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CATEGORIES ::
> Blah! > Movies, Music, Guitars & Comics > Fiction
BLOOD, SWEAT N' TEARS ::
> Y2k > Ciplak
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Greetings from Bangkok. I am slightly tipsy here at 1 in the morning after the first day of the Fat Festival )although my almost-inebriation has nothing to do with the festival, which doesn't allow alcohol, making for a cleaner and more polite music festival that does not follow the archetypes of disgusting portaloos and used condoms strwwn across a cowfield). So what can I say about Thailand? Is it Sin City? Well, if it is, I wouldn't know, as work has been of utmost priority down here which lead to a... well... a performance by Y2k that was not as good as some of our previous shows. Why? Because the stage is fucking huge, and we've been playing tiny clubs for most of our existence. And huge stages require the utmost attention to detail... ...and yet Saiful's wireless unit almost blew up during soundcheck, my bag got eaten by a conveyer belt and we couldn't hear the drums too clearly because a stage that big means we have to hear the drums through our monitors and we couldn't hear the drums through our monitors. Fun. But that sarcastic usage of the word 'fun' is also combined with a literal usage of the word 'fun'. The trip to Thailand was funny - customs were worried that a box of mine containing Y2k figurines (designed and made by Amir) was dangerous because we had our clothing sponsor's stickers of their logo on the box. Whose our sponsor? Radioactive. Guess what the logo is - we rode in luxury on the way to the hotel from the airport (BMW 7 series, baby!) and we sold quite a number of our CDs. I'll soon be posting up pics of this whole trip, but I gotta say this now - as far as being an independent musician is concerned, Bangkok fucking RULES. The music-goers really support their scene and are keen to discover new bands. Hell, we've been getting more radio airplay here than we do in Malaysia! And, seriously, I've never met such polite and soft spoken people before I arrived here. Tomorrow we continue pimping out our CDs, followed by an after-party. Then, on Monday, we hit the guitar stores. But now, I pass out.
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