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The Bozo Porno Circus Diaries: It's Cold When You're Naked

If you never saw a Bozo Porno Circus show then you just plain missed out. The Tone Zone Records band was a freak-out and a half, stuffed to the wall with loud noises and pretty girls getting sparks shot off their metal-covered crotches by belt sanders. Recently, lead guitarist Chris "The" Lane (AKA Crispy and for a brief hilarious time Nikki Wykkid) uncovered a treasure trove of tour diaries and photos, so for the next few days we're heading down a well of Houston-flavored debauchery from the glory days of our goth scene.

The Bozo Porno Circus Diaries: It's Cold When You're Naked

I read most of the way during the five-hour drive to Chicago. For some reason, I was feeling kind of irritable, and not inclined to play the low rung "Rock Star" that my image demanded on tour, until we pulled up to our destination, The Double Door.

I went to check out the club while the bean worshippers in our group went in search of Starbucks. I'd like to drink a frappucino out of the skull of whomever founded that company. It always seemed if we weren't looking to score weed, we were looking for a Starbucks while on tour.

REWIND:

The Bozo Porno Circus Diaries: Sid, the Evil Sex and Drug Clown

The Van Eats Shit, and I Almost Eat Rooster Balls

Thursday, April 24, 2002

The club looked pretty cool. It turned out to be a huge rock club with a nice stage and a labyrinthian basement-level dressing area. Sound check was funny. The two sound engineers were very good, and ended up clashing with "K" over the way the sound should be mixed. They were right, K was wrong, but that didn't matter. When a band is lucky enough to get good sound guys, they should listen to them.

I was also experiencing a catastrophic wardrobe failure. My trusty latex vest that I'd bought at a store called The Fetish Factory, and which was a road-worn veteran of three previous tours, was starting to rapidly disintegrate. The night of the show, it split almost completely in two. Not good since I didn't have a decent backup option, and was almost broke.

Duct tape saved the day again! Bands that go on the road without a healthy supply of that stuff do so at their own peril. I discovered that it will create a surprisingly strong and undetectable repair to latex clothing if used right. In fact, that repair lasted well beyond the tour. Amazing.

One quickly discovers that the cool "club clothes" that are available to the average person are usually designed to look good, but won't last under the harsh conditions of playing lots of live shows. The environment on stage is usually hot, sweaty, and with lots of movement involved. Real leather generally can take the beating, but wearing it also quickly cooks the person performing, a rapid "stewing in their own sweat" kind of effect.

 

The Bozo Porno Circus Diaries: It's Cold When You're Naked

Even expensive clothes that look right generally aren't made for the repeated abuse that playing shows subjects them to. I would sweat so much on stage, that by the end of a typical tour, any metal bits on my stage clothes were completely rusted. Pretty horrible.

A lot of the band members, particularly our girls, were highly skilled at making their costumes. Masters with rivet guns, and making use of very unconventional materials like roofing matting, they were constantly cobbling together entire outfits that also looked sexy on stage. I wish that I had been so industrious myself. I tended to buy stuff off the shelf, and it always had a short lifespan.

In any case, I managed to repair my stage costume enough to play the show without further problems.

The band that opened for us was called Fashion Bomb, and they turned out to be pretty good. You could tell that they really liked Slayer a lot, which was not a bad thing in my book. They also turned out to be fairly nice people, which is always a plus. It always sucks when the other bands you're playing with act like creeps.

All in all, about 140 people made it to the show, and the crowd was really into it. The Afroman turned up with an entire entourage this time. He was a weirdo sporting a giant afro, and had been following the band along a bunch of shows on that tour. Our biggest fan I suppose. Chicago audiences always seemed to treat Bozo well, and it was one of the better shows of the tour.

Best of all, my sweet dominatrix friend Maya showed up with some of her friends. A lucky break too, since this was the only stop so far that we didn't have pre-arranged accommodations after the show, and she offered to put Rotney and me up at her place. Which led to a very crazy night that I'll always remember.

Join us tomorrow for the last of the Bozo Porno Circus tour diaries.

Jef With One F is a recovering rock star taking it one day at a time. You can read about his adventures in The Bible Spelled Backwards or connect with him on Facebook.

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