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Psychic Twin, aka Erin Fein, releases her debut album, Strange Diary, tomorrow on Polyvinyl Records. The beautiful, sad and dance-y record is about transitions. From moving to divorce, the record has a pop sheen that helps disguise very not-fun topics. It’s a sneaky record that’ll most likely end up on our best of 2016 roundups.

But before we go forward, let’s look back. Here’s Erin’s Nightmare Gig.

A few years back I was on tour with my former band and we were playing a show at the Cactus Club in Milwaukee Wisconsin. We loved playing in Milwaukee because the shows were always good, the energy and love was palpable every time we played. Unfortunately, on this fateful night, it was not to be.

I don’t really know how to tell this story without being a little graphic, so do not read further if you’re squeamish.

At the time I was in a band with all dudes. I don’t know if this detail matters or not, but lets just say there was a lack of sensitivity and empathy that i attribute sometimes to male ego.

When I got back to the club after dinner, I was not feeling well. I told the guys. I was feeling incredibly nauseous. The show was sold out, so the idea of canceling last minute did not go over well. I went over to a friends house and tried to lay down and let the cramps subside. They just kept getting worse. But the guys really didn’t want to cancel, in my memory, they put a lot of pressure on me to push through it, and I was too afraid at the time to ask for what I knew I really needed, which was to cancel the show.

I tried to pull myself together and i went back to the venue. We got all set up, sound checked and we were just about to start the show. An entire room of people staring at us and excited for us to play. And then the return of epic cramps, and I knew that if I didn’t run immediately off of the stage it wasn’t going to be pretty. So…I ran off of the stage and pushed my way through a bewildered crowd and straight to the bathroom where I proceeded to be sick two ways. I’m not going to describe the situation any further, other than the fact that these drunk girls were banging on the bathroom door and yelling at me to get the fuck out of the bathroom, while my knuckle head band mates were doing god knows what…definitely not looking out for me in that moment.

I eventually escaped this treacherous scene, all of the money had to be refunded to the people who came to the show, and my bandmates were clearly disappointed in me. All in all, it was a nightmarish kinda night, and I hope to never be in that same position again. Damn…that story is really depressing and gross.