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The Bouncing Souls, The Menzingers, Luther, The Hollowpoints – Chop Suey

Forget about
The things I said
I make no
Excuse for them
I want to start again
I want to start again

I’m old. I hate the Capitol Hill Block Party because all the bands suck with their stupid 80’s fashions and face paint. I try to keep an open mind, but popular music these days just seems so 80’s and I pretty much hate the 80’s. I like punk, with it’s raw emotion and raucous sing alongs. More often than not, it says what I’m thinking. Instead of “let’s go hang out on the beach and smoke pot” it says “man, this is screwed up, let’s do something about it.”

At any rate, I missed The Hollowpoints. I saw Luther, but was kind of bored. Not because they were bad, but because they also seemed a little bored. The drummer didn’t do anything exciting and everything was a little too compressed. They seem like nice guys and I just read somewhere that their hometown of Philadelphia is the next new hot spot for good music, so I’m sure they’ll do alright for themselves.

A few kids up front were stoked on The Menzingers. These dudes are from Philly as well and were more exciting. They have a little of that Gaslight Anthem, Broadways, orgcore sound (gruff vocals and driving anthems) and I was surprised to see people get real stoked on it. People were requesting songs and everything. I mean, I love that stuff, but I didn’t think anyone else did.

This blog post is turning out pretty terrible. I was hoping to re-inspire myself to become a good reviewer and have some sort of post-teaching fallback to fall back on, but this isn’t like riding a bicycle, apparently. Particularly since I never could ride this metaphoric bicycle all that well. But I used to enjoy it, why did I stop?

In 1996, I saw The Bouncing Souls in Santa Cruz, California in a former restaurant or house or something called The Red Room. Because it was red. I was impressed by the singer’s characteristic laid back style and bought every record up to “How I Spent My Summer Vacation” and loved every one of them. Early records were somewhat silly, positive punk songs and they matured into big, hopeful, sing along anthems on Summer Vacation. As a 35 year old has been who never was, I was ready to leave this show feeling 19 again.

I spent the set in and around the pit. I figured most of the amateurs would be down the street at the CHBP and was mostly right about that. We couldn’t manage a good circle pit and no one could stage dive worth a damn, but everyone picked each other up and held shoes in the air like pros. I went in positive and stayed positive for the whole set. I pointed in the air and sang along and smiled a little bit. I think one guy even gave me a little bro side hug. I used to love this kind of thing, why did I stop?

Throughout the set, The Souls were doing what they do. The last time I saw them, it was pretty much the same. They have fun up there and make sure everyone else does too. I heard most of the songs I wanted to, got a taste of the new records, and got super sweaty. Even as an old guy, I wasn’t let down. And that shows some hope for the future, right?

We live our life in our own way,
Never really listened to what they say,
The kind of faith that doesn’t fade away
We are the true believers
We are the true believers

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I know, I know.

It’s been a while since I’ve just written anything. I know you don’t care, but I should be writing more, I suppose.

I went to Chuck Ragan’s Revival Tour show tonight at El Corazon instead of being all Halloweeny and it was amazing. I’ll be putting up a review tomorrow or the next day on the other site. But here’s some stuff that may or may not make it in that review.

A-ma-zing.

Audra Mae sang these wonderful heartfelt bluesy country songs. With her hand shaking a little on the most passionate one. It was really… amazing.

Austin Lucas was there with his dad and sister and he sang my favorite song, Go West, which I tried to cover but am horrible at. Voice lessons?

Austin and his dad, Bob, played this amazing song about a horse headed woman or something. The chord changes were extraordinary. I wish I could explain how wonderful it sounded.

Chuck was awesome and powerful all at once and though he didn’t sing Do What You Do or The Boat or any Hot Water Music songs, he got everyone to sing along.

Jim Ward sounded fantastic. I always liked his vocals in Sparta, so I picked up a Sleepercar CD which was the only Jim Ward thing there.

They all got together and did a cover of Rainbow Connection with Jim Ward on banjo and everyone singing.

After rainbow connection, or maybe before, a pretty drunk girl came over and yelled in my ear and spilled water on me. She wasn’t quite as forward as the girl that grinded up on me at the Vellela Vellela show, but it was pretty awesome to get drunk, off-balance danced on and smiled at. We chatted for a while and she told me she was a nurse, twice. She mentioned how her friend was hot for Austin Lucas and she was trying to help her meet him. I mentioned Austin was probably in the bar. She disappeared after that, and never returned. It’s cool, I’m already working on a few leads in that area. With some promising and possibly exciting results.

