TALES OF THE SHATOU

This Is Hardcore fest 2009: the review.

2009-09-09T11:52:00.001-07:00

Figured today was a good day to add some more posts that I have lying around. Originally posted on the LOC, 8-18-09 & 8-19-09.

DAY ONE:
This was a total last minute decision on my part. Mer and Sausage's girlfriend Caitlin basically brow beat me into it so that they could hang out at the SFU table together all weekend (I'm not one to turn down pretty women, what can I say). Garvey tipped it over the scales by offering us a spot in a 4 star hotel suite 5 minutes from the fest with him, Red Sox Jess, and Stef. A 24 hour gym and a pool were specifically mentioned to get me to sign on, and I was very definite that THOSE were the reasons I was going. My plan was this: Go down Friday night, wake up and swim, go see Rival Mob, go back and swim, go see Floorpunch, eat a cheese steak, go work out, sleep, wake up and swim, eat a cheese steak go to the fest around 5 to catch Wisdom in Chains and Reach The Sky, leave and go home. That plan was thrown entirely out the window, and I'm actually really glad it was. There were some minor annoyances with the hotel situation (you had to pay to park, there were an additional 4 people staying in the room that Garvey failed to mention- tho they were all chill, and I still got a bed it just made shit overly chaotic, etc. Nothing gig related).

So going down Friday night was a piece of cake. Got there in an easy breezy 2 hour ride, and got to the hotel right as everyone was getting there from Suicide File ending (I would have liked to see them, but it would have meant a lot of traffic, and when I went to get tickets the three day passes and Friday tickets were all sold out, so I only did Saturday and Sunday, which was a good move since they sold out before Friday was even over. Yes, I paid for a show. Shocking, I know). Pretty much went straight to bed so that we could wake up early for the continental breakfast.

There was no continental breakfast. It was a 15 dollar buffet.

Went swimming for about 2 hours, then decided to walk to the show. Took about 30 minutes, pretty easy, and the fun thing about Philly is that the schizo homeless people will relentlessly badger you for blocks in broad daylight. Example: we stopped in at a Wawa to get waters and lunch, and this 3 foot tall batshit insane lady comes wandering up to us while we're eating outside...

"Can you help me out?"
Garvey- "Probably not."
(to Mer) "Can you help me out?"
*Mer ignores her*
"It's your own fault. Stop complaining. Stop complaining."

Fortunately, she walked away after about the 5th repetition of this, as Mer's Sketchy face was on and things were about to get very ugly in broad daylight. Mer then proceeded to complain about the harassment all weekend. Precognitive homeless women. Fuckin' Philly.

Took about 30 minutes to get over to the show, but unfortunately we got there at about 2:39, and the Mob was already done. Their set time had been scheduled for 2:30. The show was running AHEAD of schedule. My mind was blown. Talk about awesome. Also awesome, the fact that Joe released this to the internet ahead of time:

Fucking awesome. All I had to do to know what was going on was just look at my phone, and was how I had come up with my schedule for the weekend. A schedule that I ended up completely abandoning. And please note the presence of an intermission. Such a great idea (tho apparently only brought on by Cruel Hand dropping off).

With nothing else to do and plenty of time to go back and swim before FP, we went in and camped out at the Six Feet Under table, which is where we ended up for the duration. It was def 1000 degrees in there, I was drenched in seconds. The plan was to watch The Killer and Convicted, then go eat lunch and go back to swim. This was kiboshed because of the following:

1. I was leaked word of a special guest before Cold World.

2. Greg Mongo asked me to stay for Mongoloids, because he was nervous as hell about playing a high profile hc gig with the new line up after all the internet scandal. I had no problem with this, and since the hotel was so close by car, it still left time to swim.

So that really didn't make it worthwhile to go back to the hotel, as it would have ended up only being about 30 minutes of swimming time. And with things running ahead of schedule, and my having no intention of seeing VOD, there would still be time to swim after.

The Killer and Convicted both sounded good, I was actually kind of surprised that The Killer played before Convicted. I won't lie tho, I wasn't really paying much attention to the either as I was busy hitting up the FP merch booth and getting the low down on the secret merch.

We then went to lunch. What Mer and I hadn't been told was that Stef and Jess had already decided that we were going to this place called THE SPAGHETTI WAREHOUSE that was behind the show. Because on a super hot day in a super hot show, you want to go load up on hot plates of starchy carbs. Suffice to say, we watched them eat while enjoying large glasses of water.

Hung outside after that and had a long talk with Greg about the latest in Mongo scandals and how he should deal with it onstage. He also said that TDT had made shirts with his face on them, with his mouth stuffed full of money, that said The Mongoloid and "Is anybody stealing me" on the back, and that those shirts had mysteriously vanished from TDT. Interesting.

Went in for the Mongoloids, Greg had had nothing to worry about. His new line up was tight as all hell, and kids went bat shit. First words out of his mouth were "there's been a lot of talk about us on the internet... and it's all true", ha ha ha. Somehow Todd Pollock ended up with the mic for the last song, and broke his hand trying to keep his balance while being piled on. I am 99% sure he was back on stage taking pictures within 2 bands, and was there on Sunday with a giant cast.

Went back outside after, where we bumped into Steve Bush, Porter, Rifkin and co, who Bushy was leading up the street to a block party. Tho we initially declined in order to go for our own walk to find a non-pasta meal, there was literally nothing else around the show, and we ended up right at the block party. Which was off the HOOK. People on the roofs of the buildings, free Red Bull (Jay Bush also said there was free food, tho we never saw it), a whole lot of people jumping up and down and basically raving in the street and doing the whole "the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire" chant, some woman walked up to us offering up sips from a little tiny bubble bottle of moonshine... just amazing ridiculousness. So much fun, and we weren't even doing anything, just watching hipsters and hoodrats get down. Rad as it was, we all peaced back to the show after a little bit because no one wanted to miss the special guest.

(while we were gone we missed Pulling Teeth close with two Ink and Dagger covers)

We got back way earlier than intended, as Slumlords were just going on when we got back. I've never been into them, as seeing Perlin sing joke songs about walking the dog and male pattern baldness just doesn't hold my interest the way Perlin singing songs about watching a street fight while eating a Big Mac does, but they did do a completely serious cover of Rock You Like A Hurricane from start to finish that was pretty incredible (and got a great crowd reaction).

It was time for Cold World after that, which meant it was time for the special guest. Dan got on stage, took the mic, said "We're Cold World... and this is CLUBBER LANG" and handed the mic off to Cooper for Varsity Violence and Execution Style. You bet I was moshing (and it was a perfect set for me to do so, because 2 songs is about all my back and I can stand these days). All the old dudes sent the kids who were up front for CW packing. Joe HC moshed so hard his shoes came off. After that all the old men (including myself) vanished so the kids could have their fun.

CW got a great response, it looked really nuts up there. And yes, Scace flew in for another 24 hours so he could gig. Joe was grading stage dives, he literally had score cards that he would hold up after each dive. "Holy shit", "Worst Stage Dive Ever", "-2", "9", and I think maybe one other. He would also lean over the bad divers and berate them. Just his reactions to the stage dives in general were a highlight of the weekend. So many looks, ranging from disgust to awe to exasperation. That dude Chris NASE who's been rolling with CW was doing INCREDIBLE front flips and getting all "Holy Shit" ratings, like full flips done with 3 feet of air between him and the crowd. Near the end someone either kicked them out of Joe's hands or grabbed them as they went, effectively killing the gag for the rest of the fest, but it was fun while it lasted. George did his part in Dedicated..., and Dr Dan from Lifetime came out and did Greg's part from the 7 inch (I think, it's been awhile since I've listened to CW on record).

It was finally time for FP, which meant I was allowed to bust out the secret FP merch, which if you've seen the pick ups thread, you know was the Division One Champs football jerseys. My experience with football jerseys has always been that they run large, so I had grabbed a medium for myself. This may prove to be a mistake, as it fits me like a second skin, and I absolutely could not remove it without help once I started sweating (well, I was already sweating, but you know what I mean). On the plus side, it did make me look like I was moshing in full football pads.
FP kicked things off with Perlin singing All I Ask, then dueting with Porter on Safe In A Crowd. Shit was nuts. Perlin was wearing a diaper on his head for reasons I do not fathom in the slightest.

"He's not raising my kids, he's playing on my football team."- Porter on Michael Vick.:angry:

I have to say this was the "worst" of the FP reunions I've seen (keeping in mind of course that a bad FP set is better than most bands best). Everything was going great, and then they give the mic to Brett Beach for the first half of Keep It Clear. And all due respect to Brett, but it didn't sound good. He seemed really nervous, and pretty much just talked the lyrics. Things kind of never picked up again after that, and the set kind of ended with a whimper (everyone had thought True Colors was the last song, and then they went back to do Gonna Get Yours, to a minimal response). Zusi said on the LWB that they cut it short cuz Porter couldn't breathe due to the heat, and I believe it. It was deathly hot in there.

Like I'm going to stay and watch VOD in 2009. Shit, I wouldn't even have watched them in 1996, even tho I like that song Suffer (which I'm told is the only old song they even played). We got picked up by Jana, went back to the hotel and swam, then hit up Pat's for cheese steaks (I wasn't impressed).

DAY TWO:
So the initial plan of get everything together, go get food, go back to the hotel and go to the pool while Garvey checked us out and then let him back in so we could all swim until we wanted to head to the show was shot down by too many girls doing too much applying of make up and flat ironing of hair for too long a time. So we ended up going straight from checkout to food. No swimming. Lame.

With nothing else to do, we ended up at the show pretty much right at the start. I think we missed the first band, and Braindead was setting up as we got in. It was already ridiculously hot, but fortunately we had had dressed for it- Mer wore her Rampage sports bra in lieu of a shirt, and I wore a bathing suit. Because said bathing suit had no pockets, I paired it with the fanny pack I wear to the gym. We still ended up drenched in sweat all day, but it was a vast improvement.

Braindead played every style of hardcore. And by that I mean each song sounded like a different band. I wasn't impressed.

Naysayer was next. My friend Jaycox (see minute 1:05 of the video below) had told me the day before to be sure to be there, I had told him I couldn't guarantee anything. Boy would I have been bummed out if I had actually missed them. 3rd band of the day, getting what, given the amount of people inside at the time, could be considered a headlining band's reaction. It actually got me incredibly psyched.

Mer and I went for a little walk during the Carrier, so I don't know how that was. I'm told the singer projectile vomited. Coke Bust went in one ear and out the other.

We actually paid attention to Foundation, as we had been hanging out with their roadie Stan and his wife at the SFU table both days (it turns out I had actually met Stan before, as he was the guy who got hit with the chain during Dump Truck at Posi Numbers when it got thrown into the crowd). They were alright, perfectly acceptable heavy 90s core.

