Monday, October 17, 2011

holding sand

Did you get any good pictures?
I got one.
Yeah, none of mine came out because of those drunk guys...

Not even the absurdity and general jerkitude of aging bros (how these dudes got married is beyond me) getting wasted to alternative-ish rock played by veterans of the NY straight-edge scene while yelling out requests for Quicksand and the Gorilla Biscuits that were understandably ignored could get in the way of reliving my years of gauged ears and still-existent teen angst straddling the world of radio rock and the first dives into the underground.

Everyone else seemed to be about my age, the longhaired Quicksand fans excepted. The drunks were annoying and we were relieved when they went back to the bar because we could watch the band without them in front of us, but I was in good company with my long-time female companion in rockingness Kristy and the guy standing next to me with whom I exchanged grins and eye-rolls and later numbers when a mutual affinity for exploring rocky parts of the Cuyahoga Valley and the dulcet sounds of Kyuss was discovered.

I like my weird tuneage, but my standby has always been loud guitars and the perfect alchemy of anthemic melody, cathartic angst and dissonance. There's a new record, one that's not bad, but I think most of us were there for the old stuff, cheering as the opening chords to 'Travel by Telephone' rang out, nodding along to the extended jams of 'Everything Has Its Point,' singing every word of 'Undercovers On.' I wonder how many other people hear have had this album soundtrack their teenage drama and growing-up angst the way it has for me, the way we hang on every word and chord change, waiting for the crescendo of guitar and drums.

They end with the cover of 'How Soon is Now?' and while I've never been a huge Smiths fan, I've loved this song and this cover especially and I'm damn near euphoric as we belt out "I'm human and I need to be loved" and Walter tells us to go home (and presumably cry and want to die perhaps). It ended the night perfectly and we drive home listening to Faith No More, spaced-out and laughing as the world feels full of possibilities once again.


Randal Graves said...

Your recent concert experiences have proven two incontrovertible facts: the lowest level of dumbassery is found at troo kvlt gatherings, and that my gender is pretty useless.

Word verification: hamethul, a subtle dig at esoteric Nazi douchebags?

thatgirl said...


Either that or female-fronted swankness, because the two most chill crowds I've ever been around were for Kristin Hersh and Agalloch.

As I don't want to enforce hegemonic masculinities on the Internets, I'll refrain from saying that I'm glad that dudes exist to counteract not so good witches and pretender viscountesses.