TURA SATANA/HUMAN WASTE PROJECT
"It is a tool box," Aimee giggles. "And what you're building is a miracle."
Human Waste Project are, it seems, made up to be here. And the Cathouse is just as pleased to have them, whooping along to their every slice of fuzzed-out metallic chaos. Aimee's vocals veer wildly between kitten-purr and caterwaul, while around her the rest of the band create a psychotically bass-heavy groove. If the crowd's reaction to unfamiliar material is anything to go by, Human Waste Project have the potention to be huge.
After their set, the idea is to hook Aimee up with her old mucker Tairrie for photos and an interview: but tipically, this doesn't happen. First of all, Tairrie appears to have gone AWOL. Then, when she is found, the message that filters through is that "the timing just isn't right".
When Tura Satana hit the stage, they sound exceptionally tight for a band who changed their guitarist just two weeks before the start of the tour. But more on that shortly...
THE FOLLOWING day, Tura Satana have an in-store signing session at Mike Lloyd's record shop in Wolverhampton.
For over an hour, a constantly shuffling stream of fans turn up clutching CDs and posters. By the time they're signed, most of the posters have had former guitarist Scott Ueda's face crossed out.
"After this I'll be opening my own jewellery store," Tairrie says, as yet another young fan presents her with a bracelet. She later tells how one girl turned up with the words 'I ain't yoour victim' carved into her arm.
"That took me back a bit," she says. "I am not here to tell people to hurt themselves-I'm not down with that ahit." For all of her hard-girl image, she visibly shudders at the thought of it.
After the signing it's over to tonight's venue, the Wulfrun Hall. It's still only 4pm, but already a gaggle of die-hard fans are gathered , most of them having come straight from the record store. Tura Satana's new guitarist Brian Harrar is out on the steps, happy to hang out and chat. He has, in fact, already been out earlier in the afternoon insisting the kids took him to McDonalds.
"This is my first time in Europe, and I'm loving it," he explains. "I don't wanna just go from the bus to the venue to the bus again, so I'll go out and grab someone and say, like, 'Hey, show me around'."
His enthusiasm is refreshing and understandable. A fortnight ago, he was in an unknown band called Spitkiss. Now, the likable 21-year-old is playing a headlining tour on the other side of the world.
"I was totally nervous on the first date in Bradford," he confesses. "Not with the size of the crowd, because with my old band I'd opened for Marilyn Manson. It was just the whole thing of playing with this band for the first time.
"The whole thing came about when I was told by a mutual acquitance about this vacancy in the band. I just called up and I had a really good feeling that I'd get it-not because I'm brilliant musically, but because I felt like I knew what they were trying to do. I quit my job and school for the audition and everything just clicked straight away. I had two weeks to learn 13 songs, but now I feel like I've been in this band forever."
ON BOARD Tura Satana's tourbus, Tairrie B offers a beer and apologises for messing us around last night. "I didn't mean to be a dick to you or anyone," she says. "Everyone likes to believe I am this total f**king control freak, but I just want things to go certain way. I do my job and when certian people aren't doing theirs I feel like a lot of the burden gets put onto me."