Shout outs to the SFU records table ladies crew.

I had once again been let in on another special guest happening before Let Down, so I went up front. Turns out, the special guest was actually happening in the middle of Let Down's set, and I got crushed as a wave of violent face punching sent the crowd towards the sides of the room. Bob didn't do any of the shenanigans he's become internet famous for, but it was still sick, I'd never seen them before and it made me want to see them again. Too bad it was their last show.

Halfway through the set, Sausage gets onstage and takes the bass, and Ryan DM takes the mic. Never Enough Time. Moving On. Times You Share. Almost nothing but brand name dudes moshing. I would actually describe the reaction as subdued, which isn't what I expected. Almost no diving, as there was never really more than one row of kids up front singing along for the most part (Joe HC seemed very disappointed by this, but most of the time he was freaking out with a huge smile on his face). Does this count as a DM reunion? Probably not, and I'm sure those LOJ dudes are pissed that people are talking about it like it was. But fuck it, I thought it was fun and awesome and it sounded tight.

Let Down finished up after that. I went and chilled out at the table (well, chilled may be the wrong word given the temperature) for the rest of their set and for Brace War (who if memory serves intro'd with Pledge Your Allegiance by Suicidal Tendencies).

Joe then took the stage to deliver a speech thanking every one for coming out, and explaining that he considers putting on TIH every year part of his penance for all the bad things he's done. It was really sincere and actually pretty touching. He then intro'd Trapped Under Ice, and the place EXPLODED. Like, it looked like that Sick Of It All video from the Ritz in 1991, only with stage diving. Absolutely positively THE set of the day, possibly the entire weekend (I'm told Suicide File was a sight to behold, but I wasn't there). At one point a um... larger girl got on stage to dive, and nearly caught a bass to the face, and dodging it nearly made her fall right off the stage onto her head. Fortunately Joe was there to grab her and direct her off the stage. Apparently she argued over it, because he had to take the mic and explain to everyone that they haven't been grabbing divers and making them get off the stage to be dicks, but because they don't want them diving when there's no one there to catch them, and don't want them breaking their necks. "We will NOT be sued because you did something stupid."

Wisdom In Chains was on next, and it was an unfortunate spot for them, because the room was virtually empty. TUI had wiped everybody out. I went up front, but the energy was just weird. They kept it really short, and only the last song got a big response (Land of Kings), seeing as it was all about how awesome Pennsylvania is. So that was sort of a bumout, seeing as they were one of the 4 bands I had originally intended to watch.

I hate Ceremony. Not even going to review it. I drank a lot of water and tuned them out.

Reach The Sky was up. I was completely drained due to the heat so I didn't head up front right away, which meant I got to see Ian have a "senior moment" during the first song (started singing the wrong part, stopped, had to catch up. He later blamed this on "Zac playing the wrong part", but that's not what I heard...). After a couple songs I felt refreshed enough to go up front, just in time for Let Us Be Damned (GREAT mosh part). It wasn't too nuts. Basically the same set as Worcester (did I review that one?). That song that had Rachel Bilson in the video and She Really Loved you got the biggest responses, and were the songs that I was able to get decent dives in on. Lost Glories actually got almost no response, no one packed up front to sing along, not a lot of moshers. I think it was pretty much just me and Garvey and our hair tackling people into the sides. Fun tho, but with the heat and the lack of sleep and food (we hadn't eaten since we left the hotel) I was completely wiped out. I spent almost all of Blacklisted lying flat on my back on the SFU merch bags, pretty much asleep. I think I may have gone up for Eye For An Eye, but at that point the heat had me absolutely shot. So we peaced out (apologies to Bedard).

We picked up the car and paid the parking bill (50 bucks, which when combined with the hotel room and that expensive ass breakfast only brought our total to 90 bucks, which isn't so bad), and then tried to find something to eat. It was a disaster, and we somehow ended up back in front of that same Wawa, with that same precognitive schizo still standing out front. We fled. It was definitely time to leave Philly.

Fortunately on the way home we found a Sonic off the highway, which made everything much, much better (large Cherry limeade, FTW). And once again, we made it home in an easy breezy 2 hours. All in all, an excellent weekend, and an excellent fest. Would go to again.

You can check out videos of every band's set here.

Cheap plug.

2009-09-09T11:37:00.000-07:00

Every Friday, I write a column about pro-wrestling for a website called the Inside Pulse. We're coming up on my fourth week, and it's going pretty good so far.

You can check them out here.

Posi Youth Does Not Riot: the Floorpunch S+F warm up show.

2009-07-23T09:57:00.000-07:00

This show was WAY the fuck out there in east bumfuck, so we (myself, Thorns, our friend Michelle) made it a day trip. I picked up a new pair of Nikes for 35.99 at an outlet mall, and Michelle gave me two 24 packs of sugar free Red Bull from her work. We also met Michelle's parents (super nice, but it was awkward) and went to some pizza place with her friends, where the pizza sucked (as Thorns predicted, and while I did not doubt him I did take the hit and eat a piece- and it was a piece, not a slice, because it was that Elio's/microwave pan style shit, not a real pie). The steak sandwich I had was pretty good tho.

We got there right as a Clam and Corn festival was starting up the road, I guess a lot of people ended up held up because of the opening parade. Not that it mattered, the doors were supposed to be at 6 and no one got inside until well after 7... which is when everyone found out that the show had to be over at 9:30. This led to a fun little talk between Cooper, Porter and myself over how much trouble would possibly ensue if the club tried to pull the plug on FP or if the two hick bouncers in their blue jeans and white bandannas tried to rough anybody up. The consensus was that the kids would all just leave quietly (the example Cooper cited was 400 kids just up and leaving a recent 500 person show because 10 Nazis were there). It ended up a non issue, as all the openers played 10 minute sets so FP could play their full set (tho they didn't). More shows should follow this lead.

It wasn't that huge a turn out, but given where the show was and the expectation of it selling out (the club had low balled the kid who booked it on capacity so he tried to do some email your name to guarantee you get in thing, probably kept some people away), I guess that shouldn't be a surprise. I'd say only about a half full venue (good set up tho; stage at one end of the room, with these low fence type things that were good to get on top of the crowd from separating it and the pit area from the bars) but everyone packed in the middle of the room for the bands so it wasn't so bad. What would happen is that everyone would be packed in to sing along, then it would space way out for the mosh parts, and then when the next sing along kicked in all the moshers would run back to the front of the room to pack it in again. Very loosy goosy.

FP are clearly expecting a profitable summer- they had more merch than there were people at the show. Crewnecks, shorts, tank tops, and 2 t-shirt designs. I'm pretty sure everyone there who bought something bought more than one thing (I bought Mer a crewneck and both t-shirts and a crewneck for myself, which is the most merch I've actually paid for since 2000 or 2001), and there were still giant piles behind the table at the end of the show.

I was still outside talking with Porter and Cooper when Force Fed played (it was still nice out, and it was a no re-entry gig), but I'm pretty sure they covered Wolf Pack (DYS Wolf Pack, not NY Wolf Pack).

I spent most of the show crashed out on the Mongos merch bags, as the ride up bothered my back and I wanted to just lie down most of the time. So other than FP my band reviews are based on what I heard and the times I got up to take a peek at the pit.

Mongos sounded heavy as hell, they're a lot less goofy lately, I guess there's a lot of inter-band beefing going on. It's working for them.

Mother Of Mercy was also heavy as hell, a little bit of the rock riff thing going on. I thought they were opening with Forget This Time, but it was just a sound alike riff.

Bad Seed took Porter's advice and upped to two guitars, and it was a good move, as they were the heaviest of the openers. Porter kept talking about them being ignorant between FP songs, and he wasn't kidding. Total dick head mosh music. In a good way.

FP went on around 9, they cut a couple songs, but I think they still may have gone a little past the 9:30 cut off but it was apparently no problem.

Set list:
My Path/Intro/Changes
Washed Up At 18
Not For Me/Shottsie
Keep It Clear
The Answer
Persevere
Always
No Exceptions
Let It Ride
Last Warning (AF)
Gonna Get Yours

Everything sounded good, and it was pretty nuts, but not ridiculously nuts the way Mark Porter's Floor Punch was at Planet Mental. NJ Shore kids were in full effect. Brett Real lost one of his shoes so he moshed bare foot. Porter spent most of the time between songs talking about how ignorant Bad Seed is. I am psyched to say that there was a TON of stage moshing, and none of it sucked, probably because it was almost all from Brett and the Shore kids.

Pics here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/futurebreed/sets/72157621697335174/
Video here:
http://www.vimeo.com/5670860
and here (better angle, better footage):
http://hate5six.com/player.php?album=111747#

Stopped at Sheetz after the show for a nice cookie dough milk shake, chicken fingers, and fries. Shore crew showed up being noisy as all hell, and I got to watch the steam rising from the fat woman cashiers ears as she watched them and griped about wanting to tell them to shut up (she never did). Back in Brooklyn around 2:30am, was home in bed by 3. All in all, a good day, well worth the trip.

FP Merch:

Tank tops were red with the Raw Deal rip off design. Shorts iirc had the FP guy on them, but honestly I'm completely over mesh band shorts so I didn't pay much attention to them. They also had the FP guy shirt in bright green.

Good times.

Have Heart/The Rival Mob in NJ: a review. Sort of.

2009-03-07T14:25:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 3-1-09 on the LOC board.

Decided to go down to this because the Mob is one of my fave nu scene bands. Couldn't leave until 7pm because Meredith wanted to come, but decided to go to the Outlet malls with her parents first. Figured it would be ok cuz the B9 said the Mob was playing 3rd. Got a text from Greg Mongo right as I was getting on the GWB telling me Rival Mob was going on... whoops. Since we were going to miss them anyway we took a Starbucks break at a rest stop. Grande white chocolate mocha... delicious.

Got to the show, looked pretty packed, but I had missed the Mob so I didn't bother going in. Porter was psyched on their Outburst cover. Stood outside with Zusi and Cooper and talked about disability checks and old man things, went in between bands to say hi to dudes (shoot outz to Porter, DFJ, BRad, Gil, Hoodrack, Foster, Brett Real, and Rifkin... looked for Pearse everywhere but never saw him) and get my Rival Mob 7 inch from Gil, then me and Meredith took Doug Free to Wawa. Cooper insisted there were no Wawa's near the show, but he was wrong (there were two of them 15 minutes up the road).

I had a cappucino milkshake, a cheesesteak, and chicken fingers. I selected regular thickness for the shake, as the extra thick setting always makes them too thick to get through a straw. The cheesesteak was great (extra meat, salt, pepper, lettuce, tomato, lil mayo), the chicken fingers were just meh this time. Kind of cold. I was not given any dipping sauce either, not cool. Doug got ketchup fries, they reeked.

