If I said our last tour was "SLASHTASTIC" would you abandon this blog immediately? No? Not enough to scare you off from the cheese-fest sure to follow? Damn! Unless they give me license to run amok, talking rampant shit about trivial idiosyncrasies or stupid bandwagons I'm not hip enough to hop on (and would rather burn down), I'm still not much for writing blogs on demand (I mean what am I, Netflix? Then where's my $8.99?...monthly bitches). But maybe this is just my chance to contribute something POSITIVE to the web (shocking, right?). And NOTHING could be more in the spirit of Slash than a shreddin' dose of good vibes. Just don't call Mr. Hudson "Saul", because I have it on good authority that he's not too keen on the whole affair.

Addressing someone with a nickname I didn't give them has always been awkward for me...and few folks have the balls to call themselves a verb. I'm telling you now, Satan'll be sodomizing snowmen before I call Sting "STING" to his face. We may have a few heated words over it, but unless he reaches into those Fields of Gold and produces a severed Orc head, post haste, then "Gordon" he shall remain. Or is it SIR Gordon? Has the Englishman in New York been knighted yet? It's hard to get any more bad-ass than Sir Sting. I'll pony up when Gordon makes with the crown-sanctioned prefixes*. The only Sting in my book used to wrestle with the Ultimate Warrior, until he went all Black Veil Brides (NWO 4 Life). For the record, I'm smitten with Sting's work (from The Police, not WCW). "Russians" is one of my all time favorite songs, and I missed the Cold War altogether.

So succumbing to salutations in the form of "Hey Slash", "How's it goin', Slash", and "Slash, does this look infected to you?", was easier than I'd anticipated. He made it even easier by sauntering up to my disheveled, baggily clad, and unsuspecting ass, mid-restring on my axe, to say "Hey, I didn't get to say hi yet, I'm Slash". Meanwhile I go into Superbad mode thinking, "You certainly are!". As if the nonchalance of the most aesthetically identifiable rock icon, arguably of ALL TIME, introducing himself wasn't enchanting enough, he proceeds to say with the utmost unquestionable sincerity, "I really love your band". I'm not making this shit up! You can just picture me mindlessly winding away at the g-string while I bask in the bliss of his embellishment, when suddenly the tension snaps the steel, the string slices through sinew to find my jugular and sever it asunder sending a sanguineous spray Slash-bound to settle in bloody beads against his ever-adorned aviators. Just the way I always wanted to go: death by G-string. The only thing better would be death by g-spot. I think he'd be too cool to even be phased by the whole scene. I'm sure he's seen more outlandish outbursts outta Axl, though there was probably less plasma involved...but that's a thin probably.

Okay, so I didn't puncture any arteries, but that was definitely the impact it had on me psychologically. Then he tells me that we were personally selected from hundreds of bands submitted for the tour. Which was cool to hear coming from him because I thought that was all hype and b.s. (which it may very well still be, NEVER trust a nice guy, and Slash is the NICEST...sorry Gene). Kinda like how Ozzy picked from "thousands" of guitarists...right. Of course there are thousands of guitarists who would blow Jack just to audition for the Ozzman, but did he REALLY see more than 20 guys...tops...IF that? Thanks to Harland, Brent, and Pete for bending the ol' Slash-er's ear our way, otherwise we may have never even had our fair shot.

Did I say Slash was the nicest guy? Cuz his invincible vocalist Myles Kennedy (Alter Bridge...and that movie Rock Star...he hates that, so I HAD to say it) may just have topped the ol' top hat. They say opposites attract, but it seems as though like minds seek out one another. Sort of the way the mediocre flock to the talentless, or flies find shit (http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/gossip/2010/06/justin-bieber-jaden-smith-karate-kid-never-say-never.html, Justin Bieber/Jaden Smith duet...need I say more?**). Typical me, knee-deep in the negative (instead of waist-high decapitated pop-star poser motherfu...wait, where was I?). Oh yeah, the BRIGHT side. it's probably why superstars form super-groups and why guitar heroes only collaborate with the cream of the crop. Slash and Myles are like the Osmonds on acid, they'll rock you till you're sterile but they're just the nicest guys! Okay, without the spontaneous gay-guy inflection that joke just doesn't work...but go ahead, I DARE you to say the Osmonds don't rock a stage. That's what I thought. It's just that when you're that good, and that successful, there's no reason to be a dickhead...unless of course you're just a dickhead. Or if someone eats your damn pie...that you left in the damn fridge...and wrote your damn name on...in BIG damn letters GOD DAMMIT WHO ATE MY PIE?!?!?

