Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Saturday March 13th 2010: Frontier, Battlefields, Via Vengeance, A Storm of Light

It was just a little past 10 when I arrived at the Triple Rock Social Club. I didn’t get to see the Bio Dome this time around, as I was graced by good fortune and got the very last spot in the parking lot. Phew! What a relief. The giant deflated marshmallow freaks me out for some reason. I get some real bad mojo vibes from that place. I’m sure it’s just my imagination, but it seems like a zombie movie waiting to happen… An excited concert goer merrily makes his way past an experimental biological research facility, completely unaware of the horrors that are contained within, when all of a sudden he hears an explosion, then screams, then gunshots, the whole nine. The ghastly moans of “How bout some brains, buhhhhhhhhhhdy?” and by the time he hears this, it’s already too late…
I go around to the front of the club, where the smokers congregate before shows start, to kill some time with a cigarillo. There are two huge tour busses parked there on the street. Most likely belonging to the Aqua Bats and company? Some band headlining the show before the one I came to see. I have no idea who that is and I didn’t really bother to check. Oh well. I finished off my mini-gar and flicked the nub at one of the busses as if to say “Bah, fuck the Aqua Rats or whatever” because, well…fuck ‘em. Yeah.
I go inside and pay the cover charge. 8 bucks is an insane deal to see 4 bands. That’s like…hold on a sec…that’s like 2 bucks per band! Woo math! How is it that these fellas make money though? It doesn’t sound like they make an immense profit. I guess that’s one of the big reasons why I love Independent Label bands so much. They’ve got so much heart and so little moneys. Truly, they are the Rocky Balboas of the music industry.
Hmm. What do I want to drink? I know! The pride and joy of Minnesota: a Summit Extra Pale Ale. Summit EPAs and The Triple Rock are two of only a handful of things that make this state worth while. I get my beverage and take a seat at an open table in the Pit. Frontier is on stage, setting up their equipment and sound checking as I sit down. I only have to wait a few minutes for them to start playing and let me tell you, they absolutely crushed it. Hooooooooly shite! It turns out that they are a local band. Their MySpace page says that they are from Minneapolis. Wow. What a way to kick off the night. Who knew that such great, wholesome post-rock goodness could be found right in my back yard?
Up next was Battlefields. They were okay, I guess, but they struck me as being pretty typical. Nothing about them really stood out to me. There was throaty growling and screaming vocals, typical distorted guitar, and drumming that did not really woo me too much… There was just an all around generic metal vibe about them that I could hear from a whole sea of other bands. At best, they were a little above average…
Via Vengeance came on next and they, or HE, I should say was anything but typical. There was one man seated at a tiny drum kit with a gee tar around his neck. Where is the rest of the band? Why the hell are they not out by now? It was tre bizarre; ONE MAN on vocals, guitar, AND drums! WHAT?! This made me feel so very ashamed of myself as I did not even know how to play a single instrument while Via Vengeance was up there juggling three things at once. How is he doing this? This guy is some kind of demon!
My vision was obscured though, by some goofy asshole in a white Twins cap. I wanted so badly to jump up and kick him in the back of the head. The utter lack of courtesy for your fellow man made my blood boil. Whenever I acquire new ground at shows, I always, ALWAYS make sure I’m not obscuring someone else’s vision. This has never happened though, because I’m a measly 5’3” and there are very few who are lower in stature than I.
