Show Review: Opt Out: 12/30/11

Here is a show review that I never finished. I realized that this post has been chillin' as a "draft" for exactly one year now, so I though it was about time to break it out and finish it up. This was about to be the last show review that I wrote before going on hiatus for about a year due to extreme busyness and growing weary of reviewing EVERY FUCKING SHOW that I went to.

I don't really remember too much about this show, as it was a year ago, and I'm sure I was drunk. I remember it being part of an excellent run of punk shows at Submission that were able to overcome, somehow, the shortcomings of that terrible venue. All of these shows in question, which occured in late 2010, were characterized by me getting really drunk at my San Francisco home base on Sycamore Alley, then going to the show, hitting on lots of (potentially) underage girls, and occasionally enjoying some of the fine punk bands.

Death First was one of the many NYC punk bands that were flying out to tour the West coast at that time, and I remember them being pretty cool. I will have to consult the demo tape that I bought.

Show Review: Huntress, Char Man: 12/4/10

And so then I decided to make up for the laziness of the previous month by pulling one of my all time favorite moves of going to two shows in one night. And tonight’s manouervre, the tricky proposition of going back and forth between two shows, was made feasible only by the close proximity of the venues. And so it began. I ditched out on the crew going for pre game sustenance at Taqueria Cancun to squeeze into Sub Mission Gallery just in time to catch the whole set of Hooray For Everything. This band has Jamie Sanatate, one of the original guitar players of Annihilation Time, on drums, some other bloke on bass, and a lady who sings and plays guitar. I was struck this time, having no distractions really to keep me from putting full attention on the band, by how retro they sound, and by retro I mean 90s retro, because it’s not straight up garage pop/garage rock; it has these little flourishes of post punk punk weirdness to mix things up. They seem to remind me of The Muffs, which may be a lazy comparison due to the raspy female vo-killz.

I bolted right at the end of the set, and I had to come up with a HELL of a story, let me tell you, for the bouncer of Sub Mish, to leave and be allowed to come back in. The fascistic no ins n outs policy of that venue was indeed the greatest obstacle in my quest of becoming immortal that night, but I believe I negotiated it rather well.

MEANWHILE BACK AT BENDER’S: The show still hadn’t begun yet, but a pretty good crowd was building. Dark Black began playing. They’re from Portland and they sound kind of like the simpler and more accessible songs of Diamondhead. I caught a couple of songs only before heading back over to Sub Mish. Walking past the Beauty Bar, I pulled some dude’s stupid ass engineer hat down over his eyes, then punched him repeatedly in the nose. Then I pushed him over onto the garbage strewn sidewalk, took out his iPhone and set it to vibrate, and shoved it up his ass. Sideways. I love The Mission these days!

MEANWHILE BACK AT SUB MISSION: Char-Man was already playing when I walked in. these were some dudes from the Ventura county area, playing dead simple rock music. I found it pleasing, mainly because it was these mexican kids, wearing sunglasses, looking tuff while they played. It worked. Plus, the drummer was Tony Bro, the old drummer for Annihilation Time! I felt a tap on my shoulder, I looked over and it was Porcho! Ventura was indeed in the house. I awkwardly stuck around in between Char-Man and Unfun, forcing undrunk (that's right I was NOT drinking this night! Unbelievable.) conversations with the few who were straggling inside the venue. Most of the crowd was jammed out on the back smoking patio, and I had no desire to sardine with this mass of (in?)humanity, nor inhale their fumes. Unfun had been in town last a few months prior, and I believe that they were STILL ON TOUR! Almost home though. Fuck. Yes, they sound like Jawbreaker, but with the raspy vocal thing taken to such and extreme that it's almost like death metal vocals. A strange combo.

MEANWHILE, BACK AT BENDER'S:
Dark Black had finished, and now everyone was milling about waiting for Huntress to begin. After a while, they did. I had seen them the night before, so I knew what to expect: NWOBHM style rock, with four blokes on instruments and one lass with a microphone belting it out. Anyone who denies that the big focus here is not the music, but the stage presence of singer Jill Tuesday, has no penis, or if they do, they don't like to put it in vaginas. She has a strong voice, "Roberta Halford" comparisons were thrown around, and took command of the stage, bar tables, umm... projector screen, whatever she could get her claws on. The crowd ate it up.

