Interview with the Vampires
Type O Negative are traveling through the night putting the bite on new
fans across the country. Live Wire's Tomas Pascual gets his own coffin
space on board the vampire express as he spends three days on the road with
the kings of gothic metal. Sink your teeth into it!

     Dark shadows illuminate their destiny as they travel through the
artery of rock n' roll lore. Waves crash and a melancholic melody echoes
through the great house at Collinwood, as a reflection of the tristesa that
accompanies passionate love lost. No more nights of blood and fire.
Envision a promenade overlooking the New York harbor in an affluent section
of Brooklyn. A peaceful park full of life, trees, and birds surrounded by
a decaying urban jungle. A place to reflect on prior distress and disorder.
A cross road for Peter. The calm before the storm for Type O Negative.

     The release of Bloody Kisses was followed by rumors of a breakup, no
live shows, and the departure of original drummer, Sal. A few months
following the album's release, Johnny Kelly joined and Type O played their
first show since the album's release at Brooklyn's L'Amour. A sold out
venue with heightened expectations witnessed Type O at their purest. The
show was submerged in feedback and aural disarray. A total disaster,
insuring the band were at the doorstep of success. In line with Fredrich
Neitzche's philosophy, from total destruction comes triumph. There is no
birth without blood. That night, backstage before the show, Peter assured
me that "touring for this record will be as little as possible within the
five boroughs of N. Y." So why am I en route to Reno, Nevada to meet up
with the Type O guys, who have been touring nonstop for about 15 months, as
Bloody Kisses approaches gold status? Is it because, as Peter would say
"all men are liars?" That's a cool line, but honestly I believe it was in
the cards.

Day I:

     A municipal of slot machines encompasses the Reno airport. It is
REALLY tacky. At the hotel I meet up with the Type O tour manager, Mike
Amato. He was asked to be Type O's tour manager after the band saw his
cunning while working with Motley Crue, when they were on tour with them.
"When they first asked me, I wasn't sure if I should do it because I didn't
know them. But even though I was not from Brooklyn (like the rest of the
Type O tour squad) they made me feel completely welcome right away. It was
only supposed to be for a couple of months initially, but here I am long
after that. I've been offered to work on other tours but I've turned them
down because this is a band that deserves that type of loyalty," Mike
explains. Mike is cordial but assertive, someone the band clearly places
their complete confidence in. As we chat in the hotel room a clearly
hungover and somewhat dazed Kenny walks in and protests "That old bitch at
the front desk yelled at me when I asked her where i could get coffee."

     Shortly after Peter comes in, and in no time Peter and I are on our
way to the Z-Rock studios for his interview promoting this evening's
headlining show at the Fallout Shelter. The station announced the gig on
the way to the studio after which Pete, while gazing out of the car window,
remarks, "This looks like Staten Island," as we drive through downtown
Reno. At the station greeting the receptionist Peter introduces me as "his
body guard." His naturally dry sense of humor carries the interview, to the
chuckles of the in-the-studio bystanders.

     Later at the venue, Mike Amato informs Pete of another interview that
needed to be done later that afternoon. A remark to which Pete replies by
sarcastically showing his teeth in a vampire-ish hiss and flinching
mannerism, similar to the way Christopher Lee reacts to a crucifix when
portraying Dracula. The crew soundchecks and the band wallows in "dead
time," the aspect of touring that devitalizes and provokes restless
anxiety. How does the band cope? Peter strums a new song, "Green Man" on
his unplugged bass in the dressing room. Johnny, while defiantly drinking
Bud, in contrast to the band-favored Heineken, explains, "I like to read,
usually books on the Mafia, serial killers, or dead rock stars. I'm over
halfway through a book on John Gotti." He proudly notes that an incident
(from another book) where Mafia hit-men hung their victims like meat and
elicited their blood into their bathtub, "happened right by where I live in
Brooklyn." I'd be less than honest if I didn't point out that I found that
cool.

     After sound check, Josh and Pete go to nap, Mike gets concerned about
security, Kenny disappears and Johnny and myself begin boozing it up. The
local openers go on an hour early. Pete returns shortly prior to having to
go on stage and opens his customary bottle of red wine. Tonight it's
Seghesio red, "vintage Tuesday," Pete points out. After two prior
cancellations in Reno, that were beyond Type O's control, at long last they
played tonight.

