Welcome To The Dalikfodda Shithouse Tour!
Here we go for another feature we would like to share with you from the mag to prove Print's Not Dead. Sometimes stories are way too long to fit into print. One yarn of such stature is the Welcome To The Dalikdodda Shithouse Tour! from Method Mag 10.1 (which is available now!). So crack open a brew and read on, friend.
Fifteen Days. Six resorts. Seven gigs. Three Vans. Twelve riders. Three thousand kilometres. One thousand beers.
Gentlemans Pistols, supported by Jettblack headlined seven European gigs. The shows took the rockers to Val Thorens, Morzine, Mayrhofen (Wängl Tängl), Tignes, Val d’Isere, back to Mayrhofen (Jib Vid), Zurich and Laax for the mother of all parties at the British Championships. Booze, groupies, snowboarding, rock and 70’s haircuts were second nature for some, whilst hair metal and iron workouts proved indispensable for others. Get your hands dirty and clean up in a wellness centre. dalikfodda, Dragon, The Dragon Lodge, Vans and Vestal bring you unspeakable debauchery, so either lock up your daughters or bring them to the slaughter - we are the people your folks warned you about. Viva la tour d’ShitHouse!
England - Val Thorens
As the UK settled down for another breezy March evening and dusk secured a black curtain over our Dover horizon, a meeting took place between Jettblack and Gentlemans Pistols - the two bands headlining the second Shithouse Tour. After a quick Port of Dover skate session on a set of steps and a Jersey barrier right on the dock, we jumped aboard the ferry. Much to our amusement, the sight of four 70’s hipsters with more hair than Tom Hanks in Castaway seemed to confuse the Eastern European truck drivers and French families that filled the ferry.
Crawling onto the moonlit highways of France we conveniently met Jettblack waiting near Eastenders - a booze warehouse on the dirty outskirts of Calais. Meanwhile, Matt Olive, tattoo deviant and drummer for Jettblack, managed to roll his ankle in a skate slam; not a good way to begin a tour. Like true gentlemen, we all shook hands and headed straight to the closest thing we could find to a pub - Eastenders.
Under the cover of darkness we set off to Val Thorens - leaving Calais at 2 am. In 15 hours our convoy was due to set up at Dick's Tea Bar, the first of many alpine gigs. Jettblack had borrowed a (supposedly) pimped-out Land Rover, which turned out to be about as rugged at Justin Timberlake. After an hour or so on French turf, their vehicle packed up. Things weren’t looking good for the hair metalers as we left them on the outskirts of Reims, to await help with only sketchy directions to Val Thorens.
After 900km, we made it to Val Thorens. Drivers and co-pilots had no sleep at all, and bleary-eyed, we started looking for our venue. The Gents arrived shortly after us, and we received word that Jettblack were on the road in a working motor. Ian, Schoph, Shitgoose, Van Tash and myself decided that the only way to get over the "hell drive" was to go out on the shred for the afternoon. With blue skies and not a cloud in sight, it seemed the perfect opportunity.
On the first gondola ride of the trip (full of punters), Van Tash managed to puke up the Captain Morgan's and croque monsieur swilling round his gut and had to instantly retire to a darkened room. We raced about the mountain to clear our heads and found the park to be pretty sweet, with a nice sized jump. Ian took no prisoners in his hour of shred, throwing down some sweet back fives on the biggest booter VT could provide.
All was well in the metal camp. Rooms had been allocated in the only five-star hotel in town and The Gents had spent much of the afternoon chilling in the pool, sauna and steam room. With a nights’ sleep deprivation and a hard shred behind us, we were stoked to join them, although we had to make it clear to the bands that the five-star treatment was a one off!
Evening came and the knights of denim were ready for some midnight crawling. The night was young as we turned Dick's Tea bar into a thrash joint, waiting for the crowds to descend. The first gig was one of fatigue, adrenaline and copious beer and rum consumption thanks to the owner of Dick's.
One night earlier we had been surrounded by nothing on a vast highway of black, but this was a night dedicated to booze and ear-bleeding guitar riffs played for a crowd of rock devotees and alcohol fiends who were screaming for more. One drunken cunt made the mistake of repeatedly, loudly requesting a Kings of Leon cover, for which he received a kick in the nuts from Atko (Gents lead singer). At the end of the show, we retired to plush rooms and much needed comfortable beds.
Morzine
Next stop was Morzine. The contrast between the mellow drive along a winding mountain pass, nestled beneath towering snowy peaks outside the cars and the heavy bass riffs, pissed banter and the smell of stale beer inside them, was lost on no one.