Brought Doug back to the show right as Have Heart was finishing up. Hung out a bit then went back to New Roc and played the new Street Fighter at my friend Rui's house until 3 o'clock in the morning.

Good gig. Videos here:
Rival Mob
Great Hoodrack stage mosh @ 10:53.
Alternate angle of Rival Mob.

Bad Seed
Didn't know this was Rifkin's band. Pretty good, I dig the drum stuff going on in the first song, would like to hear an actual recording (I can't make myspace songs work using my wireless connection for some reason).
Better angle of Bad Seed, more mosh footage.
*-Not my tattoo.

Who Watches the Watchmen? I do.

2009-03-07T14:24:00.001-08:00

Originally posted 3-6-09 on the B9board.
THERE WILL BE SPOILERS IN THIS FOR BOTH COMIC AND FILM. If you don't want to deal with that just yet, you should go peep this instead, then come back when you're ready:

Watchmen: the Saturday Morning Cartoon.

Who watches the Watchmen? I do.
What do you mean that joke's already been used this week?

I'm not a member of the "Watchmen is unfilmable" camp, and I'm not a Moore purist by any means, but I was still worried whether or not this would work. Especially as the WB hype machine kicked into overdrive and we got inundated with out of contexts clips that made it look cheesy and superficial as all hell. So to say I was happy to have come out of the theatre feeling that all the worrying was for naught is an understatement.

Let's get the dry textbook stuff out of the way first: yes, the movie does aspire to the multiple subtexts and themes of the comic. No, I don't think most people are going to get that right away. In particular, I think those familiar with the comic will have the toughest time acknowledging that the themes are there, due to the fact that the character driven themes are intrinsic. So to someone who already gets why Dan is impotent and who already knows how Rorschach's mommy issues helped shape his world view and who already understands Dr Manhattan's alienation, it may feel like they didn't try to put those themes across. But they did, in part because you can't put those characters up on the screen, have them follow the same plot points they do in the comic, and not have those themes show up. No, it's not as thorough an exploration as the comic (and in the cases of Silk Spectre and Ozymandias, not explored at all- I assume the directors cut will rectify some of this, at the very least for Laurie), but it's there. Watchmen readers are just are used to it at this point, and I think many of the critics missed it because they've already seen it riffed on so many times themselves; The Incredibles in particular strip mined Watchmen for all that it could.

But what about the not so obvious themes? Moore has said that Watchmen was a shot at the leadership and politics of the time (Reagan, America feeling invincible, etc); Snyder's Watchmen is a month late to take that kind of shot (tho the scenes with Nixon hint in that direction), but the changes to the ending allow him to take a shot of a different kind: at the businessmen who allow us to suffer while they reap in profit. They make a direct connection between the energy crisis in the world and the big businesses hoping to profit from it, and later on when Ozy has all his tv screens on, what should be playing on one but The Road Warrior, the post apocalyptic Mad Max movie where the most valuable commodity is fuel (which in turn also provides a wink wink towards the fans who know where Moore got the idea for Rorschach's punishment for the child killer in the comic).

The superhero deconstruction of the comic has also been replicated. Some of that is intrinsic, as I said before, and to a lesser degree it has also been applied to the superhero film. I was skeptical when Snyder said that they were attempting to make that kind of effort, but thinking about it afterward, I can see how they did. Comic book superhero movies have always had cartoon violence. Watchmen's violence is over the top, but it is far from cartoonish; instead it is squirm inducing. There is the obvious point of Ozymandias' costume having nipples. And then there is the soundtrack...

A lot has been made of the soundtrack choices. If Snyder is in fact putting some of his efforts toward deconstructing or poking at the traditions of superhero movies, I can't help but feel like the soundtrack choices was part of that. After all, most mainstream superhero fodder stock up on leftover tracks from currently popular artists, and stick them into the movie at inopportune moments. Is this the case? I don't know. What I do know is that, for me, the music worked 90% of the time. There were 2 jarring exceptions. The most obvious, and the one everyone has seemed to mention, was Hallelujah during the sex scene. It was just too, too obvious (oh the costume helped him get it up YAY sex!), and helped push an already awkward scene over into Skinemax camp. I understand why Snyder made the choice to basically put a full on softcore fucking in the movie (the comic after all completely pushed the boundaries of sex and violence in a mainstream comic at the time, and we've never seen any sort of grown up sex scene in a superhero movie), but in a movie pressed for time it was just excessive and tonally off. The second was the use of Sounds of Silence at the Comedians funeral. This wasn't a bad choice, it was just from out of left field and created too jarring of a transition. I almost thought the use of 99 Luftballoons didn't fit, but the way the scene ended it ended up fitting, and actually created a surprisingly sweet moment.

Dan and Laurie could have used more of those moments, because they were the weak link. Not so much Patrick Wilson, I think he did a good job of playing a defeated schlub trying to convince himself he's happy in boredom, and he looked the role (despite what diehards would have you believe, the comic Night Owl was NOT a great big fatty, he was clearly drawn as a once in shape guy who ended up with a beer gut). If anything, he gave perhaps TOO understated a performance when compared to Jackie Earle Haley or Jeffrey Dean Morgan. But there was no chemistry between the two (other than the 99 Luftballoons moment), and Malin Ackerman never rose above the level of an afternoon soap opera (I'm disappointed to say Carla Gugino did the same during her old age segments, except for a brief moment at the end that I won't spoil). This is the only case in the movie where I'd say they should have cast someone else. She looked the part, but she doesn't have the acting chops to pull it off, and quite frankly I wanted Laurie to be bitchier.

Laurie is one of the characters who got short shrift with the backstory- the beats are there, but it isn't examined to the lengths of Rorschach, Comedian, and Dr Manhattan. Ozymandias gets the same short end of the stick, but at least Matthew Goode's acting was good enough to carry the character. No, he was not Moore's Ozymandias- this was not a Robert Redford alpha male, more a slimy intellectual priss. Which Goode pulled off to a T. He's still one of the weak links in the cast, and I can't say it's how I wanted to see Ozymandias depicted, but it worked. One thing I found interesting about the performance was the disappearing/reappearing wisp of a German accent. At first I thought this was just bad acting, but then I noticed that it seemed to only appear in scenes with the other heroes- when he was doing business it seemed to vanish completely. It could be bad acting, it could be my imagination, or it could be a very interesting subtext/character choice. And for the record, the costume looks 1000x better on screen then in the publicity shots.

The design is really where the movie shines above all else. Watchmen had to be read multiple times not only to get all it's subplots and themes, but to examine the symbolism and depth of the world created by Gibbons. While there's no Fearful Symmetry style moment in the movie, the designers went above and beyond in creating a world that matched up to the depth of the one drawn by Gibbons. This movie bears watching again and again just to try and pick out all the little details in costume and set dressing, from the original Minutemen outfits looking straight from the Batman tv show to the psychiatrist's hat to the Gunga Diner balloons to the graffiti to the images on Ozy's tv... there is literally TONS to pick out and ogle and argue over what's intended as symbolism and what's just there because it makes things look incredible. And yes, the Galle crater makes an appearance.

Ok, now let's get to the things everyone has already been going on about. Rorschach OWNS this movie. Jackie Earle Haley NAILS it. Just nails it. The only character who got multiple moments of applause, yet they STILL made sure to make it clear he was a complete misogynist psychopath. Yes, some of the character's origin hit the cutting room floor, there was no explanation of the mask or how the story of Kitty Genovese led him to become a crime fighter. But his childhood was there, and the child killer scene was there, albeit changed to avoid similarities to Saw/Mad Max (I stand by my statement that it has more to do with Saw than Mad Max, which is 30 years old now- Moore ripping it off 20 years ago really doesn't matter at this point). It almost doesn't work, but even underneath the mask Haley drives home the emotional turning point.

The Comedian is also perfectly done. If anything, he's underplayed compared to how I imagined him. Still a total bastard, and lacking some of the sympathetic tones from the comic, but somehow more likable. Definitely second only to Rorschach in terms of the quality of the acting.

As for Dr Manhattan and his penis... get over it. If you can't handle a penis in an R rated movie that despite it's superhero trappings is attempting to explore mature themes, you probably shouldn't be watching Watchmen in the first place. Especially when the point of the character is that he's drifted beyond human mores, which means he wouldn't give a shit about clothes. The movie translated the character perfectly, with the Dr Manhattan origin aptly demonstrating how he exists in all times at once and has lost touch with the world. The special effects take a little bit of getting used to- for some reason the way he hold his hand out especially looks fake- but the way you can sort of see cosmos swirling behind his eyes and the little particles floating around him combine with the FX to make for a disconcerting effect that seems highly appropriate.

Some of the early Rorschach mask designs were a little much.

As far as direction goes... Snyder is not an actor's director. Clearly. Fortunately, despite the previously noted exceptions, the cast is full not only of good actors who don't need the hand holding Ackerman appears to need, but extras who just LOOK fascinating. Even if I hadn't read the book, I still would be curious about Hollis, and the newsman and the kid with the comic, and the psychiatrist, because they just capture the eye. I really look forward to seeing the news stand scenes play out on the extended cut (yes, they're in there, along with Hollis' death, and I would hope a clearer back story for Laurie and Ozy). Snyder's strength lies in his visuals, which are stunning. The opening credit sequence is everything it was hyped up to be, and you can tell Snyder was more comfortable/less concerned with alienating the fan boys with that segment than anything else.

Yes, the movie is loyal, perhaps too loyal. Yes, they changed the ending, perhaps for the better. Yes, it has a 3 hour running time. These things have been beaten into the ground by now and I see no reason to do so again. Suffice to say, I was absolutely fine with all three, in fact I felt the time went by almost too quickly. What I did have a problem with was the sudden shift in pace towards the end, where instead of letting the scenes play out as it had previously, we started jumping back and forth between Mars and Antarctica. The movie had been playing with time in the previous 2 hours, there was no reason it couldn't have done so again, allowing the Mars segment to play out, then Antarctica, and then continuing from there to Dr Manhattan confronting Ozy in Antarctica. There was a very comfortable, not too fast, not too slow pace up until that point, and it was a shame to see it go in favor of more standard mainstream superhero movie beats.

And of course, since we're talking pacing, I guess I'll have to speak of the dreaded Snyder Slow-Mo... it's not that bad. In fact, I barely noticed most of it. All together there was probably at the MOST 10 minutes of slow mo in the whole movie, and most of it was in brief spots during action sequences, where it would slow down for a second enough for you to admire the composition of the image (much like being able to admire the composition of a comic book panel), then speed back up again into a normal paced fight scene. The fight between Ozy and Nite Owl/Rorschach especially kept the slow-mo to a minimum.