Understanding the precarious repercussions of a pie-pilfering predicament, I approached a similar situation with extreme caution. You see, in Milwaukee at the Pabst Theater (where the most annoying thing you can possibly do is ask the bartender how much a Pabst is...repeatedly *cackles insidiously*), after an awesome exhibition before an uproarious audience, I meandered my way to the the best backstage set-up of the whole tour. I reached the green room sporting Foosball, lavish lounge chairs, turntables spinning needle-worn Motown, and fully stocked fridges, and what should I find nestled next to my waiting meal (set aside from the best catering we've encountered since Kiss) but a perfect piece of that pecan pie I missed out on earlier. And Slash's name is written all over it...in BIG fucking letters. I tell ya, this sexy little slice sang to me like a siren from the shores of certain destruction. I left my meal in cryo-stasis and made straight for the pie, saliva swelling with every inch as I Indiana Jones'd the tupperware from its shelf. Clutching the container closer, the felt-tipped inscription screamed at me, "SLASH"...but for some reason it was spelled E-A-T-M-E! After furtively scanning my peripherals, it was clear no booby-trapped boulder awaited me. No tour manager stalked me from the shadows. No top hat was to be found anywhere but onstage, bouncing for the bemusement of the sweaty huddled masses. But while cradling my crusty captive, comprehension came crashing down on me: this was another man's pie. And not just any man, THE man. What kind of scum scams on another man's pastry while he's away at work, and in his own green room, no less. I whispered to the sweet confection that we could never be, this world simply won't let us, and stole myself away before the tears could take their toll. But low and behold, as the evening draws to a close and we're ransacking the vacant dressing rooms like homeless pirates, there she is. My little pecan princess, abandoned and defenseless. So I snatch that little bitch up and head for my van,CUZ I'M A EAT ME SLASH'S MU'FUCKIN' PIE, YES I AM! I'm more excited to steal Slash's slice than I am to be on tour with him, but my conscience goes Slim Shady on me and I start arguing with Dr. Dre about eating the damned dessert. So I decide to take advice from somebody who slapped Dee Barnes***. If it were MY piece, I would certainly appreciate it returned to me intact. I grab Pete, Slash's master tour manager and all around awesome dude (check out the bitchin' band he manages, Brand New Sin), and I apprise him with a little sit-rep. He says to eat it and enjoy. I ask him to make sure, because I'm gonna eat the shit outta this pie, and there's no turnin' back. He momentarily disappears into the belly of the bus to reemerge with a smirk on his face and the green light to feast. So I take my time to get changed and settled in the van, pie in hand, when Slash's security lumbers up to the window. He says, all too stoically, "Slash wants the pie". AAAAAhhh HA!!! I KNEW IT! I knew he couldn't let this little morsel just walk out of his life with another man! So I insisted that I be the one to give it to him. After all, I wanted a little credit for rescuing the forsaken confection from utter abandonment. I get on the bus and everyone's in the lounge area just hangin', but the banter muffles to murmurs as I intrude and make my way toward Slash is in his post-performance garb. He doesn't really take notice until I start to close in, and from behind those ubiquitous lenses he must spot his precious. Imagine Slash meets Smeagol. He's too cool to display any excitement, but his eyebrows betray him, because as his face lights up and it's clear that beneath his composure he's got a crazy case of the "gimme, gimmes". I tell him, "I thought you might want this. I've been eyefuckin' the shit out of it all night and had every intention of jacking it, but it seems we share a sweet tooth and I know how important pie can be after a long day". He politely, but all too eagerly, plucks the package from my hands with an energy that says, "Give me that you little shit...but thank you!". Wallowing with his precious, I'm temporarily forgotten until he comes to and acknowledges me as an entity and not merely an inanimate harbinger of pie. With the muscles of his face falling at ease, he speaks, nearly whispering to me the softest, most earnest "thank you". And with a sort of patrician nod, I'm excused from court of the Rocket Queen (...er, king) while he smugly stares down the prodigal piece as if to say, "Welcome home, daddy's missed you".

