Top 10 Twin Cities Concerts of 2009

Fun. That’s what the Minneapolis and St. Paul area shows on this list were about.  All of these shows were so much fun that they edged out shows by bands that I actually listen to quite a bit more. Sure, Bob Mould was great both times he played, and so was Morrissey, and so was Judas Priest, but did any of them rock a keysword or let me smash a watermelon on stage? No.

No Doubt, Paramore, Bedouin Soundclash – Xcel – 7/5

Fifteen years ago, if you would have told me that one day I would be standing in the front at a No Doubt show singing along, I would have hurt you bad. That doesn’t change the fact that this was the best show of the year.

Gallagher, Metallagher – Station 4 – 12/10

Nothing beats the smell of smashed watermelons, especially when you’re the one doing the smashing.

Alice In Chains – First Avenue – 9/21

What can I say? Grunge ruled my world in 1991, and I just don’t let go of shit like that very easily. I can sing every word of “Would” for you at any time. I did at this show, and it was awesome.

Duane Peters Gunfight, Stigma, Jakked Rabbits – Triple Rock – 7/25

When you walk into a show and there is one guy moshing and that one guy is Vinnie Stigma from Agnostic Front and he wants you to mosh with him, you know you’ve walked into something special. Nobody was at this show and that’s unfortunate, because it was ridiculously fun.

Germs, Krum Bums – Triple Rock – 6/22

Darby Crash is no longer in the band. Neither is Belinda Carlisle. But Pat Smear and the rest of the gang had no trouble playing some of my favorite music of all time.

HR, Outlaw Nation – Station 4 – 4/7

Does punk rock get any crazier than this? Nope. And when I say crazy,  I mean asylum crazy, not wild crazy.

Anvil – Uptown Theater – 5/8

I don’t think I’ve ever seen smiles at a metal show as big as the ones on the members of Anvil’s faces at this show.

Kreator, Exodus, Belphegor, Warbringer – Rock – 4/18

Exodus keep getting meaner, and Kreator were able to make “Hordes of Chaos” sound even better than on their album. It gave me chills.

First Jason, Impaler, Ripsnorter, Mommy Sez No – Station 4 – 3/21

Keytar!

Franz Nicolay, God Damn Doo Wop Band – Triple Rock – 1/16

As much as I like the Hold Steady, I’m glad this guy quite the band so he can do his solo stuff. It’s more fun.

Worst Show of the Year

Jeffree Star at the Triple Rock on 8/12. Proof that just because you look cool doesn’t mean you can make cool music. Of course, if he would have tried, rather than growling over prerecorded tracks and having a “band” pretend to play music, he might have had a better chance.

Review: Gallagher and Metallagher at Station 4

To celebrate my birthday, some friends and I went to the big Gallagher shindig at Station 4. We walked in late, so the hardcore Gallagher fans had pretty much filled up the splatter zone, except for some spots front and center, which I was happy to take.  What’s the point in going to a Gallagher show and not getting watermelon on you?

Actually, prior to the show, my knowledge of Gallagher was based on the scattered references I’ve encountered here and there. I had never actually seen the man perform, live or on any of his videos. I kind of expected his schtick to be all about smashing watermelons.

Surprisingly, the majority of his set was manic comedy-making that kept me laughing. Sure, some of his jokes were outright homophobic and probably racist, but what are you gonna do? Are there people that take Gallagher’s opinion’s seriously? Well, I do agree with his comments about how baggy pants prevent people from running from the cops. I’ve been saying that shit for years.

Between jokes, he filled pie tins with various mucks and oozes (sauerkraut, cream of mushroom soup, lettuce, strawberry syrup) in preparation for the splatter fest that would come at the end. It smelled delicious. Actually, it mostly smelled like sauerkraut… and spam… and dog food. Rice Krispies don’t have much of an odor (Gallagher holding up the ceral box: “These were the first gay guys I ever knew!”)

There were some splats scattered throughout too. I caught the first, getting half a can of pumpkin in my eye. The goop was tossed as part of a rough gag about a bear and a rabbit pooping in the woods? It wasn’t funny so much as it was a chance to throw pumpkin in someone’s face. Anyway, I was all in from there.

“Anyone with a birthday sometime this year, come up on stage to get cake splattered in your face,” Gallagher said.

“Fuck yeah,” I said, hopping out of my seat, joining the handful of other people with the guts to go.

When he smashed the cake, I was actually a bit disappointed, because it mostly ended up on my shirt. The disappointment faded fast when I realized that I was going to be given the opportunity to smash watermelons on stage with Gallagher!

Let me take a moment to say how much I love smashing stuff. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve enjoyed destroying random things. I’ve spent great evenings with friends crushing cabinets we found on the side of the road, or televisions, or space heaters or just smashing boards against basement floors while punk rock bands played. It’s seriously one of my favorite pass times, even though I haven’t had a chance to do it very much lately.

