Hit the bar and bought Laura and I two shots of Jameson and two Guinesses--$28 bucks. Fuck me in the eye. And the shots were in those little Robotussin dosage cup plastic shot glasses.
The only upside was the bartender's micro mini latex slut shorts and bullet belt. Suffice it to say I switched to PBR fairly quickly. Four bucks for a Pabst as also a travesty of justice, but what can you do? The DNA has great sound and is a cool place to see bands--nice, high stage--but drinking there will cost you.Slough Feg were really enjoyable. God, I haven't seen them in so long I thought they were Orchid for awhile. I saw Slough Feg at the fuckin' Covered Wagon fer chrissakes. Singer Michael Scalzi changed from a leather vest with no shirt under it to a long-sleeved silk number, mid-set. That's fuckin' metal. Slough Feg are the guys who were a couple years older than you in high school, drove Camaros and Chargers, and always smoked you out. Invariably out of a three foot high wizard bong.
Speaking of bongs, here are a couple of funny, totally unrelated bong shots:
So high you can see God...
Granny gravity bong.So, without further ado, the Slough Feg photos:
Ludicra were up next, and they never disappoint. Pure drama, and not the typical Castle von Whiteguy/Misty Moors of Boredomvania type drama black metal bands usually try to cultivate. A symphony of aggression. I'd write more florid prose about them, but I already have, and I'm listening to 69 Love Songs right now, which isn't quite the same vibe, huh?
The crowd, blissed out on a metal magnum opus...
Yeah, there was finger-tapping. Shredville!
Drummer extraordinaire, Aesop Dekker, working the merch table after their set.Why they gotta put the Jew in charge of the money? Fuckin' stereotypical.
Pentagram, as much as I love them, were a bit of a let-down after Ludicra. According to vocalist Bobby Liebling, the guitar player quit a few hours before the tour started, so he had to recruit a buddy at the last minute. This yielded a short set, even with a 10 minute blues jam-out.
Liebling is the awesome, creepy, tongue-flicking uncle in tight teal pants, eyeliner, and turquoise jewelry you always wish you had. Sign of the wolf, baby! He also had some awesome "I love the fans" type rants, a la Ozzy: "I'm a team player, and you're the team!" He's a very huggable doom metal legend muppet. Gonzo in a silk shirt.
Speaking of Gonzo--as in porn, not the muppet--when I walked into the crowd to get some shots, some girl started grinding her ass on my crotch. Like, crazy style--I thought she was going to knock me over. I have to admit, as sleazy as it was, it was kind of nice. Well, it was kind of nice because it was sleazy. She was fine, too. When I noticed two other guys trying to get into the action, it got even grosser/sleazier, and I thought I might have to turn it into a porn shoot...but then I got kind of bored with it.
Reminds me of the time watching Ozzy in Phoenix at the first Ozzfest. We'd driven straight there from SF, sold foam 666 hands in the parking lot all day, and we all stunk like death. And yet, there was some hot and chunky blond girl in the front row getting her--and my--frottage on. (Which reminds me, I have to scan and reprint the article about that trip I wrote for Bunnyhop.) Heavy metal and women with loose morals/low standards are fucking amazing. God bless America. Take that, communism! Nikita Kruschev missed that crucial bit of info when he said "We will bury you" in 1956. Who's laughing now, Niki? You're in the grave, and metal girls across America are pushing their asses out in the name of Freedom! Let it ring!
Randomly, here are a couple pictures from that trip. Lookin' ugly, feelin' pretty!:
Onward to the Pentagram photos:
Meta: me taking a photo of cute girl in Bad Brains vest (I have a Bad Brains patch on the back of my jacket too!) taking photo of the crowd. Can we get married already? (This is not the ass-pushing girl. What is it with cute girls at metal shows? Used to be maybe three girls total, and they were all going out with members of the band...)
Dr. David King, DNA management type and all around good egg, showing me a photo of his new fishing vessel. Radness! Thanks for hooking it up, DK. (P.S. Four dollar PBRs? Get on that, brother.)
Laura, my accompaniment for the evening. Such a sweetie. I couldn't take a picture of her...the focus would fuck up or the flash wouldn't go off. I think she might be a witch. Muah!All right. Oh boy. Night ended at the Buckshot, as it often does. Had to go there to see if TJ could pick up my Sunday shifts, since douchebag's phone never works. Turns out he wasn't there anyway, but all these beautiful folks were:
Angry girl. Sorry for the flash in your face. I guess I'm kind of a dick like that.Does this mean frottage is out of the question?
Matt and some random chick that was jocking Matt, like they all do.
General Tease-a-Ho in full E-F-F-E-C-T, otherwise known as effect, boyeeee!
Speaking of Flavor Flav, the above arm-wrestling girl, named Jenn, called Rush out. "All you need is a big clock around your neck." He ended up commenting on her "front butt." All class. Of course, he tried to get his end in. If Devin is "Captain Save-a-Ho" and Matt is "General Tease-a-Ho," Rush is "Corporal Steal-a-Ho."
The night ended with Matt yelling at Rush and Rush apologizing profusely. They argue like a married couple.
Ashley on the wheels of steel.
Grizzly Attack!
Pretty much a can't miss shot, with that melon.
Henry Lewis, painter/tattooist extraordinaire. Out of focus, too.
Josh got a gold tooth. It's in there somewhere.
That Jenn girl wanted Laura to sit on her face. That shit was a lock, guaranteed.Laura is still fronting to be "straight as an arrow," of course.
Laura! Kisses and kisses and kisses.
Well, I'm going to be gone for a bit: got a funeral in West Virginia, then it's off to Woodward West for the Old Man Jam...sure to be a blast-tacular BMX time. Before I go, how 'bout a behind the scenes look at Bone Deth: Surfin' for the Ugly Broads. It's going to be EPIC! Burns forever, man.