This poor bastard had no clue that a crazy Asian man was sitting behind him, plotting to unleash some sort of unspeakable violence. I swallowed my anger though, and quietly got up from my seat and found a better spot to stand. Right on. Now I could actually see the stage! Via Vengeance man’s playing was indescribable. He held a drum stick in his right hand, banging on his kit, his left hand strummed on his guitar and was vocalizing all the while as well. Now, of course these weren’t the most complex symphonies, but amazing nonetheless.
Mr. Onemanbandguy’s set was done so I decided to get another beer. I think I’ll have a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale this time. As you may or may not know by now, I lean more towards ales, especially pale ales. Them bastids float my boat, yep yep. I pay the bartender, grab my ale, and set out to find a new spot. The floor was empty, because everyone went out to grab a smoke or something. This was one very big advantage to not being a slave to nicotine. Oh ho ho, what do we have here? My favorite place to stand was wide open for the taking. You know the place, right? Against the wall, near the stairs that lead backstage where the bands come out from, stage left. Yadda yadda.
I lean up against the wall and take a sip from my beer, cool as a refrigerated cucumber. A personal victory for me, because this seemingly irrelevant, superfluous spot against the wall means more than the world to me and makes all the difference. I fiddle around with my phone to kill some time before A Storm of Light comes out. CHRIST‘S LIKENESS ON A BLUEBERRY WAFFLE. I nearly wet myself as the sudden roar of a guitar strum startles me to attention. I guess it was almost time.
A Storm of Light was just so…hauntingly beautiful. They are the very soundtrack of the impending Apocalypse and thereafter with their explosive, yet soothing sounds like crashing waves. The images projected on a big white sheet tacked up on the wall behind them were exactly what was brought to mind when you listen to A Storm of Light: incredible images of deserts, ruined buildings and cities, broken ships, and struggling wild life. I stood there, right in front of Josh Graham, overwhelmed by the feelings of impending catastrophe radiating from the stage. I closed my eyes and let it saturate through to the marrow.
For most of the performance, my eyes were fixed upon this gorgeous creature to the far left of the stage. My oh my, who is this breathtaking woman? I would find out later that her name is Zorah Atash. I wish that I could have heard her voice though, because the thunderous instrumentals had drowned out any trace of her and Josh’s vocals. Such beauty…I really need to stop allowing my heart to wander wherever it pleases. This causes me only heartache.
A Storm of Light had finished their set and I was headed to the merchandise tables to peep their wares. I swallowed hard when Zorah came up to work the A Storm of Light table and tried my hardest to contain myself. I could have easily screeched like a schoolgirl and completely lost it right there. Ravenous butterflies nibbled at the walls of my stomach as I was a mere foot or two away from such a divine creature. I ended up buying ASoL’s newest album and am ASoL pin. As Zorah handed me the pin, I leaned in and told her “You are absolutely gorgeous. It’s been a pleasure.” but I sort of trailed off and mumbled the words. It was awkward to say the least. “Aww. Thank you so much!” she said in response and I was off and out the door like a shot.