So when Gallagher handed me his mallet, the mighty Sledge-o-matic, I was ready. Or at least I thought I was, until I had the handle in my grip… barely. It was slick with mayo and muck. As metal blared over the speakers, I saw images of the mallet flying out of my grip and crushing an audience member’s skull. Actually, I’m totally lying. I was just worried that I’d lose my grip and not get a good smash. I shoved the worry out of my mind and went for it. Watermelon splattered everywhere. I’m not going to say it was the best smash of the night, or of my smashing career for that matter, but it was a damn good smash.

The other birthday smashers took their turn. Gallagher, by this point completely covered with coca cola and watermelon,  stripped down to his skivvies and smashed the last watermelon. Then he left the stage.

The chairs were cleared, the oldsters there just for Gallagher moved out and Metallagher took the stage. Essentially, it was a repeat of what came before, except with Metallica songs in place of jokes. At the start of their set, they ordered a pizza. It arrived at the end and they invited the Dominos guy on stage. He sang along to “Blackened” before the band invited him to fulfill a dream. They put the pizza on the smashing table and handed him the mallet. He smashed it with glee, sending cheese, crust and tomato all over the front row. They closed out with a rousing version of “Last Caress” (Misfits, but Metallica covered it!) and the crowd faded into the night, covered with goo and smiling.

That reminds me. I’ve got laundry to do.

Gallagher and Metallagher played Station 4 in St. Paul, MN, on 12/10/09.

News: Razorcake #53

The new issue of Razorcake is out now, and you probably want to get it so you can keep yourself updated on the crazy underground world of rabbit punk.

It also contains some record reviews written by me. If you’re too cheap to buy a copy for yourself, you can read the reviews online:

• DEATH WITH A DAGGER: Dark Alleys: CD
• DECAPITADO: Autowriter: 7”
• DUEL: Childish Behavior: CD
• IN DEFENCE: Into the Sewer: CD
• LOVE BELOW: Demo: CD
• PSYCHO 78: Courting Disaster: CD

Razorcake is the best cake.

Review: Fun Fun Fun Fest 2009

Friday Night Fun!

Although a wide variety of official pre-fest events were offered, there was also plenty of other stuff to do:

Unsanctioned Friday Fun #1: Bats!

The Congress Avenue Bridge is the home to the world’s largest urban bat colony. Kate and I decided this would be a good way to kick off the weekend. We found a spot on the bridge at dusk, just as the critters launched their attack on Austin’s bugs.

As I was watching this happen, some old man put a button in my hand and walked away. It said “I love the bats” or something like that. It also said that I was supposed to donate money to the old man, because he was deaf and making buttons was how he supported himself. Whatever. I handed the button back. He called Kate a bitch or, more accurately, a screeching “Bith!” I gave him some sign language and we took off.

Unsanctioned Fun #2: The Stars of Aqua Teen Hunger Force Live!

You know what is weird? Seeing cartoon character’s voices coming out of real life people. It’s like you’ve entered some weird alternate dimension. You start to think, if Meatwad is actually a person, am I a cartoon? Have things gone topsy turvy? I don’t know. Give me a watermelon soda!

Essentially, this show was Dana Snyder (Master Shake) and Dave Willis (Meatwad and Carl) fucking around for a couple hours. They played a bunch of never-before-seen episodes and weird short films about evil telephones and butt massages. They also sang a Christmas song and gave everyone in the audience kazoos, allowing us to make enough racket to annoy the people watching The Box in the theater next door. It was fun.

It also cost us a shit ton to get to, because we didn’t realize it was at a theater that was actually way out in the suburbs. $40 cab rides each way. Our Greek cab driver, Zack, spent the ride back gushing about how in love with San Diego was. Now, I’ve never been there, but apparently it is a sunny wonderland filled with lemon trees that give off a soothing aroma that can be smelled throughout the city. Oh, he also mentioned that he didn’t like Austin as much because all the Mexicans call him an amigo and he is not an amigo. “I am as white as you are!”

Unsanctioned Fun #3: Mojo Nixon!

Zack dropped us off at the Continental club. We were still giggling from the show and from the cab driver’s crazy stories as we walked in to catch the tail end of the New Duncan Imperials.

Dash Rip Rock came up next. Midway through their set, they played a song called “Let’s Go Smoke Some Pot,” sung to the tune of “Let’s Go to the Hop.” Now, this would be no big deal ordinarily, except that earlier in the day, Kate had been singing that very song. “I have this stupid song in my head and I have no idea why!” she had said. Now we knew the reason!

Some fat old guy in jean shorts got up on stage next. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, ‘Mojo, you got old! You got fat! Why don’t you go on a diet? Why don’t you dye your hair! Why don’t you get yourself a pair of long pants? Why don’t you make nice music?” When the rant concluded, Mojo Nixon stomped right into “Debbie Gibson is Pregnant with My Two Headed Love Child.” The hootin’ and hollerin’ continued, as the rambunctious band spit out all the hits: “Tie My Pecker to My Leg,” “Elvis is Everywhere,” “Are You Drinking with Me Jesus” and a rollicking rendition of “You Can’t Kill Me.”

