Deja Voodoo hit the road for their Brown Sabbath tour

By REBECCA BARRY

What should be the year's most dangerous local rock'n'roll tour is already feeling that way. Less than two minutes on the road and it sounds like we're in a crash. But the explosion is just the rear window of the tour van smashing. Someone had been trying to shut it.

Inside it's chaos. Bands Deja Voodoo and the Bleeders are hooting at the carnage and there's a tour manager freaking out as freezing air pours through the gaping hole.

An hour or two later - after stopping to attempt to patch the damage with a discarded sign which now warns other motorists "Explosive Power Tool in Use" - we pass Heaven Road in rural Waikato just as the stereo kicks into AC/DC's Highway to Hell. The Brown Sabbath tour is off to a very rock'n'roll start ...

The national jaunt is for headliners Deja Voodoo to promote their debut album Brown Sabbath, and maybe convince the rock nation they aren't the comedy outfit their songs and videos suggest.

"We've got a reputation for being a bit shit," muses Deja Voodoo singer-bassist Matt Heath, sitting mid-van. "We're playing in Australia at the end of the tour so we're hoping we'll be good by then."

Heath and Chris Stapp are still best known for comedy stunt show Back of the Y Masterpiece Television. They don't care if Deja Voodoo is seen as a joke band or a serious rock outfit. Those who turn up to their gigs are a mixture of "old bogans" and younger Back of the Y fans who appreciate the knowing inanity of their alcohol, drugs and sex-inspired lyrics: "I smoke P and I'm alright ... "

Either way, the TV programme and the band complement one another. Between tour dates in Napier and Timaru they fly to Australia on some Back of the Y business and while on the road they broadcast a beer-sponsored radio show from various cities.

As well as Aussie, Back of the Y is now screening in Britain, having been slated by New Zealand critics for being "puerile, vile, horrible and disgusting" when it turned up on TV2.

Now they're risking the use of those adjectives all over again on the three-week tour from Auckland to Invercargill. Along for the ride is hardcore/punk band the Bleeders and rock'n'roll youngsters the Have, who are travelling in a separate van.

Joining Heath and Stapp is their drummer, old varsity mate and Back of the Y co-star Dutch Graham, and guitarist Gerald Van Herk, who Heath claims was kicked out of the Brunettes "for being a [expletive]. Which is why we hired him".

While Deja Voodoo discuss music in the front, the Bleeders talk hot chicks in the back, even if that window patch job means they are shivering under sleeping bags, beanies and jackets.

Heavily tattooed singer Angelo Munro has teamed his black outfit with tartan grandpa slippers. He also keeps warm by singing along loudly to the stereo, scaring the cows by shrieking an NWA line: "Straight outta Compton is a brotha that'll smother yo' mother!"

He and guitarists Ian King and Hadleigh Donald, bassist Gareth Stack and drummer George Clark have established themselves on the underground punk scene, playing support gigs and working towards an album. This tour is an opportunity to push the Bleeders' EP, A Bleeding Heart.

The tour arrives at Mt Maunganui's Brewers Bar about 4pm, a slightly rough yet welcoming joint covered with posters of past gigs. Stack immediately heads to the bar and downs two beers "straw-pedo" style, inserting a straw to stop the glug-factor.

The Have are here too, but introductions aren't forthcoming. Brodie White, (guitar, vocals), Peter Mangan (guitar), Blair Gibson (bass) and Mike De Marie (drums) all 18, appear slightly intimidated by their tour-mates, who have spent the past four hours bonding on the road. Sport should fix that. After unloading the gear, a cricket bat and rugby ball are produced for a game of "crugby". The bands are supposed to be sound-checking but only the Have can be bothered.

"Uh-oh," says Stack, watching Clark giggling as he stumbles around on the grass. "I think we have a drunk drummer."

We meet later, sober, at the pub for dinner. Van Herk is wearing the $15 suit he picked up at an op shop during a brief stop in Katikati. It's a Thursday and so far the bar is not exactly inundated with people.

Heath likes playing small gigs. "It makes you realise the ridiculousness of being in a band."

So does all the waiting around. In fact there's nothing to do but drink. Deja Voodoo are worried they'll be plastered by the time they get on stage. Just as Donald tells me he doesn't drink, Heath says "I need a beer".

Munro prefers not to either. "I'm crazy enough without it."

So too are some of the Bleeders' fans. A platinum blonde with smudged eye make-up is dancing drunkenly at the front of the room, crashing into people as she sings along to All That Glitters, their best-known song.

Munro is not so impressed. "That was shit," he says, afterwards. "I'm bummed because I was losing my voice near the end."

Donald, on the other hand, is smiling widely. He offers his T-shirt for a whiff. It's limp and reeks of sweat. He plans on wearing it again, unwashed.

Stack, meanwhile, has other styling issues - he's convinced his fluorescent pink T-shirt is too pink.

"I'm a bit worried I'm going to be all rock'n'rolled out on this tour," he says, as the Have get lost in their raw 70s riffs, amid thrashing heads of hair.

Then again, he didn't get a good night's sleep. The previous night he had an accident with black hair dye while staying at his girlfriend's place and was up for hours trying to unclog her shower.

By the time Deja Voodoo come on, the place has filled out quite a bit, a swarm of black jeans and T-shirts marked with slogans such as "Thrills, Chills & Hospital Bills", "Beelzebub 666" and "Scream Choke Bleed Die".

"I was a bit worried because I'm drunk," says Dutch of their sweaty, sludgy yet entirely professional performance. "But that was really good."

Platinum Blonde has bought a Bleeders T-shirt but now she's arguing with the band about what she's done with it.

Munro had considered signing her breasts for a laugh but decides against it as she lurches towards them, burbling about being ripped off. It's time to get away from this woman so we drive home, stopping for pies on the way.

The next day there's a problem. The Bleeders are told they won't get their per diem pocket money, just as Deja Voodoo's is handed out. Understandably, they're not happy. If they don't get their cash, they'll have to go home.

The mood is somewhat chirpier when we return from breakfast, and it appears the issue surrounding their wages has been sorted.

So they celebrate by scaring the hell out of me. Van rugby or "vugby", goes something like this: grab the ball, hurl yourself face first over the seats, and prepare to be jumped on by at three others as you aim for touchdown.

I'm positive that as we speed along, someone is either going to be crushed to death, fall through the makeshift window or both.

Munro, on the other hand, is humming along to his walkman, oblivious to the body parts flailing dangerously close to his face.

It's late afternoon by the time we get to Pulse in Hamilton, a long, dark bar, glowing in a seedy red light. The bands soundcheck this time, in between a game of soccer in the street and some shopping.

Donald replaces his sweaty T-shirt with a new one. Stack helps me pick out a jacket because it's so damned cold. King likes it so much he tries on a girl's one. It doesn't fit.

Tonight there is more of a fervent punk-rock crowd - she-mullets, geek chic and tattoos. The Bleeders in particular seem a lot more at home here, feeding off the throbbing mass of bodies in front of the stage.

After the gig, Van Herk acquires the affections of a couple of identically dressed punk chicks who giggle at everything he says.

Another female fan approaches the Bleeders and tries desperately to discuss the Beatles and Rolling Stones.

A stranger asks if I'm going out with someone in the band, and if so, would I like a drink?

There's talk of going to a strip club, but after a game of soccer we wind up at a tacky bar in the heart of H-town, where the road-hardened musicians are soon square-dancing to Cotton Eye Joe.

The next day the three bands face the long drive to Napier for a show that night and 11 more gigs after that.

You get the feeling they will keep up the lifestyle all the way to Invercargill and back. Oh, and that vugby will be the winner on the day.