There was to be no shredding this stop as we arrived far too late, so we spent the afternoon drinking coffee and beers in the sun, waiting to hook up with the venue owner. The Garage was true to its name; about the size of a contemporary garage, and not the double ones common to the suburbs of Finchley! This place was intimate and perfect for moshing.
During loading in, concern among the bands was obvious as the gear filled half the venue, but the owner of this sweatbox was smiling. In a few hours his bar was going to be spilling to the streets with beer-thirsty rockers wanting nothing more than to jump on each other, throw punches and generally act like glue-sniffing zombies.
After a welcome three course feed, we set about turning this delightfully rustic bar into a venue of disobedience and disorder. Even as the banners went up, the bar was filling - thanks to Joe Chastney, Laura Berry and their crew. The night was young, but the mood was far from innocent.
While the Gents took refuge in their pimp apartment, Jettblack went through the motions and tested for sound. People kept on arriving and it was like a mini who’s who from the British snowboard world. Wolfy and Davo came with their crew and whilst precariously standing on the bar, leaning across it to take a photo, I spied Johno Wood, Joel Erith and Mike Austin leering at the bar for booze. Before the bands had even started you could feel this tiny venue was going to get insane.
Jettblack played a storming set to the many Morzine seasonnaires who had previously witnessed their style of carnage. Space in the bar was so tight that a girl got pushed into the stage, knocking lead vocalist Will into the drum kit, whilst John standing next to him constantly had his microphone knocked down. I don’t think Tom gave a fuck as his bass guitar is so big that no fucker could get near him.
Then came Gentlemans Pistols, who introduced the crowd to a whole new genre for Morzine. The crowd were spellbound by their heavy riffs and 70’s allure. It felt like pure harmony as girls kissed girls and guys punched guys. Things got so mental that Ian, Shitgoose and Van Tash had to stand in front of the mics to stop them from being constantly knocked over. Our small man, Van Tash, unleashed the bulldog within him, laying a punch on a lairy punter, as did Schoph and Ian (incidentally, they found out later they all hit the same guy). The owner wasn’t worried, and provided beer and brandy to our crew faster than we could order it. He loved the night. By the time we had broken down, it was time to head back to our amazing loft apartment for a nightcap and a couple of doobies.
Mayrhofen
Next on the tour agenda was Mayrhofen, some 400 kms away. In true Dalikfodda fashion, we were meant to get up early, at about 8 am (the irony) and set off shortly after. As it turned out, Schoph couldn’t be fucked to get out of bed so we left round eleven. Just as we were leaving town we got a message from Nick Street (Vans marketing manager and main sponsor for Wängl Tängl) saying that sound check was in 6 hours. Haste gripped us all, and like shit off a shovel we launched ourselves east through Switzerland and into Austria.
From a tiny bar with no stage, to a tennis hall with a stage the same size as the whole Garage Bar. Obviously we never made our 5 o’clock sound check, but we arrived just in time to see Leeds local Josh "Manhead" Young and UK legend Andy Scott in full swing, winning the Wängl Tängl’s mini ramp final for Queen and country.
Headlining the event was Millencolin, the late 90’s punk band on their come back tour. Jettblack were set to play first, followed by the Gents with Millencolin top of the bill.
With VIP passes and in true media style, I, like most of the crew, headed straight to the backstage bar and devoured the endless supply of beer and snacks, which looked like gold to a miner.
Stu, drummer for the Gentlemans Pistols, has a semi-naturist thing about his persona. After posing for band photos eating grapes with only a furry rug to cover his modesty, he dashed for the stage wearing nothing but a small pair of black Y-fronts faster than I could say "free beer". He saluted the crowd he was soon to please with pure rock delights, repeatedly shouting ”You are my people”. As you can imagine, the crowd went ballistic!
As the cameras rolled and the photographers snapped, both Jettblack and Gentlemans Pistols played flawless rock - their sets were getting faster, heavier and seemingly better. Jettblack have got a big following in Mayrhofen, so thanks to Mark, Little T, James C, Gary, Hooksy, Billy, Pete, Henry and all the rest for coming down early and getting mad loose!
After the gig, the booze kept flowing and we linked up with a bunch of other UK riders; Mark Ruparelia, Gary Greenshields and James Thorne all made an appearance. While the Gents destroyed the brandy, the guys from Jettblack carried on the musical vibes with an impromptu acoustic session backstage and generally hit the booze harder than ever. At about 1am we realised that our passes even entitled us to free kebabs - holy shit - extra chilis on mine! The Gents had pre-arranged to play a gig in Italy the following night so they left the resort early, but luckily for most of the Dalikfodda crew and Jettblack, we had a day to hit Maryhofen's slopes.