All in all, we got a hilarious start to a killer weekend.

Saturday Fun Fun Fun!

After a leisurely stroll to Waterloo park, conveniently located in downtown Austin, we completely ignored the blue stage (that’s the stage where the hip-hop and dance stuff goes down), walked right past the orange stage (that one’s saturated with indie rock), didn’t even consider going to the yellow stage (comedy and acoustic) and went straight for the black stage (punk and metal, baby) for Coliseum.

With the sun shining down, I found a spot in the shade while Coliseum kicked out some mean, but surprisingly catchy, metal. They made some bad jokes about headliner Danzig’s height and clothes, unfortunately setting the stage for every other damn band to come up with their own Danzig joke. It was already tedious, but there were more to come.

After Coliseum, I wandered over to the Yellow stage to catch some of the Altercation Comedy show. I didn’t catch the name of the first guy, who didn’t so much tell jokes as spew stupidity about how he told his girlfriend that because they both had wide-set eyes they would have a hammerhead shark baby. JT Habersaat opened with the same material he used last year, which wasn’t all that funny then, so I headed back to the black stage for the Night Marchers.

The Night Marchers were dicks. Their singer’s between song banter included statements like, “We’re really happy to be here, and I’m only kind of lying about that” and “I had thought I was going to Boston up until I got off the plane. I have to say I’m pretty disappointed.” Maybe it’s his schtick. Maybe it’s brutal sincerity. Either way, it didn’t diminish the fact that the band rocks.

Things didn’t really kick in for me until I caught Shonen Knife on the Orange stage. If you can listen to this legendary Japanese trio without smiling, you are probably an ork. After playing a song about sushi, the singer mentioned that she had heard that Texas was known for its barbecue. They kept the food theme going by playing “BBQ Party,” which, incidentally, mentions deep fried tofu, which I’d love to see more of at Austin’s barbecue joints. My favorite: “Muddy Bubbles Hell,” Shonen Knife’s interpretation of Priest and Dio style metal. This is when the sets started feeling way too short.

I went back to the black stage to watch the Sword. After finding a seat on the not-so-swank PIP (pretty important person) viewing platform, I caught sight of a two-year-old perched on his dad’s shoulders. The little guy was playing drums on his pop’s head, which wouldn’t have been a big deal, except that he was keeping perfect time with the sludgy metal coming from the Sword. When mom stood next do dad, suddenly the kid had two drums, and man that little dude was rockin! The sword were fine, but that little guy really kicked ass.

Melt Banana were up next, starting their set by playing what looked like video game controllers. I’m always in awe by this band and the crazy noises they make. The fact that their songs actually have melodies and can still involve a guitar player who makes his instrument sound like an exploding squeaky toy blows my mind. After getting over the confusion that this band inevitably invokes, the crowd started moshing a bit. Spazzy, awkward, fast, bouncy moshing… the only kind appropriate for this band.

Oh yeah. Here’s where it really kicked in. 7 Seconds is one of my faves, but I haven’t seen them in a decade. I found a spot close to the stage and got ready for the circle bit action. Kevin Seconds and the gang bolted through a set that focused primarily on the classics like “Diehard Youth,” “Committed for Life,” “Red and Black” and “The Crew.” The tunes they drew from the more recent Good to Go seemed to fit in nicely. Of course, they’re nearly a decade old now, so they aren’t exactly new. “We’re Gonna Fight,” my favorite 7 Seconds tune, arrived mid set and I shouted along just a little louder to that one. They closed things out one of my favorite sets of the weekend with “99 Red Baloons.”

One of the other cool things about Fun Fun Fun Fest is that there is a lot of gushing going on on stage. Seems like every band said something about how great it was to be sharing the stage with so and so. As for Fucked Up, their singer gushed about the upcoming Negative Approach show. He also made a great joke about babies being receipts for sex, requesting that the crowd not tell his wife that he said that. Fucked Up kept it intense. Mentally, I was still back at the 7 Seconds performance.

Dinner time. With the fancy PIP passes Kate and I sprung for, we were entitled to free food. Unfortunately, that food was vegetarian chili on fritos. So that cloud of butt stink hovering over the crowd at the black stage? Yeah.

As we at and drank, we watched Les Savy Fav freak out on the orange stage. From the PIP area, it looked like the singer was wearing a big white dress. Kate said it was a space suit. Either way, he stripped pretty quickly. Each stage is actually two stages. A band plays on one while the next band sets up on the other. That’s why there’s only five minutes between bands. Efficiency rules. This setup gave the singer of Les Savy Fav the opportunity to wander over to the adjacent stage midsong and harass the sound guys as they tried to set up for Ratatat. He played their drums and goofed around for a minute before spazzing back to his own stage.

