Tour Report: Reverend Beat-Man USA Tour 2025

My name is Reverend Beat-Man, and I’m reporting on my 20-show US tour in July/August 2025. This is my story, and all these opinions are my own. So let’s start from the beginning. 

Work visas are expensive, they’re so goddamn expensive, but they’ll save your ass. That was the case with me when I landed in Los Angeles and crossed through border patrol. Here’s another ugly truth: being a middle-aged white man was certainly an advantage, considering other folks I saw standing in line waiting to be questioned by the border guards. 

Rental cars are also expensive, but a sweet, short-armed Vietnamese woman googled my band, and my recordings delighted her, so she made me a better offer on a daily rate than what I originally got. When I got in the car, the first thing that came on the radio was all this hate speech about the “terrorist” rallies (e.g., Free Palestine protests) and how these radio propaganda heads thought it was totally okay for US universities to be punished for tolerating these rallies. Another channel discussed how dangerous the actions of the current US president, Donald Trump, are and the widespread hatred his ideology has spread across society, especially with the ICE raids happening nationwide. So, both opinions of the American political spectrum were being represented on air, and I thought that was at least somewhat okay. 

Mickey Darius from Ivy Agency organized this US tour. I worked with Matt Hutchison of Shattered Platter for the tour’s promotion, who has helped me in the past with prior Voodoo Rhythm Releases and tours of mine. My friend, Pixie Browne, bought my backline (guitar amp, kick drum, hi-hat, etc.) for this tour (thank you millions!), and after picking it up, I headed to the first show in El Centro, a town near the Mexican border wall. El Centro is a five-hour drive south of Los Angeles, past solar panels, windmills, and cattle ranches with a smell so strong, your eyes sting like you’ve been pepper-sprayed. The town itself is like something out of Star Wars, like the planet Tatooine where Luke Skywalker grew up. It’s nothing but dust, desert, and small satellite towns with Mad Max wasteland-like dwellers living in trailers and surviving 120 degrees in the shade. Then there’s Salvation Mountain, where a completely crazy guy decided to paint the entire desert with flashy colours and write “Jesus Loves You” and “Love” in general on every rock he saw.

El Centro

Ernie organized the El Centro show at his dive bar, MEXCA. We met 20 years ago in Munich when he road managed The Back Lips, and played an unforgettable (no, insane!) show with The Monsters and Andre Williams. We drank ourselves into a coma, trashed the hotel rooms, got thrown out, and so on. MEXCA has no stage, but a carpet-less floor, eye-popping neon lights that cut through the room like razor blades, and a tiny Hi-Fi (LO-FI) system as a PA, which meant an orgy of feedback was inevitable. My friends from another desert satellite town, Jacumba Hot Springs, also came, and we all had a great time. They live right next to the border wall and told me there were two towns, one on the Mexican side and one on the US side of the border, that used to share a school. Once the wall came up, the children on the Mexican side could no longer attend that school. So it became a ghost town, and now it’s a drug dealer town.

San Diego

San Diego is just a flea jump over the desert, which means the weather goes from 120°F down to 90°F, and I’ll gladly take that drop. The show was at the legendary Tower Bar, which resembles the Belgian bar, The Pits. Their booker, Mick, welcomed me inside, and we had a beer together. Shortly afterward, two guys came into the bar looking very nervous and shy, but finally pulled themselves together to speak with me. They said they played in a band called The Axxident and wanted to introduce themselves, and brought me to a nearby sandwich shop. There, they had convinced the owner to consider their crazy idea of allowing them to set up their drums and a guitar to play some songs for me. The owner’s family, who worked at the shop, were all smiling and covering their ears as the band played their psychedelic, super-fuzz, trash rock. This is the Mexico/USA connection I love the most; it’s beautiful!  The Tower Bar has a real PA with a sound guy who knows how to turn the knobs all the way to the right. The merchandise was already selling quickly before the start of the show, to the point where I was worried I didn’t have enough shirts and records to last me for the rest of the tour. The show was opened by Thee Allergic Reaction, a band featuring members of The Loons and The Woggles, with a mid-60’s garage farfisa punk signed to Soundflat Records. It was a great show, but I don’t remember much of the specifics, as they’ve disappeared into my cloudy brain. 

