I attended my first rock concert when I was 13. On April 1 1984 my dad drove me downtown to Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto and stood with me in the lineup outside, behind a guy clinging to the stadium wall with vomit running down the front of his faded jeans and leather jacket. Bits of macaroni stuck to the toes of his motorcycle boots. Uniformed cops strode the outer reaches of the sidewalk. The squad... 

www.myspace.com/locoonline In the summer of 1994, for reasons too depressing to mention, I woke up on a piss-stained, cushionless sofa covered in cat hair in an anarchist squat house on Broadway Street in Vancouver. I’d spent previous days playing my guitar on the corner of Granville and Robinson. On this very same corner was a particularly rabid evangelist street preacher who lashed out at... 

“These kids are totally consumed by consumerism, materialism and stupidism, and it’s our job to get the message to them.” – Mauro, Guitarist, Nada Nuevo Lucho’s taxi lurks into the early morning Santiago traffic leaving Pudahuel airport. The gringo in the back absorbs his first sights of downtown Santiago at Republica and the corner of the Alameda – mangy street dogs lunging... 

Everyone needs to get high.  We are all hooked on making our spirits soar somehow and escape, if only for a few moments, what it feels like to be human – imperfect, defective and 99.9% full of shit. Sometimes it’s just so difficult to be still – to not chew on something, think incessantly, tinker with the pen, pick the nose, spank the monkey, light cigarette after cigarette –... 

The invasion officially began on February 10th, 2007. Before this time, the Santiago Metro system provided me with a tranquil ride uptown from Santa Isabel station to Escuela Militar. During the morning rush hour I often bought a 200 peso coffee at Santa Isabel (sans lid) and proceeded with it down to the platform, finishing it while staring at the other subway passengers, who were staring... 

There is a story from the 80’s about Jello Biafra (singer from the Dead Kennedys) from when the band was opening for an Exploited show in the UK. Biafra, slathered in the saliva of hundreds of appreciative fans, pointed a goober-dripping finger at the orange-mohawked punks and said something like… “Think you’re a bad ass punk rocker huh? You think you are oppressed? Try going over... 

7:00 pm: The (very high-profile) band that I had invited for an interview leaves a message on my cell one hour before we were to go on air. “Sean – Unfortunately we can’t make it to the interview. We are in heavy rehearsals for an unexpected gig tomorrow at Club Mist…” With my veins full of ‘I Love Chile Café’s end-of-the-day java (which, by the way, is still mighty fine... 

Like most gringos (and gringitas) arriving to Chile for the first time, I was blown away by the beauty of the Andes. I was awestruck by the abundance and prices of slippery piles of fresh fish and bulging, ripe fruit in las ferias. I was warmed by the hospitality of the people. I could go on about the charms of this country but the one thing I saw here that really knocked me upside the melon,... 

On a very hung-over afternoon of Sunday, March 3rd 2006, I dragged myself through the old, flimsy wooden doors of my rented pension onto Santa Isabel street in search of sustenance. Completo, whispered the voices in my head.  Completo with gobs of mustard! Rosa followed behind me, looking floppy and cartoonish in my big black dress shoes which she slipped over her tiny, bare feet, while I... 

At Club Mist I order a diet soda over the sticky bar. Checking my watch, I see it is 10:30pm. A handful of tattooed shadows lurk around the front of the stage, pacing.  Some perch in wooden chairs in the dim recesses of the tiny, low-ceiling room; all friends of the bands, girlfriends, cable twisters, aspiring cable twisters and  those having to do with the organizers of the event (De Coolto)....