THE HAUNTED Frontman: It's Great To Go On Tour With Intelligent Dudes With A Sense Of Humor

THE HAUNTED frontman Peter Dolving has posted the following message on his MySpace page:

"Well, what do you know...

"Two shows back home in the cold again. I always have time to regret myself about ten times when playing small town shows. Always have, always will. I get up in the morning thinking, 'Gee, this will be great! These shows are so going to rock!' Then you get in the van. And it's cold. Regret number one. You get to the venue. This show in Husqvarna was held in an old WWII rotunda, at least it had walls, but guess what — yep, it was cold. Dressing room — cold. I'm sure you see te theme here. I hate it when it's cold. I want it to be hot, steaming. Fuck it, I love Arizona, New Mexico and Texas in the summer time. I'm cuckoo for Greece, southern France, Spain and Portugal in June, July and August. I like it HOT.

"OK? Back to gigland... So of course the PA is for a garage show, not a 600-capacity mini-hall. So once we end up playing, it's insane loud. The stage is kind of slanting back to front, so it feels you're going to fall forward everytime you lean to any other direction than backwards. The local sound guy is sitting asleep at a chair next to the mixing booth, thinking he's invisible. Sleep is a fine luxury for those with a clean conscience or a pure spirit, or something for the idiots gracing the planet that we just don't know what to do with. Fine. So what good deed of the day did this jerk do to deserve this fine little nap? How about this, sitting on his fat ass all day and night looking bored/sleeping while his no-good-for-nothing interns desperately tried piecing together his PA and making it work. Once soundcheck was suffered, as we left the hall, this genius — having invested cash money, hard earned by his tax-payed little nut suckers, in a digital Yamaha table for all its conveniences — then wakes up from his daze and walks umbling to the soundboard and deletes an hour and a half of our soundguy's work. Yes. Another fine day at work. Riddle me this — if you feel a passion, an urge deep from within to work with music do it. Invest your life into it. Hell, add that beautiful gift of giving by toning your ego down and giving yourself to this thing that is all about group effort. But if you just generally hate people and are a lazy fuck, stay the hell away. OK? They need assholes like you building contaminated bombs and assembling faulty star war equipment. I bet they'd love taking you on in the private security sector, obviously, because the army, navy and airforce don't tend to feel to hot about incompetent no brainers. I'm sure someone in the Bush admin could give you a job drinking coffee and poking some afghani kid lying naked in the snow with a stick. You'd get to wear khaki, strap a gun and pretend you were cool. I'm sure your incompetence would eventually kill someone. But dude — stay out of music. Please.

"There were some chicks in the audience, but after a show like this you end going back to the hotel, at 4 a.m. feeling miserable and too tired to even take a shower. Flirting is not an option. I know I make it sound like a terrible show, but it was OK. Though I think I'm still partially deaf as I'm writing this.

"You know, this was going to be the most positive blog in the world. I was going to write about how much I love my band and our fans. About my straight-edge friends of SET MY PATH, how proud I am to know them and how great I think they are. I was gonna write about the abysmal beauty of my friends of PLANES MISTAKEN FOR STARS, CONVERGE and MODERN LIFE IS WAR. And why I think THE BLACK DAHLIA MURDER are fucking brilliant. I was seriously on about RAM being the best heavy metal band in the world since any band after 1985 and how much I really enjoyed touring with EXODUS. Instead we played Kalmar freezing my nuts off. There was however one (!) hot chick in the audience and that kind of made up for the cold room. If it wasn't for the fact that some one decided smoke from smoke machines (you know the old kind, that makes smoke out of OIL... yeah we need oil on stage... who could have guessed?) was the greatest invention since the wheel, I'd really hold it for an enjoyable show. I mean, the crowd was great, it was in Husqvarna as well — but the stage was covered slippery smoke machine oil so I was confined to the monitor for an hour and a half... whopeee! Feel that rock. Here, get that beat there man, just don't move a muscle... I am lacking words. But to the fans who came out I want to say Thank you! Thank you for putting up with us, and for not getting completely sloshed, and for actually knowing the music. Thank you.

"As for the guy responsible for the PA in Husqvarna — I'd like to piss down a hose forced through his nose while smacking a broom stick across his duct taped body lying on the icy gravel outside that crappy venue, teenage girls with pom poms tap-dancing on a little stage behind us playing Burt Bacharach on a GOOD PA and everyone in my crew comfortably in recliner chairs sipping Mai-Tais, enjoying the scene.

"I had a dream the other night. I dreamed we were playing at some weird resort, and as me, Per and Anders got out of the bus and started up the stairs towards the lobby we spot THE BLACK DAHLIA MURDER, my brothers of BRING THE WAR HOME and the MASTODONG boys all sitting in the balcony bar right next to the entrance shouting at us to get our asses up there. It was sweet. Like a homecoming or something. Guess what. I miss my friends...

"Anyway — touring starts again in about three weeks from now and I'm looking forward hanging with Adam and the rest of the boys from KILLSWITCH. It's great to go out with intelligent dudes with a sense of humour. I'm not at all crazy about their music, but guess what — I don't fucking care about that. I do, however, care about what people are like. Like the dudes of BELPHEGOR — not my cup o tea, but they were great dudes, and Maus, their tiny skinny little bassplayer, who couldn't speak more than maybe three words of English got laid to at least one XXXL-size girl per night. It's amazing. How does that work? Is this proof that there might be a god? Is he really that merciful? No matter what, there will be mayhem. Count on it. There will nude dancing, and booty shaking, all male lap dancing and front lounge moshing for all. This time I'm bringing my CDs OK?! So folks — get ready for it... I'm calling the closest escort service! 'No, no sex - come dressed! We want you to mosh!!!!!'

"Kids, old folks, pretty girls and ugly witches - we love you all! See you soon, bring a friend and leave all fears at home... By the way — MEEEEEERRRRRRRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS!!!

"P.S.: When some dudes say that girls at shows is gay, is that to be considered paradoxal or just proof?"