ZZ Top was far and away my favorite band from when I was a little kid that I had never seen live, and compared to most of the other bands that I was into when I was sprouting my rock ‘n’ roll fuzz, they have maintained a solid position of respect in my mind. In fact, I like them MORE now than I did when I was a tot, due to investigations into their extensive catalog as well as observations on their widespread influence (Motorhead covering Beer Drinkers And Hell Raisers? Fuck yes!And that's only the beginning...).
So finally, the stars aligned and me and two ladies cruised down to the Shoreline Public Execution Complex in light traffic, sipping travel mugs of vodka and feeling fine. Of course there was a glut of cool punk shows going on in Oakland that night, and people kept asking me if I was going, but there was an understanding nod of the head from each of them as I responded: “Sorry Dude, I’m going to ZZ Top.” Fuck , yeah I was going to see ZZ Top! Drink some fuckin’ Coooooooooooors Laht and crank some Top mayn!
We parked in the misty outer reaches of the Google Inc. Class Three Conspiracy Shed parking lot, as to avoid a steep parking fee extraction. Sauntered into the amphibian theater just in time to miss whatever opening bands I didn’t care about. The crowd was very entertaining in and of themselves, a bunch of suburban ‘n’ country ‘n’ dads ‘n’ dudes, a few mullets, lots of permed, bleached and highlighted hair and sagging tits. We bought some sodas and filled them half up with vodka.
Out on the lawn we awaited the approach of the bearded ones. And then they approacheth! I was well aware of course that what I was witnessing was at this point merely a novelty act far from the peak of it’s career (is there any way to recover from playing casinos and wineries? Oh fuck, or Conocti Harbor?), but also it was fuckin’ ZZ Top. To me: Immortal. I was freaking out. I don’t remember too much of the set list, but it was heavy on the hits, many of which I knew the complete lyrics to and was able to hoarsely shout.
About one third of the way through the show, a guy asked us if we wanted to move down to the seats, and we did, getting substantially closer to those old ass men with cheap sunglasses on. I knew it was too much to hope for them to bust an old school lost classic just for my enjoyment, and they didn’t, but I still had a great time, rocking out to the classics, yelling for more. There’s so much terrible Dad rock out there that should have called it quits long ago, but I’m glad these guys are still going. Keep it up dudes.
badass
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