Sorry, my dear, there is no such thing as a boring place. No. There are only boring people. If you are an interesting person, you can always find something interesting to do. Anywhere.
This town, in particular, can surprise you. Epitaph arranged for a couple passes to the Red Aunts, Voluptuous Karen Black show down at the Golden West saloon the other night, and, I have ta' tell, a show it definitely was.
The festivities started late (as I hear is usual) with a local band, Scared of Chaka warming us up, and doing a good job of it. Well I enjoyed several of their songs myself, and I admire anyone or thing that strives to overcome difficulties. Their drummer was pissed cause he had to stop the set to fix up his kit as the intensity of his playing sent a cymbal set flying along with a couple shattered sticks.
Then the Red Aunts came out and did a blistering blitzkrieg kinda set which I liked as it had a clean hard edged sound. After the set Kerry, one of their two guitarists came down to say thanks for the pitcher we sent with Aaron. She mentioned Albuquerque as their first stop on tour and how great Epitaph was taking care of them. They sound as if they're doing quite well by their employees and bands as far as spreading around the wealth they've made off the success of Offspring. She apologized for being sloppy at the start of the set, apparently it took them fourteen hours to drive from L.A. I made her laugh when I told her if they wouldn't have hurled insults at the audience and spit on us, it wouldn't have been a punk show and I would have left. Very cool lady...
Then came Karen Black. What can I say to describe this band from New York. I grew up in the Empire State. Couldn't wait to bail, even as a youngster. Love the wide open spaces. Man, that closed in environment is starting to have an effect on human genetics, or something, `cause these guys were fuckin' wild. I mean naked humans, and near naked humans jumping, prancing and twirling in body paint with painted on Kabuki masks, throwing confetti, and props around. Oh, yeah, like giant shoes, and volcanoes, and shit, man... The drummer wears nothing but black under his eyes, the bass player is dressed like Capt. Pike (original Capt. in Star Trek-ed.), the guitarist is in this suit from like the sixties, orange yellow and red stripes running up and down, yeah and he's a little oriental fella with short blonde hair blastin' away, while two women dance, sing back up, and hold props that are painted totally red (the women, not the props) in big wild wigs. The short one, she's like topless the whole time, and I'm looking over my shoulder for the church police, `cause-even though it's art, and I'm enjoying it-we ain't that far from the mid-west here ya know, and I learned a long time ago to keep my eyes peeled for the bible thumpers.
So the camouflage painted guy wears a gas mask and heaves confetti and glitter all over the place, cardboard mountains quake, and the blue painted kabuki face covered Karen Black belts out another tale of the bizarre. I especially liked the ode to plastic surgery, "Gotta Get My Eyes Done," while this eight foot tall dude in another disheveled blonde wig, painted black from head to toe (not counting the kabuki face and the colored out teeth) and the other red girl dancer with a modest (for these guys) little tube top on, sang back up and gestured figuratively.
I turned to Matt at one point and mentioned how the Star Trek shirt and the brightly colored women (by this time Karen had shed the tattered purple sequin shirt she was wearing in favor of red hand smudges over her rather pert tits along with the occasional wisp of wild black wig strand) made me think of ol' James T. Kirk nailing another green alien girl to the wall. He always went for that exotic extra-terrestrial snatch. Aaron chimed in with the observation that Capt. Christopher Pike was the one who tagged that totally green girl in the original pilot. About as out there as you can get. I had a blast and I didn't get arrested. Need I say more?
Next time around kids we'll talk about Uncle Steve's outrage over this whole Okie bombing incident, discuss more of the inner working of Lies Magazine, or at the very least the inner workings of our staff meetings, and, if I've calmed down enough, I'll bitch about the screwed up housing market in this town. Oh, yeah, remember kids...
When you need a friend and there's none to be found, nobody around? Call RENT-A-FRIEND!!!
See Terri enjoy part of Aaron's pitcher:
