March 8 , 2002: Return to the Theater

So the time has come again. Time for me to leave my cave voluntarily, for reasons other than work or groceries, and venture back to my old town of Cleveland to soak in one of the local punk rock shows. It's been a while since I've done so; the last time I managed to make it to one was in January 2001, and even then, I missed most of the bands. It was during this time that I was but a humble bag-boy at Kroger, and was forced to work until midnight on weekends and some weekdays; usually the weekdays where a rare weekday show would occur. But, the winds of fortune have changed, I've been moved to the produce department, and with the responsibility of slinging bananas all day comes the privilege of being home before 8:30.

I arrived at the venue to witness a recurring theme: The show was tentatively scheduled to begin at 8:00, and here I was at 7:58, with a couple vans and a car or two in the parking lot. Basically, no one was here yet except the bands, and maybe five other people. After an extended period of bullshitting, I dropped down my five bucks and waited for the show to begin, when people finally started showing up... At right around ten o'clock. Damn. As always, I didn't recognize half the people there, and as always, I was briefly struck with the usual, "holy shit, I don't belong here" silent panic attack. Here I was, with my pork-eating, Sacred Reich shirt-wearing, professional wrestling-obsessing, Libertarian-voting ass in a room with at least a few vegetarian emo fans who probably have said "America is the biggest terrorist nation of them all" at least twice in their lifetime. I then quickly purged this thought from my mind, because we all know that not conforming to your peers is totally punk, or some shit like that. Anywho...

First up were Florida's own Grabass Charlestons, who did that whole "upbeat, melodic punk" thing that's usually the dominant theme of these shows. They kind of rocked, in a very non-threatening way, that made people smile and clap and dance, yet was still enjoyable to my Molten Ears of True™ Metal. Also, their guitar player had this weird-ass haircut that looked like he fell asleep near a five year old and a set of hair clippers. It was randomly, unevenly shaved, with a rat tail - Coming off the side of his head. You can get away with shit like that, if you're a wild punk rocker. Regular people like me would just lose our jobs and be made fun of by our moms. Also, how a guy can sing a song and not fuck up while drumming is impressive. In conclusion, any band with a song called "I'm So Happy I Could Shit" deserves to be praised. I paid them a tribute of seven bucks for a CD, which was a split release with the second band.

The Billy Reese Peters had a lot in common with the Grabass Charlestons, being from Florida and using the same equipment, including their drummer and bassplayer. Their singer reminded me of Kevin Spacey for some reason. I don't know why; he just did. And he rocked in The Usuual Suspects. I wonder if anyone's named a band "Keyser Soze" yet. If not, I better learn an instrument, fast. But that's another rant entirely. They were a little more "rocking" than the previous band, and kinda reminded me of Hot Water Music, somehow. A lot of bands remind me of Hot Water Music. Maybe it's a testament to their growing popularity and influence. Or maybe, it's a testament to how I don't know shit, and only have one band to compare other bands to. Who knows. Kevin Spacey screamed until a bigass vein popped out in his forehead, and they had a song called "My Own Personal Boner," or something like that. (It's not on the damn CD) Rock and roll.

Third up were This Bike is a Pipe Bomb, yet another band from Florida. They might have all been touring together. Gee, ya think? Anyway... They do this whole undistorted, twangy folk-rock-meets-punk kinda thing that just isn't my cup of tea, what with me being so goddamn metal and all. Don't really put that much weight in any assessment I might make of them, as being a fish out of water, my opinion doesn't carry a shitload of weight here. I'm certain some of the fans in attendance would have given Demolition Hammer or Exhorder an equally glowing non-review. Basically that whole "not my thing, but they rule at what they do" thing going on. It must be pointed out that they were pretty much THE band everyone wanted to see, and they got everybody to bust out their slick little dance moves. Of course I, with my Vader-like physique and Big Show-like coordination always refuse the temptation to humiliate myself through dance, and instead, stand there and tap my foot like a schmuck. However, it must be pointed out that the guitar player / singer guy had those big pointy side burns that came like 6 inches below his chin, being the first band I've ever seen there with a guy who reminded me at all of "Dirty" Dutch Mantell, instantly making him the coolest guy I've ever seen. The drummer was also no stranger to imaginative facial hair, sporting a variation of an Abe Lincoln beard that started way below his chin and looked not unlike his hair was held on with a fur chin strap. Much like Rufus R. "Freight Train" Jones and Bugsy McGraw's encounter with the Masked Assassins at Starrcade '83, I'm torn on whether it was true brilliant excellence, or just fucking stupid, but that's a tale for a different website. Aside from a timeout for a broken string early on, they did real real good.

In case anyone who was there that night sees this page, I'm going to once again puzzle you with riddles, by making you try to figure out what the hell this is a picture of.

And last of course, were Cleveland's own One Reason. They've consistently been the best band playing at these things the last hundred times I've been to one of their shows that didn't also include Durge or a Fake reunion or something like that for the last couple years, and tonight was no exception. Add to this the fact that I hadn't seen them in a hundred years, (Uhh... One year) so there were a bunch of new songs and the whole "once you've seen them a hundred times, it loses its charm" thing was no longer in effect. Adding to the atmosphere was the usual barrage of heckling and insults they always have to endure, which is like some sick, twisted way the crowd shows them that they love them. I didn't yell anything, because I try to keep a low profile wherever I go, and was probably too busy trying to explain what the hell was on the front of my shirt to people. The heckle of the night came from none other than the Kevin Spacey guy, when a button on Ginger's shirt popped open, and he quickly shot in with, "so THAT's why they call it CLEVEland!" It was the most genius moment of crowd abuse I've ever seen at Adventure Theater since Not Dead Only Frozen got us to yell "Snowball" at their bassplayer until he quit the band back in '98, but I already mentioned that on this site somewhere, I'm sure. They rawked real hard, man. That shit was tight, dude. Or something.

In conclusion, it was a thoroughly enjoyable night. Otherwise, I really need to lose weight and learn how to dance like a punk rock kid, because tapping your foot for four hours is fucking MURDER on my knees...