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Maximum RNR: Foiling Robberies And Dodging Glass

The gang of miscreants that make up Toronto's Maximum RNR recently piled into a stinky van and headed West towards Vancouver. As usual, hijinx ensued. Guitarist Keith Carman reports on the highlights.

Cast of Characters:
Louis Durand: Singer
Keith Maurik: Guitar
Mike Sydney: Bass
Mike Childs: Drums
Keith Carman: Guitar

What’s the single most masochistic thing any rocker can do? Some might say sign with a major or maybe actually sit through the opening band. I beg to differ. Try doing a cross-Canada tour with four other smelly jerks. In under two weeks. Zing!

Originally dubbed the Third Time’s A Harm Tour, Maximum RNR’s latest opus was quickly renamed the Balls Of Ice Tour — partly in honour of our buddies Three Inches Of Blood, but more because it was so friggin’ cold out there. Anyway, after seeing more blood than an operating room, we went back to the original name. Lovely.

So, at the risk of offending the weaker of heart and to keep this relatively brief, I present you with the finer moments of Maximum RNR’s Harm Tour. Of course, none of the shenanigans have to do with when we were actually playing, ‘cause for the first time ever we managed to get through each set in its entirety! Even Winnipeg! Who’s a pro now?

We could see the headlines: "Dirty Toronto Rock Band Foils Robbery Attempt!" Alas, it wasn’t to be. Pulling in to gas up at some station, we quickly realized the kiosk door was locked. Two women inside were allegedly holding up the joint. The clerk was smart enough to lock the doors, but not to close the security glass between the counter and the store, so the assailants jumped her and beat the shit out of her before trying to make a break for the back door. Keith Maurik and I became The Dynamic Duo, catching them, shoving one to the ground, grabbing her legs and throwing her back inside. She kicked and screamed at us as we held the door shut until the cops came. Yeah… the cops who gave a weak "thanks" and promptly made us pay for the gas. Jerks. Footnote: this was the day after a friend of ours got shot outside of some bar. What the hell are you ‘Peggers doing to each other?

Of course, we had to be the shit disturbers on the return trip when we were invited to do an interview at the local University radio station. Word to the wise: NEVER interview all five members of MRNR at the same time… especially live! The conversation started somewhere around buggery and wound up with Louis and I telling the tale of getting kicked off our own radio show for defecating into a styrofoam cup on air. Then some dude called in saying he was screwing his girlfriend while talking to us. The station manager was NOT amused. It was, like, Friday morning drive, 10 a.m.

OK, I love Albertan fans, but you’re all fuckin’ nuts! For some reason, smashing beer bottles off the stage is the New Thing at MRNR gigs (not at us... just on the edge of the stage) which is funny, but not so cool when your knees are bleeding and you can feel glass hurtling past your face at 100 mph. One dude got so crazy he bashed a microphone stand around, almost knocking my teeth out and battering himself into complete bloodiness. Seriously… the dude looked like something out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, only he was beaming from ear to ear. Freaks.

Steve Servos, I’m gonna kill you! How awesome was it to have fellow Chart writer and all-around good guy Steve Servass come barreling into our gig at the last second? It RULED! But then, after Lord knows how many rye-and-colas, the gangly clown informs me that he has to catch a plane at 5 a.m. and I HAVE TO DRIVE HIM! Naturally I hadn’t gone to sleep since like, The Esso Job for various reasons of partying stupidity and this guy wants to pull an all-nighter? We wound up sitting in the security parking zone giggling at some… ah hell, I don’t even remember the drive back to the hotel.

Gee, there’s nothing like playing at the corner of Main and Hastings to make a bunch of guys with, like, thousands of dollars in musical equipment nervous. From the lovebirds smoking crack off our bumper to some guy trying to sell me the boots he stole from the opening band, we knew it would be fun. But not as much fun as watching the promoter beat the shit out of his best friend through the window of a Chevy Nova! Threatening to take off drunk, Our Fearless Promoter used a little knuckled persuasion to knock his buddy unconscious and take the keys. Then he sidled into the driver’s seat and peeled out like Paul Tracy at Molson Indy. I don’t know how many beers he had that night...

What the hell were we thinking? What started off as an innocent gig turned into getting royally soused up, hijacking some poor girl’s station wagon and beating it out to the university to break into the pathology department — the morgue, really. Sneaking through some hospital (narrowly avoiding the infectious diseases ward), we managed to fandangle our way into where they keep the photos of syphilis gone horribly wrong. Let that be a lesson to stay chaste on tour. We never did find the dead guys, though…

Thunder Bay:
War On The Shore, baby! Like, a weekend-long metal festival. Wow. Even we were taken aback by the frenzy. The highlights: smashing the shit out of Keith Maurik’s guitar head, the guy that was thrown through a plate glass window and subsequently rushed to hospital and the guy that puked all over the pit and only a few of us noticed while everyone danced away in it. Honourable mention to the dude that was going away to jail the next day who got WASTED, started a brawl and was kicked out.

Naturally there are far more stories, but for the really juicy ones, you’ll have to ask in person... price is a couple beers!

Source: Chart Attack

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