The Mexican nightmare tour.

ON THE OUTSKIRTS of Toluca, Mexico, the winds whip and the rain begins to fall. The locals huff noxious fumes from bits of crumpled toilet paper cupped in their hands. Their glassy-eyed stares become fixated on Covina, CA's Thretning Verse, as the abrasive sounds of '80s styled hardcore seep out of the open-air venue and dance along the Mexican countryside dotted with half-built houses and endless cornfields.

THE PACE of the music escalates, the tempo grinding ever forward, as people begin to collide in the typical fashion. Most are too wasted to keep their balance; bodies fly like rag dolls and heads snap against the concrete, sending vibrations through the ground that I can feel in my feet. This happens again and again. As more and more skulls bounce violently against the cement, I'm surprised at how quickly people recover from sustaining massive blows to the head. Finally a young man falls forward and his face meets the ground with startling force. The music continues and no one seems to notice his motionless body It seems like minutes before the first signs of life return to his limp figure. His friends finally notice their fallen comrade and help him to his feet. He can barley stand, his eyes glazed over as the blood from his nose and mouth slowly trickles down his face.

For the past few days I've been traveling with Thretning Verse and No More Existence as they bounce from bus to bus, meandering through the heart of central Mexico on what they've dubbed "The Mexican Nightmare Tour." Two bands, one roadie, and a photographer. It's a loosely defined plan that teeters somewhere between brilliance and disaster. And usually, those plans are the best kind.

After a six-hour bus ride from Queretaro, we find ourselves outside of an anonymous looking warehouse draped in sheet metal and accented with an abundance of graffiti on the northeast side of Mexico City. An endless stream of traffic hums in the background as a crowd composed predominately of young street punks and skinheads mill about the sidewalk, saying hello to friends before paying a few pesos to get into the show. The scene plays out just as I've seen it in Richmond, or New York, or Pittsburgh, and the common thread that connects underground punks scenes, no matter what country you're in, becomes undeniably apparent.

I FRAME UP to take a snap shot in front of the club. I'm aware of Mexico City's "Dude, watch your shit" mentality, but that doesn't make an attempted robbery any less surprising when it actually does happen. I depress the shutter as I see an older punk walking in front of the club. Still looking through my viewfinder, I refocus and see him turn and look at me. He assumes an aggressive posture and comes at me. I depress the shutter again and prepare for the obvious.

Suddenly he's right on top of me, making a grab for my camera. He actually almost gets a good grip on it but I yank it away from his grasp and attempt to keep the rest of my gear out of his reach. For a moment, things aren't looking too good. He struggles to reach into my bag as I struggle to stop him. It's about to come to blows when Omar, Thretning Verse's roadie, jumps in and wedges himself between my assailant and me. From one side of his mouth he tries to diffuse the situation, and out the other he tells me, "Put your shit in your bag and get inside."

A FEW DAYS LATER, Omar, Pixie (Thretning Verse's singer) and I have broke off from the rest of the group and made our way to the pyramids of Teotihuacan. We walk through the ruins of a civilization that's come and gone, the ancient city nearly absent of any other tourists due to the storm clouds that blanket the sky. And no matter how many postcards you've seen, it's difficult to be immune to amazement induced by the pyramids that dwarf all in their presence.

Hours pass, and we begin to make our way back to Mexico City. After walking for a few minutes Omar turns to Pixie and asks, "When you joined this band did you think you'd be doing stuff like this?"

We continue down the loose gravel road as Pixie quietly mulls over the question. "You know, when you're young and starting a band you have these dreams of becoming rich and famous. After a few years, the reality sets in and you realize that you're probably not going to become rich or famous, and that becomes OK. I get to travel, play shows, and see the world. And when I get to go on a tour like this it reaffirms why I joined a band in the first place."