Music

Interpol Have Been Stuck In A Snow-Covered Tour Bus For Two Days, May Be About To Die

RIP in peace, Interpol.

by Alex McKinnon  20 November 2014

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For the last two days, New York band Interpol have been stuck on a highway outside Buffalo after an almighty snowstorm struck the area, trapping them inside their tour bus en route to Toronto. They’ve been livetweeting the experience, and it’s just about ready to turn into a real-life retelling of The Grey starring Liam Neeson.

It started out fairly light; some photos of the surrounding countryside, reassurances that they were fine. Some took the opportunity to catch up on much-needed sleep, or write letters to loved ones.

As night fell Interpol kept their spirits up, drinking to ward off the cold and swapping stories of their past lives as oil riggers, longshoremen and poachers. The fire was warm on their hands, and the vodka warm in their bellies. But outside, the cold winds still blew.

Their optimism took a blow when the snowfall resumed, entrenching them even deeper on the snowy highway. What had seemed like a welcome escape from reality now began to feel like a waking nightmare, a prison of the elements. Hands pressed to the glass, Interpol grimaced at the endless, swirling white and muttered, “this is a wasteland now”.

Apparently things have gotten even bleaker in recent hours, with yet another snowstorm on the way and no sign of rescue. Confronted by the reality that help might not be coming, Interpol sank into a depressive fug, staring at their hands and mumbling, over and over, “but nobody searches. Nobody cares, somehow”.

It is only a matter of time before we lose all contact with Interpol. Soon, the heat of their bodies will begin attracting vicious packs of wolves and bears, who will prowl endlessly outside the tour bus, seeking a way in.

Driven mad by the cold, hunger and fear, Interpol will slowly turn upon itself, its members devouring one another in a desperate effort to survive. With his last icy breath, the final living member of Interpol will gaze out on the frozen tundra that is his grave, and whisper, “we rejoice because the hurting is so painless“.

Goodnight, sweet Interpol, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

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Feature image via Brandon Curtis/Twitter.