Alright, so you signed on for a blog about Slash and all you got was pie, a Justin Bieber link, and enough alliteration to make Alan Moore nauseous. The truth is that hanging with Slash issssss...uneventful. The event is that you're HANGING OUT WITH SLASH. The sleazy swagger of his imposing stage presence is so contrary to his friendly and pleasant demeanor. The only consistency is that he's just plain COOL, and you can tell he's looking to have as much fun as possible in everything he does. Stress free. I sat with him and Myles on a couch and shot the shit, each of us guitar in hand. And Myles is no slouch on that axe, either. He's one mean motherfucker (which is a weird way to describe someone who's such a sweetheart). I listened to them talking guitars the way most guys talk cars, admittedly feeling a little lost. They're throwing around model #'s and re-issue years, and I'm sitting there like, "Mine's black! It's gots purdy knobs 'n such. I like ta toggle them thar switches, hyuck hyuck". Slash asked me what year my Les Paul was, and the way his eyebrows creeped up over his shades in shock when I told him it was an '08 was pretty priceless. I approach guitars like pussy, beat it up but treat it right. I haven't named my guitar yet, so since I'm already Chris I'm leaning toward 'Rihanna'...lol, too soon? Mike's gonna call his 'Tina'...keepin' it classy with a safe classic ;)

Now after that little display of male chauvinism, maybe you're wondering how I prioritize: girls or guitars? Allow me sum it up for you with this final little diddy. So the last gig with Slash was the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa. The Maggots (Slipknot fans, for those of you people who don't =shit****) were out in full force, so of course I couldn't help but pander and mention our Roadrunner affiliation & signing at the very hands of Slipknot's own A&R rep (who shall remain nameless, the cocky bastard). You just can't compete with the Maggots, baby. They are the most unyielding fans on the fucking planet! Rivaled only by the ol' supa-psycho Juggalos...but they frighten me, what with the clowns and all. I think it was Boris Karloff who said there's nothing more terrifying than a clown in the night, lol. So anyway, the show is arguably the best of the tour, there are a slew of cute chicks, and we're selling a ton of cd's. But we still haven't had a chance to catch a pic with Slash. I imagine it's something of a mood-killer for him, so we never suggested it in our little hang out sessions. But I'd be damned and donkey-punched before I left that tour bereft of a snapshot with Slash. Yet the night waned on, and even after we were packed up, there had yet to be any photo-op. Rather than obsess over it and come off as creepy, I preoccupied myself with a captivating young vixen who was a sensational "conversationalist". She didn't know shit about Slash, but boy did she love to "talk". So we ended up at the bar across the street, and we're "conversing" in the ladies stall with bloated-blattered bitches banging on the door when I get a text from Mike saying, "Bro, where are you? this pic is happening NOW". I knew it was now or never, so I pull out of my little lavatory dialogue "mid-sentence" and SPRINT to Slash's bus, with only a hasty "Gotta go, stay here" for a farewell, zipping up my "lips" along the way. I'm just glad I didn't "bite my tongue"...especially since my tongue's not circumcised. I make it there in time to bid a fond farewell to Slash and his remarkable entourage, both band and crew. We shoot the shit for a little while. He invites us to hang at the Vegas gig in January. We tell him we'll be on the bill together in Australia at the Soundwave festival and he looks genuinely excited, saying we gotta hook up over there (and being the master diplomat he is, I buy every word of it...because he sells it so effortlessly and my twisted little heart wants to believe it desperately). We strike up a brief convo on Maiden, and before giving Myles a big wet one, my bar-bathroom "discussion" comes up. After bringing everyone on the bus up to speed, there's intermittent laughter, mostly from tour master Pete, but not from Slash. He has this crooked half-smile, half-sneer on his face and those ol' eyebrows are twisted up in confusion. In disbelief (exaggerated, feigned, or otherwise), he stares my direction with a look that says "Are you for real? You ditched a chick to be here?", and then says something to that effect. My immediate response is, "C'mon, you wouldn't blow off a random broad for a chance to hang with Joe Perry?". He rebuts with a look that I still can't decipher as shock or disgust, lol. I retort with, "Besides, I can always go back to the bar". And back to the bar I went, whisked her into the ladies room, and "talked" her fucking ear off ;)

B SHRED OR B DED Chris

*Googled it (or my mom did, anyway), Gordon Sumner was was knighted at the same time as Roger Moore, jolly good show Sir Stinger ;) **I just realized that Will and Jada's kids are named Jaden and Willow. Egomania, thy name be Smith ***Remember "Guilty Conscience" by Eminem? Dre was the angel on your shoulder...well, until all that "Awww, fuck it. Shoot 'em both" business...no, I didn't shoot anyone ****people=shit is the title of a Slipknot song, I promise I'm not just an asshole...well, at least not ALL the time.