Nick Street and the Mayrhofen tourist board came through with a bunch of free passes and with about a foot of fresh snow, the hill was perfect for Will and Matt from Jettblack to learn to shred. The rest of us slashed about the hill, mostly riding off our hangovers.
Austrians love their pork, and there’s nothing like a good slab of it between some bread together with some token gherkins and mustard to re-energise after a day on the hill. Fortunately, right opposite the Penkenbahn is a traditional Austria deli, the Gasser, serving just that!
Also in town were Joonas Mustonen and Danny Larsen. Having just finished the last day of competition, they were making the Forum young guns down bottles of red at 4 pm, getting them uber-leathertroned.
Being our first night off, we decided to hit the tiles, so with the euro-rockers and Tom from Jettblack we hit up the hip-hop night just in time to see the Tyler and company being awarded trophies that strangely looked like baseball bats. From there, we headed to the club where we jumped about trying to do David Lee Roth impersonations, took photos of some guy fingering a bird next to the dance floor, explained to the local girls that we don’t do "buying drinks for chicks" and got very pissed indeed. Last memory of the night; Tyler straightening his tash then proceeding to sword fight with Danny using Wängl Tängl bats until the bouncer politely asked us all to fuck off. Some guy even pulled a knife on us when we were driving home, so Van Tash grabbed his arm, pulled it into the car and we drove for about 20 metres and then let go of him. He hit the ground hard. Idiot.
Tignes - Val d’Isere
After a nightmare "morning after" in Mayrhofen for us, we left town in a Mercedes Benz with 5 snowboards attached to the roof with garden string, gaffa tape and bits of plastic. It was 15 hours in the car for the JettBlack boys who followed their sat-nav to a mountain pass in Switzerland covered in 2 metres of snow - immediately demonstrating why paper maps are not only cheaper, but also better. Tignes was a sight for sore eyes. It's home territory for Ian, Sam, Scoph and Shitgoose and even the location of our Turbojugend chapter. It was also the first mountain resort that the Gents played back in 2006 after Ian brought them out for a two-day mission. Tignes also featured in the first Shithouse Tour and can be considered the alpine Dalik HQ. It's also home to The Dragon Lodge, (Tignes' finest lodge and sponsor of both Shithouse Tours), owned by John Bassett - Welshman and all-round great chap. This was to be our home for the next few nights.
Arriving at almost 2 am, we noticed that most of the staff were so shit-faced that we thought they had been drinking aftershave or something. Skippy, the Aussie host was absolutely gone on J&B, while the chefs were all haggard on table wine (chefs' standard). Tignes’ free-ride veteran, Will Hughes, was sober and trying to get all the other staff to go to bed.
We arose early, sorted Jettblack out with boards and kit and sent them out on the nursery slope to hone their shred skills before heading up to the Val Park. We goofed about, hitting the wall ride, flat-down and C-rail during a social afternoon session with some local guys and seasonnaires. The following night the bands were playing in town and the anticipation was mounting.
Held at the Loop Bar in Le Lac, the gig was electric - so powerful that it made a few "chart music listeners" dash for the door the moment Jettblack unleashed their musical vengeance. If only they knew how sick the night was to become. Both the bands were on fine form, delivering to the crowd a display of pure rock; undoubtedly the best original live music event of the winter. Jettblack intuitively got the girls stripping down to skin-tight Jettblack tees and worked up into a frenzy.
Atko and Dougie were playing to the crowd like musical showmen, ready to please their congregation who responded with wild moshing and wonky crowd surfing. Thanks to Jamie and Morgan, the beer flowed and vodka was passed about all night long. French Dalik rider Pom drank Guinness from a three-pint jug through a straw. Tignes held it well.
In standard nighttime tradition, we all piled into local nightspot Jack's Club for more booze and rancid shots. The music took a huge U-turn and the dancing got suspicious, with Tattoo showing his pole dancing skills.
Before our afternoon gig in Val the following day, the riders were lucky enough to fit an afternoon power shred down Frances’ finest piste - the Pallafour! After a rad jib session pulling all kinds of daft drunken moves out, our sights were set on the boardercross course for some cosmic drops to flats over the berms - rock by night, shred by day = no hangovers! How could it possibly get better?
Val d’Isere old-timer Gumby was the next host for our rock and roll antics - his newly acquired chill out bar V-Spot was the location for the Val gig. Whilst customers were busying themselves sending e-mails and waking up over an afternoon latte, along came twenty or so denim- and leather-clad longhaired wrongers to set up for gig number five. For the non-riders, hangovers seemed to be lasting longer as the days rolled by - Tom looked like bad shit after a north Indian curry. As you can imagine for a bar that sells more cappuccinos and lattes at this time of the day - the looks were those of disbelief, coming from both sides.
