Ken's Dirty Dives

  New year, new me? I've never resorted to uttering such bollocks in my life. However, maybe this year is actually going to be different. I usually end up writing these blogs by finding something in the world that annoys me greatly, having a giant moan about it, and then drinking it off in some bar I happen to upon wherever I’m travelling. I would say that my blogs from Barcelona and Lisbon were well written examples of this. I have one written about a certain phone company that shall remain nameless, and a bar in Victoria BC as well, and boy is it ever a moan. This time though, I’m going to change course, vier left, and for once, not be such a miserable prick. Yes of course, January felt like it was 812 days long. That fat orange cunt has ruined relations between America and NATO, as well as breaking international laws left right and centre. Continues to threaten to invade sovereign nations such as Greenland and Iceland. Canada as well. All while tensions with Iran and Israel have...

I've been feeling particularly uninspired as of late. I'm not sure if its the change of season. The weather. The news. Or maybe because in the 103 days between the first gig of the year in Thunder Bay and sitting in Hong Kong International, I used up an entire decades worth of serotonin and dopamine, and now I'm running on an oily rag. Maybe some fish oil would help? That would make sense though, between tour and vacations I've been in 17 countries this year, and if I counted correctly, been on 15 flights. Which frankly, is ridiculous. Touring is exhausting, and so is the well documented "post tour blues", but theres also the fact that since tour, and vacations I've also had to get a new job for a few reasons. Mainly because I wasn't getting paid. Pretty solid reasoning if you ask me, I work to get paid, not because I need the practice, and certainly not to be given a cheque and told "hey mate, please don't put this in the bank for awhile...

I’ve never been one to shy away from an unpopular opinion. For example, I hate Seinfeld. And The Beatles, but please allow me to expand upon my latest one. I can only equate my underwhelming feelings about Japan to the same happy and excited feelings at the beginning of a new relationship. And just before the honeymoon phase is over, life becomes more real, the diffuser on the bedside table becomes your first joint purchase, you suddenly get the “I’ve been thinking text” . So much hype and excitement, followed by the feeling that a rug has been pulled out from underneath your feet. And you’re left feeling sad, and despondent. This has happened to me before, in relationships and travelling, as I’m sure it has to a great many others, but as a result, I vow to never return to Vegas.  Heresy aside, I think the underlying problem here is social media. Think about it. People only portray themselves as having a great time, and everything being excellent online. People go on their holidays...

  Roughly this time last year, I set a goal for myself to read at least one book a month for 2025. No particular topic, or subject matter in mind, just simply read a dozen books. It’s safe to say I’m on track to complete that mission, and I might ever surpass it. The constant back and forth to Europe for vacations and tours has helped, but most recently, a 14 hour flight to Tokyo has sealed the deal. In at least three or four of the books I’ve read this year, people have talked about how amazing Japan is. Doug Tompkins, who founded The North Face clothing company had a love for their art and architecture. Anthony Bourdain was besotted with their food. Jermey Clarkson adores their motorways. I have heard people raving about this place for years. However, after being here a week, I hate to say it, but I have a slightly different outlook. Let me start of by saying Tokyo is incredible, and I am happy I’m here. As I’m writing this, I’m connected to wifi and travelling at 320kph on a bul...

I always get giddy and excited when I fly east across to the pond. Whether I'm flying in to Helsinki or Oslo, London or Barcelona, the level of excitement I feel when the pilot descends below the clouds, and the city in question comes into view is as addicting as heroin. I love many things about being on this side of the ditch. I love seeing old bricks. I love how the French will riot over a soiled baguette. I love the idea of spending an entire weekend going to fifteen different shops just to buy enough ingredients to make a simple chilli con carne. As inconvenient as that may sound, there are many benefits to this. One being you get to know your local baker and your green grocer by name, and these interactions will lower your levels of social anxiety, thus making you less of a wanker in public. Which is good for everyone. The other being you're not supporting some corporate shareholders who live on a yacht and don't know how much the price of yogurt is, and surely that...

 I found myself looking longingly at a pint of Norrlands Guld on a perfect summers day, somehow in Malmö bloody Sweden. The condensation ran down the outside of the glass as if it was an advert on the tele, and for a brief moment, in a room full of people, I blocked out the noise, and asked myself “how the fuck did I find myself here?!” .  I took a sip of victory juice in one of the most unusual venues or bars I’ve ever seen, let alone played in. It can only be described as Tony Hawks wet dream,  (the cool one, not the author). There’s a giant Pistonhead skull, and a half pipe. Lampshades that in a former life were missiles. Pentagrams made out of rebar. A headless mannequin in my dressing room, and for the first time on this world tour, shortbreads in the green room. I’m a simple man, I don’t ask for much on the road but a cuppa tea and a few shortbreads are the simplest of pleasures. This pint felt like a little bit of a personal celebration for me, because as of 2:38p...

  Why has driving in the UK become such a miserable experience? For reasons unknown to me, it took well over six and a half hours for us to drive from Glasgow to Leeds. A mere 224 miles. The British army used to walk that in less time, then, like a caravanist, set up in a muddy field and do all the things that armies do. From what I can make of the misery that is driving from A to B in the UK, is that the Greta Thunberg’s of the universe have made it their sole purpose in life to ensure the motor enthusiasts of the world can’t enjoy such simple pleasures.  I fear in years to come, us rev heads will be relegated to the doldrums of some boarded up gymnasium in an abandoned school. What that is to say, is that the world’s gotten it in its head that we all need to be driving EV’s because a few polar bears might go hungry. But EV’s aren’t exciting. They’re microwaves on wheels with a radio, designed by a committee of do gooders. Whereas a 1957 Caddy was designed by a bloke named Bo...