“This is gonna be good,” David Yow of the Jesus Lizard said, pacing around the stage as his bandmates grabbed their instruments. I suspect he was thinking more about himself than the crowd. With “Give me something to stop the Bleeding,” the opening words of “Puss,” he launched into the crowd, where he would spend the majority of the show riding on top of the hands of sweaty fest-goers.

Yow is a professional crowd surfer. You’ll see none of that sloppy microphone-dropping, verse-missing nonsense when the Jesus Lizard is in action. Even toppling end over end, he’s singing every word. It goes without saying that the intensity level is off the charts. Questioning the man’s sanity wouldn’t be out of order, especially when he pauses between songs to get emo about how he crowd surfed to where his sister was standing and gave her a kiss before following the natural motion of the crowd back to the stage. With the gentlest Texas breeze rolling through to cool off the crowd, the Jesus Lizard frenzied through tunes like “Mouth Breather” and “Gladiator” before wrapping up. I was sad that the fest was over for the day, but the night still had more to offer.

Saturday Post-Fest Fun!

Kate and I headed over to Red 7 for the aftershow. We caught Naw Dude, who were fine, but totally upstaged by Trash Talk. This band is intense. I love watching bands that are so violent, so insane, that I start to wonder if I’m at risk of physical harm. When the singer of Trash Talk swung his microphone, hitting the heads of people in the front row, he clearly didn’t give a shit, and the music reflects this. This is music to draw blood to.

I’m pretty sure that, at one point during their set, one of the guys from Christ on Parade shouted, “Yeah! 1984!” It was obvious that they were reliving it. I just wish they could have done it in private, because they were fucking boring. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell if the singer was trying to be rockabilly or the bride of frankenstein with his ridiculous hair. Fuck.

Negative Approach only has a limited pool of songs to draw from, and they played most of them. They started with “Lost Cause.” John Brannon sang this one so fast that words disappeared. It was just that gut-rattling growl of his, pounding on my ears. The crowd moshers had trouble staying on their feet. They tumbled over each other. Out of the nowhere, one guy appeared pushing another in a shopping cart. That came to a quick end.

“This is the only love song we ever wrote,” Brannon announced before the band bashed its way through “Ready to Fight.” As violent as the music was, there were no fight. Actually, I mostly saw smiles. I was sure the fuck wearing one. Two of my favorite bands in one night? What are the chances. Only at Fun Fun Fun!

Sunday Fun Fun Fun!

I woke up Sunday and looked out the window. Rain. Uh oh. Kate and I debated our options. Should we stay at our hotel until the evening? Should we go to the fest as planned? We decided to get a late start, not getting to the black stage until about 3, clad in weird orange rain ponchos we had hastily purchased from the hotel gift shop. We arrived just in time for Mika Miko.

Supposedly, that was the end for Mika Miko. Of course, they were playing at a fest with about half a dozen bands that had ended at least once before, so who knows if that will stick? Either way, they requested moshing and they got it. They requested crowd surfing and they got it. I liked the saxophone. Their brand of poppy, no-wave was a lot of fun.

Then it was back to the yellow stage for Metallagher. A Metallica cover band fronted by a Gallagher impersonator? You can’t go wrong. “You have some crazy fruit down here,” Gallagher said, smashing open some kind of melon. “What is this? Ant eggs or something?” he asked, looking at the insides of the fruit before tossing it at the crowd. The last time I saw Metallagher, it got messy, and not necessarily in a good way. Today, though, no bleeding. No problems. Well, they did require the management to shut their sound off and kick them off the stage as they were covering “Last Caress” (technically not a Metallica cover, although Metallica covered it, so they’re safe), but that’s really to be expected.

I got back to the black stage in time to catch the end of Youth Brigade. While I still maintain that Youth Brigade is a bunch of dicks, they’re music is pretty cool. And their guitar player was wearing a Riot Fest Sucks shirt, which I highly endorse. After chastising some kids for using records as umbrellas (Crystal Castles or some other indie rock band was actually selling their LPs as umbrellas at the merch stand), they wrapped up their set with “Sink With California.”

“Danzig is going to be flying in at dusk with the bats from the Congress Avenue Bridge.” And with that, the best Danzig joke of the fest had been made by the Street Dogs. They also got the crowd whipped up into a decent frenzy, regardless of the rain. The Street Dogs are one of those road warrior bands that are always out there, always putting on awesome shows and making crowds shake their fists in the air. Today was no different.

I didn’t watch Coalesce, but I heard them from the portajohn that I was in and it made me worry that the blue capsule was going to be blasted violently into the air, set afire and ripped apart while I was trying to pull up my pants.

I checked out some Riverboat Gamblers, some Lucero and some Torche. Unfortunately, as Danzig’s set grew closer, I had trouble concentrating on any of these bands. Also, I was getting hungry. I ran up to the PIP area to see what they were serving. Whatever it was, the line was way too long. As much as I wanted to eat for free, I didn’t want to miss bands for it. I opted for a bunch of cookies from one of the vendor. After giving one to Kate, I ate two of them and stuck the other one in my pocket. Not hungry for it, but sure it wouldn’t make it until I was.