Even though the sun had barely touched the horizon, Jettblack roared the bar into life, causing quite a stir outside. With the Aussie barman doing his best to get everyone off their chops - necking shots and snorting vodka, the sleepy internet bar turned into a rock and roll fest at a time of day when you’d be thinking of having a cup of England’s finest tea or an après beer. But we were in France and the only things on the menu were rock, booze and if you were in the path of a certain Aussie - Gas Chambers i.e. vodka fumes up the snout. The gig went down really well and after pizzas and a few scoops we headed back to the Dragon Lodge – arriving back in Tignes in time for last orders.
Mayrhofen - Jib Vid
After a storming Tarentaise double act we got straight back on the road to Geneva for our second Mayrhofen visit - more nighttime action and the Jib Vid. The Gastoff Zillertal was the host for our 6th gig, and what a night! The guys and girls certainly know how to party hard. The atmosphere was like lightning, with an uncontrollable room full of boozehounds and Dutch teenagers, their minds warped by the sounds of the bands. The crowd simply couldn’t get enough. Both bands were electric. Atko’s quick-witted tongue turned the gig into a subtle comedy night, abusing anyone who’s drunken mouth of actions deemed them worthy. There were plenty who were worthy by the end of the night. Stu played up his naturist alter ego and slammed the drums wearing only the now infamous man-pants. While the girls egged the bands on for more, the guys just wanted to fight, while Emily Williams, simply enjoyed a spot of stage diving from the bar into plenty of welcoming arms - the night was dirty.
The Gastoff proved a major hit with all whom witnessed the show and after a ridiculously lame amount of sleep, 7 am came and it was time to check out what was happening with this years Jib Vid. Mark Ruparelia, Richard Hookes and James "Woodsy" Woods had joined forces to become Team Dalikfodda - our job as Shithouse Tour roadies was to dress up as zombies and just act like tools for the day - easy. I spent the morning shooting Tyler Chorlton throwing down some sick spins on the monster booters, and Ian and Shitgoose having a skate trick session down the stair set, while Mark and his crew set about filming their vid.
Ian came fully prepared with zombie attire - rancid blood, bad clothes that we could destroy, prosthetic ears and loads of face paint. This caused quite a scene at the side of the park. For about three hours a crew of zombie shredders lined the sides of the various obstacles, waiting for Mark's word.
With only 24 hours for all contestants to shoot and edit their two-minute clip, time was of the essence. That night Mark asked Jettblack to set up their gear in his basement to record a live instrumental to use on the clip. So it was that after dark, a bunker-like Austrian cellar that could have been the scene for a nasty snuff movie, became the venue for a slamming live recording of Jettblack thrashing some horror show beats and riffs.
While the Jib Vid team worked through the night editing their film, we all relieved our sleep deprivation to prepare for a relaxed shoot in the park the following day. I teamed up with Hamish McKnight, development couch for the Great Britain freestyle team to shoot with some of his crew. Jack Shackleton, Rip Curl young gun, was flying, throwing down some sick 7’s and cab 5’s while Nelson Pratt - UK kicker legend - was destroying the bottom jump. For the afternoon session lots of shredders got sick to the power of awesome on the rainbow. Thrashmore, Richard Hookes, Shitgoose, and even Schoph got into the session, but it was Dalikfodda team rider Will Tarbet that outshined them all with his lazy gap to flat indy combos - killing it.
We even found the time for a quality après session with Billy, Schoph, Ian and Shitgoose gate-crashing a bar playing Austrian-folk-techno! Afternoon beers and silly dancing RULES!
Zurich
After saying goodbye to the cool guys at the Gasthoff Zillertal, Shitgoose left all his snowboard kit and we headed onto the road again. The trip to Zurich was the leg which had been top of the conversation list - meeting the legendary Jamie Lynn, snowboarding pioneer and not to mention a huge influence to a lot of our crew.
Schoph and Ian, along with the help of Dragon Alliance and Sam Nelson, had arranged to meet Kandi Coded in Zurich. Whilst the Shithouse Tour was nearing its final leg, Kandi Coded were just beginning their Mystery Tour. The Zurich plan was for Schoph and Ian to take Kandi Coded to an AC/DC concert, while the rest of the crew headed up to Laax.
To much disappointment, the morning of the AC/DC gig, Schoph learned that the show was cancelled due to band exhaustion.
