Gabber and Deathcore at a Cannery in Ketchikan

Narrow Odds, Fire and Rust, Outright Aural Assault

February 12, 2024

Show date: January 5th, 2023

Location: Ketchikan, AK

Narrow Odds, Fire and Rust, Outright Aural Assault

What's up, buds? It's your main squeeze DJ Alan Kalter back on the road after five years of hibernation(you know how it is). The gig this week was in Ketchikan, AK. First stop on the tour, but believe me when I tell you it almost turned out to be the last. My VERY last. More on that in a bit.

My flight landed at 6pm, but by the time I caught the ferry into town it was already 7:30pm. I went to a coffee shop on Water St called Middle Grounds where I was supposed to meet my local contact, Judy. No one was inside, so I figured to have some coffee while I waited, but when I reached the counter the barista said, "Alan?" Turns out this was Judy. Since it was near 8pm already I said, "I guess we better head straight to the venue," by which I meant that we wouldn't have time to stop at the hotel. Judy agreed, but it was awkward. Somehow I felt like she wasn't sure what I was talking about. Like she or I was missing something. I'm a real "Power of Now" type guy though, so I let the moment pass, confident things would work themselves out.

We got to the venue, the Gabby Cannery, just after dark. It was overcast and just starting to rain with a purpose. When I first saw the the place on the schedule, I thought, probably a name with local significance slapped on a new brewpub or something. But no my friends, “cannery” is an accurate characterization. Defunct, ruins of a cannery to put a finer point on it. Rusting iron hulks with decaying machinery piled at the edges, vinyl siding filling in the gaps in the ceiling where the roof had given up.

A dream, honestly. One of the main reasons you do this type of gig in an off-the-beaten-path type place. You can only play so many festivals and night clubs before it starts to feel like a video game. I crave a little danger now and then. A little risk can get the blood pumping. Even if it's only risk of tetanus.

Judy informed me that the PA hadn't arrived as it was still being used for the high school basketball game going on up the road. She went up to make sure it got packed and brought over as soon as it was free. 

No big deal, I could entertain myself for a bit. I walked over to a group of older men sitting around one of those giant knocked over wooden cable spools. 

"You guys like techno?" I said. They looked at me like I had two heads. Usually this is a great ice breaker before shows. I mean why else would they be at the venue I was playing that night? But not these guys. They were playing dominoes and I asked if I could join. They graciously dealt me in.

I wasn't winning, but that's ok, I was there to make friends. Apparently, it was working because soon enough, the grizzled man in the stained Carhartt jacket to my left offered me some pills. "Silo", he said. I shook my head. "Merk, Mercasil." Still, I had no idea. Look I haven't been on the road for five years, I'm bound to have missed a few things. When I asked him what it, did he said simply, "turns you narrow." I grinned dumbly. I refused, of course. He didn't care much for that, but you guys know I've been Boston sober(beer only) since 2008. 

About this time, Judy returned with the PA so I had to quit the game abruptly. I apologized, but even so the boys weren't happy with me. It was a faux-pas.

Looking back, I feel like this is the point where, if I were a guy who had a sense about this sort of thing(spoiler: I'm not), I might have begun to realize things could get weird.

I got all my gear set up with Judy's help(turns out she'd be doing the sound mixing as well). I went off to find a place to change into my show clothes while Judy fired up the generator for the lights, tapped the kegs, and rushed back over to the door to tear tickets. 

The show started well enough. There was a left-handed claw hammer electric banjo player named Jadd Burling, who sang about cars, (but the cars were women he had dated maybe?), and a hardcore band called Flay The Turncoats. Good stuff. 

Then I went on about 1:30AM. Oh boy. It got weird quick. The vibe was definitely askance and askew from the word go. I started my set and took a second to check out the crowd. Squinting at me through the murky darkness I saw men. And ONLY men. Younger versions of the ones I’d met earlier. Men with real jobs. Who worked in coveralls and had boots that had never not smelled like fish guts. From their uniform expression I got the feeling they'd been tipped off about my lack of domino etiquette. 

There were younger men as well, who all seemed to be enthusiastically involved in a fashion trend heavily influenced by Russian gopnik subculture. Some squatted, smoking filterless pall malls, the rest looked like they'd been born with their arms folded across their chest. Congenital sneer. One of them had a pet wolverine on a bright teal cat leash, which, while handsome, seemed an inadequate restraint. I kept on eye on it.

And everyone to man had an uncanny twitch to them. They seemed to vibrate. Effects of the pills, no doubt. It was about to get narrow alright. Similarly narrowing, it seemed, were my chances of escaping with all my bones intact.

So I started playing. The thing about me is: I'm a Techno DJ. Have been since I started 32 years ago. My manager Rick Derringer(no relation) assures me that the promoters of every show are well aware of that fact. And it's not a big ask! I'm very famous in some very specific music scenes around the world and there is no other act in show business with my exact name, I know, I've asked around.

