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Invasion of the Yuppie Punx (Part Deux) – A Screeching Weasel Concert Review

27 October, 2010 The EG Leave a comment

I am the type of person that wishes I could do everything every time – specifically I speak of concerts. I go to plenty, but not all of them. Sadly there are certain factors I need to look at when I go to a show:

When is the show? Do I have work or class the next day? Where is the show? Can I afford to drive hours away to see said show and then drive home without staying at a hotel?

Yeah, not the greatest criteria for figuring out if I can hit up a show or now, but it is the truth. I can not jeopardize my job (even though I am writing this at work) or school by missing a day or being too tired to for that matter. I am an adult now and even though I do not want to act like one – sometimes I have to.

Case in point: Screeching Weasel recently made a couple stops near Ohio (but not IN Ohio…). I could not afford the trip down to Covington or over to Detroit and I knew it well in advance. A handful of my friends were however able to take in a show.

Jerks.

So being curious to hear how the show went I asked begged my best pals from Columbus, Pete and Mary Alice who went to the Covington show, to write up a little something something about their trip to see the one and only Screeching Weasel.

Take it away Pete (and thank you).

My beautiful wife and I ventured down to Cincinnati/Covington, KY’s Madison Theater for an evening with one of our favorite bands ever, the newly reformed (sans Jughead who had a falling out with you know who) Screeching Weasel. Much like our recent trip to see NOFX with Brian and Kolb, we stayed at a hotel, choosing the Radisson for our accommodations. That’s us up there, in our room, happy as clams.

No story of the Yuppie Punx would be complete without a full description of our fantabulous surroundings. Well, you’re kind of not going to get it here, because the rotating restaurant at the top of the hotel left something to desired. I mean, my salad was good and all, but the rest of it wasn’t that great. Not a lot of vegetarian options. The worst part of the experience was that the restaurant employees acted like it was some amazing and luxurious place. (“Special Occasion?” You CAN’T be serious, dah-ling).

I got a picture of this family who were sitting behind Mary Alice. They were hilarious. Blond wife, blond kids, Dad with a sleazeball ponytail – bigger yuppies than us!

But anyway, the show. This is the second time we’ve gotten to see Screeching Weasel, the first time being at last year’s Riot Fest in Chicago. Now I do have some mixed feelings about seeing the band without Jughead, but Mary Alice couldn’t care less. Ben Weasel could be standing alone flinging feces at the audience, and she would still pass out from the excitement of seeing “Ben”(Cue girly sighing noise). But Juggy’s absence is not enough to keep me from seeing the band, disappointing as it is.

We got to the Madison about halfway through the second of three bands. We still can’t get out of the local-show-starts-late mode of Columbus. But whatevs, we were in plenty of time to see the Weas.

The venue wasn’t as packed as when we saw NOFX, but it was a good crowd. For some reason, we were able to smoke inside this time(?). We decided that perhaps Fat Mike insisted on non-smoking when his band played; I’d believe it. As I mentioned before, we didn’t have to wait long for Weas to go on, so we got a couple of drinks and scurried to get a front stage spot on the second level behind the pit. After the second band finished (Shot Baker from Chicago), we waited for about 25-30 minutes for the headliners. They walked out on stage, made a few inaudible comments, then good ol’ Dan Vapid belted, “CINDY’S ON METHADONE, 1-2-3-4!!!!,” and the band proceeded to launch into the tune from their classic LP My Brain Hurts.

Ben Weasel flanked by Dan Vapid on guitar

Now, I’m not one of those “write down the set list” guys, but this set list from Chicagofrom an earlier show this year is pretty darn close. Mary Alice enjoyed snapping many pics of her beloved Ben, and we shouted happily to all the songs we know from over 15 years of faithful listening. We only didn’t know one song, entitled “Vacation” (the title being take off of the Ramones song “Endless Vacation”), which apparently will be on an upcoming new album. Oh boy!

