There are a few like-minded folks here in the area that had been wanting to go out and pretend to be seventeen again, so we did. Caught a four-band-for-twelve-bucks show (says a lot about the caliber of the bands, I'm sure) a few weeks back. Great, great fun, other than being the old guys at the club... Most of us are follically challenged to one degree or another and have fought back by shaving our heads, so we looked like the poster children for the Aryan Nation. Oi Oi Oi.
The show, other than the opening act, was great. The opening band seemed to have lost the thread of of the master plan somewhere, leaving something like:
Step 1: Buy instruments
Step 2: Get booked at a club
Step 3: Act like goons on stage (does beer help? test theory!)
Step 4: ?
Step 5: Mansions, fast cars, nekkid girls; sacks of money
There's just something electric about seeing a band play live in a small club, close enough to see the emotion and belief in the songs. I love it.
Authority Zero in full roar.
There were a trio of delightful Daughters Of The Sons Of The Trailer Park in front of us at the show. They'd apparently decided in early childhood that beer and Ho-Ho's constituted, in spite of all contradictory experience, a valid diet. They also thought that enough beer would be in the bloodstreams of all and sundry so that no one would care about the fact that they... had really great personalities.
I've never seen a mosh pit empty out so fast when they waddled in. No safe place to push off of them, nothing you'd want to touch, and no penicillin wipes handy in case you accidentally made contact.
Top photo is mine, bottom one was just too good not to include. Note the face being made directly behind Moshzilla. Classic.
I'll try and post the story of the 40-mile weekend, the best food ever and the If You See It, You Can Puke On It tale of one girl's fight to cover everything in the house with yuck. Tomorrow, barring real work or good weather.
Bike has dibs on my free time, capice?
- Ryan
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