So essentially, things are awesome. Even the cold fall sky is ablaze with stars and a bright moon this morning. I have a whole weekend ahead of me still and plenty to get done. Life is good. Or, at least, good enough for me to ignore the bad parts. Perhaps this is all because of my volunteer work this morning. Some sort of karmic payoff. Well, thank you very much, karma.

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Mono, Maserati, Sleepy Eyes of Death – Neumo’s

There are not enough adjectives to describe the Mono, Maserati, Sleepy Eyes of Death show at Neumo’s. So, I present to you two short stories based on the Maserati and Mono sets. There’s no Sleepy Eyes of Death story because I was busy and missed their set. Kind of on purpose.

Maserati

I pressed the gleaming red button for the decoy flares. The button that represented the last hope I had before two guided rockets slammed into the back of my ship. The last hope we all had.

It was my mission to infiltrate the enemy base and take out the power core. I had all the training and confidence that any of our pilots possess, but I had something special. Talent.

I had the most confirmed kills in my squadron. The squadron that had the most confirmed kills in the whole of the rebellion forces. With hundreds of enemy fighters, several enemy capital ships and even a small moon base to our destructive credit, we undoubtedly were the most feared group of soldiers in the rebellion.

Which makes it extraordinarily strange that I’m failing so terribly right now.

The ambush was relatively simple. I appeared out of hyperspace in the midst of an attacking enemy force. Buzzers and klaxons erupted while a plethora of flashing lights blinded me from inside the cockpit and from the blasts of enemy fire. This was supposed to be a safe position. That’s what our information told us. Apparently, we were misinformed.

Evasive action. I slammed the stick straight forward, sending myself into a steep dive, avoiding the brunt of the ring of enemy ships. Two followed. Rolling and twisting, they chased me down. I banked left and their shots missed right. Rolled right and they missed left. Sometimes, this is too easy. I looked up from my rear facing screens to see two more fighters ahead of me.

A quick burst of energy from my blasters splits the team in front and they dive to the sides. I fly right between them and look back to see one of the front fighters just clip the wing of a rear pilot, spinning them both out of the chase. Only one to go.

You can tell by their commitment that they have been offered a great reward for my demise. Luckily the floating debris around the base I was supposed to destroy offers me some cover from the onslaught. It’s treacherous to fly through, but I can manage. If I can just make it a little farther, the magnetic interference might hide my signal from their sensors. Just a little…

Too late. A battle cruiser had been signaled by the fighter and intercepted my path. The father of these two baby rockets that are now screaming towards the tail end of this little freedom fighter. One of which just missed my decoy flares.

A horrible crunch and blinding light followed by static.

The battle cruiser calls in the kill. Returning triumphantly to the base, the commander takes a moment to gloat to his first officer. The squad will surely be rewarded.

However, this is war. Over the communications line, the Grand General informs them that the next task is to visit a small forest moon and decimate the rebel base there. The commander slams his fist on the “end communication” button as he relays the order to his first officer. They turn towards the moon.

The battle is short and relatively painless. A few small groups of rebels escaped into hyperspace, but they will be tracked down soon enough. The victory is now complete and celebrations can begin in earnest.

The warlords land on the moon and pile out of their ships into the ruined courtyards below. Looting and partying fill the streets of this once bustling rebellion town. The victors dance on the rooftops (the ones that are left, at least) and in the shells of now hollow buildings. Their chants and music rings through the forest, scattering the native creatures.

The victory is complete.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I awoke seeing darkness. The beeping I heard was incessant and it took me ages to recognize the emergency life support system. It took me longer to realize I was still alive. The rocket that hit my ship completely destroyed one of my two engines, knocked me out, and pushed my craft into the debris ring around the enemy base. The explosion must have blocked the enemy’s view of my ship, or they would have come back for a killing blow.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Now, what do I do? If I signal, the enemy will know. Can I fly on one engine? Can I escape from here? I’ve been lucky thus far, maybe I’ll just try it.