I am such a dweeb…

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Thursday, March 11th 2010: GZA/GENIUS of the Wu-Tang Clan. Oh My God, Did He Just Get the Whole Place High?

I left my house and set out for the Triple Rock at around 8:30. The concert calendar had said that the show would start at 8:00, but I have learned that it’s just a gimmick to get people to arrive early so they could buy drinks while they wait for performers to get on stage. I’m not falling for that shit, no no no. Do you know how much drinks are? You could buy a sixer and have moneys left over for what you pay for two beers and I am quite the cheap bastard. I was worried though, that the show might be sold out before I got there because GZA is quite a BIG-name act. Everyone knows Wu-Tang and they are well beloved by many but I didn‘t expect there to be so much interest because rap has moved in a different, most terrible direction as of late. A direction filled with horrid auto-tuned robot voices and soulja boy super man dances.
I arrive at the Triple Rock at 9:20ish and pull into the 3x Rock’s parking lot. It’s full. Not a good sign. Shit. Was I too late? I hope it’s not sold out. One of the things I loved about the Triple Rock was their seemingly always available parking, but this was not the case tonight. I would end up parking a couple blocks away from the venue, near this big puffy, not quite dome, not quite cube thing. It looked like a big white fluffed up keyboard key. It made me wonder if E.T. or Pauly Shore were being stored in there for experimentation. Or…dear god…maybe they were BOTH in there, being scientifically fused together? I’m wandering dangerously off track here…so, I park my car in the shadow of the Bio Dome and make a small sketch of where I was on my hand so I could find my way back later. It’s a short walk back to the 3x, not too bad and I rather enjoyed it. Pretty nice neighborhood around that area. I’d love to live around there someday, maybe…
I walk through the doors and already, the place is packed with people (upon mental reread: “why would I say that? ‘People’. What else would it be packed with? Llamas?”). I have never seen the place so full. I expected the place to be consisting of mostly black folks and a slew of Eminem lookin‘ Caucasian fellas, but I was wrong. The majority of those in attendance were the typical Pabst Blue Ribbon drinking hipsters who frequented the Triple Rock. I thought that this was so weird…
I pay my 18 dollar cover charge and head to the bar to get a drink. I had a mighty hankerin’ for an ale so I ordered me a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and found myself a spot amongst the crowd and settled in to catch the first opener. “Are you ready to get GZAfied!?”, said a man as he took the stage (GZA: pronounced ‘jizz-ah’). I wanted to see GZA perform, but I don’t really want to be jizzified, I thought to myself. That just sounds very, very unpleasant to me…
The man revealed himself to be St. Paul Slim, a local rapper. Something tells me that he is from St. Paul or resides in St. Paul? That’s my hypothesis at least. He was great, I tell you what. DJ Snuggie provided the dope beatz for Mr. Slim. My favorite part of his performance was when he showed off his freestyling skills. Something something bison. Something something python. Make other rappers so scared, they have to sleep with the lights on. Put words together like a “hyphon”. This clever little diddy made me smile. Words together like a hyphon (hyphen). That is pure freaking genius. Holy crap. This made me think about how those who do not favor hip-hop criticize that rap and rap artists are uneducated and barbaric. What these Philistines fail to realize is that these artists may or may not be institutionally well educated, but they hold an infinite wealth of street knowledge and wisdom. Not to mention the brain power one must have to string together words which one would wield to crush opponents, spontaneously, right off the top of their heads.
“I feel a little weird callin’ a grown man Snuggie so from now on I’mma call him Snug Life”, Slim said with a chuckle. It turns out that Snuggie is a skilled beat boxer as he churned out some killer mouf beats. I was thoroughly impressed up until he started making female orgasm noises. This weirded me out as I just plain did not know how to feel about a large black man named “Snuggie”, making climaxing sounds…
Saint Paul Slim’s set was finished and it was time to wait for the next opener to come out. After a few minutes of waiting, I had to pee so I set out for the bathroom. While I was taking in St. Paul’s performance, it seems the crowd had grown immensely in capacity around me. I did my bathroom business and tried to get back to my standing spot. The Triple Rock was now a huge pain in the ass to navigate through and my spot was taken. FUCK. FUCKING. FUCKERS. I tried to back track to look for a new spot and had no luck. I was being bumped into and all about so I got frustrated and headed outside to have a cigarillo and regroup. Slim Paul Saint guy had said that Moo Something was opening up after him, so whatever. I don’t give a shit. I’m not here to see some Moo asshole. I’m here to see mother fucking GZA GENIUS of THE Wu-Tang Clan! There was no nostalgia in seeing Moo Whatshisface.
The nostalgia lie solely in GZA. Back in the day, my best friend at the time; George Hammanjian got me into the Wu. I know that I’m spelling his name wrong, but yeah, it was my buddy George who started my love affair with The Clan. Before being introduced, I listened to the strangest musics…so strange and so horrifying that to even begin to mention what I listened to would make me implode with embarrassment. Even up this point in life, there have been many beloved friends who have introduced me to beautiful musics which I otherwise would have never heard. From Wolf, to Blah, to Cha, to brother Nicotine. These are the ones who help shovel the musical coal into the furnace that is my soul and I am eternally grateful.