As D.R.I. was doing their soundcheck, one of the most intense mosh pits of the weekend broke out. It kept going when the band took the stage, opening with “Who am I?” As tight as these guys sounded, it was hard to believe that they were just coming off a multi-year hiatus from playing live. Their set was brilliantly structured, alternating between the old old stuff – the 30 second long songs – and the merely old stuff – the full on thrash assaults that went on for a few minutes. The rain died down, thrashed away.

Gorilla Biscuits carried the moment with their old school New York hardcore. They opened with “Stand Still,” moving through “Cats and Dogs” and others, throwing in a curve by playing Civ’s “Do Something.” The sound went weird about halfway through, but the energy level stayed constant. Some of the worst stage diving I had ever seen was going on though. Big guys jumping out into empty spaces. Little girls going knees first. Yikes.

After the shitty sound during Gorilla Biscuits and obvious problems during sound check, I started to get worried. I’ve seen what happens when Danzig has bad sound, and it’s not pretty. Last year’s Blackest of the Black stop at the Myth was proof. I couldn’t stand to see a repeat of that. Thankfully, the sound guys got it taken care of. It took a while, and I heard some grumbling from the crowd, but when Danzig took the stage to sing “Skin Carver” and everything sounded fucking perfect, it was worth the wait and then some.

I love Danzig. I’m not saying that in some ironic, hipster, retro bullshit way, either. I’m serious. Not to get all “I’m a bigger fan than everyone else,” but I’ve probably listened to Danzig 7 more than most people in the crowd have listened to Legacy of Brutality. That’s just the way it is. This is my favorite band that we’re talking about. Always has been. So part of me is a little weird that all the sudden he’s getting love from Spin magazine and all these other places that didn’t haven’t mentioned Danzig in years. Still, if it packs in the fans like it did tonight, then it can only be a good thing.

While I wasn’t surprised that I was the only one singing along to opener “Skin Carver,” I was caught off guard by how many people joined in when Danzig started going through the timeline chronologically with tracks from Danzig 1. The shouting along didn’t really start to fade until well into the set, when Danzig dug into material from 4 and later. Still, the crowd’s energy carried through, and it seemed like everyone noticed that “Black Angel, White Angel,” the penultimate song of the set, is absolutely amazing and easily one of Danzig’s best. The fists kept pumping.

The crowd at Fun Fun Fun fest is great. Everyone is positive. You don’t hear complaining. You don’t see boredom. You see smiles everywhere you look, that is if you can focus on faces as you see people running frantically from one stage to the next. Then, when you’re in front of a stage, everyone there seems to be totally psyched by whatever band is playing. While the crowd at Fun Fun Fun fest is a huge part of why Danzig’s set was so awesome, the weather was important too.

After constant rain all day, the precipitation finally stopped just before Danzig started. I can’t think of a more perfect environment in which to hear “How the Gods Kill” than under the black sky, the slightest post-rain chill in the fresh Texas air. Of course, Danzig took credit for this: “I heard you guys were having a drought, so I brought the Danzig black clouds of rain with me.”

Of course, the bulk of the credit has to go to Glenn Danzig and the band. They were tight, the tightest I’ve ever seen them. They went nuts. As Danzig sang about “Blood, like a crimson highway, spreading out from his forehead to the ground,” he charged across the stage, before holding the microphone out to the crowd to sing along. When he yelled “Go fucking crazy” during “Bringer of Death,” people did. When he hit the last song, “Mother,” it didn’t seem like there was a single person who didn’t know the words. The music boomed into the night, gripping everyone, pulling them in. I’ve seen Danzig many times, and this was quite possibly the best.

As the crowd dispersed, Johnny Kelly tossed his drumsticks from the stage. I’m not one to fight for shit thrown from stage, but one of his drumsticks bounced off the back of the girl in front of me (she ducked) and landed at my feet. I figured it was mine. I picked it up and immediately saw a set of hands grabbing for it. After seeing such an awesome show, it was hard for me to conjure up a pissed off face for the guy, but I did my best. He got the message, awkwardly withdrawing his hands, saying “Those are just like the drumsticks I bought yesterday.” I shrugged my shoulders and walked away, replaying the set in my head. Here’s how it went down:

• Skin Carver
• Twist of Cain
• Am I Demon
• Tired of Being Alive
• Long Way Back from Hell
• Her Black Wings
• How the Gods Kill
• Do You Wear the Mark?
• Brand New God
• Satan’s Crucifiction
• Bringer of Death
• Unspeakable
• Black Angel, White Angel
• Mother

Despite slamming around a few rows back from the stage, I checked my pocket and the cookie I had stowed away earlier was still in one piece. Evil doings, man! Tasty evil doings!

Sunday Post-Fest Fun!