Power up sequence, nervous glance out the cockpit at the base, make some changes to the computer program to allow for one engine, nervous glance back at the engines, “come on baby, let’s do this”, press the button to start the engines.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Roar.

It worked! I turn slowly to my exit vector and hit the hyperspace jump button. In the blink of an eye, I am safe.

Mono

The forest is sleepy this evening. Leaves have taken a break from dancing through sunbeams on their trip to the soft floor. The streams have slowed to a crawl and the crickets have momentarily ceased their twilight chatter. A gentle wind teases the golden wisps of hair that spring out of her helmet as she sits to rest and get her bearings. It’s been a long march.

The last battle wasn’t bad, just a small band of robbers at the side of the road. A swing of an axe or two and a well placed kick dispatched the trio of miscreants. Yet there is something sinister about the recent attacks, no matter how minor they may seem. Like a challenge. And even these minor battles seem so tiring. She hangs her head a bit at the thought of continuing like this. Alone and fighting everything.

Yet, there is nothing to be done except continue on. She returns her helmet to her head. A gift from the king, it has served her well. Hopefully it will continue to do so as she makes her way through the forest towards the city she calls home.

A half-mile down the road, the evening chill sets in and she draws her cloak tighter. These woods are relatively safe at night, but there’s always a chance. And that sinister feeling is still haunting her.

When the first wolf jumped out from the underbrush, she was a fraction of a second too slow to skewer it on the end of her short sword. As she turns to face the beast, the growls of three other wolves echo around her. Something has clearly possessed them, as their eyes glow an eerie green. A familiar color, but there is no time to think of where she’s seen it now. The beasts are sizing her up, looking for a weakness. She is crafting a battle plan as the rightmost wolf lunges at her legs.

That plan is quickly reformulated as a wolf pounces from her right, knocking her sword from her hand. As she scrambles on the ground to draw her axe, the other three wolves leap towards her. Quick as a flash, the axe swings out and scores a killing blow in the flank of the wolf on her right. It knocks the other two wolves off balance and far enough away for the warrior to get to her feet and regain the advantage. At this point, the first wolf has circled around and is preparing another assault. The warrior quickly counter attacks, charging the snarling wolf, axe gleaming and deadly behind her head. A powerful blow drives the axe through the top of the wolf’s skull, crushing it to the ground.

With half the pack dispatched, she focuses on the other two. Stepping back to retrieve her short sword, she wields both weapons with skill. As the two wolves begin to circle, she keeps a watchful eye on their position and tightens her grip. In an instant, she hurls the short sword end-over-end at the closest wolf, just missing. However, this caused enough of a distraction that she was able to lunge forward and attack. Her axe whistled through the air and down through the spine of one wolf as she kicked at the other wolf with spiked boots. This bought her enough time to extract her axe from it’s resting place and meet the attacker’s charge with it, ending the final wolf’s existence.

Breathing heavily, she inspected the grisly scene. The familiar pang of regret for killing another living thing sprung up inside her, but this time it was too much to bear. The thought of continuing this path for the rest of her life, the path her god had chosen for her, was too much. She vented her frustration by screaming towards the heavens, “Why? Why must I fight?”

As if in response, the first drop of rain landed at the ground in front of her. Followed quickly by blinding lightning and deafening thunder. Again, a battle. However, this was the time to change her own destiny. She turned toward the mountain in the east. The mountain where it is said that the gods reside.

After days of travel she found herself at the base of the mountain. Looking up, she saw the minions cascading down to greet her. This would be the final battle, then. So be it.

At her first step up the mountain, an arrow buzzed past her helmet. She drew her shield closer and held her trusty axe tighter as she steeled her resolve. The battle raged as she made her way up the mountain. A troll scored a hit on her shield arm, numbing it. He looked confused when the axe sliced open his gut, but soon he saw no more. She fought scores of beasts as she made her way up, using their downhill momentum against them at times, merely out maneuvering them at others. As the air got thinner, she never tired. It was as if she’d been preparing for this final battle the whole of her existence. And luck was still in her favor. She survived several near misses and easily defeated many foes. This was her chance and she was taking it.

When she reached the summit, a man in a deep green cloak was waiting. She finally recognized the green she had seen in the eyes of the wolves she fought a few nights ago. Her god had sent those wolves out to attack her. She didn’t speak. He already knew the question. She already knew the answer. She just exhaled and prepared herself, swapping her shield for her short sword.