San Pedro

According to GPS, the drive to San Diego to San Pedro takes about two hours, but in reality, it was more like five hours, and that was my miscalculation on the next day’s drive to The Sardine.  Another mistake of mine (hell, I didn’t know) was asking if there were any heavy metal fans in the club’s audience. I didn’t know that San Pedro is a punk rock town with a rich history, featuring notable names like The Minutemen, Mike Watt, Saccharine Trust, and F.Y.P. The Sardine has two stages: one bar, a cheapo photobooth, and a patio for smoking weed, cigarettes, or whatever floats your boat. I was playing a two-night event called The Recess Romp, and my set was sandwiched between two legendary Los Angeles groups founded in 1978, The Urinals and The Alley Cats.  Right after my set, Matt Hutchison and I packed up the car, and together we drove up the sparsely populated 405 freeway to Loyola Marymount University for a radio interview with Stella on her Stray Pop Show at KXLU until 3:00 a.m.

Los Angeles

Zebulon is one of the few independent venues left in town that Live Nation or Ticketmaster hasn’t eaten up. I’ve played here before with The Monsters and some of the bands who were slated to play the same month as I were OSEES, Derya Yıldırım, Acid Mothers Temple, Marc Ribot, and Southern Culture On The Skids. Tonight’s openers were Los Angeles locals, Cheap Tissue, and a band from the Middle East called The Crotches. Alonzo, their singer, used to organise shows for me in Israel, and I remember when we went to demonstrations against Netanyahu’s government. He and his brother couldn’t take living in the country anymore, so they moved to Las Vegas together. As The Crotches’ frontman, Alonzo is entirely out of control, smashing beer bottles on his head, and manages to out-gay Bruno. 

Palmdale

The next day’s show was in Palmdale, which is still in Los Angeles County. The road leads through countless canyons, and it looks like there’s not a soul living there, except for a few drunken cowboys and coyotes. Transplant Brewery is a venue/brewery offering home-brewed draft beer, as well as a taco truck located outside. The concert space is the size of someone throwing a wiener into a gym, and unfortunately, the crowd was extra small that evening. That same evening, Los Vortex showed up in latex suits and chains (scary surf, Misfits meets Messer Chups style), and The Crotches also played the bill. Stella from KXLU came out (she was also at the LA show), but I  think she mostly came for the bar’s house cat, Patches, who is the absolute queen of the club. Patcheshas her own table, and everyone pets her. There’s even merchandise featuring her picture, including T-shirts, mugs, stickers, towels, and socks. You name it, Patches is on it.

Templeton

The tour continues northward, up through wine country, to Templeton and the Club Car Bar. This is an ultra-small wine town with hundreds of wineries, but at the bar where I played, everyone was drinking beer. My opening act was Bobcat the One Man Band from New York. He’s been around the country for years and told me he mostly sleeps in his car; he smelled a bit strange. I was told that a week before my show, some neighborhood brats were playing around with fireworks and managed to burn down half the town, which explained the air smelling of wet ash, which was offset a bit by a fly epidemic. The show was good, and so was the Caesar salad I had for dinner.

San Francisco

By this time, my car’s engine is making strange noises, but I’m just about to make it to San Francisco, the city of former flower children now fully-grown into Silicon Valley bigwigs. In the afternoon, I’ll squeeze in a live radio concert with Dr. Doug over at KFJC and then head through to Auckland, where I’ll be staying the night with my lovely hostess, Mistress Persephone, and Konrad (NIXED). After our fourth round of tacos, we make our way to the city’s infamous venue Bottom of the Hill. Tons of bands have played here in their early years, everyone from the Beastie Boys, Kyuss, and the White Stripes. Tonight, my opening acts were a local high school stoner trap-electro-pop band called Dark Meta Railroad, who downloaded GarageBand, bought a synthesiser, and slipped into green slime monster costumes. Then came Jimmy Touzel in a baby blue cowboy outfit covered with rhinestones and a wall of four GIANT MusicMan Guitar amps stacked on top of each other. He played in the style of Chris Isaak, but with a drone-like quality, and it was awesome!  The end of the night saw us all drunk, and me forgetting my guitar in the club like an idiot. 

Reno

By this time, my car was a complete wreck, and I traded it in for a new one —a Japanese car for an American car, which meant lower fuel costs. I must admit that I was a little biased because the show in Reno was unusual, and the venue has the word “coffee” in it, but never judge a book by its cover. The people who run Midnight Coffee Roasters are great coffee punks, as are the people who attended the show. There were a lot of young people enjoying donuts and spring rolls during each band, having the time of their lives. The first band up was Marty Robbins Ghost, a trash-rockabilly band with the infamous Dutch cartoonist, Olaf Jens, on drums. Then local heroes Pussy Velour came out, set fire to the roof, and raised absolute hell! Their singer, Wolfgang Hendrix, is a reincarnation of Lux Interior. Two girls on six and four strings and a drummer who is the shop cook! Pussy Velour is hardcore rock n’ roll at its finest, the best band I’ve seen on this tour so far. A big thank you to Pete Slovenly for allowing me to spend the night at his house as well. 