Ben seemed to be in his regular grumpy mood, as opposed to a reallygrumpy mood like he was in Chicago. He paced back and forth on the stage, while the rest of the band happily plowed through an hour’s worth of music, including my personal favorite (“Teenage Freakshow”) and Mary Alice’s personal favorite (“Peter Brady”). We got thrown a little curve when Ben walked off the stage while the band performed the instrumental “Talk to me Summer,” which was a better move than staying on stage to rock out with no instrument. Ben didn’t talk to the crowd too much, shy Dan didn’t talk at all. My favorite spoken moment was Ben’s intro to “Cool Kids,” in which he reassured the crowd that Screeching Weasel never had exclusive parties back stage, but instead would just hang around after the show being sweaty and tired. It was cool, because they didn’t claim to be overly devoted to their fans, just normal guys who want to go home after the gig ends.

Ben surrounded by two guys we don't know — Ben Surrounded By 2 Random Guys

I wouldn’t say the crowd was insane, as so much were the bouncers. They were pulling people from the crowd at an unbelievable rate, just to jettison them from the venue stage left. While I couldn’t see all that was going on in the pit, I had a hard time believing that there could be that many people throwing punches. Sometimes when I see a bouncer rough someone up, I wonder if they did anything to deserve it. That’s totally punk of me to think that.

While Mary Alice and I both agree that Screeching Weasel is not the greatest live band in the world, we would gladly see one of the greatest bands in the world perform an average live show any time. It was a great night with a great band. Pure and simple greatness personified. Greatly.

After the show, we went back to hotel and drank liquor out of these minuscule glasses. We also watched the Good Morning Miss Bliss! (later renamed Saved By the Bell) ORIGINAL Pilot on YouTube. They had none of the classic SBTB characters, and they had an old weird guy playing Mr. Belding. Then we topped off the night with the order from the new and improved Domino’s Pizza. I don’t know what exactly Domino’s is claiming they do differently now, because the pizza still sucks.

Babble Blog, Blog On, Good Times, Live Shows, The Awesome

Talkin’ Bout My (Black Shirt) Generation

9 October, 2010 Brian Mc 3 Comments

Chances are if you have been to a concert, you are like me and have purchased a concert shirt. It’s a way to support a band while at the same time show everyone who it is you listen to. It is almost a bragging right if you think about it – there is nothing more satisfying then sporting a concert shirt the day after the show. If you are lucky, someone will notice it and ask you how the show was (face it, you love it when this happens).

It’s a form of expression. People will judge you for the shirt you wear. Trust me, I know this.

The concert shirt, for me, has become almost a staple in my life. I have tons of them and they all carry certain memories. For the longest time, I made sure that I purchased a shirt at every show I went to. It was an obsession, an addiction that I just adored. After having counting over 400 shirts one day I decided it was time to chill on the addiction and even pack some up and donate to Goodwill.

I can not tell you how difficult that was for me…

Sure, a lot of the shirts were ones I hadn’t worn in years and were by bands that were meaningless to me, but there were a few that held such fond memories I just could not let them go even though I knew I would never wear them again.

I took about 50 or so of them and jammed them in a giant Rubbermaid tub and put them in my attic. I’m no pack-rat, but I know sometimes you should not get rid of something when it holds a fond memory of a good time…

I know I am not the only who shares this addiction / ritual. There is at least one other person I know who does. Her name is Sara and she started the blog Black Shirt Generation. The site is great in that she shares the same love for the concert shirt but has turned it into a project, if not a mission, to find out all the fellow concert tee lovers out there as well as collect their stories.

Rather than sit here and tell you why she started it, I figured I would give her the honors; so Sara, take it away:

Black Shirt Generation is an idea that’s taken me some time to figure out. A long time ago, someone, on some drunken night downtown, put a little idea into my head that one day I was going to “write teen anthems”. Not believing him for a second, I quickly dismissed him…but I must admit, almost 10 years later, I still thought about it.

A few months ago, I was standing in my closet, trying to figure out what I was going to wear, and I started cracking myself up. I have probably 100 black band t-shirts in my closet. I only wear a dozen or so of them, and it STILL takes me forever to pick out one of them.

It got me thinking about how many other music fanatics were out there with the same issue. Closets and drawers chock full of nothing to wear – but also full of memories and stories of days gone by.

From there, the ideas started coming in about maybe THIS is what I was “meant” to do. This was going to be my outlet to the world. It might not be a “teen anthem”, so to speak, but it’s definitely the voice of a generation. My generation, my voice, my story, my memories…

That being said, I wanted the scoop on others’ takes on their love affair/obsession with music as well. Punk rock, rock n’ roll, tattoos, booze, fighting, heartbreak – everything that comes with that uniform of black cotton with your heart and soul silk-screened on across the front.