Next were Walken, San Francisco self proclaimed kings of rock. They did proclaim that, right? If they didn't they deserve it anyway. They were their usual selves, and I believe I've described their sound elsewhere in this stupid blog before. Playing while wasted is something that most of us have mastered pretty well, and it seems they have too, as it's quite necessary when headlining Bender's.

After the show we battled assholes for taxi cabs, went to a party in the Western Addition, and later passed out back in the Mission at about 5AM.

Free Radicalz: 9/14/10

I found out about the Free Radicalz from my old housemate Ember back at Pine Street. She was friends with them from back in Portland. They ended up coming down to play at Pine Street House in Summer of 2009, which was the only show I got to book at Pine Street while I lived there, and actually one of the best house shows ever, but that’s that’s another story. Anyway, the Free Radz came back down, and I booked them a show in Oakland. Acts of Sedition played, so I didn’t review it. You think I’m hard on other people’s bands? I can’t stand my own. But that Oakland show was the first time I got to actually watch them play, not just listen from outside. Anyway, they’re great. Even if they weren’t adorable punk co-eds, the music stands up all on it’s own. Let me lazily refer you to Terminal Escape so you can get the demo.

So anyway, I went to lend my support, such that it is, to the band for their SF show, Sub Mission Gallery. Fugitive Kind, Thrillhouse Punx, still reaching for the top. Face The Rail getting more of their Aggression out than ever, and by the way I was drunk. And stoned.

Disgust Of Us: 8/13/10

Got out of work on Friday afternoon and went over to Leo's apartment in the Mission to smoke mad weed and watch TV. This is his world, and occasionally I delve into the rare and strange enjoyment known as "couch lock."

Eventually I peeled myself off the sofa and away from Metalocalypse and hit the salty streets. Stoned to the bone, I walked up to the very top of Noe Valley, my baked cranium thoroughly entertained the whole way by towering Victorian architecture and the occasional sweeping bay view.
I hit up Hannah's party but just as I figured, I was the first and only one there, and after two PBRs and some chipsndip, had to leave to make it back down to the show before any one of my friends showed up.

Back down the hill into the Mission, sippin on a bottle of Jim Beam, gettin wastey and ready to hang out. I met up with my GF at Sub Mission just in time to see her co-worker's band, Disgust Of Us the reason of my hanging out. The band seemed pretty loud and good, I recall some abrasive Sonic Youth-esque female vocals. The Jim Beam was kickin, and I kept drinking more beers at the bar, so by the time we hit the streets afterwards, I was staggering, swerving and curving. We cleverly caught the last BART train back to Oakland, sat down to enjoy the ride and...

WOKE UP IN PITTSBURGH BAY POINT!!! (Still wasted, a little angry...)

ME (To everyone on the train): "What the fuck is this shit? What do you mean I'm in Bay Point?"

ME (To BART Cops/employees): "Fuck this shit, I'm not putting more money on my ticket! I'm not paying more money to get out here! I didn't even mean to come to this station!"

Random guy (leaving the station): "Stop yelling."

ME (to random guy): "Fuck you faggot, I'll do whatever I want!"

ME (to cab driver): "What the fuck do you mean it's eighty dollars to get back to Oakland? It's a scam! Fuck this shit! I might as well walk!.............. Can I put my bike in the trunk?"

ME (to waiter at Pleasant Hill Denny's): "I'll have the Buffalo Chicken Wrap."
ME (to Girlfriend): "Fuck this shit! I can't believe this happened! I'm walking back!"

GIRLFRIEND (to me): "Go 'head and try!"

............................................zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....................................

Denny's waiter: "OK, I let you guys sleep for two hours, it's time to go."

ME (to Girlfriend, on the walk from Pleasant Hill Denny's to Concord BART): *dead silence*

.....................

So anyway, now you see why going out to "concerts" in big city San Francisco is one of my favorite hobbies!

More show reviews coming soon! Sorry I've been busy with shit, including the first PAPER issue of Boca de Fuma (coming soon!)