Yes, the movie expanded on the fight scenes. I was able to get past the fact that they all appeared to have super strength and chalk that up to them all having trained to be the very best fighters around, but the Dan/Laurie vs Knot Top scene was completely overplayed. You had Dan breaking bones and Laurie stab a guy in the neck and then use him as a human shield. This is Silk Spectre and Nite Owl, not Rorschach and Comedian. These are two of the ones that DON'T deliberately kill or maim, and this absurdity was compounded by them not using the same over the top violence in the prison riot. I know what Snyder was driving at, and yes they made it clear that the violence turned them on, but it just didn't work for me.

I'm going to wrap this up, because I pretty much wrote an essay for no reason, but the long and short of it is, I'm REALLY satisfied. Definite A for the effort at creating a film version that had depth (your mileage may vary on how much depth you think it actually had), A+ for the design team, and an B+ for the execution due to some slight missteps in tone and some mediocre acting choices. Which averages out to an A-. Will definitely go see again.

Mark Porter's Sick People: a review.

2009-01-24T21:49:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 1-18-09 on the LOC board.
For some reason my GPS had me jump off 95 and go down Fordham Rd to get on the GWB, which if there had traffic would have made sense but I don't think there was any traffic. I still probably could have made it there in under an hour, but I pulled a BTrust and stopped for Starbucks, and it was so busy there that it added a half hour to the trip.

That place was fucking PACKED. Apparently a lot of mall core kids came to see some band Ligeia that was headlining? Got there at 8:30 and to have G-Dogg come out to the parking lot to back me out because people had parked an extra 2 cars deep at the ends of all the lanes. Ended up parking on the walkway leading from the handicapped spaces to the building next door.

Went in, could not move. War Hungry was finishing a song, then covered Underground by LOA and some dude with a bandanna and work boots went insane; grabbing at Hoodrack, flipping off Alex, punching the stage, shoving kids in sweaters... no idea WHO that dude was but he's a great mosher. Set was followed by what seemed like 45 minutes of non-starting pit beef.

Between bands Rifkin got rib sauce on his Rampage shirt.

Mongos played, lots of retarded kids went retarded (good retardeds, not bad retardeds), sounded good. It's weird, the part kids seem to go the absolute craziest for is in that song Alive And Well, when that kid Cleary sings instead of Greg. Didn't want to be in that sweltering firetrap, so I hung out in the stairs/kitchen and watched the fire marshal sniff around for excuses to shut the gig down. Def saw a girl crowded in one of the doorways who didn't have her plugs in... her ears looked like flesh colored melted tire jump ropes, blech. Someone tell me why that is still considered an acceptable alternative style, because unless you have Nbugu the African Witch Doctor who came to my high school and spoke at an assembly about diversity in the 10th grade at some branch of your family tree, it isn't. Cops came, they dipped their beaks in some cds, made every non-band person leave (or maybe they wanted everybody to leave, I dunno, we didn't leave), then let in the maximum capacity. I suggested just kicking out all the kids who didn't like Breakdown, but it my advice was not taken. So it went from a jam packed room to about a 3/4 full room, which was still plenty to dive on.

Line up for MPSP was Porter, Zev, Mike Schweigert (www.mikeschweigerttattooer.com), and Brian Gorsegner.
Set list was:

It's The Limit.
Porter gave a speech about playing As One after Raybeez died (BTSJ1). The band then went into...
We Gotta Know (w. Dave Murphy on vocals. Unlike Invasion's Posi Numbers set when he dropped the mic and sang Discriminate Me into the air, he managed to sing the whole song into the mic, but he only sang the first verse correctly- I'm not judging, mind you*).
As One.
Vengeance.
Sick People (w. Dave on vocals again. Dude was really psyched about the whole thing, we both agreed that more bands should start up that don't write any songs and only play covers of good songs).
Fed Up.
Hard Times. Something came unplugged between "Skin Head" and "Break Out", so they started the song over from "Skin Head" (I myself was saying "Floor Punch... Straight Edge... Break Out, as is appropriate when Porter is singing Hard Times).
Backtrack (Woj went off super hard).
(If you don't know who wrote those songs, why are you reading my blog?)
Lots of Superman dives onto unsuspecting spectators from behind the PA on the side of the stage, and some good pitting. I think Zev's brother was pitting, and I know Alex risked ripping his Steelers crewneck out on the floor for awhile. Hoodrack and Rifkin were losing their shit, obviously. Set def made the trip to NJ worthwhile.

Drugs Suck is the best Edge band name I have heard in a long time. I wish it would be a real band. Alas, it is trademark and copyright to someone else.

Derek Scace and the Cold World's were next. Despite my best efforts, Scace would not pull a BTrust and play with his shirt off to show off his chiseled masculine features for the teenage girls. Dude looks good, feels solid, would not be surprised if he can out lift me were I healthy.

CW's set was good; lots of stage divers appeared to land face first on the floor, lots of sloppy mosh. Some kid I don't know sang one of the songs I don't know the name of off the new record, he appeared to be doing the Mandingo Stomp in super slow motion, it was kind of awesome. Alex's brother has a good mosh, goes off like he's Joey C during an RJ's set. I think there was a pit beef in the back of the room, may have involved Geoff TDT, not sure tho. Woj wanted something to hold the bass drum in place midset, Porter gave him this tiny little piece of wood that was sitting on the amps.

I got the fuck out of dodge before that Ligeia band played. Apparently, so did the rest of the show. The parking lot had like 10 cars left in it when I went out there. So I guess all those mall core kids went home when the cops had everyone go outside (even tho they all got to come back in when the cops left)? Or maybe the drawing power of Ligeia was greatly exaggerated.

Made it home in under an hour. No traffic at all, not even at the GWB. I call that a good night.

* zinger of the night:
Rifkin- "I heard you're singing a Breakdown cover tonight."
Me- "I am?"
Rifkin- "Yeah, but you're only singing 2 lines."
(If explanation is required... at the Floorpunch reunion, Porter handed me the mic to sing Safe In A Crowd. I sang approximately 2 lines.)

Videos may be found here:
http://www.hate5six.com/player.php?album=58242
Picture courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/ridethefury/

Morgado revue of books issue 1 volume 1.

2009-01-24T21:41:00.000-08:00

Originally posted 10-30-05 on the LOC board.

So I went to the Border's across the street from my work, just to kill a little time. And I'm looking around the Modern US History section, cuz I'm deep, and I find this book about growing up in Southie ("Easter Rising: An Irish American Coming Up from Under" by Michael Patrick MacDonald).The cover blurb mentions how part of the book is about the author being into punk, so I flip thru a little bit and in the pictures I see this:

So my interest is piqued quite a bit at this time, and so I sit my ass down in one of Border's comfy leather chairs and start skimming. The punk stuff is really kind of few and far between, and by the time the Boston crew goes into full swing the dude is on his way to being post-core and above it all (he didn't get why suburban kids were content to be angry, why they all shaved their heads, why they labelled themselves "straight edgers" even tho he says he was too just without the label, etc.), but his adventures include:

Being snuck into the Rat by his townie brother, who bounced there, and having to hide behind the dumpsters until his brother was alone because his brother didn't want to be caught with the freak and he didn't want to be caught with the jock bouncer.

Hiding in the rafters of the Channel to see shows he was too young to get into, and then one night falling through the ceiling into the womens rest room because so many people had started hiding up there.

Sneaking into a Siouxie and the Banshees show with Springa (who was dressed up in the standard Siouxie fan goth vampire outfit), accidently ending up on the stage right in the middle of Siouxie's set, and Springa stagediving off and turning the place into a mosh pit and completely bumming out the band.

And my favourite...

Going to NYC with SSD and Choke to see Bad Brains, and him realizing he had met Choke a few years before at a New Wave party where Choke had "green poodle hair" and won a B52's record, which he then lamented winning because he already owned it.

Chew on that thought for awhile. Choke with green poodle hair and 2 B52s records.

Sweet dreams.

Sluggishness of the mind which neglects to begin good...

2009-01-24T21:29:00.000-08:00

Finally found my password. Will post some show reviews tonight. Stay tuned.

Suck My Dick Fanzine presents: a fireside chat with Dave Weinberg of The Suicide File

2008-06-16T13:36:00.001-07:00

I figured I'd do this one today as well. I cringed a lot when I dug all this zine stuff out and re-read it, but I didn't cringe at this one. I like everything about it, including the layout, and Dave once told me it was his favorite interview he'd done (or it was at the time anyways). I'm sure it bummed him out that I never did anything with it, so here it finally is.

Zines: the life's blood of our scene.

2008-06-16T13:12:00.000-07:00

As promised, I'm starting to put up a bunch of the stuff I put together back in 2001-2004 when I had the bright idea to do a zine. Much like my blog entries, my work on it was so few and far between that in the end only 2 one page issues ever actually got printed. They were given away to people under the title of "Suck My Dick Fanzine"; the first one in January 2002 I think, and the second in December of 2003, maybe even January 2004. Everything else sat in a folder to rot. Today I finally dug it all out and scanned it. I was never a good on the spot interviewer (or interviewee for that matter), so some of us this stuff is mildly embarrassing and/or terrible, and the mini "personal" writings on the one sheets are awful (as you may have noticed, I tend to be long winded and a quarter page isn't enough for me to fully realize anything). But it was fun and I wish I had made an actual go at putting out a full size issue. So enjoy, I started out with the 2 one sheets and then I'm going to proceed from there.

Coming soon:

2008-05-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

I have a bunch of stuff that I did back when I was going to do Suck My Dick fanzine that I'll be posting. Suicide File, No Warning, A-team, and F.Y.A. interviews, some 2001 era show reviews, some other stuff. Also I'll scan the 2 one page versions of the zine that I actually printed up. Stuff like that. Soon.

The day we hired a homeless person.

2008-05-03T10:14:00.000-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I work for a moving company. A couple years ago (I don't keep track of long stretches of time that well), I transferred to the New York office as assistant (to the) branch manager, thus getting myself out of 12 hours a day of humping furniture and boxes up and down stairs. Part of this job, at the time, involved meeting new employees when the branch manager brought them in for interviews. This is how I met The Wolverine.

At first meeting The Wolverine, was perfectly par for the course. Average looking jock type dude in his 20s, cargo sweatpants... I didn't look at his shoes, but I should have. Anyways, he looked like the usual lazy schlub who thinks a moving company means standing around smoking half the day and pushing a dolly the rest and is therefore easy pay. My boss introduced us, said he was friends with one of our guys who had recommended him for the job, told The Wolverine needed to fill out his paperwork, gave him the paperwork, sat him down... and vanished. Which was odd, because technically any questions about the hiring paperwork need to be directed to him so he's supposed to stick around. About a tenth of a second later I understood why, as The Wolverine's mouth opened and a non stop stream of halitosis tainted babble began to spew forth.