Before his cloak hit the floor, she was running. Towards her god with axe raised high and sword poised to strike. Of course, he was ready. His broadsword absorbed both blows and rang with strength. She was quick, though. Spinning around his side she scored a glancing blow off his armor. His scowl changed to a knowing grin as she spun to face him.

Their eyes locked for a moment then she did the unthinkable. She bent to one knee and placed her weapons on the ground. This was not a battle she could win. Her whole life of fighting had to end now. She was done.

He took a step towards his servant and raised his sword. As he started to bring the weapon down in a killing blow, she lunged forward and picked up her sword, simultaneously thrusting upwards into the gap between the deity’s armor plates. The sword instantly melted in her hands, but his broadsword dropped harmlessly to the ground. Her god put his hand on the wound and brought it up to look at his own blood. He was grinning as he collapsed to the ground. He no longer had to fight either.

And in all her battles, this is the only one she did not regret. Until the end of her peaceful remaining days.

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Carousel Festival, day 2, evening show – The Greenhouse

This is the fourth year of the awesome DIY festival known as Carousel. Like any good festival, profits were donated to a respectable cause or two (Urban Rest Stop and Hollow Earth Radio). I had big plans to go to all three days, but I spent friday meeting people that don’t drink and having a picnic at gasworks park. Tonight, I’m working on school stuff because I procrastinated and then going to Rain City Mixtape Club. But I did make it to part of day 2 at my favorite house venue: The Greenhouse.

I missed the first band, which I was sorely disappointed about. I’d heard their name a few times (Eighteen Individual Eyes) and was curious to hear their music. When I got there, I talked with my acquaintance Bryce and he told me the band was comprised of former H is for Hellgate and Hungry Pines members. Sorely disappointed. They’ll be playing at The Mix in Georgetown on September 23rd if you want to hear them as much as I do.

Patrol
Patrol played about 3 songs in their 30ish minute set. They rattled the Carousel Festival banner off the wall. Feedback and effects and volume. My old band played a show with them at the Crocodile about five years ago and I don’t remember anything like this. Then again, I was extraordinarily sick that evening. Anyhow, Patrol was massively loud and sufficiently distorted to bring pleasure to the ears of their audience. Of the few bands I watched, theirs was probably the largest crowd, as well. I should have taken more notes because they sound totally different on their myspace page. The show was much more like that first Seaweed record, all rawr and grrr. Not so much on the myspace. I’ll have to try them again. Side note: wouldn’t it be funny if they played with The Cops?

Kidcrash
Woah! I was not expecting this! Kidcrash was awesome! Cool mathy twiddly guitar bits and yelling! Head-bobbing rhythms and complex musicianship! Exciting tempo and volume changes! Kidcrash made me want to keep this itchy beard I’m going to shave off in a couple hours, move to Portland, buy a fixed gear bicycle and work for an organic food delivery service. Great stuff and I’m looking forward to them coming back again sometime.

Helms Alee
I’ve heard Helms Alee’s name bandied about many times. For some reason, they got mixed up with The Helm in my head and I was expecting hardcore. Instead, I got amazing drumming and throwbacks to TAD and old, not-so-popular grunge bands. Heavy, medium-slow songs percolating up through prehistoric mud as the tide recedes on the NW coast. That metallic vocal style of yelling. Not the silly, high-pitched kind of screaming, but the Mark Arm perfect vocal overdrive. Fantastic use of spaces and perfect drum fills. I really liked Helms Alee. You might like them as well if you grew up on early grunge and have an appreciation for dark metal.

Partman Parthorse
At this point, my antidepressants wore off, so I went home. Just kidding, I don’t take antidepressants, as you can probably tell. But I did go home because I wasn’t having fun anymore. You’d think a band like Partman Parthorse would help. Nope. This may be proof that I am incapable of having a good time. I will now accept recommendations for Seattle area therapists, because this is bullshit and I’m tired of it ruining my life.

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Police Teeth, IfIHadAHiFi, The Bismarck – The Funhouse

Determination. I was bound and determined to enjoy myself this evening no matter how awkward or painful it was. Maybe I should not have gone, but I don’t care, I wanted to.

