meantime there is a posse forming on the other side of the room, and we're like running out the back door, so he just kind of drops the money and runs.  we're already in the car and moving and he is running down the alley after us, and we didnt even shut the trunk so its just swinging open and closed, and i am drunk, and driving, looking in the rear view mirror at jamie running after us, and a group of people chasing him.  i take it slow and eventually he is able to jump in while we are still moving. 

the next night we show up to the gig in green bay, and guesss who is there?  all the same people who wanted to kick our ass in chicago, thats who. 

[bradx]

the opening band is playing and we're passing around bottles of booze in plain sight.  people are looking at us with open contempt.  when we go grab our guitars some people seem surprised we're in a band.  when we smashed our shit the night before at the end of the set, it broke the jacks out of our guitars.  we had to borrow other people's shit because all our shit was broken.  we couldnt play at all because we were too drunk, i remember falling down and just hitting an open A chord and looking at people's faces in the audience and thinking OH SHIT.  shit shit shit. 

we got about halfway through the set, RJ used to do this "act" where he would pretend to be more fucked up than he really was, and he would break shit, on purpose, like stomping on the monitors and throwing the microphone on the floor, stuff like that.  it wasnt until we invited the attempted thief of the night before, our "manager" jamie up to the stage to sing some guest vocals, that timebomb tom lost it and got up and literally threw us off the stage.  he shoved me into RJ, rj fell into roy, and roy fell off the side of the stage. 

in the parking lot they were jumping around on the hoods of cars, and the brides entourage from chicago confronted us, one of them even pulled some brass knuckles on us, but i guess they realized it wasnt worth their time and laughed it off.  we talked our way back inside the venue, and i dont remember exactly what happened, but someone was beating up roy, which i sort of expected, but then they spit on him and i jumped in.  i take a swing at the guy and roy jumps on his back, and at one point i remember slamming dude's head into the PA speakers, and of course we got kicked out again, this time for good, and due to the repeated prank phone calls after the fact, i was not allowed in the record store in green bay or to attend any shows for over 5 years.