The Living Things

A North American tour underway, the band crosses the border into the Great White North.


As the white ES 350 Econoline speeds towards the lights of Rainbow City to cross the border into a truly peaceful free country, I freeze as the heat isn't working in the piece of s*** van I call home... or the white storm.

We slow down and pull up to the customs booth/interrogator, and without fail, we all file out of the van like a bunch of criminals being accused of crimes we didn't do... or not as bad as the way they read out loud from the Interpol computers... or commit. After a few hours of staring at everyone's bad skin underneath the pharmacy lighting and being told over and over how "We don't want YOUR kind in Canada!!"... and pay fines for being bad boys when we were younger (four years ago)... we cross into Canada...O...Canada to play our music in a place called Lee's was our little kingdom for the night... EVE BERLIN


Waterloo is two hours north of Toronto and it feels like a little English town. I'm in an Internet cafe at 9:30 p.m... drinking chamomile... and writin' this message to all who would be interested in reading it.

We are at their Starlight Ballroom that has had the same seedy couches and coffee maker since 1969. At this coffee shop I just met two nice Canadians who I got to talkin' to... their names are Ben and Charlotte... and they ask me a question: "Why do Americans hate everyone?"

I was in shock. Stunned. Here are two intelligent, well-spoken Canadian kids askin' this. I replied that the people of America don't hate anyone. Some may be misguided, but the ones in power are selfish, money-hungry heathens up to no good! I put those two, Ben and Charlotte, on the guest list. They stood front and center at the Starlight with their fists held high. ...peace, EVE BERLIN


The day started with a splitting headache from a never-ending drive overnight from Canada to the good ole USA. When we arrived at the Midtown Hotel... Soon to be a Days Inn!!!...

The torn and frayed sign said, out on the side of the red brick landmark as if announcing the coming of the circus: "5 blocks from the world famous Agora Ballroom." The hotel was full of hookers and lookers. "I like your powder blue boots boy! 50 bucks and I'm yours," said one trick who couldn't have been a day past 17. At seven in the morning it's all a bit surreal.

I crashed head first into the weekly washed sheets in my room #409. The smell of the place was like moist socks and burnt flesh... sweet dreams... after a few zzzzzzzzzzz's we went to play campfire style on the Cleveland rock radio K-ROCK! Then we paid our respects at the rock 'n' roll museum... that's a whole other diary entry.... it was far out and freaked me out... all those souls in one place.

On to the Agora... playin' underneath that neon sign was beautiful. Getting zapped by electricity every time my lips touch the microphone was hatin' n hurtin'. On to Detroit Rock City. Gotta love the Midwest... there's no place like home... peace, EVE BERLIN