So I killed some time with an Erin Go Bragh cigarillo and texted the aforementioned Wolf while I was outside and planning my counter-attack. Alright. ALRIGHT! I threw the nub of my ‘rillo down to the ground and huffed back inside. I fought my way through the packed house, a tough thing to do when you have a…wide…frame as I do. I showed a few suckas my bayonet, and a few others the butt of my rifle and I was miraculously back to my spot of choice. HAZZAH! I DID IT! I felt like a Viking whom had just arrived in glorious Valhalla as I settled in to wait for GZA.
Alas, things were not as great as they seemed. I had taken back the hill, but stupid Moo something was still on stage. They were god awful. It was like someone let a bunch of amateurs up there for open mic night, jumping around on stage like a bunch of asshats. I was right to skip out on most of their performance. Get the fuck outta here, you idiots. “Shalom Ali Kum,” one of them said as they left the stage. WHAT THE FUCK? Salaam Ali Kum, Ali Kum Salaam is an Islamic saying meaning something along the lines of “peace be with you, and with you peace” and Shalom is a Jewish greeting. Are you trying to be clever here and imply that you wish for Islamic-Jewish unity and peace? Well, you just came off as utterly retarded to me. GET. OFF. THE. FUCKING. STAGE.
We ended up waiting soooooooooo goddamn long for the man to come out. The crowd began chanting his name; GZA! GZA! GZA! GZA! GZA! and still no sign of him. After what seemed like a couple eternities, GZA’s DJ played a well known audio sample from Shogun Assassin; Daigoro’s speech about his father and the Shogunate. This set the whole place in an uproar. I sucked the energy in as the memories caused by this audio clip swept over me. I remembered distinctly, more than a decade ago, when I first heard this on Wu-Tang Forever. But still no GZA. The DJ man told us that we were being too load, that they weren’t even letting GZA through. Moments later the man of the hour shows himself. I swear to you; the very instant he set foot on stage, the strongest aroma of pot hit all of our nostrils. It was like the Wu-Tang version of pixie dust…
Dear god, he was pure magic. This was rap at it’s very purest. The beats were quite simple, yet killer in their own right. No flash, no gimmicks. Just grimy, razor sharp, yet smooth as butter rap. You can bet your ass there would be no robo voice here. I swear, I didn’t even see a thick, blinged out chain around his neck as most rappers wear. You see, this is not the Shaolin way. You will be cut from every direction by the liquid swords, be left bleeding internally and with brutal efficiency. To say that the man has a silver tongue is to sell the man short. Genius is a well deserved title, as well as is GZA, so potent that he made all the women in attendance pregnant.
Midway through his performance, I don’t know what exactly happened, but an incident occurred when a fairly large black man assaulted a similarly large white man in the audience. All of a sudden I see a mean right hook wallop the guy in the face. I’m guessing that the white dude bumped into the black dude one too many times? Shite. I totally feel for the guy though, as the constant knocking into me during shows infuriates me as well and if I’d had a few more drinks in me, I’d have done the same thing. I was amazed by how quick security reacted though, as no more than two seconds after the punch was thrown, the bouncer had his arm wrapped around the guy’s neck, tossing his ass out.
I’ve only rediscovered Wu-Tang fairly recently as these days, I lean more towards other genres…so I really didn’t recognize many of the songs GZA performed. This was not the case with many other fans in attendance though, as they promptly filled in the blanks each and every time GZA pointed his mic toward the audience. I was truly impressed by this. The few songs I knew though, I hollered the lyrics at the top of my lungs. Such a fun and interactive experience. GZA paid respects to the late, great fellow Clansman O.D.B. when he performed Shimmy Shimmy Ya. It was apparent that Ol’ Dirty Bastard was still very much missed and it filled me with a strange mixture of joy and sorrow to scream “Ooh baby, I like it raaaaaaaw!” whenever prompted to do so during this tribute. He yanked on our legs as he told us that his set was done with. Are you serious!?! You better give us an encore. Do you realize how long you made us wait? “Naw, I’m not ready to leave yet”, he assured us and performed two or three more encore songs. GZA wrapped up the show urging us to drive home safely and be safe because he’s seen a few stumbling drunks about the place. What a guy. I didn’t expect this from GZA for some reason.
So this was my first rap show. It oddly did not leave me with a lingering satisfaction as other shows at the Triple Rock have in the past. I was very much thoroughly entertained, but I feel like rap is on a different wavelength than the other musics I enjoy. This show had an entirely different energy to it. Maybe if I reacquainted myself better with GZA and Wu-Tang? An absolutely amazing experience, nonetheless.
I headed to my car, realizing that I didn’t even need to use the drawing I had made on my hand. Just walk on over in that direction until you see the big Pauly Shore marshmallow and you’re golden. Oh god, please don’t let there be a ticket on the windshield. Ah, no parking ticket. Sweet! I head home through the early morning fog and decide to pop by the gas station because I was feeling mighty thirsty. When I arrive at Marathon, I notice that the White Castle next door is open. Why am I hungry? Did…did GZA give me contact high? White Castle sounds DELICIOUS right about now…

