With the demise of Granny’s came the Bitter end. It’s now known as the Better End, due to lawsuit threat from the club in NYC with the same name.

On the night they opened the band room in there, they asked Twisted Roots to play, and for us to open. What a fun time to be had.

For some reason, the powers that be felt that we should share a drumkit to save time. That kit was to be Sonny’s. (drummer from Twisted Roots) This pissed me off to no end, and I verbalized my thoughts, to no avail. I had to use this kit. Having to do that is very difficult. It’s unfamiliar, inconvenient, and plus, it was a piece of shit. Sonny is one of my favorite rock drummers, but his gear has always sucked. He just made up for it with his great playing.

As we took the stage and started playing, I immediately noticed how much quieter his drums were. To compensate for that, I hit harder. And harder. And harder. At one point, a cymbal nut came loose, and the cymbal flew off the stand, and hit me in the face. It hurt, but it only angered me more. I beat the living shit out of his kit, but somehow managed to not break anything.

When they went on, the first two songs were flawless. At the start of the third song, Sonny’s drums just seemed to collapse in front of him. And being the guy that he is, he laughed, went with it, and still kicked ass. Of the dozens of times we played together after that, we never shared a kit again.