Quincy

The next show was in Quincy, a place no one had ever heard of, and I saw why when I arrived. The route from Reno led through what felt like a barren desert, segueing into an endless forest until it came upon a mountain village with a population of 4,000, a supermarket, and a bar whose owner was also the owner of the hardware store. Fuck modesty, I seriously thought I’d get raped and killed in this place, but was shown mercy. The gig took place outside on a wooden stage, and it was super fun. The booker was super cool and did everything from cooking and serving beer to dancing and entertaining everybody. The folks from Pussy Velour showed up, and it was great to see them again. We had junk food and beer, and the guitarists gave everyone a little gift, and I was head over heels in love.

Portland

In Portland, I foolishly booked a cheap hotel across the street from a brothel where the conversations between the hookers and drunks were within earshot. My bed reeked of piss, but I managed to sleep like a log. Outside, junkies are screaming at each other, the parking lot is filled with overcrowded cars packed with belongings, and I’ve never seen so many single mothers walking around with their children in my life. It’s a rough scene. The next day, DJ Jack Rudo from XRAY-FM gave me a little tour of the city. George H.W. Bush called Portland “Little Beirut” because he hated the city so much, and I figured out why: it’s an entirely left-wing city full of anarchists. There’s a secondhand shop or a small record store on every corner, tons of live music clubs, and millions of bands. Portland is a great city. We then went with Cécilia Meneau (Operation S, Sex Crime, No Talents) to The Alibi Tiki Lounge, which I learned is one of the oldest tiki bars in America. Luckily, they didn’t have karaoke that day, but they do have great cocktails. That evening, I played at Dante’s, probably the city’s most storied venue. It’s a place where every band has performed, from the likes of Melvins, L7, The Mummies, Lemmy from Motörhead, Mudhoney, Electric Six, Dwarves, Dead Moon, etc. The club is downtown, surrounded by countless, completely unhinged junkies and homeless people screaming and yelling all night long. One girl was running around with a knife and kept stabbing at a tree for some reason, but it wouldn’t die. The Sinks opened the night, they’re a band with the bassist from Poison Idea, and then Amy Beth and The Creeps (former members of Statches and Cold Lightening) followed up with their own brand of super lo-fi old school hardcore.  

Astoria

The next day, I drove around the corner to Astoria, a historic fishing and boat-building town. I stayed overnight at Mike Vasquez’s house, which resembles the home from The Munsters, located at 1313 Mockingbird Lane, and also serves as his recording studio. The evening was opened with a hardcore set by local punks Beta Voids and another amazing trash garage punk set from Amy Beth and the Creeps. I ate my burger and ROCKED the place until NO ONE could walk anymore!!! Afterwards, I finished the first video clip for the upcoming Voodoo Rhythm release from Reverend Beat-Man & Milan Slick, which was assembled using footage from the road. Back at the Pipi Longstocking house, Mike played some of his new productions, SUX from Seattle, for example, and the amazing Fatal Flying Guillotines.

Portland (off day)

Off day, thank god. I went back to Cécilia’s house in Portland, where we had a private BBQ with friends and plenty of booze and food to go around. Kepie Ghoulie, Tina, and Daniela from The Trashwomen, the Satan’s Pilgrims guys, and many others showed up; it was great seeing them. Cécilia’s house is a museum of American and French pop culture. She’s an artist who makes mosaics, and her house is filled with a million trash pop art objects from her collection, so I filmed a lot of it for the second video clip of the Reverend Beat-Man & Milan Slick album. It was also the day that Donald Trump rolled out the red carpet for Vladimir Putin in Alaska, so the mood was damp all around, and everyone was embarrassed. I must also say that I haven’t met anyone yet who even remotely approves of what’s going on with the American presidential administration. We Europeans (I count myself among them now, as a Swiss) often have the impression that the Americans are firmly behind this, but that’s definitely not the case.