Wednesday, March 3, 2010


But more often than not, who I am falls short of what I’ve missed out on

Parallel selves slip by with their heads tucked away and down
Scornful of the man they could have been

Loosely fitting and scarcely adhered , a shell of a fraction

Dodging bullets

Unaware of how often they cross my mind

Diligently clinging to shadows

Scurrying like insects between pillars of light

Gazed upon with the awe and wonder of a dreamer child

Evaporating with each lost grain of sand

One by one, falling by the wayside

Commenting on how The Great Hunter looks more like an hourglass

Rendered miniscule under his guise and grandeur

Reassured by the emptiness that is his stomach

Special Agent Fox William Mulder!

Piecing together gospel from words you overheard strangers had spoke

Worth about as much as the soot at the bottom of your pockets

Simply progress in repairing the mold that you’d broke

Catching glimpses of ghosts in the corners of your perception

Went the way of fireflies in captivity

Somewhere between corporeal and ether

Toes buried in wet sand

A whisper of a rumor of an enigma

Like the jell-o you loved to squish when you were a kid,
escaping through the spaces between your fingers

And there it is again…

A house of cards at the mouth of an open window

We are all sorting through myth and legend

Desperately trying to discern between the two

Blindly practicing sorcery and medicine

Forever in a primal age of leeches and trepanation

Superstitiously applying pressure upon that which is meant to bleed…


The fine line between cold
her head rested on your collar bone

Stubborn in their unwavering

Anchored resolute, poised to turn lead into gold

Under such brilliant lights

Your heart takes new residence
at the base of your throat

Almost mocking with their lack of bias

Infinite worlds rest on their narrow shoulders

Ready to unfold at your feet

Unnerved by thoughts of butterflies and hurricanes

Fortunes to be decided by a crooked booth


Fear and desperation spring birth to false light

Countless years of Winter

Mistaking tin for silver

Tarnished in any case

Trickery by our own hands

Shadows dance and undulate

Cornucopias to feast

Supple and bitter, terribly rebellious

We chew the fat together

Our bloated bellies set upon thin frames

Never to be satisfied

The fire in our hearts succumb to the frost

Gradually and eventually snuffed

Withering with each exhale


Newly born, yet old and worn

Wondering which fracture will bring the colossus down

Cradled in each other’s arms

Birth and death in a single breath

Whole lifetimes in an instant

Nails dig in, breaking the skin

My lips on her fingertips

Furious hurricanes in such gentle breezes

Towering molehills scraping the sky

Uprooted with ease, down on your knees

Without a leg to stand on

Ears perked at the slightest sound

Like vultures on carrion

The blood gurgling in our throats

Bruised and gnarled

Arrows at our feet and embedded in our flesh

Frail, brittle bones succumb

Weathered and eroded by endless strife

Buried alive beneath the weight and ruin

Fallen in Love With the Sky

So I received another message from the sky today...

I was on the way to pick up my little brother from school when "We Stood Transfixed In Blank Devotion As Our Leader Spoke To Us, Looking Down On Our Mute Faces With A Great, Raging, And Unseeing Eye" by Red Sparowes came on. Weirdly lengthy name for a song, but this is just the most PERFECT song to listen to while driving. So beautiful.
This gorgeous song coupled with the dead, cold landscape was absolutely awe inducing. It just fit so well. It made me forget where I was for a bit, transported me...somewhere...else...
I looked up at the sun radiating through some broken, fractured yet fluffy clouds in the pale blue/grey sky. I don't know what happened at this point. I was brought to tears before I pulled myself back. An overwhelming tsunami of sorrow engulfed me. I literally felt/heard? the sky beg me to stay here, telling me that there's something left for me. Something few if any have ever found. I can't possibly imagine what that may be...
Lately I've come to realize that the things most people aspire to be or to hold, I have no interest in. Neary all that this world has to offer, I no longer have interest in...

"Explosions in the Sky"

So, on my way home from work, with worried thoughts of expensive dental work, decaying teeth, and (my lack of) health insurance fresh in my mind...I was feeling mighty shitty.
Somethin' really cool happened though as I was making my way along one of my favorite windy roads; I saw something in the corner of my eye that startled me a bit. I thought that it was someting off in the distance that had suddenly burst into flames. Just a huge pillar of flame, but no, It was the most amazing sunset I'd ever seen. A pure, bright yellow ball of fire. I know it may be terribly corny of me to say, but the brightly burning sky, coupled with the Native American music playing on my radio just instantaneously melted my worries away. How strange.
What was really weird about this was that when the song was over, the DJ came on and said that the name of the song was "Burning Sky, Earth" or "Exploding Sky, Earth"...something like that. I have really crappy memory...
Just a really peaceful moment in time that made me think of the little things in life. The things that "they" (whoever they may be) would have a really hard time taking from me.
I hope to never take these things for granted. I'm fortunate enough to be able to occasionally hear when the Universe speaks. Or maybe I'm fortunate enough to have the delusion that the Universe speaks to me. Either way, I see this as a blessing...


Insects at my feet
scurrying about on steel belted pincers

Antennae twitching above their ears

Drones and soldiers without a Queen

I step down off my roost to join them
in their decadent muddle

Wings damp with gasoline

Mother is down below
quietly sobbing for her lost child

Dear Pachamama,
I’ve been wandering far too long

She smiles and opens her arms to greet me
beckoning me to her bosom

Weightlessness is myth

I feel god’s heavy palm at my back
forcing me down

That familiar feeling rising from the depths of viscera

The taste of copper and bile at the base of my throat

An ever present silence in the air as I reach the end

A climax of kaleidoscoping red, pink and grey

We are reunited at last

She wraps her arms around me slow

I hold her tight as we dissolve into each other

An embrace I’ve waited eternities for...

Fade to black

10-18-09 Triple Rock: Sweet Cobra, Minsk, PELICAN!!