     After the show, it turns out that there is a gay bar by the upstairs
club bathroom, by which some girl instigates a bewildered Mr. Steele on an
unreasonable impulse. "She punched me." Pete explains in disbelief, before
reminiscing about his days as a New York City Parks Department worker. "A
day does not go by that I don't think about it. I miss it extremely. I
loved my job. But the city is not what it used to be and I feel it is
collapsing on itself. I also left because I had never taken a chance at
anything in my whole life, and I wanted to just really try something."
Johnny and I hop around the nearby casinos with a couple of guys from the
road crew, while everyone else goes to sleep. Over a late $1.99 steak
dinner, the conversation centers on trying to figure out who had left a
'mess' on the crew's bus. I'll not comment on what the nature of the 'mess'
was...

     Before long into the first day, it was apparent that this was a close
knit family touring unit; despite that the band members often go their
separate ways, they are all in synch with each other and conscious of their
individual bounds.

Day II:

     I check out of the hotel room close to noon and meet up with Peter on
the band's tour bus. We will soon be on our way to Sacramento, CA for the
next Queensryche date of the tour. As the sun shines, my head pounds. Peter
and I talk while he eats Granola cereal. He tells me about his childhood
living in Brooklyn. "I was an average kid. I did well in school. I was
raised in a Russian Orthodox and Roman Catholic family. So I got it from
both sides. I went to a Catholic school for eight years. My parents were
not strict in making me do anything. They were strict in the way that if I
didn't do what they wanted, they attempted to make me feel very guilty
about it. So I wasn't forced to go to church every Sunday, but if I didn't
there would be mind games played about it. Parents aren't perfect, and I'm
sure they thought they were doing the right thing. I don't blame them. I
have five older sisters, great parents. I was a very fortunate kid. I was
introverted, did not have much self confidence. I was into science fiction
and horror movies a lot. I always had free reign of my basement as a kid. I
always had fish tanks, cats and dogs. I love animals. I didn't have too
many friends so I spent a lot of time in the house."

     "Carnivore was a way of attempting to deal with my masculinity," Pete
says referring to his pre-Type O outfit. "Everything I wanted to be I threw
into that band. The violence, the testosterone rage, and so on. People
always tried to throw us in with Venom a lot. That was a huge compliment
for me. But between the first and second album, I was going to a lot of
hardcore shows and hanging out with Agnostic Front and this and that. It
definitely rubbed off on me. Today, as opposed to back then, I don't think
there is a hardcore scene anymore."

     When it came time to form Type O, Pete didn't have to look far. "I've
known Josh since I was 12, since he moved on my block. Kenny and Johnny
I've known since the time I was 18 when I first met Louie from Carnivore,
and he was from that neighborhood, which was about a mile from my house."

     As we talked, Kenny was passed out in the bus. Then like a sudden
crackle of thunder, Mike A. Comes into the bus announcing, "Show's
canceled, we're going to Vegas!!" As my jaw drops, Pete moans, "Oh no, how
long is this drive now?!" I came along for a tour story, I sure as hell got
one. Time to re-plot the course. Back in Mike's hotel room Pete lounges on
the bed, Mike hits the phone, and I'm momentarily stressed. What about the
plane tix, hotel reservations, etc.? Pete assures that, "anything you might
be thinking Mike is already doing, so don't even bother saying anything."
The crew's bus had already left for Sacramento and after answering a string
of 6 consecutive 911 pages was informed to head for Vegas. Within half an
hour everything had been taken care of and we are on route to Vegas.

     The tranquil scenic beauty of the Nevada desert and thin rocky
Mountain air is naturally intoxicating. But as hour upon hour passes by,
the dead-time anxiety begins to sink in. This is where nerves of steel are
tested for endurance. Deafened by the surrounding solitude of the rocky
Mountains, Josh breaks the silence by remarking, "Now you get the real
taste of the road-the suffering. It's a thrill a minute." Although this is
a significant drive, he points out, "There have been times when we have
spent 24 hours driving on this bus." Pete reads a chemistry text, and
Johnny gazes at a video of Plant/Page on MTV. "Do you really find this
interesting?" Pete asks him. Kenny eventually wakes up, thinking we're en
route to Sacramento. "Kenny, sit down, we have to tell you something," Mike
says.

     As we drive, Pete explains some of the lessons he's learned about
traveling extensively in such close proximity, "What I learned was that no
matter how much you love somebody, and I l love the guys, it is hard to
spend that much time with anyone, no matter how great your feelings are for
them. I think we just became a lot more tolerant of each other. I didn't
really learn anything bout them being that I've known them for so long. I'm
the only member in this band that doesn't smoke so we had to lay down some
rules, because I felt it unfair to me, and Mike, who also does not smoke.
So we compromise. Nothing drastic, we all have a lot of respect for each
other and that goes a long way."