Ozzy Osbourne died a few days ago. This news brought a deep and profound sense of sadness to me, as I'm sure it did to millions of others around the world. I even shed an actual tear singing “Mama, I’m Coming Home” as I drove down Dufferin St. The bat eating madman, whom I'm sure kept a nice diary, was truly one of a kind. Between him and a few other notable industry troubadours, he’s directly responsible for birthing Heavy Metal as we know it. Black Sabbath is without question, Genesis. Imagine living in Birmingham in 1970 and seeing Sabbath at The Crown Pub? It would be like witnessing the birth of a new galaxy. Brian Cox eat your heart out (the astrophysicist, not the actor) . When people like Ozzy pass on, the world quickly floods the newspapers and socials with memorials and memories, telling stories and sharing jokes, and for a brief moment, the world is united. I'm certain that when it's my turn to fall off the perch I'll be forgotten by the time the pot of t...

Why don’t departure lounges have more plug sockets? It’s incredibly difficult for me to figure out what to be mad about this week. Barcelona is beautiful, and despite the fact I’ve walked 51kms in two days, I’m very relaxed. The weather is perfect. Half of the trees have food growing on them. Every café serves incredible coffee. Bakeries and patisseries are aplenty. The beers are €3. The architecture is eye watering, and thanks to Napoleon, very Parisian. Frankly I’m struggling to find a reason why I don’t live here. I could teach people how to scuba dive and live on cured ham. The cost of living would be cheaper and for a full card in a game of bingo, I wouldn’t have to suffer through any more winters. Sounds like a Charles Perrault novel   To top off all the previously mentioned pros to this city, as if there weren’t enough, there seems to be a massive rock scene in the area and waving the banner at the helm of the rock & metal community is Psycho Rock Bar. This little gaf is...

  Bom dia Lisbon. Why the fuck are there olives on everything? For what it's worth, the construction game has gone to absolute shit. My advice to anyone thinking they'd like to be a tradie, is don't. Chances are you'll be 3 years into an apprenticeship and utterly hate your life. What you should do instead, (having never worked a day on the tools) is go to school for project management. This way you'll get a nice certificate, a fancy job title, and then you'll "run" the job. If you think I'm just being facetious, I'm not. That's the direction the construction industry has gone. World wide. Much like the music industry, construction has become a game run by bean counters that are usually so lost they couldn't find themselves in a mirror. Having spent the last 8 months going to battle on a particularly grizzly site, and since occupancy is upon us, I decided it was time to leave for a few weeks and get some sun. This was a wise choice as...

 As I'm writing this, I am sipping on a gallon of tea and fighting a (albeit losing) battle that would rival the Somme with a vicious hangover. Foolishly, I lied to myself and said I wasn't going to drink last night "maybe two pints and then I'll be on the near beers and go home" . However, no man is an island and whilst I’m certainly no plenipotentiary, I am one to make executive decisions when called upon. So, some pour decisions were made, beers were consumed, and a hotel room was booked at 1:40am, but we couldn't not. Because last night was a special occasion. Last night was the Saigon Hookers farewell forever show, and sadly much to my chagrin, this isn't a KISS farewell either, this was farewell, goodbye, so long, adios, adjø! For those unfamiliar with the Hookers, simply put, hand on heart, they're one of the greatest rock n roll bands of all time. No frills, no gimmicks, no nonsense, just 5 dudes playing great songs and havin’ a damn good time ...

 It's been a minute since I've turned any of the scribbles from my journal into something that's semi worthy of reading by the general populous. Lately I’ve been drowning in work, mostly dealing with truculent bastards on a daily basis and to say it’s emotionally taxing, would be a gross understatement. The self diagnosed seasonal depression hits hard this time of year too, it’s constantly cold and dark by 5pm leaving me feeling lonelier than Kunta Kinte at a klan rally. Nevertheless, with the advent of increased cyclists on the road and the chirping of birds in the trees, it can only mean one thing; spring has  finally  sprung and I couldn't be fucking happier. Since spring has sprung and the days are finally above zero more consistently, I thought I'd wipe the cobwebs off my biro and get back into the swing of things because in a few short weeks I’ll be scanning my first of many boarding passes for the year and heading outta town. Much like last year, this year is...

I realize it's an insane time to reminisce on the good times I had in Berlin, given the recent events that have unfolded south of the border that loosely tie in with German history. However, fuck The Donald, Musk and everyone else that wants to align themselves with those self-serving, underhanded, snide, extremist pieces of shit. This blog is only big enough for one us to be filled with hatred, and that's me. Having spent a number of weeks in this glorious country, travelling from gigs in Dusseldorf too Marienmünster, or nights off in picturesque looking towns like Gehrden & Bremerhaven, I have to say I love it here. We’ve played some amazing shows, met some greet folks and created some lifelong memories. For those of you who have never ventured out this way, Germany is extremely distinct in many ways. From their biers and schnitzel, to their architecture and nightlife, the dirndls and lederhosen’s, it’s all very Germanic and frankly wonderful.  We rocked up to Badehaus fo...