The show last night at the Triple Rock was INCREDIBLE! Fucking aye, man. I arrived at the Triple Rock at maybe 9:40? 9:50? I checked the entrance to the part of the 3x Rock where bands play, but it wasn't open yet so I went around to the bar and grabbed a seat. Three Amstel Lights (my fat ass is trying to lose weight) and nearly an hour later, I decide that they've probably opened up the doors by now so I go stand in line. On a side note: Amstel has about as many calories as a can of soder pop. 110 or so? I don't remember. How many calories does regular beer on average contain? Hmm... If light beer has that any calories then non-light must be crazy... Anyways, I stood in line and got my wristband and ticket right when Sweet Cobra started playing. Sweet Cobra opened up the show and they were just fucking amazing. I had the vantage point I had when I saw Isis there and that is just a great place to stand, I tells ya. Stage left, which is pedestrian right. Right next to the short stairs leading backstage where the bands come out from. Fucking awesome view up against the wall where I could lean up against it and feel the vibrations move through me. I just absolutely love that feeling so much... The simple things in life, eh?
Anyways, Sweet Cobra. Ohhhhhh christ pogostick, they blew me away. Their geetarist stood right on the edge of the stage and played. There was some guy standing right beneath him. I laughed because the guy must've had a great view of his dong while standing there...hahahaha... The bassist/vocals was deadly. Fucking greattttt. But my very very favorite was the drummer. Just watching him bash on his set was awe inducing. I think that watching him really made me fall in love with the drums. If I were to take up an instrument, it would most likely be drums now. He and Dave Turncrantz of Russian Circles (I can't wait to see them next month) really make me have a deep desire to bang on some skins. My best freng did tell me once that he had a vision of me as a great percussionist...
It was the beginning of the show, I think that may be why the crowd was so...dead? They were so goddamn quiet when Sweet Cobra played. Just very little enthusiasm and cheering from the crowd. What the fuck? I for one was blown right out of the water. After their set, S.C. were packing up all their shite so the next band (Minsk) could bring their shite out. The drummer, Jason, was packing away his cymbals on the stairs next to me so I tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. I told him how magnificent I thought he played and he shook my hand and said something along the lines of "Thank you so much, I'm a little rusty, though. It's our first day out." I thought to myself, if that was "rusty" playing then a lot of drummers are in trouble...
After a short intermission, the second opening band; Minsk played. My honest opinion? Their first song was overly droney to me, but their later songs were fairly excellent. They didn't move me as much as Sweet Cobra or Pelican did, but they were great, don't get me wrong. Their third? song was amazing. Mmkay. Minsk is done, pack up their shite, short intermission, Pelican brings their shite out, soundchecks, etc.
Right onnnn! Pelicannnnn is up!! YESSSSS! Laurent burns some incense before starting the set. It smelled really good for incense. I don't mind the smell of "normal" incense but this kind smelled particularly good...hmmm...
Anyway, Pelican fired it up! Soooo intensely powerful. They played mostly songs from their new album, I think...I loves Pelican to death, but I really can't tell one song from another other than Mammoth, Australasia, Drought and Winds With Hands, or really identify them too well at all. I hollered for them to play Drought, but they did not oblige, the assfaces... Oh well. "Ephemeral" was mind blowingly fantastic. I looked around and there were people standing there with their arms crossed, barely moving at all. Christ flap jacks, man! This is fucking Pelican! If this music doesnt move you, what in the world does? Even I, being as reserved and quiet, afraid to make an ass out of myself as I am; nodded my head, tapped my feet, danced a little. FUCK! What disappointed me and a whole lot of people was that Pelly did not come back out and do an encore performance though. What the hell? Ah well, they did their job. I, for one, was in the posesssion of thuroughly rocked socks and creamed jeans.
I headed for the merch table to support these wonderfully talented bastids. No one was really at the merch tables either? What the hell? Were these jerkfaces at the same show I was? If you enjoyed the show, you buy some swag, dammit! Plus, the merch at shows is always cheaper than buying them anywhere else, which is awesome possum. I looked at the Minsk stuff first, but I didn't have much money on me so I decided to skip them and buy some Sweet Cobra cds. Guess fucking what? and this was super badass in my opinion. Two of the band members themselves were at the table, peddling their wares. Botchy, the bassist/vocalist and Jason, the drummer were the ones who I bought the Two S.C. albums from: "Forever" and "Praise". Jason gave me a free patch? with the cds. It was a piece of black canvas like cloth about the size of a cd booklet with the words "Sweet Cobra" in grey on it. Awesome. I love them so much, I might sew it to my face...not really..that's weird... So I got my stuff and shook hands with Botchy and Jason. As I shook hands with Jason again, he told me "Thank you for the support" and I told him and Botchy how great they were once again. : )
I headed out, went to my car in the parking lot, started it up and was opening one of the cds, wanting to listen to it on the drive home when I remembered that I completely forgot to even take a look at the Pelican merchandise. Stupid bastard! I turned off my car, headed back inside and bought a Tusk (a band consisting of most members of Pelly) album and a special edition version of Pelly's newest album: "What We All Come To Need" which included a dvd. Awesome. NOW I can head home. I did just that and slept very soundly that night/morning...