     "A lot of people think we're rich, very glamorous, and there are women
every night, and we have drugs shoved up our noses and our asses, and it's
very different from that. Josh, Mike and I have headaches every single day.
I can never plan a day, like what happened today for instance. Things like
this happen almost everyday. I spend a lot of time on the phone. I call my
mother, I talk to Louie and Mark from Carnivore a lot. I don't want people
to think that I think I am superior. Like last night that girl told me to
my face that I was full of myself, then punched me in the stomach. Good
thing I've been doing a lot of sit ups lately. I don't know what her motive
was."

     We saw enough of Beatles video footage to choke Yoko with, but the
Little Rascals livened the mood significantly. I had forgotten about
Farina. Eventually ears popped and drowsiness takes its toll. The bus stops
in a miniature town whose sole life force was built around a McDonalds (I'm
totally serious). The drive continues. And then trough the vast desert a
city of lights flickers in the distance. Civilization? Mecca? "This is the
white trash leg of the tour," Pete proclaims. Oh...

     Shattered are my images of high rolling Mafia bosses and James Bond
playing poker with KGB agents. This is really white trash hell. Waiting on
line to check into the hotel Pete's expressions are subtly vociferous. As
he observes the infinite rows of slot machines clammering he asks, "What
you mean the disgust I have on my face?"

     Pete, Mike, and I go to dinner, where a Delta Burke look-alike waits
on us interrupting our conversation every 3 seconds. Pete reflects on the
band's early days. "When I first formed Repulsion (Type O Negative) after
Carnivore broke up, I had a totally different concept in mind for the band.
The whole concept of it mutated and it just became what it is now. About
five years ago I had hit a critical period in my life, where I changed very
much as a person. I consider the person I used to be dead, and I'm glad
that he is. Insecure, frightened, confused, much like a lot of people I
know today. Breaking up with that girl was a catalyst. It was the straw
that broke the camel's back. I was with her about 2 1/2 years and it got to
the point where I couldn't even talk to her anymore 'cause she was going to
do what the hell she was going to do, no matter how I felt or what I said.
I couldn't live with her or without her, so I was in limbo. I broke up with
her, and she went crawling, but not back to me. So that hurt a lot." But in
the end it was a positive experience, I add. "Definitely, I could not have
stayed with her anyway, it was just a matter of time."

     "The best reward for me is when people tell me the songs I wrote
helped them through a hard time, or they were happy to know they were not
alone in this world with their feelings. And that someone else felt the
same way they did," Pete reveals.

     The rest of the band and crew has scattered. Johnny and Kenny were at
the Hard Rock, and Josh was up $300 at the tables. After dinner Pete and
Mike, evidently the two mature adults of the caravan went to sleep, while I
set out to try and meet up with the rest of the band.

Day III:

     Meeting up with the band on the bus about five minutes late that noon,
they informed me of the $50 fine for being tardy. Pete reveals, "I got up
early this morning and stood in line with the old people at the hotel for
breakfast." Did thoughts of euthanasia creep in perhaps? Certain members of
the crew wrote 'I will not gamble' about fifty times on a black board that
is in the backstage dressing room at the Las Vegas arena. Immediately upon
arrival at the arena, the guard sitting at the door remembers Pete and co.
"You're sitting right where I left you." jokes Peter to the old guy. It so
happens that Vegas was the last date of Type O's tour with Pantera, where a
notorious toilet paper incident had taken place between Type O and the
Pantera guys while they were onstage. Pete explains, "We had a lot of fun
with Pantera. Phil would come out and do songs with us. The whole idea was
to disrupt each other's show as much as possible. They would try to lasso
us on stage. They would constantly fuck with Kenny. They were throwing
rubber animals out for him to trip over. It was all fun. It was the best
tour we ever did, and I doubt any tour will ever come close."

     They get a sound-check tonight, which is uncommon. The enormous
'green-dusk-around-trees' backdrop is simple yet effectively atmospheric.
The Queensryche guys are private, and their audience is older, in parallel
contrast to their previous tour with Pantera. The set list on the Pantera
tour catered to a harder audience, with some faster cuts. The set tonight
went in the opposite direction. Diversity of emotion, a distinct advantage
Type O have over most all other bands. The tour is over for me, I would be
flying home the next afternoon, but the routine continued for them. The
Hammergear keeps spinning for them. Soon Type O would be off to do European
festivals and then back to the US to polish off the second leg of
Queensryche dates, possibly with one day off in July. The seemingly
infinite tour continues for Type O. Pete departs with one final thought, "I
used to think that I didn't have a life, now I know I don't have a life."
Leben Heit Leben-Life is Life.




____________________________________________________________________________
email sharon@panix.com

"A system built by the sweat of the many
creates assassins to kill off the few."

Guns on the Roof--The Clash