Seattle

Hungover, but gotta head up north to The Clock-Out Lounge, which is next to the street where Jimi Hendrix was born. This venue specializes in San Francisco-style pizzas, and at night, it transforms into a live music venue for approximately 300 guests. About 50 people showed up tonight, which was a tough night. The first band of the night was the fantastic Mr. Ink, followed by Gravel Road, which features the drummer of T-Model Ford and plays classic blues rock. That was my worst show of the tour so far, and I’m really sorry about it. The reality of touring the USA is that it’s brutal. Hospitality is either very slim or non-existent; you’re really on your own. James Burdyshaw (Sub Pop, Cat Butt, Sinister Six) can relate and offered me a place to stay that evening.

Tacoma

The next show was only 45 minutes away, in Tacoma, the home of The Sonics and The Wailers, and I delivered one of my best performances on this tour. I was glad James let me sleep another night at his place, and his bands Sinister Six and Scott and The Hotheads opened up. The New Frontier Lounge is a great, old-fashioned American country-themed establishment, and the boss is 7 feet 5 inches tall and as tough as a pair of rusty nails. We ate chicken wings and drank beer. The Sound girl was super cool and about 16 ft tall. Lots of young people on LSD showed up and freaked out throughout the show. Americans are just the coolest people in the world; everybody has a great time and has a funny story to tell.

Boise

Next stop is Neurolux. Boise is the Switzerland of the United States; everything is clean, and the downtown area is very nice and walkable. People feel safe and comfortable, but if you look out of place and walk into a bar, people will turn around and look at you in complete silence.  I also didn’t see a homeless population either, and was told they’re taken care of, that they have accommodation, which sounded a bit creepy to me. The evening opened with Ghost Beach (the American counterpart of the German band, Bikini Beach). These kids were young, enthusiastic, and brought all their freaky friends. 

Utah

In Salt Lake City, the Mormon capital of the world. Nick Kuzmack (DJ NixBeat) set up the show. He’s a Journalist and books most of the Garage and Trash stuff over there. He hired The Sex Dolls as the support act, and they sound like something between the New York Dolls and the Sex Pistols. Their drummer is very young and destroyed the drums just like John Bonham in his younger years. The two guys on the strings looked like junked up Johnny Thunder gutter girls, they smoked the venue and were super amazing! I’m sure we will hear from them in the future, maybe with another band name

Phoenix

The drive to Phoenix was long and extremely hot; it felt like sitting in an oven. If you’re going to drive nine hours through Hell, might as well listen to some talk radio. Of course, Trump is still the number one topic. The latest news is that he wants to send the National Guard into all cities run by Democrats to get their homeless and drug situation under control. Fox News says: finally, someone is doing something, and we will have clean streets where our families can walk around without fear and enjoy the city while consuming freely and making America great again, blahblahblah. Their agenda is to put all the homeless and drug addicts, and of course, the Democrats, in prison. On the other side, NPR questions the situation and concludes that homelessness and drug addiction are not crimes, but the ugly side of a failed social policy that the government should finally take into its own hands. In other news, the Christian right-wing broadcasters are outraged because of the new Cracker Barrel logo and the announcement of the restaurant’s decor being modernized. These broadcasters call this a dismantling of fundamental rights and are afraid they will have to eat tofu steaks in the future (for all non-Americans: Cracker Barrel is a fast-food restaurant chain that specialises in farmhouse cooking, in the entrance area, there is a souvenir shop with countless American-style Chinese knick-knacks, and inside, the service is done with a fake southern friendliness. It’s a bit like Disneyland.) The temperature climbed to 120°F, and at midnight, it was still 100°F.  For non-Americans, that’s extremely hot!! Melanie Reeves, the city’s leading booker of the underground trash and garage punk scene, put me up for the night.  She booked me at Chopper John’s Biker Bar, a total dive, but as always in my life, things don’t turn out the way you expect. John, the owner, was the most loyal and fair man in the world. He gave me 18% of all the money he earned that night. His son and his son’s wife worked behind the bar, serving beer. Bikers also came, those without the rebel flags. That evening, I played with The Spastiks, psychobilly legends from the New York and Los Angeles area. Paul Roman from The Quakes also showed up, and we had an interesting conversation. Then Puppy & the Handjobs came on stage with the singer in a baby’s diaper and S&M chains around his neck. The whole band jumped and struggled to find the right chords on their instruments, but they were hilarious and had great, catchy surf-pop-punk songs.

