Sex, drugs, rock'n'roll; three great tastes that taste great together. Having played drums in The Dwarves for eleven years I've had the chance to taste all three excessively. Cunt culinary school, drug addled deviancy and constant musical mayhem. I've seen and done things that most people don't want to dream about, let alone think about. When I was asked to write the forward to this book I put my mind into rewind: People, pussies, chemicals, tastes, fights, alleyways, bathrooms, hospitals, police stations, angry parents, angry boyfriends, angry girlfriends. You name it, I've been through it all, I've done it all, and I've done 'em all. Not all bands have sampled the heaven and hell of the road like I have. But, any musician that has taken even a short trip out of town has experienced at least a dose (pun intended) of what it's like to be a touring band.

To be a real band, a band that puts out recordings, tours every year and has fans or at least enemies, the road becomes a beautiful and scary animal. I emphasize the word animal 'cause, from my experience, that's what touring turns you into: an animal, an angry ravenous beast. On the road one is reduced to the most primal elements of human nature. After even a few weeks on the road an atavistic resurgence occurs that only be compared to the Jekyll & Hyde syndrome. If you're doing it right, you become a beast. A beast that only cares about two things: sex and violence.

The sex part is obvious: girls like bad boys. Girls like guys that are onstage. Girls like guys who are horny and moving on to another city, county or state the very next morning. The violence part comes from an even more primitive place: tribalism. When you are on the road your band is your tribe. You are bound together like some kind of nomadic group that cares only for the survival of its members. You are traveling to new towns, new states, new countries and you must protect one another. You're all alone out there with only your band mates and road crew to cover your back. Violence inevitably happens. I became more in touch with these two most primal instincts after two months on the road with the Dwarves then I ever could after a year at survival camp.

The stories in this book draw a picture of exactly what the road is like. It takes a special kind of person to live this life. It takes and interesting cross breed of Nietzschean Superman and degenerate Decadent. Frankly, I wouldn't want to live any other kind of life. We only go 'round once in this life so we might as well go all the way! Touring musicians are like sick anti-heroes and this collection of stories forms an infernal bible for those who don't have the guts to live like we do. It is our duty as rock musicians to live up to this archetype. We are the degenerate superheroes who are obligated to take the drugs, drink the booze, and screw the whores, so that you don't have to.

These stories may repulse you or they may inspire you. Regardless, never forget that no matter where you are there is a band that is drunk, high, hungry and looking for your wife, girlfriend or your daughter.