"HeyhowyadoinmanImfriendswithLamontwewereinhighschool
togetherbutIdroppedoutImadesomebadchoicesyknowtheycall
metheWolverineinkickboxingclassIusedtobeagreatkick
boxerbutIhadtostopgoingheycanIuseyourphoneIdontknow
mysocialIneedtocallmyMominFloridaThanksYesIdliketoplace
acollectcallNahitsokIllcallhercollectohokifyousaysoyehIwasa
kickboxeryknowandHiMomIneedmysocialNonotthatoneMom
IneedtheotheroneyehIwasintokickboxingdude..."

And so on for about a half hour, until my ears and nose were bleeding and his 3 pages of paperwork were about 50% filled out. Then I decided a trip to the bathroom would be prudent. Stepping out the door, I see my boss leaning against the wall, shaking his head. Turns out The Wolverine chewed his ear off the entire ride from Manhattan (where he picked him up after a job for his interview) to White Plains (where the office is). His vanishing act was simply because he couldn't take it anymore. BUT being a chatterbox and having bad breath isn't enough to turn a potential employee away on, so two days later The Wolverine was on the trucks.

Then the reports started coming in from the guys.

Not only did he never shut up, he wouldn't shut up in front of the customers. Not only would he not shut up in front of the customers, he wouldn't stop swearing in front of the customers. He couldn't walk a foot without bumping into something. He couldn't take more than one box at a time on a box run, and even then he'd still get completely winded. He couldn't go up stairs without tripping. And so on.

So naturally, with no improvement in sight, we decide he probably needs to get the ax. Then some more reports start coming in...

The reason he's always tripping is because his shoes are just soles held together with duct tape. Every night he has the guys drop him off in a truck parking lot full of empty trailers, and gets picked up at the same spot the next day in the same clothes. He never shaved. His smell gets progressively worse every day, as in no one thinks he bathes or brushes his teeth...

In other words, The Wolverine was homeless.

How do you fire a homeless guy? It got even more difficult after we found out from Lamont (who it turned out actually barely knew the guy in high school and didn't recommend him for the job at all) that the reason he couldn't stop talking was because he was nervous about not fitting in and getting along with everyone because he needed the job so bad.

We fired him anyway.

I'd like to say I feel guilty, but he was just terrible at the job, and left a horrible impression on customers, which at this stage of the game we absolutely can't have. I'm sure the firing was an awkward scene, but I wasn't there to see it. But I do know that for the first time, The Wolverine had nothing to say. And I also know that afterwards, he asked for a ride to his home in the abandoned trailers at the truck lot.

It was the least we could do.

Locks on my doors, but there's nothing to steal... Breakdown@ The Superbowl of HC 2008: a review.

2008-04-13T09:44:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 4-6-08 on the LOC board.

Walkin' down the street, with my Big Mac...

I'm going to be honest; I wasn't gonna go.

I have nothing to prove on the seeing Breakdown front (maybe on the singing Breakdown front), having lone moshed to Breakdown at the Seafood Beatdown, and the Superbowl of HC is more like the Superbowl of Hard Chore to me: crowded as all hell, too fucking hot, no re-entry, expensive ($30 ticket and $5 waters, ow), fat skinheads from Queens, beer moshers, smoking, too many bands, etc. So when Martin had to rescind his offer of a guest list spot, I decided "fuck it". My car's been at the mechanic basically since I got back from UB (well, technically since Thursday but I was sick since Sunday night and didn't get out of bed til then), and I wasn't about to get up at 9am to catch a MetroNorth to Grand Central and then take the 7 over to the G and walk over to the show to stand in line to pay $30 just for an off chance its not sold out or someone could sneak me in. So by 4:30 I was settling down with a plate of fried chicken and season one of the Rockford Files on Netflix when Thornz calls me to tell me that DBD can get me in to the show. Since I can catch a 5:30 train and be there by 7 (and therefore see Breakdown), I put some clothes on and hoof it to the train.

I get to the ticket machine, open my wallet... I left my ID and back/credit card at home. Oof. Fortunately, I had $80 in 5s and 20s stashed in my vest, so like an idiot I pop a 20 in and get bombarded with $14 bucks worth of Sacajawea dollar coins (and 2 quarters). After the fact, I realize I should grab a metro card too, so I go back and buy the $20 dollar metro card, and instead of using $10 worth of coins and 2 Honest Abe's... I put in another $20. Stupid ass, now you have 14 (13 actually, I gave one to some weird homeless Hispanic guy with a jheri curl and lipstick who spare changed me on the 7) bucks worth of coins that never get used by anybody ever outside of public transit. They're practically a penny.

I had grabbed a book to read on the ride, and of course it's one I already read (I bought a bunch of paperback Alfred Hitchcock Presents story collections; this one was titled Hard Day At The Scaffold and out of 6 books is one of 2 that I've read) so I absently flip thru it and try to ignore everyone else until I get to Grand Central. Miraculously (and by that I mean thanks to hopstop.com), I don't get on the wrong train or get off in Harlem or any other suburban kid going into the big city mishaps, and I'm at the show by 6:30 and literally turn the corner and walk right into B-roll, who leads me in and promptly goes back outside, stranding me in a pitch black hell hole of sweaty hot beer air.

I wander my way away from the stage to the front door area, trying not to step on any of the people who think it's a good idea to sit on the floor in a room where you can't see your hand in front of your face, and end up leaning against a wall wondering if I made the right decision to ditch James Garner for James Dijan. The sight of Freddy Madball walking in and out with a walkie talkie and mag lite is pretty surreal. Finally my eyes adjust and I realize I've been standing in front of Silent Mike and Big Ed BOTN the whole time, so I actually I have someone to talk inaudibly while getting jostled by dudes on their way to the bar. I'm told one of the special guests was Karl Crisis doing a new band with dudes from Sworn Enemy, wtf? That's not exactly "special" (after I leave, Bulldoze plays 2 songs, and that my friends, IS a special guest if I ever heard of one). My friend Robynn the black female body builder shows up and I get big sloppy kisses and invited to a fitness competition in a couple weeks with promises of her being all shiny with fake tanner and in 6 inch clear stripper heels and for 5 minutes I'm happy until I realize that's in 2 weeks and until then I'm sweating my balls of at the Superbowl of HC.

I fight my way to the merch room and find Thornz (who has been stuck at the Bloodclot table for 6 hours thanks to Bloodclot taking his laminate to sneak people in) and Ivan, check out Ratbones' wall of merch and Ezec's table of women, and then Fahrenheit 451 starts playing and I'm still sweaty and hot and bored. F451 finishes without covering Fugazi or Burn (tho they did play that song about being too blind to see the light, I like that one quite a bit), and it's finally Breakdown time.

Obviously, I'm gonna mosh, so I move up front and find Woj, who points out a 9 foot tall honky with corn rows and a giant leather coat (not a jacket, a coat) who was apparently diving up a storm and doing giant kicks during Everybody Gets Hurt (I believe they played while I was watching episode 2 of Rockford Files). After a brief conference, we confirm to ourselves that this is in fact James Dijan, and that we will probably die, because he's totally moshing for Breakdown. Breakdown starts, and Scooter Kane (2 shows in 2 weeks after like a 5 year drought, good for him!) literally starts moshing mid sentence. I don't remember many set details, since I was moshing mostly, and when I wasn't moshing I was getting stuck behind fat skinheads from Queens, but I remember the following things as being cool:

Ratbones and James Dijan doing the creepy crawl like in the Step Down video.
Josh P and his beard showing up out of nowhere and just clawing at people on the sides of the pit.
Casually starting to mosh during mid-song hello's with Joehawk.
Woj moshing (Never seen this. Good form).
Scooter just mauling people like it was Shark Attack at the Middle East (where he was mauling people like it was Breakdown in Asbury Park until he got kicked out).
Someone moshing with and then giving Perlin a Big Mac during Streetfight (Owen? I know he passed off an empty McDonald's bag to Alex, who got real confused with what to do with it, eventually just dropping it at his feet).
James Dijan moshing in his leather coat and Josh P pit-befriending him by grabbing him and singing along into his face.

I also remember the following things as sort of sucking (they can't totally suck, because Breakdown was playing):

Freestyle weirdo mosh (the dude that dances across the pit like he's in Another State of Mind only no one else is, the dude that dances like he's trying to trick Don Quixote into thinking he's a windmill, the dude that just flings himself at you while swinging every limb, etc).
Constantly shifting pit sides due to said weirdo mosh, leading to getting constantly stuck behind fat skinheads from Queens.
Some girl moshing with her beer and dumping said beer down the back of my shirt.
Like 3 later era jams (tho that one off Plus Minus they played was good).
Pboy didn't pit (he did however leave immediately after Breakdown to go to a UCB show; good form).

And then like that, it was done.

I stuck around for Terror just cuz by the time I had gathered my stuff and gotten a dry shirt from Bryan they had already started and I figured it'd be easier to make my way out with the crowd being fluid as opposed to standing stock still watching the band. The sound was terrible for them, I think the vocal mic was crapping out. Vogel scored with my new favourite mosh call tho:

"I LOVE MADBALL" *mosh*

I suppose I should have stayed and watched Madball, AF, and Civ, but I mean... eh. I've seen the first 2 like a hundred times, and as for Civ... I like that record and all, but I also realize that band was their attempt to make some dough, so I mean... your reunion should be at like the MTV Beach House or something. Probably was cool, I just am too old for that much core in one sitting, I guess. I was completely shot after Breakdown, and wasn't about to pay 5 bucks for a water to rehydrate.

Back to my fried chicken and 70's t.v. detectives.
"I love hardcore" - Scooter after Breakdown.

If anyone knows if Eyeball Records still exists, tell me. Otherwise, check out http://www.hardcorewebsite.net/breakdwn.htm, I don't think its been updated recently but it's got a discography and a bunch of late 90's Breakdown pics. The one above has Ratbones in it, if you don't think that's awesome you don't like hardcore.

Here's every youtube video I could find of Breakdown's set:

The day I cut my leg in half, and other Lithuanian stories...

2008-04-09T11:22:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 3-24-06 on the Tommy Von board.

Its 11:30, I have work at 6am, and I should be in bed. But I picked tonight to wash my sheets, and tonight is the night Ralphy (you all remember Ralphy, of cell phone retrieval marathon fame) has his son... who every so often chooses to douse himself in a beverage before bed. And since Ralph beat me to the drier, I have to kill some time before I can sleep...

Scenic Lithuania picture to set the tone.