SUCKED DRY

What is this death metal meets Mickey Mouse Club movement sweeping modern-day music? I mean, yeah we all knew Disney was evil, in league with Satan (that Walt was a Venomous motherfucker). And I GET Hannah Montana melting achy-breaky hearts...I do, and at least it makes sense, I mean I GET that. Why would I begrudge pop music for being pretty and predictable? It's what makes Justin Beiber a lot closer to the Antichrist than Cannibal Corpse will ever come (blood...if you must). But this shit is pathetic. I mean, what do I even call it? Glam-Goth post-hardcore melodic death pop? I came across a Warped Tour comment on Facebook where this kid described his band as "post-hardcore pop thrash dance", but all I heard was "post-op crap flashdance". And it couldn't have been more appropriate cuz all the androgyny amassing is slowly turning me gay. I can't even tell who's a girl and who's not. I thought Jefree Star was a chick being "clever" with a dude's name. Half of these guys are hotter than Hayley from Paramore, and it's pissing me off when they turn out to have dicks. Shit, THEY could teach HER a thing or two about make-up (not that I don't adore Ms. Williams au-naturale appeal...and by "adore", of course I mean "wanna fuck the shit out of"). Andrew kept going on to me about the hot-ass singer from Tokio Hotel only to scroll down the web page and find her name was BILL! It's not that I can't keep up with the sub-genre telephone tranny name game, it's that there's no point cuz these miserable misguided miscreants aren't even bothering to make sense anymore...but, as often, I digress.

This "music" is just the most pathetic, 3rd string, regurgitated, soulless, hackneyed hodge-podge of frankensteined plagiarism I've ever heard, and it's only getting worse with each new generation. These little fuckheads don't even know whose graves they're robbing anymore. Hell, they don't even know what CEMETERY they stumbled into, let alone the name on the headstone. They just know they came dressed for the occasion and zombies are SOOOOO in right now. Oh wait that's VAMPIRES, my mistake. Whatever, schlock on the eye-shadow and hop on the horror-pop bandwagon before it passes you by! But don't worry kiddies, cuz the doombuggy'll come full circle soon enough. All the tweens will grow half a brain, some curly new hair, and bail with puberty and we'll wind up right back here with a fresh batch of children of the night to paint their fingernails black and make sad faces at the perpetual creep-show: same ghoul time, same ghoul place...only this week it'll be fucking mummies...good thing that eye-shadow goes a long way. I can just see the hordes of toilet paper-macheted morons heading to Hot Topic for their hyper-inflated $15 dollar roll of 39 cent gauze.

They sell this shit like fresh cadavers to surgical seminars. Like they're cutting edge songwriters. Like they're that NEW shit. Like they're not ripping off Escape the Fate ripping off Bullet for My Valentine ripping off Atreyu ripping off From Autumn to Ashes ripping off In Flames/At the Gates ripping off Iron Maiden/Testament ripping off Rainbow/Diamond Head...see, 3rd string was being NICE. And OF COURSE, you can say the same of ANY modern ensemble, yours truly being all-too-obviously no exception. Go ahead, pick your favorite band and I'll be more than happy to let you know who they're stealing their songs from, I know where I pilfered my "inspiration", lol. Without Black Sabbath,Bon Jovi, Ozzy, Iron Maiden, Def Leppard, Deep Purple, Pantera, Skid Row, Shadows Fall, Guns n Roses, Megadeth, Arch Enemy, and Metallica (to name a FEW), Taking Dawn doesn't even EXIST. But plagiarism itself is an artistic institution. Your influences are going to show through, whether you button up the cuffs or wear 'em on your sleeves. It's all in the arrangement. But at least ATTEMPT, however failed though it may be, to bring a new take, SOME different perspective to the music that made you want to become a musician in the first place instead of just piercing it through the heart with your unimaginative little dick and raping the soul out of it utterly.

The rape of Gothenburg has become the musical equivalent of the rape of Nanking. Don't get it? Look it up.

