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…
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