The Bismarck
I like The Bismarck. I really like that song about “Give me something to stop the bleeding.” The Bismarck were a bit sloppy this evening, but that’s okay. Actually, it’s more than okay. It set the tone for my ruminations for the evening. I mean, who cares that they make a couple tiny errors? Isn’t the point just to move around a little bit to loud music? Does it really matter what they are singing about? (I’d look up some lyrics, so I can quote them directly and without mistakes, but they are not freely available). It sounded like they have one of those anthemic drinking songs that are so hard for us prudes to get behind. I tried to let it slide. I mean, am I just going to listen to Minor Threat for the rest of my life and turn in to one of those asshats from Fremont that goes around kicking people in the face at hardcore shows? I’d like to think there is more to life than those three things that are, like, so important to the whole world that I don’t find as much importance in. And because of that I feel… I can’t keep up I can’t keep up I can’t keep up Out of step with the world! Oh, sorry, maybe just two of those things. The Bismarck were hilarious to watch and listen to. I had lots of fun observing their shenanigans and words and things. Their adoption of the Drive Hammered, Get Nailed campaign was pretty funny. What time is it?

IfIHadAHiFi
My Wisconsin acquaintance, Al, informed me that IfIHadAHiFi was awesome before the show started. The Wisconsin contingent in the audience seemed to agree. I am pleased to report that Wisconsin folks are right about more than just frozen custard. These guys bring the dirty keyboard to the party. And they bring generous helpings of chaos and noise. My determination to have fun was not a requirement for this little group, they shared their joy with the whole room. They employed the classic “Let’s jump in the crowd” moves. I got bashed on the elbow with a guitar, but I didn’t mind. If I was thinking faster, I might have jumped on a guitarist and played bucking bronco. It was that kind of fun. The kind of fun where you don’t really know why you’re doing something, but you know you like it. They mentioned So Many Dynamos and I thought about saying that’s who IfIHadAHiFi sounded like, but they’re less formal dance and more spontaneous street party. Less polished and more carefree. However, when I yelled out “The Greeks!” a million times when they were trying to figure out who invented tuning, I got a cold shoulder. I’m going to boycott these bastards for the rest of my days. Okay, I’m kidding. This won’t really make any sense, but IfIHadAHiFi was a vision of my high school band years later. The guitarist was basically a white version of our guitarist, the bassist was a slight modification of our bassist and the drummer was a taller, longer haired, version of me. It was kind of weird to watch. Particularly because they had a fourth person and we only had three.

Police Teeth
Police Teeth are getting tighter all the time. Perhaps this was made more evident this evening by the first two bands (looser and more chaotic, in that order). I think I even heard some songs that I could get behind. Things like “Hanging tough” or some New Kids covers or something. But, I’m going to go ahead and say it: I hate that Northern California song. I had hoped they wouldn’t play it. Then, the drummer from HiFi yelled it out and I got all sad for a second. But I was determined to have fun, so I pointed out to my almost cordial neighbor the person that she brought with her from Fremont. I liked his white shoes. Wait, maybe I did that during their second to last song, the one about hydroplanes. That one doesn’t really fit at the end of their set. At least not at the end of a set at the Funhouse, where all three bands have been about a carefree attitude toward the world. “We’re making mistakes and we don’t care!” “We’re making a lot of noise and we don’t care!” “Sing along with us, since we don’t care except for this last song when we’re going to spend 5 or 6 minutes being all feedbacky and brooding oh, okay we’ll play the song that goes ‘Getting high, getting drunk, something something Bathory in Northern California’.” Okay, I always seem to talk crap about Police Teeth on here. They even called me out that one time. Truth be told, I own one of their records and I like to dance along with all the songs except that last one. Those guys could theoretically be one of my favorite bands. Maybe they’re working on me like Republican propaganda. I think I’ve seen them four times now, so they are staying on point and getting the message across to the American people by repeating that message as many times as possible. Now, if I just cared one little bit about getting high, getting drunk, or something something Bathory in Northern California, I’d be drooling all over my keyboard right now. If you’re into that stuff, you need to get out from behind your stack of High Times magazines or perfect pyramid of PBR cans and go to a Police Teeth show. Go to a couple and you’ll be singing along.

Unrelated: You ever stare at the sun and see how long you can go before your eyes hurt? I wonder how many people have gone blind from doing that. Eventually they learn not to stare at the sun because their eyes always hurt at one point, right?

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