Ah! Why did it have to end? Couldn’t it go on forever? Oh well. There was still one last nugget of fun to squeeze out of the weekend. Kate and I wandered to Beerland. Eagle Claw wrapped up and Easy Action took their turn. Easy Action, if you don’t know is John Brannon’s other band. His voice is just as soul-crushing and angry as it is in Negative Approach, only more depressed. Easy Action is rock ‘n’ roll for suicides. They ran through “Friends of Rock & Roll,” a Cheap Trick cover and some others while some annoying punk scenesters stood in front of the stage and waved at their friends in the back of the room. Bah. I grabbed the set list and we wandered over to Red 7.

We walked past King Khan & BBQ, who actually sounded so tight that I thought they were a recording at first, and went outside to see the Forgetters, featuring that weiner from Jawbreaker. This is the only dude in the world who would check the microphone at a punk show by reading poetry. “How does that sound?” the sound guy asked. “It sounds like John Keats, which always sounds good.” I rolled my eyes. I continued rolling my eyes through the first song, trying to fight off the fact that it was actually pretty awesome. Pretentious as fuck, but awesome. I imagine the weiner slaving over those lyrics deep into the night. The work paid off. It was a great set, and he didn’t make any fucking Danzig jokes.

The Stars of Aqua Teen Hunger Force Live took place at the Alamo Drafthouse Lake Creek. Mojo Nixon played at the Continental Club. Fun Fun Fun Fest took place 11/07/09 and 11/08/09 at Waterloo Park in Austin, TX. Afterparties were at Red 7 and Beerland.

Review: Klownboy Circus of Gore

Do you ever find yourself sitting around, watching the Toxic Avenger, thinking that nobody is making good cult movies anymore? I mean, sure, Lloyd Kaufman is still around. Charles Band. John Waters. All the old guys are still doing their thing, and there are a lot of people out there making copies of the shit these guys were doing decades ago, but where are the cult movies of the 2000s? Yeah, there’s some neat stuff coming out of Japan, but what about the United States? I caught the premiere of Klownboy Circus of Gore last night at the Riverview Theater and found an answer to that question. Check this out:

Klownboy is the epic and tragic saga of a confused clown who is just trying to get through life without the people around him sucking all of the fun out of him. Of course, his idea of fun is biting old ladies at the liquor store, fucking corpses that he finds in the woods and rocking out to Impaler, but that’s neither here nor there.

Two impressive feats that should be pointed out. First, the character of Klownboy is much stronger than you’d expect to find in this sort of movie. His shifts from pathetic sniveling to violent dementia hold every disjointed and delirous scene together.

Second, the special effects are fucking weird. There’s no other way to explain it. They may seem obviously fake at times, but they’re used in such a way that they still manage to accomplish gross-outs effectively. It’s not even that they look fake, it’s that they look bizarre and cartoonish. They are so over the top that it keeps eyes glued to the screen, wondering what the fuck is going to happen next.

I seriously hope Troma or somebody picks this up and puts it out on DVD so the world can experience this insanity.

Hatefuck: The True Story of a Wisconsin Hardcore Band

Hatefuck was a hardcore band based out of Green Bay Wisconsin in the early part of this decade. Members went on to form Pink Reason. An Australian zine called Negative Guest List recently put together a piece about the band, reprinting a few articles from old issues of Freak Tension. I also wrote a longer bit about my part in the band, which was minimal. That bit wasn’t used, so here it is, along with the full article from NGL.

The first time I saw Hatefuck play was the last time I punched someone in the face. I’m not sure if it was the band’s first show, but it was definitely an early one. They were even listed on the flyer as Zone 13 Rejects, which was Hatefuck’s predecessor.

My job was to drive the band – at that point still Kevin, Shawn, Nate and Ralph – to the show. I played the role regularly. My hands off stance on intoxicants made me a good fit. I could drive. They could drink and do whatever drugs they wanted in the back of the van. They took advantage of the opportunity.

I had driven them around as the Rejects a lot, but driving to this Hatefuck show was different. Before we even left Green Bay, things went crazy. We pulled into the Burger King on 29 so the guys could grab some snacks and take one last piss before we hit the road. I waited in the car. I don’t eat meat.

A minute or so passed and the doors of the joint flew open. The guys bolted across the parking lot and jumped into the van, yelling at me to drive away fast. I followed orders, knowing full well that these guys didn’t bluff about quick getaways. Anything could have happened in that restaurant. Chances are, whatever it was, it was not legal.

I drove fast, but not too fast. Speeding would only attract police, I figured. When we were far enough away, I pried the story out of them. Shawn had jerked off all over the men’s room, smearing his cum across the walls of the stalls and elsewhere. Someone had walked in as he was completing his jizz vandalism. Good reason to get out of there.

