Starting on Saturday, May 6th, 2006, the Deadfly Ensemble embarked on a six-day journey through the northeast United States, with dates in NY, Providence and Philadelphia. This article collects scraps from the journals and diaries of the various players. The band consisted of James (bassist), Marzia (cellist), Lanthier (vocalist/guitarist) and Yi-Hsiuan (erhu-ist), and they were joined by Polina, road manager. What follows may help to illustrate the inner-workings of a professional musical troupe on the road.
From Polinaâs mini-cassette voice recordings:
ãThe tour started relatively innocently with half of the band safely with me discussing the finer points of goats. The other two, Marzia and James, spent the night obscenely drinking and masturbating with the Din Glorious lads...ä
From Jamesâ twisted scribblings on crumpled scrap paper:
ãWhile staying with Greg and Dan in Jersey, I was cut by razors hidden in the bed. I know it must have been an accident, bless them. On the second day of staying with them I saw Dan slip something into a glass of water he later tried to give me. I poured it out while he was dancing in a mirror.ä
From Marziaâs marginalia on blank or occupied sheet music paper:
ãThe D-Glo lads have been great hosts and even better company. Multiple trips to the liquor store combined with a high concentration of perverse motherfuckers made for a delightful, beer-drenched evening, ending in baby deaths and non-consensual sodomy. (Deeeellllicious·!)ä
From Yi-Hsiuanâs silk-paper diary:
ãGrandpa Polina took us to a magical land. Lucas performed his dance of courtship with the resident peacocks. He is the Cock of the Walk.ä
From Lanthierâs birch-bark journal, bound with wolverine wool and adorned with a moose antler:
ãOur little religious retreat has been going well. They seem convinced that I have their best interests at heart. At times, the overbearing greed that consumes my soul starts to show through the mask of benevolence that I endeavor to maintain, but then I just start talking about sacrifice and the saints and Jesus, and they donât seem to notice. If all goes well, Iâll break these bastards and make off with the cash quicker than a jackrabbit in a room full of rufinol-ridden she-bunnies.ä
James:
ãI know they are trying to kill me, those rotten fucks. I can smell it in the forest. Coconuts are nice. This (ha-ha) Îtourâ is impending-doom-ridden, and crawling out of this skin isnât an option.ä
Yi-Hsiuan:
ãDear diary, traveling with Uncle James and Aunt Marzia has been such a pleasure·ä
Marzia:
ãThus far, this tour has been one long penis joke with no punchline. I am also completely out of clean underwear.ä
Lanthier:
ãWhat in the name of the Christ was I thinking? Iâve got an atheistic soviet megalomaniac, an ice-blooded Chinese snake-woman, a holier-than-thou Mexican princess, and a neurotic, flea-bitten limey, all packed into the same vehicle. No wonder our campfire singalongs havenât been going well. I need more WASPs in this outfit. Anyway, it wonât be my fault if weâre denied the pearly gates.ä
Polina:
ãWell-rested and full of good cheer, they piled into the car. The tour was half over·ä
James:
ãNow looking back on the past few days they wondered how they came out relatively unscathed and with their sanity intact. With horror they realized that there would be two more shows. Lucâs mother makes a mighty nice pancake! What a wonderful woman, really! Holy Cow were really good. Shame the sound for our performance was so awful. Iâm not sure but I think that Amber and the Luc-ador turned the gas on backstage while I was alone. I almost passed out before the show. Good thing the bartender came back for more supplies or I might have died.ä
Marzia:
ãPolina claims that her tongue is longer than mine. We compared them but that didnât settle the argument (though it led me to realize that Polina is a born lesbian). I guess she wins because she can lick her own nose. Iâm rather glad I canât lick my nose. I would never stop. Oh, and Lucâs mom was way nice. I take back ALL the Îyour momâ comments Iâve made to that son of a bitch.ä
Yi-Hsiuan:
ãAuntie Marzia was massaging my head in the van as we drove from Dublin to Brooklyn. It made me feel so·ä
Lanthier:
ãIâve never felt so in tune with my spiritual side. Now if only I could stifle this chattering cluster of retarded monkeys Iâm traveling with so that I could savor my inner peace· Maybe if I killed them·ä
James:
ãWhilst on a nature hike with the band, Polina attempted to push me down the side of a mountain. They all joked and laughed it off, but the intentions of these rapscallions are becoming more evident. Someone broke my phone and I found a .22 in Marziaâs bag. And for some reason, I have been trapped in the back of the van in between all the equipment for the entire trip.ä
Marzia:
ãIâve been wondering how many African studs it would take to fill Polinaâs mouth. Also, she has a scream that can drop a bat. It fucks with their sonar. Also, Iâm pregnant.ä
Lanthier:
ãThe Philadelphia show is behind us, as are a bloated list of unmentionable things that, with any luck, I will manage to block out of my memory to the degree that even a highly-accomplished hypnotist would fail to bring them to light (and if he does then God have mercy on his mortal soul). Anyway, I funneled the two-point-something million that we made from this trip to my usual offshore laundromats. My crystal ball tells me that in the very near future thereâll be a new sweatshop setting up for business in some armpit-smelling foreign village, with the proceeds made out to a certain silent partner. All in Godâs name. And maybe Polinaâs in case the FBI looks too close.ä
And so another productive foray to establish Culture in the hearts of Americans was concluded, and the Deadfly Ensemble would live to fight another day.