My second year at Gentle Giant, we started importing Lithuanians for summer labor. This is nothing new- year round we have Irish fresh off the boat running up ramps with bureaus angled the wrong way and speaking in gibberish that is almost English, but the Lithuanians are a whole different kettle of fish. The reason I use the term "kettle of fish" is because I'm starting with the smell. For a group of 20 something men who go through an orientation with the GG liason when they are hired, they sure don't have much of an idea what personal hygiene is about. For about the first month every summer, they all smell like some form of dead fish. Eventually someone tells them about, or buys them, deoderant and they kind of start smelling better, not to mention they start working better cuz we're willing to go near them and teach them at that point. There are always exceptions, like Vilmantas... who I actually am gonna get off topic to tell you about cuz it's really too good to not.

Vilmantas was one of the Lithuanians we got last summer. This was literally the worst crop we ever have gotten. 4 dudes. One quit after 2 weeks and ran away to Atlantic City until his Visa ran out, one never bothered to learn the job and just kind of lurked about with his hands on his hips, one actually kind of learned the job and fit in, and then you had Vilmantas, who actually did not smell like a dead fish.

He smelled like was a dead, rotting corpse's vagina that had been stuffed with dead fish.

This kid's smell was SO bad that if he was in the office, you smelled him for 2 hours after he left. Even first thing in the morning, the dude REEKED. On one job, he was in the basement taking a desk out the bulkhead, which opened up into the backyard. He and the other guy taking it out needed help, so me and this kid Tyler went around to the front door to go and help. We shut the door within a millisecond of opening it and started retching into the bushes. Somehow his odor had perforated the ENTIRE HOUSE, even tho he was at the far end of the basement with the door closed. And for some reason, our manager would NOT broach the subject with him, even tho that would fall under his job description and we were all complaining hourly about the kid. Not to mention that he was weak, had no stamina, and was generally unpleasant. After about a month I snapped, dragged him into a Stop and Shop, bought a deoderant, and practically threw it at him with orders to never stop smearing it on his entire body (it didn't help). The thing that really sucks is we can NOT fire these guys, cuz they are only here for 3 months and the company pays their room and board up front...

So yeah, basically every summer we get to put up with a bunch of smelly bulls in china shops, and since I have the patience of a Saint, I usually start swearing at them semi-audibly within 20 minutes of any job we're on. But it's not just the smells, its the complete inability to communicate while carrying furniture... and here's where we go back to my 2nd year.

We were at some shady little outdoor loading dock across from the womens prison in Framingham. Me, Luke, and one of the Lithuanians, a guy named Edas. The Lithuanians we had that year actually weren't that bad, but this dude was sullen and didn't like to listen, so we got along like oil and water, especially since a few weeks before we had been trying to get a large credenza into a tight stairwell by putting it on end, and he lifted straight up without waiting for me to be in position and the credenza (which at the time was jammed in the tip of my sneaker while I tried to get into the corner) ripped 2 of my toenails half off of my foot.

So yeh, it's July, but its raining, and no one could find the plate to drop in the gap between the back of the truck and the dock, so we're just stepping over the foot wide gap. I wasn't in charge that day, so I'm carrying the boxed up furniture on with Edas, and since I a. have seniority and b. am a prick to the summer help, I'm making him walk backwards, reminding him about the gap each time. So we get this little box that is a nightstand or something, and its shorter than anything else. So we head out to the gate and Edas steps onto the truck and for some reason just without a word just stops walking, which throws off my timing on when to step over... and I fall straight down into the gap, bouncing my leg smack off the back of the truck.

Amazingly, I got up on both legs and jumped back up onto the truck before looking down and realizing that theres a gap in the front of my left leg that looks like it's overflowing with raw hamburger meat.

Yeah, it basically looked like that.

We taped a ream of white paper and a moving pad around my leg, and the customer drove me to the ER (AND tipped me 30 bucks). I was gurneyed down the hall almost immeadiately and X-rayed (going past a room with 2 armed guards at the door), then gurneyed back to await treatement. An hour later, just as I was about to hobble across the room, rip down the curtain, and smother the 300lb black lady with the bizarre Elephantitis of the throat that was making her sound like 200 vacum cleaners on high with every breath, a nurse showed up to disinfect my wound and stitch me up.

I found out later that I had missed breaking my leg by a centimeter (Luke later told me that he had been able to see the white of my bone shining out through all the blood and chopped meat). I ended up with about 30 stitches- 25 inside my leg and 5 outside, but apparently this was no big deal as according to the nurse the day before she had to help stitch up a guy who lost control of a chainsaw and cut a Nascar route from his upper thigh all the way down to the ankle. All things considered, I got off pretty lucky- all I have is a ridiculously small scar (the wound went deep, not wide- Stand Hard and Eric Curry made me show it to them after I told them the story, and I was completely embarassed due to how puny it looked) and a hatred for Lithuanians that makes it nigh impossible to give them any sort of the benefit of the doubt.

If you can't communicate, you shouldn't work a job where lack of communication gets people hurt. If Edas knew English, I wouldn't have had to pull off 2 halves of 2 toenails with a pair of pliers, and I would still be able to look at ground hamburger without wondering where my cane* is. To his credit, at least he only smelled like dead fish, not rotting fish filled corpse vagina... which I've got another story about later.

*- as seen at the Dump Truck/Close Call show at the Middle East, which took place 3 days after I got my stitches.

Top notch.

2008-04-08T20:52:00.000-07:00

Bravo, indeed.

No homo? No, homo: A story from college.

2008-04-08T19:58:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 3-3-06 on the Tommy Von board.

Some of you may or may not have heard, but I spent the 4 years of my life in which American society expects you to get sleeping late, drinking all night, and banging freshman girls who are so drunk that they can't remember that they are not, in fact, lesbians, out of your system engaged in the pursuit of a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Acting (no homo).

This has nothing to do with the theatre department tho, and everything to do with the exact opposite of no homo.

My roommate junior and senior year was this dude Dayton. Awesome dude. Huge SXE backpiece (taken from the Path of Resistance record), SOIA dragon on the forearm, jacked, always tan, an Abercrombie and Fitch model, and usually swimming in pussy that was way below his league. I can think of literally one girl he brought home that I was into, and she was smart enough to try to ingratiate herself to him by hanging out with me. Of course I accidentally screwed that one up for both of us by accidentally mentioning his girlfriend in front of her. In my defense (and I'll be fair, subconsciously I was probably cock blocking), he had told me she knew about her and didn't care about being involved in scumbaggery... but I guess she didn't and did. Probably felt really bad about giving him her asshole on the first date too. And don't get me started on the girl he brought home with braided armpit hair.

ANYWAYS...

So when you became a junior at Salem State College, they let you move into off campus apartments, which were basically dorms where they stuck 6 to a floor and each floor got their own living room, bathroom, and kitchen. So Dayton and I were rooming together, the 2 black kids were rooming together, and this weird dude Paul was living in the other room with some Asian kid. We were a veritable melting pot of people that did not speak to one another if we could help it. The only person in the building Dayton or I did talk to or hang out with was this dude Derek (not Scace, hence forth referred to as Derek Not Scace, or Not Scace) from the first floor (we were on the 4th).

Derek Not Scace was also jacked (can you see why I ended up becoming a gym rat at 20 after years of despising it?), and basically became our friend simply by NEVER EVER GOING AWAY. In all actuality, it was kind of annoying, except for the fact that he had WCW/NWO Revenge for N64 and we didn't. So we would end up hanging with him in our room, playing tournaments all night and watching WWF Raw and Nitro on Mondays.

So things were fun for awhile, we'd all go lift together, and Derek Not Scace got us jobs in the Property Management office for 8 bucks an hour (said job entailed playing video solitaire for 4 hours a day) and when I got jumped walking home those dudes were the dudes that went back out with me to hunt down the guys that did it (I'll tell that one later).

So shit was good. Until we started realizing that Not Scace was completely sketchy.

At first it was just shit that we thought was him being funny... shit like getting a running start and vaulting over the back of the incline bench to do his set of presses, or trying to tickle Dayton while he was doing crunches. He'd play that shit off like it was a joke, but he just kept doing it all the time, and we started getting creeped out, cuz it kinda seemed like he was doing it to show off for Dayton. The fact that more and more often he wouldn't want to leave our room didn't help matters. One day when he had been being exceptionally annoying, he pretended to leave, hid in the kitchen, waited until he heard us mention how annoying he had been and how he was probably gonna kill us in our sleep, and then barged back in yelling about how he knew we talked about him beind his back, then ran back out again, possibly crying.

So yeah, not a stable dude.

Then one day Dayton tells me THIS story:

I was home on break, Dayton and Not Scace had stayed there. Dayton's friend Wrench was there hanging out, waiting to go skateboard or something, and Not Scace apparently came in and told Dayton he needed to ask him something... alone.

He wanted to pay him 10,000 dollars cash to jerk off and let him watch.

And he wasn't joking. Not even a little bit.

Oddly enough, we kept hanging out with the kid. Yeh, he was annoying, and he definately was a closet case with a crush on Dayton, but he could be funny, always paid for the food on Monday nights, and most importantly, it was his N64.

The 10 grand was turned down and never got mentioned again.

Ironically, 2 or 3 years later Dayton was featured in OUT magazine as the hottest up and coming male model in America.

No homo.

Even tho I don't think he's done any modeling since, I found about 5 recent fan pages/blog entries on him while trying to find the magazine cover to put with this story. I am major league creeped out.

You can check it out for yourself here:

Be warned, so homo.

Wun Walphy Wun...

2008-04-08T19:34:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 2-28-06 on the Tommy Von board. Names have been changed, because even tho this is funny and not intended to be mean, "Ralphy" is sensitive. He's also one of my favourite people ever.

For those of you who don't know me well enough to know the details of my life, I work for a moving & storage company. Due to an unfortunate event that occured last December named Snarf, I have for the last year lived with two of my coworkers: "Tico", a large moody Texican who locks the front door AND padlocks the door to his room shut 24-7 regardless of if he is home or not, and Ralphy Varro.

Ralphy is several stories all in himself. He is about 7 ft tall, jacked, handsome, somewhere between 25 and 40 years old (we don't know precisely because he lies about it, but someone saw his drivers license a couple years ago and it said 32, so I'd guess he is now pushing 35), has a 4 year old son (still in diapers- the Dominican sperm whale who is his baby's momma apparently has not potty trained or fully taught him English, tho he has gotten much more understandable since I've been living here), is not what you'd call bright, and pronounces his R's as W's and his V's as Re's. This means that he can not pronounce his own name.

Many hilarious things happen because of Ralphy basically being Ralphy. But today... today was the best one in a LONG time.

We had a 5th floor walk up in the North End going to a 4th floor walk up near Tremont St. Ralphy spent all morning freaking out over having to run the stairs (we had him load the truck to get him to shut up- he is not smart enough to run jobs but he can pack a truck like Mister Sulu packs fudge), only to find out its about a quarter of a trucks worth of stuff. We were done loading in 2 hours, and the customers closing AT THIS TIME I MUST INTERRUPT THE NARRATIVE TO INFORM THE READER THAT THE RADIATOR IN RALPHY'S JEEP JUST EXPLODED AS HE PULLED INTO OUR NOW GREEN COLORED DRIVEWAY wasn't until noon, so we had several hours of paid down time to waste.