So I’m looking to you, your friends, their friends and anyone who wants to make it known why they love that holey, frayed shirt that was black at one point in time…and why you or they never got rid of it – even though it would never be worn again.

Thanks Sara. Very cool idea.

Got a fond memory you want to share? Head over to Black Shirt Generation and let her know!

Blog On, Guest Blog, Video Games

1Up For The Kids

17 December, 2009 k2funn 1 Comment

During a time of the year where people are buy-buy -buying things for everyone on their list sometimes we forget about the true definition of the holidays. It’s easy to get sucked up into all the chaos also know as the shopping season. I myself have had enough of the retail wars that go on and spite people out there who buy things just to buy. Take that wasted money and put it towards something meaningful, like a donation. Uncle Buck does not need a Sham-Wow or a Snuggie…seriously. Imagine donating money that will go towards a gift for a sick child that will not only make their day but also help ease the pain they are going through.

My pal and yours Kevin found this great website where a simple donation can really make a child’s day. During this holiday season try to forget about all the big sales and unnecessary gifts for a moment and think about what the reason of the season is all about. (Mom, calm down, I am still calling it Jesus Day…)

Take it away Kevin and Happy Holidays everyone!

I’m sure that many of our readers have dabbled in a little video game geekery in their days. You may have experienced the Tetris burn while trying to go to sleep after an eight-hour bender. Maybe you feel the real measure of a man is in his achievement points? Yeah, you know how awesome all of that is. Admit it.

There are many folks out there that would think that gamers are a blight on society with their lack of social skills and appreciation for violence. Gamers are good people who would just rather spend their free time with pixels rather than a putter. You might be a little tired of video games getting a bad rap. They’re just good old fun. The creators of the webcomic Penny Arcade, Gabe and Tycho, felt the same way. From their countless hours involved in the gamer community were aware that the caricature that was drawn by news fluff pieces and congressmen were not the people they knew. Gamers are a good, generous bunch. This inspired them in 2003 to start a toy drive for Seattle’s Children’s Hospital. From that toy drive the Child’s Play charity was formed.

I first heard about Child’s Play about 2 years ago on digg. At that time they were pretty much in hospitals in North America. Now, Child’s Play is currently partnered with almost 70 hospitals, (and growing). It was one of those charities that made so much sense. These are some really sick kids that are stuck in a hospital who can’t do much outside–many of them can’t stray far from a bed. Why not give them the fun of playing a game, or possibly interacting (with the permission of the parents I assume) with other people on PSN (Playstation Network) or Xbox LIVE? I’m not trying to slight these kids, they’re pretty hardcore. They have done no wrong in their short lives to anyone still life seems to be socking them in the gut. Maybe the work of Child’s Play will let them know that the world isn’t totally evil. It may be a bitch, but even bitches can be sexy.

These guys are all about the giving. They’re an international 501(c)3 entity, so they’re legit. Also, they keep their administrative costs at a bare bone 2-3%, so that means just more good stuff goes to the kids. If you want to give there are a few ways you can go about it. The easiest way is to go to the Child’s Play website to make a PayPal donation. If you want to help out your local hospital, you can also click on a location on the interactive map on the Child’s Play main page. You will then be redirected to your chosen hospital’s Amazon page. That Amazon page lists all of the books, toys and games requested by the hospital, the quantities received, and still needed. Find something on the list that you’d like to donate, and check out as you would with any Amazon purchase. Your order will then be shipped right off to the hospital of your choice.

This is easily one of my favorite charities. You know that as much of your dollar as possible goes right to making as many kids in rough situations a little happier. You really can’t go wrong with that.

If you would like to make a donation CLICK HERE and select the state you wish to donate to.

Blog On, Funny, Guest Blog, The Awesome

Blog On: The Vomitus Prime Show According To Kevin

11 November, 2009 k2funn 4 Comments

One of my pals since the easy days of sitting on milk crates on Saturday night on the side of a Dunkin Donuts has been telling me a lot about something out there I need to check out. He even went so far as to asking me to do a little write-up about said entertainment.

I had a better idea. I told him to do it. Not because I am lazy and did not want to, but I wanted his excitement for the podcast put into words for all to read. At first Kevin was hesitant and after strong force and blatant threats he agreed.