Flesh and bone are no different,
everything can be consumed by the fires

Indiscriminate, voracious Cheshire mouths

Hearts remain after the body has crumbled,
ever stubborn in their resilience

Still warm from her kiss

Inhaling ashes, bonded in black lungs

Fate is, yet fate may never be
when gnarled fingers pluck unripe fruit

But even the faintest light can bring any darkness to it’s knees

It pierces through,
diamond edged

The sinister will fall, seizing and hemorrhaged

Cleansed by truth and conviction

In all it’s purity

Seraph and Gar

Eons will pass

Shrouded in her wings,
In her arms
Crumbling stone from the surface

Thawing what was cold and lifeless
His heart is hers to devour,
bleeding rivers for her to drink from
From her ribs, he'll carve their path
Their souls forever intertwined

Radiating luminous blue
Falling towards Elysium
Full and satisfied

Blessed and merry

Embracing weightless oblivion


And he will begin to lose his mind again
with nothing left to keep it occupied
but it's own unanswered chatter.
She slithers in through gangrenous wounds.
Rocking gently in her arms, pacing hither and yon.
Cooling soup to be supped.
Idle hands inevitably spring birth to the true ogre.
like it's predecessors...


Reverberating off the walls again,
deafening wails fracture through the bone
We hang our heads, defeated and beaten
Alone in the expanse,
unfolding visions of what's yet to come
Swallowing coals to keep ourselves ablaze,
burning at both ends
At wit's end.

Our feet will never touch the soothing sands,
or walk with our brothers where the sun never sets
We'll know naught but the yoke on our neck
and the whip at our back
Frowned upon by a vengeful dark star
Tormented by the booming hush

Otherworldly Suitor

Awakening amidst the thorns and thickets
Damp with cold sweat,
opening my eyes to a greater nightmare
Cradling face in hands
pressing hard to try to stop them from moving so
Relentless revolutions
Utterly maddening

Extending my tongue to lap up falling grains of sand

Juggernauting through my body
on their merry way
How long has it been like this?

Just me, the shrubs and the trees
Darker than pitch,
colder than a witch's teet
Picking fragments of my own skull
and dried blood off of my tattered clothes

I've slithered through high and low

Crawled on my belly
only to catch sight of your shadow
Knelt in prayer offering all and everything
to be shown no such mercy
The star I follow flickers in unison
with the heart we share
Yet, I reach my hand
and it draws you further away
Such a vast sky between you and I
So cruel are fate and Freyja...


Clay molded by evil hands
Sadistic, calculated contortions
Kneading poisons into it’s very core
Hardened over eons
behind the chamber walls
concealing truth
Disintegrating Lightness
Dormant flesh lies beneath
Like drawing blood from a stone
Broken only by a warmth
never to be known


Stirring in bed again
Under this roof, hidden from god's wandering eye
Longing to wake up under a new unfamiliar ceiling
My heart lies along the roadside
Shriveled, strung with shards and needles
Struggling to breathe this recycled air,
Stale atmosphere, unsuited for gills
Distorted faces extending hazardous appendages
as I wade through an infinite sea of creatures
Some smile, others stare
Amongst false kin
and failing skin
Barely able to stand
Fatigued and denied rest
Wings and fins rejecting the host
Tearing me apart at the stitches
Sink, stumble, and stretch
Unknown organism
Alien anachronism
An entirely different kind of animal…


I slipped on something red
Face first acquaintance with the ground
Poison ambrosia berries shining bright overhead
Tantalizingly out of reach,
just enough to muffle the demon
A blinding light that strains the eyes
Scorching flesh at it's caress
Like a kick in the stomach
forcing me back into the corner
Not meant for these arms
Forbidden to touch
Thieving my breath…


Off in my fragment of sanctuary
Away from the flames
Hidden at times,
A vanishing island
Ankle deep in the lake
Ignoring the screams and the shrieks
It always finds me eventually
The creeping dark
Immortal and unstoppable
Shackles still attached
At the wrists and neck
Ten ton anchor tossed overboard
Calling me home.