Halfway to the show, we had a blowout. Spare tire? Fuck no. Plenty of Rhinelander beer. No spare tires. This was Hatefuck. I made a tow truck come for us. Somehow, Kevin and I landed in the cab with the driver. The guy had been a total dick over the phone, pissing about our lack of a spare. When he found out he was towing a band, he got excited. I listened as Kevin tried to explain to this hairy motherfucker, who totally reeked of weed, that Hatefuck wasn’t exactly like Pearl Jam.

By the time we arrived at Nate’s Dungeon, every one of us was fuming. The blowout had flipped a switch and everything felt tense, ready to boil. I knew it was going to come out during the show.

Hanging around in the backyard before the bands started playing, I noticed this kid hanging around who kept fucking up Nate’s shit. The dude broke Nate’s clothesline by hanging from it like a jackass. Any other day, I might have been hanging from the clothesline myself. Not that day. I don’t think Nate cared, but it pissed me off. I called the kid on it. He walked away.

Hatefuck played. I had tunnel vision. All I remember was stomping around that basement, making one circle after the next. I didn’t even really see what the band was doing. I didn’t see them stripping down. I didn’t see the vacuum cleaner go into Kevin’s anus. These are things that I found afterwards when I overheard all the “Holy shit, did that just happen?” discussions taking place in the backyard.

Holding On were the evening’s headliner. Minneapolis straight edge. Good band to include on a bill with Hatefuck. The band started and I got my tunnel vision on. In the middle of my mosh, I noticed the jackass who had fucked up Nate’s clothesline messing with my little brother. I plowed the dude into the wall and put two, maybe three, fists into his teeth before the crowd separated us. I stomped up the stairs to the kitchen, where Kevin was hanging out. When I showed him the blood draining out of my knuckles. He smiled.

I didn’t punch that kid because he did anything all that bad, not really. I did it because it seemed like the direction the evening should go in. Actually, that’s not accurate either, because it implies that the punching was premeditated. It wasn’t. That’s the thing about Hatefuck. There was violence. However, none of that violence ever seemed forced. It seemed to come about because it was the natural course of things.

In other words, violence only came about when it was right. When it wasn’t right, it didn’t come. My favorite Hatefuck show was when they played with Fat Day at a pavilion at Bay Beach in Green Bay on a sunny late afternoon. This was when their lineup had solidified as Kevin, Shawn, Nate and Tim. The show was hot, sweaty and serene. There was no violence, just smiles. That’s when I realized how awesome Hatefuck were. They never hesitated to let their emotions flow through their music. If they were in a good mood and feeling positive, it came through. If they were feeling negative, they could play the same songs, but everything came out differently. It just so happened that they were more likely to be feeling negative.

The most important thing about Hatefuck, the thing that differentiated it from Zone 13 Rejects, was that it was all-inclusive. It wasn’t just music. It wasn’t just four dudes. Hatefuck was a convenient, and often appropriate, label slapped on Kevin, Shawn, Tim and Nate’s lives from about ’02 to ’05. Everything those lives encompassed – people, places, thoughts, emotions, everything – was HFK. It seems grandiose, but it’s not, at least not anymore than life is.

To celebrate this part of life, shows were played. Drinks were consumed. The letters HFK – Hatefuck Krew – were carved into flesh in beer-soaked basements.

So, in a way, every time I hung out with those guys, I was part of an HFK show. It didn’t matter if the band was playing or not. Maybe we were just smashing shit or doing some vandalism. Maybe we were encroaching on punk parties and starting brawls…

I remember when Hatefuck broke up, I was going to be in the next band. Plans for a new musical project were being hashed out around a keg in some Green Bay basement. I mentioned to Kevin and Shawn that I played tenor sax. They thought the idea was cool. Bottles were smashed, not in celebration, but because that was what was done at these things. I tried to pin someone down to a time when we could practice. Nobody really cared. I pushed. A time was set.

The next Sunday at noon, the predetermined practice time, I arrived at Brock’s place. Brock was wasted. He tried to get his bass out. Didn’t happen. Shawn was in the bathroom. I think there was a girl in there with him. The shower was running. Kevin wasn’t there. I sat on the couch, wondering if I should take my sax out and warm up. I decided against it.

I sat on the couch for half an hour as Brock meandered in and out of consciousness next to me. Shawn never came out of the bathroom. Realizing that this probably wasn’t the right band for a straight edge dude who likes to keep a rigid schedule, I took off. Better to just observe, I decided. And drive the van.

I witnessed the birth of Pink Reason. A basement show, of course. I walked in and it was surprisingly packed. Candles were lit all over. Cigarette smoke was heavy enough to take the place of a fog machine. It rubbed in my eyes, bringing the scent of booze and body odor with it. Dax, the first singer of the band, rose up in front of the crowd. His face was covered with duct tape, with only small openings for his eyes and mouth. The shrieks of this deaf man were so fucking shrill that they made my skin crawl. Kevin, Shawn and, I think, Nate, made music that seemed like a pretty natural progression from Hatefuck.

I’m pretty sure a fight broke out that night before I left.

