We've barely arrived at the Lager House before our singer is accosted by a fat sloppy guy wearing mesh pants.

"If this motherf---er can sing as good as he looks, you guys must kick ass. I'm not f---ing kidding, I'm gonna take him for my band, just you wait. Detroit's a tough town, man, a tough f---ing town."

It's mildly amusing at first but becomes quite obnoxious after a while, especially since his mouth smells like something died in it. We opt to hit a nearby casino to kill some time.

The Rust Belt is not a great place to play these days. We've played some pretty incredible shows in Detroit, but one Midwesterner after another tells us the economy is worse than we know out there. It shows. Club attendance is poor, kids buy less merch, there are even fewer cars out on the highways. At the Lager House my old friend Crystal is virtually the only person to arrive - and it's a free show!

Instead of our normal set, we just play our new record from start to finish, which is great fun. At some point I wave a flashlight around, and two huge dogs who have wandered in chase it and bark. So, we made the most of it, I suppose. We say goodbye to Crystal and hit the road, stopping in Pontiac near where the Pistons play and saw some wood at a Motel 6.

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