So now I turn it over to Kevin… Thanks pal.

Remember the days when you were a sophomore in high school and you were so into that one awesome band? You listened to them all the time, sported the t-shirt, and told everyone about them just trying to share the love. Sadly people just gave you an idiot stare while asking if you still had to pee in a cup before school. The wanted nothing to do with you or that stupid band you were in to.

Shockingly a few months later those same people that you were wildly raving at are telling you about the same new band that they discovered. You knew deep down inside that you though were the OG of that band, you knew about them all along…

I’m about to relive that glory once again, but not with a band this time. This time it is with a podcast.

WAIT! Keep reading.

I know that there is a lot of garbage podcasts out there, especially in the comedy section. Just because you have $20 for a mic and your mom told you that you were talented doesn’t make it OK to have a show. There is talent out there, you just have to look.

For the past few months I have been listening to Bill and Will make some comedy magic on something called The Vomitus Prime podcast.

What is Vomitus Prime you ask? I took this direct from their site to give you a little insight on what they are all about:

Vomitus Prime has nothing to do with transformable robots. It’s a rotating cast from the tail end of Generation X. They spend about an hour roughly once a week reminiscing their past glories, dreaming up derelict things to save money, and mocking others. Sometimes high-tech, sometimes classless, sometimes culinary. Always worth every cent.

Now that I have your attention…

Bill is currently working on his 121st episode with his 3rd 4th 5th 6th co-host, Will. The show takes place somewhere in the Iowa, Illinois, Wisconsin tri-state area, it’s exact location remaining a mystery.

Actually, now that it’s getting into winter you might be able to find the hideout by the glow of the depression light via Bill’s desk. Bill is a man with the social skills of The Unabomber and a sense of humor reminiscent of Bill Hicks. His partner, Will, is an ADD-afflicted nymphomaniac whose curiosity takes the show on wild tangents.

When you get your weekly dose of Vomitus Prime you’ll get a mix of politically uncool humor. Everything is fair game, and don’t worry–you’ll get used to getting the stink-eye from folks at the grocery store when you let out a maniacal laugh from the show.

Listening to Vomitus Prime keeps you at age 25 – forever. Its a time when life’s early milestones have been passed. You are no longer carded because the bartender can see the pleading in your eyes for a drink. Golden and amber refreshment is the only way to replenish the bit of your soul that is taken every day in Cubicleland.

Much like happy hour, an hour of Vomitus Prime lets you rant about the day, laugh about it, and point on the doll where life has maliciously touched you. Its enough to get you through it until you have to go right back at it tomorrow.

In each episode, members of The Vomitus Party call in their Vomications for all of the cool stuff in their world, and vehemently Decepticoning the merciless ways the life can put you through the wringer. Other features of the show are the drunken cooking tips from Wolfgang Drunk, knowing the value of a “dollah”, and remembering all of the awesome things in life that for some reason disappeared in Bringin’ It Back.

It is one of the few podcasts I’ve found that strongly encourages audience participation and they do it with great results. The place where Vomitus Prime eclipses most all other comedy shows is the chemistry between the hosts. You have Bill’s viciously clever wit that melds with Will’s obscure, yet relevant observations.

If you’re new to podcasts this is a good place to start. If you’re still looking for a good comedy podcast that’s more than dick and fart jokes from the morning zoo, (Vomitus Prime have only the finest fancy dick and fart jokes), head over to www.vomitusprime.com or find them on iTunes and see, rather listen to, the nonsense I speak about.

Blog On, Festival, Guest Blog, Music, Punk, Review, Road Trip, Rock

Blog On: Invasion of the Yuppie Punx featuring Pete “The Electric Grandmother” Faust

14 October, 2009 The EG Leave a comment

Two of my favorite people in life had the chance to hit up this years Riot Fest Chicago in, you guessed it, Chicago. Pete and Mary Alice were gracious enough to share their experience with me and all you crazy readers out there.

Riot Fest, for those of you who may not know, is basically a 5 day punk rock Lollapalooza. Instead of me listing all of the bands here, I felt it best for a busy guy like myself to post the concert poster of it:

Pete, aka The Electric Grandmother, has been a good friend of mine since the days when I was young. We have always shared a true love for punk rock and even if he keeps telling me over and over that punk is dead, I know he is not speaking of the punk that binds our friendship so strongly.