Dax and The Blood Kings Saturday November 10th ‘07

Wow. Last night was absolutely magnificent.
I finally found a parking spot in a garage after about 45 minutes of looking for the fucking bar and a place to park. It was a pain in the ass and I was freaking out, because I thought I was going to miss half the show.
I passed by it multiple times because it looked like a goddamn warehouse building, not a bar.
Painted a dull, inconspicuous grey. How the fuck was I supposed to know? That place really needs a sign on the side of their building.
I went inside, showed my ID and crap to the douche at the door and had to stand in wait of Dax because the fucking place had only maybe 10 or so bar stools.
I was waiting for a while so I went outside to grab a smoke a few times. Fucking smoking ban...
I ended up standing there for over an hour, waiting for the opening bands to come out. Oh! XD While I waited or the moosic, I had to pee-pee so I went in search of the bathrooms. I found a door that read "employees only" next to the stage leading downstairs which lead to...
the place where Dax, his band and the opening bands were hanging out!
Weird fucking place the downstairs. Dirty rock walls, weirdly lit basement-ish. It looked like the typical "kill a bunch of hookers and bury them down here" type of place.
I was a bit star struck, I admit. Plus I had to pee and I was afraid I'd be booted out of there so I gave an oops look and slinked away. Slinked? Slunk? Uh...I got the fuck out of there, went back upstairs and found the real bathroom.
I did my bathroom business and went back to stand in wait some more. After a LONG GODDAMN TIME, the first opening band; "City on the Make" came out.
I liked them a lot. They were very entertaining. They sounded very punky?, IMHO. REAL punk, not Green Day pop homosexual punk. They were raw, dirty, beautiful punk. Very funny stuff, their songs and sounded pretty good too.
After City on the Make's set was over, I went outside for some nicoteams, went back inside and waited some more for the next band to come out.
The second opening band; "Beaten Awake". My god, did they suck. Their set was excruciating. The vocals were TERRIBLE and I did not care for the geeter, bass or drumming. All were very piss poor. I just wanted their set to end so Dax could come out.
Good, they finished. Get the fuck out of here, homo heads. Make room for Dax.
I went outside for more nicoteams and then back inside for more waiting. It felt like I was on my feet forever. Hurt like a bastid too, dammit. But it was okay, Dax's tech people were setting up. Mic checks and all that. His "groupie" was oh so smoking hot... I would have sold my soul to make naughty business with her. She walked through the crowd and her very ample boosom brushed up against me...mmmmmm...
I've really got to stop being so perverted...
The man finally came out. Started his set with "Night is the Notion".
His voice really blew me away. Goddamn. Vocals like that, he's allowed to be an asshole...just a little bit.
Night is the Notion wrapped up and on came the screams....screams for...
DEAD GIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL! I couldn't help but laugh.
And I screamed too, but I didn't want to be the typical intentionally douchy "DEAD GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL" screaming fan. Instead, I chose to scream... "GRAVE FLOWERRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!" which was probably just as douchy.
Dax's response? A LONG pause, then uttering the words "Living is Suicide".
Like an unspoken FUCK YOU to the crowd. This amused me to no end.
They played mostly songs from We Sing of Only Blood or Love: Night is the Notion, Living is Suicide, Demon Tied to a Chair in My Brain, Ghost Movement, Wall of Death, and etc. but they did play "Evil Friend" and "Stop, I'm Already Dead" by Deadboy. No Acid Bath or Agents though. I understand him not playing any Acid Bath. He said in an interview that Acid Bath was his "high school" band and he's not in the Acid Bath mind set anymore. Disappointing, very, but I begrudgingly understand this. What I don't understand is WHY NO GODDAMN AGENTS? His geeterist: Alex something or other was in Agents so why not play a single fucking Agents song? Somewhere in between songs, I screamed "HANGMAN'S DAGHTERRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!", while everyone else once again screamed for Dead Girl. What the fuck? That would have been awesome if they played The Hangman's Daughter...
Evil Friend was amazing though. It was "the sex". My hands down, no contest favorite part of the night.
Dax finished and they all went back downstairs to the Murder Basement.
No, Dax. You're not done yet. Not getting away that easy.
We were all stomping like crazy. The ceiling of the Murder Basement must have been caving in or something because we forced him back out.
He came out and played alone for 2 songs. He played covers, but I had no idea what they were. Badass none the less.
After two songs, the rest of the band came out to join Dax.
But it was bitchin'.
After that, they were done. Finito.
A bit disappointing though because this time, the crowd didn't stomp or fight to bring them back up at all. Just left the 400 bar, socks thoroughly rocked.
Such an indescribable feeling. I l*ved the 400 bar and experiencing Dax play there. I HATED the people, especially the unattractive (a nice way of side-stepping the words: ugly, disgusting, and vomit inducing) chicks dancing like idiots and bumping into me a part of the time. I truly believe very much so that a man should never EVER lay unconsenting hands on a woman, but I wanted to punch these skanks in the fucking head...
I pretty much kept my mouth shut and kept to myself the entire time. Pariah Piranha. But something about the atmosphere of this place blew me away. Definitely not the people. FUCK the people.
It wasn't enough to make me go deaf, but the vibrations sent coursing through my body were sensational...
You just don't get this at a huge venue.