Preview: Klownboy Circus of Gore at the Riverview

Specially designed for weirdos who like weird things. Seriously, if this video doesn’t make you want to go to the Riverview Theater for the premier of Klownboy Circus of Gore, then maybe the performance by Mommy Sez No (reviewed in Razorcake #50) or the appearance by Lloyd Kaufman of Troma Films fame will.

Support local weirdness or local weirdness will disappear.

The premier of Klownboy Circus of Gore will take place at the Riverview Theater in Minneapolis, MN, on 10/24/09 at 11:30 PM.

How Much Testosterone Can You Cram Into One Music Video? Only Skarhead Knows.

Even though Skarhead mastermind Danny Diablo was a part of the worst show I’ve ever been to, I’m still a fan. The new video is essential Skarhead, a bunch of meatheads stomping, flexing their muscles and yelling about drinking, fucking and fighting.

I like the little bit where Diablo grumbles something indecipherable about having a kid now. Totally awkward. Almost emo. Also, when I searched for the video on youtube, Sade’s “By Your Side” came up as a related video. Hmmm.

News: Razorcake #51

The new issue of Razorcake is out now. It features an interview with the Underground Railroad to Candyland and all of the other good stuff.

I contributed a nice helping of reviews, which I’m pretty proud of. You can read them online:

• BRAINWORMS II: Swear to Me: LP
• DESGUACE: Yo Me Se Cuidar: LP
• FAGGOT: Self-titled: CD
• GEIN AND THE GRAVEROBBERS: Gruesome Twosome: CD
• GG ALLIN AND THE CAROLINA SHITKICKERS: Self-titled: 7”
• HEXTALLS: Call it a Comeback: LP
• LEATHERVEIN: Self-titled: LP
• REMISSION: Absolute Power: 7”
• RUNNAMUCKS: Clawing Back: LP

The Internet is okay.

Review: No Doubt at the Xcel

Paying extra to get in early paid off. Kate and I got a spot in the front row. Thousands of people trickled in behind us. We passed the time singing along to the Descendents and Bad Brains tunes blasting out of the speakers.

Speaking of the Bad Brains, I was curious about the opening band, Bedouin Soundclash, because Darryl Jenifer (Bad Brains bassist, yo) has been producing their albums. Unfortunately, their mopey ska didn’t really reflect that connection.

Paramore came next, opening with “Misery Business,” the one song I knew.  Their set moved faster than the 45 minutes it lasted. Bonus points for the back flip the bass player did over the guitar player.

A giant white curtain fluttered in front of the stage. The band member’s silhouettes appeared on it and me, Kate and the 10,000 or so people behind us went nuts. “Spiderwebs” kicked it off as Gwen and the band ran around the sci-fi sleek stage set.

Part of me was worried No Doubt might have been one of those bands that, having reached such a level of popularity that they can pack arenas, would put on an overly glossy show, overproduced, choreographed and punctuated by cheesy, rehashed crowd banter. I had no reason to worry. Yes, they were tight musically, but it still seemed fresh, even spontaneous. They were into what they were doing and their energy flowed from the stage in waves.

I don’t usually get starstruck, but with Gwen Stefani and her abs four feet in front of me, yeah, I get starstruck, so highlights are hard to pick out. They played all of their singles, throwing in a few curve balls, like a slowed-down arrangement of “Excuse Me Mr.” They also threw in a couple less-familiar tunes from Tragic Kingdom, like “Different People,” during which Gwen forgot the lyrics, which she blamed on a couple of sisters in the front row with the lyrics “Two sisters only have their parents to blame” written on a sign.

They wrapped up the set with “Just a Girl.” After doing a dozen push-ups, Gwen requested that the dudes in the audience sing the chorus. “That was terrible,” she said before handing it over to the ladies to give it a shot, which she was more approving of.

For the encore, Gwen came back onto the stage dressed like some sort of ultra glam skinhead chick, wearing bleached jeans and a glittery Fred Perry. Instead of covering a song by The Business, they covered Adam and the Ants, perhaps the least skinheady band in the world. Drums were brought to the front of the stage to lay out the marching beats that lead into “Stand and Deliver.” I never thought I would like any fucking song that Adam Ant had anything to do with, but I guess this is an exception. Verses were handled by Gwen with assistance from the singers of Paramore and Bedouin Soundclash.

When the stage cleared, No Doubt wrapped things up with an amazing run through “Sunday Morning.” Then they went away. Sigh.

Set List:

• Spiderwebs
• Hella Good
• Underneath it All
• Excuse Me Mr.
• Ex-Girlfriend
• Happy Now/End it on This
• Simple Kind of Life
• Bathwater
• Guns of Navarone
• New
• Hey Baby
• Running
• Different People
• Don’t Speak
• It’s My Life
• Just a Girl

Encore:

• Rock Steady
• Stand and Deliver
• Sunday Morning

No Doubt played the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul, Minnesota, on 07/05/09.