The day or so in Zurich was pretty weird. We met Kandi Coded in a skate shop somewhere in Zurich. Les had arranged for Jettblack to play an acoustic set at the shop, only we arrived about 4 hours late. The gig went ahead as planed, only to an audience of about two! At about the same time we met up with Sam Nelson, Dragon UK team manager.
Sam had arranged a gallery session at Zurich’s Blam Blam Blam gallery, an opportunity to get to know Kandi Coded, take some band photos lubricated with loads of booze and a bottle of tequila. Gallery owner Nic Ripz, artist and long-time snowboarder, wanted to get a graffiti session on with Jamie and proceeded to whitewash an existing wall painting. In the next 45 minutes Jamie and Nic produced an amazing wall visual, as the rest of the crew polished off a litre bottle of the Mexican thirst quencher and Jake Endino chilled on the sofa, trying to rest off his jet lag. Together with the ghetto lunch, using a shopping trolley as our table, it was quite a surreal afternoon.
Laax
Laax - the apex of our tour. The final gig and the biggest venue, with many friends traversing far and wide for the show together with a bunch of riders who were there for the Brits. The air was magical and despite our need for more sleep and probably (although no one would admit it) less booze, we were all on cloud nine.
We all kind of separated upon arrival in Laax. I was shooting the Brits for Mike Wayernhauser, Shitgoose was co-judging the shred events. Both Jettblack and The Gents were getting ready for their final gig, while Thrashmore, Sam Nelson and Schoph were seeing that Kandi Coded had what they needed - the pre-eventualities were being conditioned for the master of all gigs. We had 36 hours until showdown.
During those remaining hours we did unite, along with Jamie Lynn, Craig from White Lines and some other guys to blast some pistes and tree runs. That evening was like the last supper of the Shithouse Tour - what a turn out. Jettblack's manager Les arrived in town, a bunch of Sam's mates turned up and we descended upon an already busy pizzeria. The waitress took one look at about 25 hungry, half-boozed lads and her jaw dropped. Rad times!
Our stay at the Rider's Palace was really helped by the super nice Sonia and Stephanie, who helped us with any problems we had when it came to managing the bands - they were on it and always with a smile big enough to melt the heart of even the most hardened of thrash metal fans (I'm probably speaking for myself a little here). Also Michael should be thanked for his consistent booze assistance!
So here it was, the final day. I was shooting for Mike so I missed out on an opportunity of a lifetime - to shoot shred action with Jamie Lynn. Although I was pretty gutted, if I were to hand the photo reins to anyone, I'm pretty stoked that it was Nathan Gallagher. Anyway, I was secretly pretty happy to be working for Mike, and just hanging out with the bands was enough to keep me stoked for a long time. It was bluebird so Jamie, Schoph, Ian and the crew went out shooting for the day. Joined by young Will Smith and James Carr, team riders for Dragon, it was like "young guns meet legends". They shredded the pistes, all wanting to see Jamie pulling backside airs and he did not disappoint!
Rock and roll will never die as long as bands like Jettblack, Gentlemans Pistols and Kandi Coded are about. Like thunder and lightning, the bands produced electrical wizardry as the Rider's Palace witnessed a night of pure metal indulgence. Although the RP is no stranger to thrash metal: Scandinavian leather-clad satanists Turbonegro demonstrated their musical prowess there a few years back.
The night was not quite as carnage as the Garage or the Gasthoff, but the orgy of rock exhausted the venue. Jettblack warmed up the crowd, playing to a heavy following. It was like flashing to a nymphomaniac dwarf! The Gentlemans Pistols sped it up and slowed it down, with Dougie producing bass lines dirtier than a Russian whore celebrating her 25th year on the job.
We had been on tour now for something like 15 days - with most of them spent gigging or boozing, yet the atmosphere with the team was supersonic. The moment when we all got together for our group photo was emotional, sweat, blood and possibly some tears were shed during our time on the road. And we captured it all in a definitive moment - a united front for rock, shred and above all for our mantra: "to have a good time, all the time". The bands, the riders, the helpers, the hangers-on, the sponsors, the photographers, all together for a 2:30 am team photo that we feel defines the whole tour and the dalikfodda movement:
DEATHPUNK SNOWBOARD FOREVER!
Join Dalikfodda on Facebook or Myspace to find out about next year's tour or to buy a hat or tee to support your local deathpunk snowboarders.
www.dalikfodda.com
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www.myspace.com/gentlemanspistols
www.myspace.com/jettblackuk
www.myspace.com/kandicoded
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By Ian Ashmore and Sam Mellish
Photos by Sam Mellish
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