And that's just SONICALLY. Let's not even GET STARTED on the aesthetics here...no let's. BELIEVE me, I'm NOT the "keep the underground UNDER GROUND" kinda guy. Zombies are SUPPOSED to roam the earth unchecked, inducing mass hysteria and converting the masses. THAT'S fun. If you keep 'em underground then they're just corpses..and only the creepy, albeit dedicated, necrophiliacs get to enjoy them. Man, that metaphor wrote itself! I WANT my gruesome anti-pop death metal to bleed buckets into the mainstream and infect it with scores of STD's (that's SONICALLY transmitted diseases). But instead I get neon wigger-glitter and pussy-ass pastel puffy-paint monsters and murder scenes plastered on sleek slim fit tees...that ARE or AREN'T for girls? I still can't tell, and the girl with cock ring in her ears behind the counter can't tell me either. Folks, the key word here is SCENE, and the murderSCENE stole the show...leaving the production bankrupt at best. Frankly, I admire Hot Topic for bringing extreme music that would otherwise be condemned to obscurity (if you're a REAL death metal fan then you'll get that reference...and you can't buy it at Hot Topic because it was discontinued before anyone in Suicide Silence was even born) to America's malls by the HEARSE-LOAD. Go ahead and ask any Morbid Angel fan over 30 if they picked up Altars of Madness at the same place some asshole was buying their parachute pants. No, they probably had to get it in the basement of specialty record store, while you couldn't go ANYWHERE without seeing Vanilla Ice or Hammer and those FUCKING PANTS! lol. Hate them as you will, but Hot Topic is not only bringing extreme to the otherwise clueless masses, but they're SHOWCASING it. Meanwhile, @ most any other multimedia retailer (cuz let's face it, there are no more MUSIC stores) you'd swear Nickelback, Jay Z, and Rascal Flatts were the only bands in America. So if HT wants to rake it in with all the re-re's buying fake blood fruit snacks and ephemeral social acceptance by stocking up on the latest, greatest trend, then more power to 'em. Corporate exploitation of the common man's ignorance and self-loathing is America's credo. Just don't tell that to Jon Schaffer, he still thinks it's liberty and justice for all...god bless him!

Bram Stoker's definitive tome was one of my most engaging reads growing up. Fright Night and Monster Squad were tapes my brother and I watched until they wore the fuck out. Palahniuk's 'Haunted' is a deliciously demented top contender for Champion of my Chuck-encrusted heart. Interview with a Vampire is STILL leading the pack of repeat offenders in my dvd player. 'Dracula' is (arguably) my FAVORITE Iced earth track off my (hands down) FAVORITE Iced Earth album, Horroshow. For all their awful audacity, Romero flicks are my guilty pleasure, though Zack Snyder's modern re-imagining of Dawn of the Dead is without rival (pretty much anything that cat touches is unequivocal and awe-inspiring). I've been a Poe pupil and appreciator since I was 7. I haven't yet, but I can't wait to get into H.P. Lovecraft. The Walking Dead is THE GREATEST COMIC OF ALL TIME. Two words: Evil FUCKING Dead! Er...whatever you know what I meant! Pantera...'Avoid the Light'...'nuff said.

So you see, it's not that I don't dig VAMPIRES, or horror as a whole. It's that I don't dig FLUFF where GUTS should go. It's that I hate having to settle for PG-13 when "rated R" is the bloody name of the bleeding game. And they don't even give me THAT! I get this GA, fun for the whole family, Nickelodeon, Teen-Choice, Tiger Beat, bitch-ass, cloned corpse-paint clad Hanson horseshit. It's like the Partridge Family meets the Manson Family...only it came out about as menacing as The Munsters. Hell, the Adams Family actually IS scarier. Maybe I could get scared if I wasn't so busy being embarrassed. Black Sabbath, Alice Cooper, Mercyful Fate, Ozzy, Danzig, Type-O, Rob Zombie (& all inclusive 'zombie' projects), Marilyn Manson, Cradle of Filth, and for the next gen I'd say Dommin; THESE guys sold me (especially when you have the balls to spearhead your merchandising campaign with a shirt proclaiming "Jesus is a Cunt"...in the MALL...yowzers!) . Gimmick or not, these guys meant it with every cobwebbed bone in their body, and they brought something new to the embalming table with each incarnation and incantation. I need my NEW wave of bewitching wunderkinds to bring it like a double-barreled, ball-bearing blasting bazooka, not some bullshit-bubblegum-beebee gun bitches. I just don't buy it from the latest breed of teeny-bop brats. I mean, maybe it's cuz Peter Steele looked like a hard dude who'd actually beat my ass and snack on my soul if I so much as speculated condescendingly on his sincerity. But the only thing hard about these new kids on the block, these black-metal boy-bands, if you will, is their candy coated shell...which melts in your ass, not in your ears.*

I'm not even a Misfits fan and I'm pissed! I can't imagine how all the serious underground ghost-face fuckers are feeling with the cute little honor roll students from nice families drinking their Kool-Aid...and calling it blood. Didn't South Park already cover this shit like TWO years ago? Yet here we are...still, stagnant and stinking like so many neglected corpses in an understaffed recession stricken mortuary. Hey, we're all feeling it, some people's work just piles up more than others...get it? I don't even know who i stole that joke from. FUCK YOU, faceless Comedy Central Presents nobody! At least when I steal your jokes it doesn't come out of your pocket. And you probably get to tour in your own damn car instead of van full of sweaty snorers...I suddenly hate you.