So we took a leisurely lunch, then parked in front of the apartment to shoot the shit and take naps, whatever. After about an hour we all decide we need to go to the bathroom, so we walk around the corner to Mass Ave where there are 2 Dunkin Donuts in 2 different directions, probably about 6 or 7 blocks away apiece. So Ralphy and I head left, the other two guys head right.

We use the bathroom (Ralphy practically kicked the door in on the guy using it when the cashier unknowingly buzzed the door open on the poor guy), and I'm waiting outside for Ralph when he comes barging out going "Mowgado I tink I made a mistwake".

Ralphy's pocket has a hole in it.

Ralphy had put his cell phone in his pocket.

Guess what isn't there.

So he has me call his phone to see if he can hear it ringing as we walk back along Mass Ave towards Tremont.

*RING*
*RING*
*RI... Hello?"

I hand the phone to Ralph... this a SEVERELY condensed version of the conversation.

"Hellwo? Where aw yous? You have my phone. Yeh, my phone. Where... Mass Ave? Where's Mass Ave? I dunno where that is... wait wait is this Matt? Mowgado is this Matt is this a joke... where aw yous? I'm on Shamu... (we were passing Shawmut) I dunno how far I am fwom Mass Ave we're near the pwojects..."

"We're on Mass Ave, Ralph."

"I'm on Mass Ave where aw yous? Twemont Stweet? Is this Matt? Mowgado stop laughin this aint funny. Where..."

"Right there, Ralph."

"What number? Onefiddy? Onefiddy Twemont Stweet ok hold on I'm gonna be wight dere."

Ralphy takes off SPRINTING down Tremont St. We're at around #645 I think, he's got a little ways to go, so I go to the truck to tell the guys what happened. Please bear in mind that this whole time I have been laughing, straight up LAUGHING fit to bust a gut, right in his face.

So I tell the guys what happened, and we go to the corner to see if we can spot him, and right as we turn around THERE GOES RALPHY sprinting in the other direction like he had been given the starring role in a all male retard remake of Run Lola Run... he had been running in the wrong direction for about 5 minutes before noticing and turning around.

I literally fell on the ground and rolled around holding my gut, I was laughing so hard.

About fifteen minutes later he comes back, pretty much right as we're about to start the offload. Turns out some Indian guy (who couldn't understand Ralph's speech impediments) picked up the phone when it was ringing on the ground and continued on his way while talking to Ralphy (who couldn't understand the Indian guy's accent), before stopping at 1050 Tremont St for Ralph to catch up to him. He was so tired from all the sprinting that he could barely get up the stairs for the whole offload without losing his breath, and I couldn't either because I had laughed myself right into a cramp.

Sometimes, I really don't mind my job. Plus the lady tipped 75 bucks apiece, and Lord knows I need that scratch right now, but I would have given it all up for a video camera recording of everything that happened from the time we left Dunkin Donuts.

Exchange rates suck: The TWS/FVK Canadian weekend part four.

2008-04-08T14:59:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 10-27-05 on the Tommy Von board. Shirt design by Spoiler (www.myspace.com/spoilerart).

Since I never mentioned it... Greg, Dookie, and Guns Up dudes were all at the venue when they got there. I never found out what they got up to, but I do know xMulletx went to a casino all night.

Picking up where we left off...

I wander backstage after Blacklisted to find my gym bag just in time to hear JJ's reaction to the girl getting punched:

"Yo, somebody's getting stomped."

Yeah.......

Somehow I end up in the merch area guarding Joey's guitar and teasing girls while he goes to the van so I hear Clockwork Orange but can only lose my mind in place guarding baby Contrada, only I hear it go into Signs of the Times instead of Malfunction and I start swearing uncontrollably. I make it back in after about 2 songs and move up front to see...

Hick mosh.

Dumb goofs in white tshirts push moshing next to weirdos belly flopping onto the sides, both bubble gumming the words. Interesting, to say the least. But still... Its the Limit/Life of My Own... We Gotta Know/World Peace/Show You No Mercy... Supertouch/Shitfit... DFJ/the mosh pit... unbeatable combos. More moshing.

About halfway through the set, JJ brings it up...

"Yo this goes out to the ASS-HOLE who punched my friend in the neck. If this was NY, that shit would have been dealt with QUICK. You want to hit someone, hit a man. Etc. Etc."

Large amounts of applause for all of this... except from one dude looking completely shame faced standing RIGHT IN FRONT of JJ. Guess who? Dude looked genuinely shamed by the whole thing, I almost felt bad. Almost.

Question: Why do I think its a good idea to swing my arm full force (in both windmill, attack of the bats, and tomahawk styles) with a broken pinky sticking straight out? I HAVE NO IDEA, but I made it through unscathed until...

Right Brigade. The song, not the merch table. I somehow kicked myself in the pinky. Hard. That was it for me. I wandered back into the merch room to find Chucky Edge sitting there lost in space.

Me: "What happened."

Chedge: "mmmmmbop a loo head."

Me: "Yeh, don't go to sleep with that concussion, k dude?"

Some dude: "Last time he got hit in the head, he didn't last past 2am."

The show finished up, and I leave Pauly with the merch money and go to get my gym bag. I come back and the nigga is GONE. Go outside, oh theres the entire show on the sidewalk watching some sort of beef. I go over...

Pauly: "Yo man, I just had to take a two by four from some dude! Shits crazy."

I check shit out... everyone is yelling in French.

French beef = I don't give a fuck. I took my merch money and went in to pack up.

And that was pretty much it. We loaded out, added a Clean Chris to our crew for the ride home, stopped at a Burger King where me, DFJ, and Joey did some 1995-1999 BHC reminiscing for awhile, and then headed home.

Woke up for the border and the changing of our 1000 Canadian funny money into US... oh hi 700 measly bucks of real money. Oh bye 475 of the money cuz its owed to Joey C. Oh bye 80 bucks for gas. Oh bye 50 bucks and 35 bucks to Dookie for gas and the trailer. Hello measly pittance of leftover cash. Fortunately, this was not about the money. This was about getting to play with one of the defining members of the Cromags 3 nights in a row, and moshing to the best hardcore songs by the 2 best hardcore bands ever.

I got home at 10 30am on Monday after dropping off DFJ, took a 2 hour nap, then drove to NY to see Mer.

I listened to Cromags the whole trip.

Physical harm always brightens up a dull set: The TWS/FVK weekend part three.

2008-04-08T14:50:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 10-27-05 on the Tommy Von board. Images liberally borrowed from xvanx.com.

Day 3... awaken inside the Spoilers wonderful living room to find DFJ sleeping on the floor inside a white sheet doing his best imitation of the shroud of Turin. The lovely Mrs. Spoiler has laid out a delicious spread of toast, peanut butter, jelly, fruit cups, Rasberry Orange MANGO (the king of fruits) juice and the biggest box of Raisin Bran in all of French Canadia for us to enjoy. Joey, Derek, DFJ, and I feast. Dookie and Greg... lie in a ditch somewhere? Are imprisoned? Deported? We have no idea.

We chill a bit, everyone showers and beautifies or whatever and then its time to go to Govindas for vegan Indian buffet con Cromags. At this point I should point out that every time we get in the van, for whatever reason, DFJ and I go to sleep in the back. Pretty much every time, from van start to van stop- we're down for the count... anyways, we get to Govindas right as Fred from Final Word and Dan from Guns Up arrive... guess who else hasn't been heard from (its about 2:30pm at this point)? EVERYONE else from Guns Up.

We go in to find the Outbreak dudes sitting around with some broads waiting for everyone else to get there. DFJ and I get MANGO juice, and then he declares that we shouldn't eat the buffet until DanEdge arrives with the Cromags... its a joke but everyone agrees to it anyways. Everyone except.... Joey C(romag)?!?!?! Scace follows suit, based on the unarguable logic that none of us are actually friends with those dudes, we just like their band, so why wait? It makes sense. I am torn... my stomache wants the food, but my brain and heart are thinking of the AOQ stick clicks and how much I love them... my inner turmoil is abated by the arrival of JJ (bearing fist pounds and a "hows your hand doing" for me and a big hug for DFJ) and AJ with DanEdge.

The vegan Indian buffet was... well its a vegan Indian buffet. I'm not there for the food anyways. Random things I learned during this GREAT luncheon...

*JJ's cell phone ring is calypso island music. The dude flat out started dancing to it when it went off during a brief lull of conversation.

*One of the Cromags' early roadies was this big dude named John or Roger (I forget, I think it was one of those). You can see him in the We Gotta Know Video driving the van. He apparently became born again Christian mid tour and decided that the world would be better off without them because they were worshipping the Devil (Krishna) and he was going to drive the van off a cliff. He apparantly wasn't kidding, and JJ & Harley weren't sure they could stop him if he followed through, because this dude would carry 2 Marshal cabinets into venues like suitcases; one in each hand.

*Chris Williamson is a loser, as demonstrated by stories like these:

#1. Cromags/Motorhead tour: they show up at the airport and Williamson picks them up in a nice mobile home. The 'mags are psyched. Oh no, this is just to get them to the gig, the real transport is there. They get to the venue, wheres the vehicle? Over there... there being a huge black shiny tour bus. Again, psyched. JJ goes up to open the door, oh hey its Lemmy!

"Yo man whats up youre hanging out on our bus, awesome?"
(Lemmy voice) "Aw no mate, this ain't your bus, you're behind the bus."

They go and look behind the bus.

1975 plumbing van.

#2 (told by AJ the night before while Guns Up was playing Rise & Fall): Apparently Williamson had a habit of going out onstage and introing Leeway... which no one liked. One of his charmers was something like this:

"You all dont like, but you're going to do things my way. Its my way or... LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY."

They developed a habit of starting mid-intro after that.

INTERLUDE: THING FROM SATURDAY I FORGOT:

I'm wearing the WWAD shirt I got from Joey the day before...

JJ: Yo whats that on your shirt, whats your shirt say? What would Al do? Whos Al?

AJ: Al Barile, right? From SSD? Yeh, SSD.

JJ: Ah man I saw that nigga Springa awhile back man, he's... *makes space cadet face*

Me: Yeh he was trying to do his own SSD reunion or something a little while ago...

JJ: Yeh man... *sad face into space cadet face*.

END INTERLUDE

So we finish up; JJ and DFJ are gonna stay to look at the deities, so the rest of us go shopping. Very uneventful, but we had some very nice cake and pie with tea and coffee.

