Every Time I Die have addressed the “incident” which took place between the band and security at the band’s recent performance in Houston.

I got into the habit of inviting kids on stage during the last song of our set because getting fans of hardcore music in front of other fans of hardcore music is kind of like watching certain animals court each other. A lot of recursive gesticulating and weird sounds. We have fun, the kids have fun, its harmless. SOME clubs have gotten wind of this and have made it known prior to our performance that this is not acceptable.

The club in Houston was one such club, but the word was not passed down to me. Ignorant of any preparations taken by security to handle the “melee” if such did occur, when Jordan went to the barricade to help people over, he was tackled by security (an action which exerted far more force than was required) and his guitar was broken. Seeing his guitar in shambles, I grabbed the mic stand and jumped in the security guards direction with every intention of using it violently and or sexually.

The next part is a blur. I BELIEVE as I was jumping off the stage, a security guard grabbed the stand from behind and pulled me to the ground where I split my head on the barricade. I shook it off as best I could and went after the ENORMOUS security guard that was on top of Jordan, hitting him in what the jerky boys once called “the face, breast, chest, neck and head”. Like keith buckley being bitten by an ant, the security guard turned around and I saw my life flash before my eyes. He was hulking and angry and that man beat me without mercy for what seemed like an eternity.

Once he found it in his heart to stop pounding me, I realized that my fall from the stage had been a lot more severe than I realized. I had split my head wide open (I will post a picture) and was bleeding incessantly.. Then, like anyone in my situation would do, I ripped off my shirt and tied it around my head, grabbed my M-16 and cleared the place of slave traders. I will say this though, for as big of a dude as that guy was, I show no signs of having been in a fight. Miraculously. No black eye. No busted lip. No babe on my arm. Nothing. Maybe he should look into another occupation.

Once that might not require him to do anything demanding physical strength. Haha. Look at me talking shit now that im at a safe distance. Who am I HORSE THAT BAND?

Source Every Time I Die have addressed the “incident” which took place between the band and security at the band’s recent performance in Houston.

I got into the habit of inviting kids on stage during the last song of our set because getting fans of hardcore music in front of other fans of hardcore music is kind of like watching certain animals court each other. A lot of recursive gesticulating and weird sounds. We have fun, the kids have fun, its harmless. SOME clubs have gotten wind of this and have made it known prior to our performance that this is not acceptable.

The club in Houston was one such club, but the word was not passed down to me. Ignorant of any preparations taken by security to handle the “melee” if such did occur, when Jordan went to the barricade to help people over, he was tackled by security (an action which exerted far more force than was required) and his guitar was broken. Seeing his guitar in shambles, I grabbed the mic stand and jumped in the security guards direction with every intention of using it violently and or sexually.

The next part is a blur. I BELIEVE as I was jumping off the stage, a security guard grabbed the stand from behind and pulled me to the ground where I split my head on the barricade. I shook it off as best I could and went after the ENORMOUS security guard that was on top of Jordan, hitting him in what the jerky boys once called “the face, breast, chest, neck and head”. Like keith buckley being bitten by an ant, the security guard turned around and I saw my life flash before my eyes. He was hulking and angry and that man beat me without mercy for what seemed like an eternity.

Once he found it in his heart to stop pounding me, I realized that my fall from the stage had been a lot more severe than I realized. I had split my head wide open (I will post a picture) and was bleeding incessantly.. Then, like anyone in my situation would do, I ripped off my shirt and tied it around my head, grabbed my M-16 and cleared the place of slave traders. I will say this though, for as big of a dude as that guy was, I show no signs of having been in a fight. Miraculously. No black eye. No busted lip. No babe on my arm. Nothing. Maybe he should look into another occupation.

Once that might not require him to do anything demanding physical strength. Haha. Look at me talking shit now that im at a safe distance. Who am I HORSE THAT BAND?

Source