That said, here I was surrounded by some very hostile faces(and Judy). But a gig is a gig. In a small town like this, sometimes you might be the only thing going that night. It wasn't these people's fault they had no use for my proven world class taste in electronic music! But they came to party and I believe a DJ's job is to give the people what they want(short of taking requests, obviously).

So I played. I tried to match the atmosphere with some dark techno, but after ten minutes I heard chanting in the crowd. "Give me the aux! Give me the aux!" So I kicked it up a gear with some hardcore and breakcore. This gained some traction, but it was not in the normal way. Usually once you find the right groove, it relaxes people. They trust you. But not this crowd. They seemed not quite as angry as before, but now they were dialed in. They were all instantly aware somehow that whatever strife and petty madnesses lurked inside, tying them in knots, were gonna have room to come thrash about here in the cannery tonight. I was going to do whatever I could not to let them down.

So I kept escalating. Death metal, thrash, uptempo, they could feel it. Niche french electronic death core. They were into it. They were moving now. I wouldn't call it dancing. It sorted of resembled how ants look when they get in a death spiral? As best I can tell, "narrow" meant that no one required any personal space anymore. They just mashed into each other, filling any open space they saw. In a trance. 

They began to smash into the card table holding my equipment. I yelled out at them. But then they started to spit on me as they carouselled past. I didn't love collecting spit on my André Courrèges white vinyl peacoat(replica), but I knew from my teen punk rock days, spit could be an endearing gesture with a crowd like this. 

Then quite suddenly my table was on fire. Very likely someone did it on purpose after the generator powering the lights had gone out. I watched the frenzied faces of the men of Ketchikan streak past in the firelight. As they sped up, I caught glimpses of fists and feet. They were brawling. I went with it. I accompanied them with nastiest most revolting noise I had. Fortunately, my buddy DJ Ortolan had recently passed me a USB drive full of stuff that could really "bring on the dread" as she put it. She's makes a little extra cash as a dark shaman in Guatemala. Basically, there are people who are bored enough with tripping that they now want to have a bad trip. Just for variety I suppose. She's the one they call.

The clouts kept coming, but I was flying high. The gig was coming off despite my earlier doubts. We were all rocking to insane walls of Japanese art noise. It was great. 

It was just about time that one of the faux-gopniks came flying over my table with what looked like a bone in each hand(known locally as "oosik"). I was stunned. A minute ago my greatest worry was trying to pick the next track before the last one ended.  Now I was frozen in place awaiting my demise. If you can't die well, at least die weird? I thought. But then who should swoop in? Judy of course. 5'3" in jeans and a pocket fleece. She grabbed one bone from my assailant and whooped his ass right back over the table and back into the crowd. Judy later informed me that the men in town had decided during the pandemic that oosik fighting was going to be their particular favorite pastime. My attacker had intended to lend me one of his so we could fight each other and that, regardless of the outcome it was a bit of compliment that he invite an out of towner to fight him like that so soon after meeting. Flattered, I'm sure, but no thanks!

The danger abated, I realized I had a problem. I had stoked this maelstrom of drugged up torment to its zenith, but I lacked an egress. I doubted I wanted to find out how long it would be before the generator ran out of fuel and the party died of natural causes, so I went with my tried and true party stopper. I threw on an episode of Mr. Belvedere. The spell was broken and soon, confused sweaty men were wandering back out into the freezing night. 

We packed up the gear and Judy drove me to my accommodations which turned out to be the princess bed in her daughter's bedroom in their cozy apartment. I was so tired I could have fallen asleep anywhere. 

I made $120 in tips plus the ziplocs of salmon jerky Judy gave me. All in all a pretty good gig. Would return. Thanks, Judy!

You can listen to my set here:

Here’s the setlist:

Perk, Gazelle Twin, Amelie Lens - Look What Your Love Has Done To Me

Eomac -Spoock

Blawan - Why They Hide Their Bodies Under My Garage

Drexciya - Sea Quake 1992

Surgeon - Shaper of the Unknown

Hypnotizer - Normality is Insanity

Perc - Dirt

Lil Texas - Rave Dropper

Baseck - Run It

Decapitated - Spheres of Madness

Motionless in White - Soft

Suicide Silence - Fuck Everything

DJ Skull Vomit - Swamp Bitch

Cattle Decapitation - One Day Closer To The End Of The World

Nasenblut - Cunt Face

Whourkr - Tawakitawa

Meshuggah - Ligature Marks

Marauda, Scxrlord - HEAVE

Drum Corps - Saddest

Mulk - Facial Morphalepsy

Suicide Silence - Unanswered x Penderecki - Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima x Psycroptic - As the Kingdom Drowns

Celtic Frost - Danse Macabre

The Haxan Cloak - Mist

Merzbow - My Station Rock

Lingua Ignota - THE ORDER OF THE SPIRITUAL VIRGINS

Converter - Blast Furnace

Pharmakon - Nakedness of Need

Whitehouse - A Cunt Like You

Mr. Belvedere - S02E01 The Lion Sleeps Tonight