Get to the show. About the same amount of people there so far as the show in QCity... aka not many. Big hugs from the nigs in Blacklisted and a copy of the new record and then me and Chucky Edge spend the opening bands trying to get the plethora of Guns Up and TWS merch set up on two tiny tables cuz some opening band with one shirt has taken up HALF the giant pool table next to Blacklisted's half ton of merch.

The band room has been filled with gear this time out so there is no Cro-mag hang out this time as theres no room for anyone back there. We go on before Blacklisted- our last time in Canada ever. It was ok. The only real highlight was Pauly Edge and Chris from Outbreak wrestling around on stage and me tossing dropkicks on them. PHYSICAL HARM ALWAYS BRIGHTENS UP A DULL SET.

Blacklisted. God I wish my hand wasn't fucked. Seriously, my favorite current band. George not only steals Ritchie's Into Another moves now, he dropped this bomb on the world: "Fuck PMA, I've got DTA"... awesome. Divorced. Yes. Broken hand mosh. Eye For An Eye. Yes. Broken hand mosh. Some large dude decided it would be ok to perform the air knuckles into a crowd that was two people deep on all sides, and ended up nearly breaking a girls collarbone... a girl who lives with DanEdge... a girl who had been housing the Cro-mags all weekend.

TO BE CONTINUED... I NEED FOOD.

Derek Scace sucks?: The TWS/FVK Canadian weekend, part two.

2008-04-08T12:41:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 10-25-05 on the Tommy Von board. Images liberally borrowed from xvanx.com:

Woke up in QCity at 9:45 to get ready so we can go to Govindas (this may be spelled wrong, I am not sure how Indian names translate into French) in Montreal and meet FVK for vegan buffet at 1. By 10: 15, only DFJ and myself are actually up and about, but we actually get out of there on time (sort of) to meet up with Joey C, who stayed elsewheres. We arrive to meet Joey, and he is in the middle of breakfast at a restaraunt, and then has to go get his stuff from where he stayed. There will be no Govindas today, so instead we stop at a East Side Marios. Greg and DFJ stay sleeping in the van, the rest of us enjoy a hearty slice of NY influenced Americana... in French Canadia.

Surreal moment of the meal: Dookie ordering a Heineken.

We get back in the van and back on the highway to sit in traffic. Greg and DFJ wake up 2 minutes later and demand we stop for food. Scace insists we are within sight of Montreal and so its pointless (no one else saw anything), plus we just stopped and they didn't want to wake up for it. This argument is aborted when we see a middle aged woman pull over on the left side of the highway, open her door, hike up her skirt, and take a piss on the side of the road in full view of the 5mph traffic. That settles everything.

We arrive at the venue with plenty of time to wander off and get some chow at Subway, set up the merch, relax, etc. I was pleased to see a large amount of familiar faces from the states showing up (Sweet Pete, Mailorder Matt, Bourboli, Pauly Edge, Outbreak sans Ryan O, etc). Sold merch thru the opening bands, then headed backstage to change and stretch out and chill. FVK shows up right before Guns Up (xMulletx is drumming with his hand taped together), so I am back there with JJ and AJ and ummmmmm no one.

JJ: "Yo happened to your hand?"
Me: "..............my hand? Oh yeh........ I dunno....... I broke my fingers....... I think."(it is at this time I decide I fully understand Pboy's Larry David moment)
JJ: "Oh yeh nigga you need to get some MNM (?!?! at this point I don't remember what he actually said it was) You heard of MNM(?)? Its made from seaweed and vitamins, it helps the tendons..."

I am clearly way out of my league. I could also listen to that dude talk all day, so I let him keep going and I keep nodding. It was pretty cool to see those dudes remembering us from the night before and telling me that we sounded really tight especially since we got out of the van and right on stage... JJ giving Dookie and Derek shit for TWS breaking up was priceless.

JJ (appearing genuinely shocked): "Y'all are breaking up? Why?"
Dookie: "Oh, well, we have another band."
JJ: "It ain't an emo band is it? Those are awful..."
Dookie: "Oh no, we just have a different singer..."
JJ: "Yo, why you gotta play your boy like that? That ain't right!"

Being back there with AJ and JJ when Guns Up did Rise and Fall, and when Final Word did Street Fight... also priceless.

I got a really excellent stretch and warm up in, and then we played. A thousand times better than the night before. Packed house, stage dives with the mic, didn't re-bust my fingers, Sweet Pete on the mic for "Two words...", didn't blatantly steal the hully gully out of JJ's repertoire, did the Moby Dick (aka the Hangmans Blowhole, not to be confused with the Morgeyser) all over the equipment (oops)... it was a blast. Went backstage and was greeted with multiple fist pounds from JJ and Gman.

JJ: "Yo, I heard that Black Sabbath influence in there... Symptom of the Universe dude, yeah!"
DFJ: "Yeh, we straight up ripped it off."
JJ: "Nah, you did it good tho, it's good!"

JJ and I had a little talk about stretching and how his thighs are all torn up from training for marathons and triathalons and how my knees are trashed from moving furniture, and then it was time, once again, for my mind to take a journey far, FAR away... Clockwork Orange into Malfunction into Fearless Vampire Killers... goddamn. Packed house, everybody in the place going off... FVK insisted no one stand on the stage, so it was compleyely void of stage potatoes... me, Derek, and Dookie tried to get around this by watching from inside the backstage door but DanEdge said it had to be shut so the sound wouldn't travel so we had get in the mosh. Dookie runs out and dives off, I run out and start busting heads... Derek skulks off the stage and into the crowd as far to the side as he can get.

Derek Scace sucks.*

Seriously, this is one of my favorite Cro-mags shows (please see my note in part 1 re: my standards for calling it Cro-mags). A packed house consisting of 80% my friends, all killing each other (except Derek Scace), and songs from the 2 best bands EVER, sung by a 43 year old man who smoked us all in terms of energy EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.

Incredible.

We stayed at Mr and Mrs Spoiler's apartment 30 minutes from the venue. Apparently her parents live below them so we would have to be very quiet... Greg and Dookie weren't having any of this and piled into the van with Guns Up and LOJ for a night of potential debauchery- DFJ apparently ended up in the van too along with about a billion other people. So we go to eat and who do we drive by pulled over by the Montreal Mounted Police?

LOJ van. DOH!!!!!!!

By the time they get to the restaraunt, they arent serving anymore so they all leave except for DFJ, who manages to join our party and finagle an order of fries out of the waitress. I myself had 15 chicken wings. They sucked, and I didn't finish because of this fact.

At Spoilers, we put on the Godfather part 2 and go to sleep. DFJ is the only person who watched the whole thing.

Some more JJ from backstage:

On Dookie:

JJ: "Yo, I ain't gonna call you Dookie, I'm gonna call you Dukes."

Dookie: "That's perfect."

On Sami Reiss:

"Yo SACH! Yo man look, its Sach from the Bowery Boys man, yeah!"

On the LOC:

"Yo, whats that? (points to Lockin Out tank top with the big Lock logo) I see that everywhere..."

The final chapter... later.

*- This point was later proven false, as it was revealed Scace stage dove and skanked across the pit with DFJ. He therefore does NOT suck.

French Canadian Skins suck: The TWS/FVK Canadian weekend, part one.

2008-04-08T10:05:00.000-07:00

Originally posted 10-25-05 on the Tommy Von board. Images liberally borrowed from xvanx.com:

Woke up at 8:30 on Friday (for me this is sleeping late, I was psyched) and got my shit together so I could be at Casa del Mental at the prescribed "10ish". Get there 10:15; Greg went to sleep on the couch in his underwear 2 hours before and is no longer making the trip with us. 30 minutes later we are waiting for him to finish getting dressed so he can get in the van.

We pick up DFJ, who wants Starbucks. Starbucks is the best liquid form of prasadam. (I am not a devotee, and I made that statement up, but I bet you DFJ backs it because he loves Starbucks more than Btrust loved mixing protein shakes in the Starbucks blenders when he worked there.) We then drive up to North Andover to ASAP hq to pick up Joey C and the merch. I score a "What Would Al Do?" shirt and a diet Coke for the road- I am psyched. It is now well past noon and we are on our way...

To Starbucks.

Cut to 9 hours later:

We have approximately 15 seconds to park and get inside the venue before we have to play. We literally walked in, saw Final Word finish their last song in front of about 60 people, walk past a stretching, ready to go Bloodclot, and get onstage. No time for stretching, vocal warm ups, costume chages, sensual massages, towel warming... nothing.

5 songs, no stops, basically no crowd reaction... I trip over the extra large connector on the mic cord and roll head first in to Derek, the mic doesnt fit in the mic stand, which keeps sliding down... I am bummed. (Later on, JJ has both these things happen to him, which made me feel less like an ass). We did, however, sound really tight.

It is at this point that the non-Edge contingent busts out weed. G-man from FVK... psyched.

Lights out. I am about to be watching Cro-mags (if it involves JJ doing AOQ, I'm calling it Cro-mags, thanks.) from an arms length away. Clockwork Orange intro. I suddenly am acutely aware I am gonna do something stupid, such as moshing like it's the end of the world with a handful of broken fingers. Somehow I keep my cool as Malfunction kicks in and the world explodes. XMulletX is punching himself in the face- so hard he in fact BREAKS HIS OWN HAND doing so. Joey C is mauling kids, literally half Boston Strangling them and throwing them aside like paper dolls. My giant splint and the sad realization that every move I make onstage (including the Holy Man) is done better by JJ keeps me watching from the stage instead of losing my mind in the pit, until ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I Against I. Moshing. Then Its The Limit into Life of my Own? I couldnt take it. Moshing. DFJ? Moshing? Greg and Dookie? So high they were moshing 100 feet in the air. Derek Scace? Not moshing.

Derek Scace sucks.

Also on the suck list: FRENCH CANADIAN SKINHEADS. Seriously. Especially the ones in tan shirts who run to the sides and leap into the air, where they throw a spinkick at head level on impact.

French Canadian Skinheads suck. Oi Oi?

No, OuI OuI!

In conclusion, FVK were amazing. Boston ran the floor. JJ apparently declared that he "loves this nigga" while simultaneously shaking Greg's hand and planting his foot inside Greg's chest cavity in some sort of ninja move. We stayed at some kid whose name escapes me at the moment's apartment in QCity, ate some pizza, harassed his non-English speaking roommate, and learned how French Canadians measure a womans ass (it involves sign language).
Part 2... soon.

Everybody does it- why shouldn't I?

2008-04-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

Cuz it's sick!

I find blogs to mostly be self-indulgent, spoiled tripe. BUT I have a bunch of show reviews and anecdotes and writings that I've posted in various places that I am feeling like I don't want lost in the ether of messageboard archives, so I've decided I need a place to collect them. This is that place. Why the name? Because it's one of the best riffs ever. If the picture below isn't happening in your head right now just from the very mention of it, this is probably the wrong place for you:Welcome to the blog.