They call it The Brown Note: a frequency so low in pitch it causes the involuntary bowel release of any human within earshot. More succinctly, this is a sound that makes you shit your pants. Though I have never seen this IRL, I've played and seen enough heavy music over the years to know the principle is an actual goal of some bands.I play drums in this band Yvette, often referred to as a "noise act," in part due to the intestinal rumblings of our low-end theory. I feel this in my gut every night on the road. While I can't think of any other direct connections between music and poop, leave it to a Noisey editor to present the challenge. Because on tour, that's really what it all is—a challenge. Much like taking a shit, being on tour is all about displacement: the filth, the stank, the trepidation, the lack of comfort, the disruption of familiarity. It's the paramount question on tour that presents immediate, real-world consequences: Where am I going to shit tonight?Diet plays a big hand in this, of course. A low-market band like us seeks to pinch every penny off and that leads to remarkably poor decisions. You eat a lot of shit, and you have to shit that shit out. So much coffee. Packages of upon packages of chips. Apples if you can find them at the lone gas station in the barrens of Wyoming. Your insides just aren't comfortable. You squirm in the van. With drives between eight and 14 hours, it's one proper meal a day, more often Mexican, which is cheap, delicious and filling. And dangerous.Because the Kafkaesque cosmic sense of waiting without knowledge when it comes to driving somewhere just to shit needs no defense: where am I going, who is under control of my destiny, when will my freedom return? The Castle of Shit. Bistros and cafes are best bets for privacy and cleanliness. Everyone has the idea to go to Starbucks—this is so indelibly last resort. If the venue has the option, use the women's room. Psychosomatically, the darkest bar will treat you best (out of sight out of mind) as long as you've had a whiskey or two. Take the napkins from restaurants and truck stops and put them in your guitar case; you'll probably run into empty spools more than you run into toilet paper at a show. Of course you could carry your own roll in the van, but let's think practically here. There is so much to glean from a town based on bathroom graffiti, bathrooms bound to be slathered with the scrawls and stickers of a hundred-plus socially confused vandals. The commode is where we are at our most honest. The shitter in any town will reveal the true character of its patrons. Our hearts are caked in shit. Home is where the throne is.Dale Weisinger is on Twitter—@daleweisingerLike more horrible shit about being on tour? Here's how to be a band in a van, and how you will 100% not get laid on tour (except maybe you will?).