Well, we finally did it. We finally played our last practice at our current, soon to be gone rehearsal space, sometimes known as The Dungeon but much more often referred to with the lovingly fitting title Poop Alley. The name came from our second visit to the nigh-abandoned building, when someone had unleashed a bowel movement of extraordinary magnitude right in front of our entrance door, which practically screamed WELCOME HOME! The smell eventually passed (sorta), but the memory endures.

I don't know what I'm going to miss most: crapping in the women's baffroom because the men's side was too frightening to enter, borrowing abandoned music equipment found sitting next to paint buskets in random rooms throughout the building, watching the bum fights across the street during mandatory eardrum breaks, trying to figure out why that one square foot of the room was 8 degrees warmer than anywhere else, or predicting what new smell awaited us every practice. This weekend we move to our new spot, and honestly I'm hoping for less character this time. A little bit anyhow.

Some bands go to Vegas, Avolition had Poop Alley. I'll miss it like my last hangover.

Boobs Not Bombs,
Avo-who-said-dat-Lition