Las Vegas

The drive to Las Vegas was an experience in itself, with all the overwhelming desert landscape scenery passing me by. By this time, I’d had enough of talk radio in the car and was listening to music on my iPod. It was my heavy metal day with Krokus’s Metal Rendez-Vous & Hardware, along with the first two albums from Rose Tattoo and Iron Maiden, guiding me into Nevada with a spinning head! My gig was at a venue called The Usual Place, and again I’d be playing with the incredible The Crotches, who delivered their best show yet. They play music in the style of early Alice Cooper, but more punk and prog-sounding, and Alonzo’s little brother, Amitkes, plays the guitar. The guy’s a musical genius and a chick magnet. Their drummer creates his own symbols, and the bass player consumes only sugar throughout the day. The same evening also featured another band on the bill, Rhythm Ace & the Nu Tones, a lo-fi Farfisa garage band from Rochester, NY.

Los Angeles (off day)

I left my backline in Matt Hutchison’s garage, and we headed to a BBQ at DJ Astro 138’s house in North Hollywood with his Vinyl Record Association. The next day, I took one of the cheap early flights to Nashville, where I got to play at the Muddy Roots Festival with headliners TSOL, Eagles of Death Metal, and The Casualties, along with hundreds of other great acts like Jayke Orvis, Gipsy Rufina, Angry Zeta, Pentagram String Band, The Spits, Koffin Cats, Total Chaos, and more.

Cookeville

Tennessee is definitely a bible thumping, red state: gun and rifle shows, giant Christian crosses on mountains, and sex shop posters galore (but strangely, all online sex apps are banned in the state), Trump statues and MAGA shirts in the thrift stores, and Christian rock music that hammers your brain. Muddy Roots is the complete opposite of what Tennessee represents, which is why it’s hated by the police. They check countless festivalgoers for drugs and alcohol, or simply to fuck with them. The festival, with around 3,000 people, had countless tent stands from local artists selling their stuff, and a mid-50s vinyl cutting machine from the legendary Sun Studios (Howling Wolf, The Killer, Cash, Elvis the Pelvis, and Charlie Feathers). It’s a festival by fans for fans, and I was happy to play my last show of the tour here. For the backline, they provided me with a large Marshall amp, which I paired with an even larger Ampeg bass amp. I was on a mission to fuck up the audience for this show, and didn’t fail. In the middle of my set, the devil himself came on stage, painted all red with pointy horns, and half-naked clown girls danced in front of me. The whole festival flock absorbed my music like a mass of pure steamy shit and heavenly raspberry ice cream. After the show, a guy came up to me and said he had spiritually left his body while I played so he could watch the whole thing from above, and he wasn’t on drugs, what a hoot! 

Before I knew it, I was on a United flight home, getting hammered while watching The French Connection. Finally, I arrived in Switzerland early on a rainy, cold Sunday morning. All the shops were closed, and my stomach was growling. When I walked in my door, my cat gave me the middle finger and moved in with my neighbour. 

Damn, I already want to go back on tour so badly. Over and out. 

Reverend Beat-Man 2025 US Tour Dates

• July 30, El Centro, CA – MEXCA
• July 31 San Diego, CA – Tower Bar
• Aug 01 San Pedro, CA – The Sardine
• Aug 02 Los Angeles, CA – Zebulon
• Aug 03 Palmdale, CA – Transplants
• Aug 05 Templeton, CA – Club Car Bar 
• Aug 08 San Francisco, CA – Bottom Of The Hill
• Aug 09 Reno, NV – Midnight Coffee Roasters
• Aug 10 Quincy, CA – Rich Bar Tap Room
• Aug 13 Portland, OR – Dante’s
• Aug 14 Astoria, OR – 503 Marquee
• Aug 16 Seattle, WA – Clock-Out Lounge
• Aug 17 Tacoma, WA – The New Frontier Lounge
• Aug 19 Boise, ID – Neurolux
• Aug 20 Salt Lake City, UT – Urban Lounge
• Aug 22 Phoenix, AZ – Chopper Johns
• Aug 23 Las Vegas, NV – The Usual Place 
• Aug 29 Cookeville, TN – Muddy Roots

Addendum:

The US is very divided these days, and the contrasts couldn’t be greater. For example, at my shows, concertgoers often steal items from my merch booth (posters, T-shirts, badges, etc.), while others give me $100 as a thank you for coming to their town. In the supermarket, everything is locked behind bars—the deodorant section and baby food—things you need for daily life. Or in Oakland, at a coffee shop, I ordered some coffee and accidentally left my credit card in my car. She gave me the drink for free because she thought I was homeless, which I will confess I look a bit like one after a few weeks on tour. There are clearly two sides to this.

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