Let's end it there. I'll just keep going on and on and on like this sparkly, smiley, fun & friendly vampire fad. Vampires don't glitter in the sun...THEY BLOW THE FUCK UP. And is there even BLOOD in any of those fucking movies?! I saw 'em all and I can't remember more than a drop. In the books, Bella bleeds more on her period than she does in those movies...yeah, yeah, yeah, I READ 'EM. And as awful as they were, I enjoyed 'em. Still, I wanna go Blade on these Carebear-core glamvamp bands...but instead I go off on more tangents than Anne Rice (and no, the irony is not lost on me). So put a stake in me, I'M DONE.

"It's wearing on my mind, I'm speaking all my doubts aloud You rob a dead mans grave, Then flaunt it like you did create... Pierce a new hole, if Hell was "in" you'd give your soul... Buy it at a store, from MTV to on the floor, You look just like a star, it's proof you don't know who you are. ...if I was God you'd sell your soul" -Phil Anselmo

b shred or b DED Chris

*no...no, I don't have the first clue what that's supposed to mean...it just made me laugh.

Taking Dawn announce slot on 2011 Soundwave Festival!!!!!!

FEBRUARY/MARCH 2011

SATURDAY 26 BRISBANE, SOUNDWAVE FESTIVAL SUNDAY 27 SYDNEY, SOUNDWAVE FESTIVAL FRIDAY 4 MELBOURNE, SOUNDWAVE FESTIVAL SATURDAY 5 ADELAIDE, SOUNDWAVE FESTIVAL MONDAY 7 PERTH, SOUNDWAVE FESTIVAL

Whats goin' on everyone? We just finished our 4th show on the KISS tour in Birmingham. It was killer as usual! We have had an amazing opportunity with this tour to play with one of the BIGGEST BADDEST bands in the whole fucking world and possibly recruit some of the Kiss Army to the Taking Dawn army. We are just getting this motherfucker started so we need troops! Spread the word UK! We will be a superpower one day. :)

Gene and Paul and the boys are fuckin' great! As crazy as it is to share the stage with Kiss its even more fuckin' unreal to see them and talk with them backstage. They are the nicest band on the planet. Its crazy how cool and down to earth they are… we have met bands with bigger egos who aren't even popular enough to clean Kiss's toilets… or then again maybe they should be cleaning kiss's toilets.

Gene told me that they took Iron Maiden on their first tour. Thats the most badass thing on the planet. Over 30 years go by and these fuckers still know whats up and can rock harder than most bands out there. Hopefully we can have a fraction of the success these bands have had!

Before this tour started some people were telling us that this tour wouldn't be good for us. That Kiss fans would only want to see Kiss and they wouldn't care about an opening band. Other people told us that is was an amazing opportunity and that we were going to kill it and have the time of our life. Those people were right! For the fuckheads mentioned in the first part I included a video from the other night in Newcastle. Enjoy!

Track listing for the EP is as follows:

1. Killswitch Engage – My Obsession 2. Trivium – Shattering The Skies Above 3. Dream Theater – Raw Dog 4. Taking Dawn – This Is Madness 5. Opeth – The Throat Of Winter 6. Mutiny Within – The End

Taking Dawn:

The God Of War Soundtrack featuring the new and unreleased track “This Is Madness” from Taking Dawn is available for a limited time here (http://www.shockhound.com/albums/512067-various-artists-mp3s-god-of-war--blood---metal) for $1.99 only through March 2nd. 6 exclusive & unreleased songs from Killswitch Engage, Dream Theater, Trivium, Opeth, & Mutiny Within for $1.99, pick up your copy today while this exclusive price lasts.

Check it out!!!

Taking Dawn Drum Tutorial video for "Fight Em With Your Rock" and "So Loud"! Check them out!!

Backstage at Download Festival : Q&A with Mikey Cross. Check it out!

Recording with Mikey Cross of Taking Dawn!

Thrash Hits TV interviews Andrew at DOWNLOAD, watch it!