Please enjoy Pete and Mary Alice’s hilarious and heartfelt story/review about the time they left Ohio to see some classic punk rockers play out in Chi-Town.

Thanks guys for the share! I turn it over to Pete now:

It’s Friday morning, and we’re about to get breakfast at Wendy’s in the Columbus airport. Two young ladies are waiting in line with us, one with green hair and one with pink hair, both decked from top to bottom with authentic punk rock garb. “You guys going to Riot Fest?” I asked them. “Yeah, which night are you going?” the green-haired girl responded. “Um,” I swallowed. “All three nights.” After breakfast, as I walked with our laptop slung over my shoulder, hand in hand with my beautiful well-dressed wife, I realized that we had officially become yuppie-punks.

Who’d of thought? Not me, but then again I never picture myself in the future, I just do a lot of planning ahead. It wasn’t careful planning, but an uncharacteristic spur of the moment idea by my wife and I to go see our beloved Screeching Weasel in Chicago at the 2009 Riot Fest. Those who know my wife Mary Alice know that she only travels in style, and since I’m lucky enough to be attached to her, I travel in style by proxy. Here’s me getting punk rock in our hotel room:

And here’s my wife showing everyone how a hotel robe should be worn:

After an exciting trip to the newly renamed Willis Tower, we ventured downtown to the Congress Theater for the first of three Riot Fest nights. The doors opened at the venue at 5:30 PM, and we left our hotel room at 7:45, as we were only interested in seeing the Dead Milkmen, the fourth of five bands scheduled to perform that night (told ya we were yuppies). Being that we hail from Columbus, the land of late-starting shows, we figured we’d be there in plenty of time – not so. When we arrived at the Congress, the Milks were already 10 minutes into their set. We were a bit disappointed, but not crushed since we’re hardly Dead Milkmen aficionados. We found out later that we had missed them performing “Punk Rock Girl,” but did manage to catch “Bitchin’ Camaro,” as well as a few other well known singles that poseurs like us enjoy. The staff at the venue seemed really cool, and the crowd in attendance made us not feel too old to be there. There were lots of people there in their 30s and 40s, interspersed with the kids that were born after the Dead Milkmen were formed. We left before the Murder City Devils came on, because we’re old and don’t like to watch bands that we know nothing about. All in all, we were at the venue for maybe 45 minutes. Such poseurs. We went back to our fancy hotel and drank until bedtime.

The girls who we met at the airport said they were going only to see Cock Sparrer, a 70s/80s-era Cockney-Oi!-Working Class-Skin-Et Cetera band who reform occasionally to do Oi! things on stage. We managed to catch Cock Sparrer on Saturday, as we had made sure to leave early to catch NOFX, a longtime favorite of ours that has enjoyed a listening renaissance with us in the past year. We made sure to go to the venue’s upper balcony while Cock Sparrer performed, as we wanted no part of the inevitable skinhead roughhousing that was to occur below. We ended up enjoying the band on many levels, and they seemed like cool people. They were nice bald guys in their 50s, who were just there to perform British working-class anthems for a bunch of rich American kids, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Even if that Oi! stuff isn’t my thing, I still enjoy watching a crowd sway and wail and “Whoaaaaa” to Sham 69-style boot boy music. My wife kept laughing at the similar thematic elements in the bands songs, i.e., “This song’s about working!” (Seriously, they have a song called “Working.”)

Cock Sparrer from the balcony

Sorry it’s so blurry, our camera sucks. Look at that well-lit guy at the bottom, that’s weird.

Following the Sparrer was the NOFX. I had seen them perform only once before in 1996, and they were the exact same band – which is a good thing. Fat Mike took the stage wearing Joker makeup, a la the late Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight. Following some intro music and a few minutes of self-deprecating jokes, the band launched full speed into the classic “Linoleum,” and the crowd went batshit crazy (as did we). The band then proceeded to hammer through their (45-60 minute?) set in maniacal fashion, only occasionally interrupted by the trademark crowd-baiting banter from Fat Mike, which included his teaching a 12-year old audience member the definition of “Felching.” It was very cool to see all the characters that we’ve come to know from viewing NOFX: Backstage Passport multiple times, not just the band, but the wacky road/tech guys that work with them. Our favorite is Kent, who Mary Alice got a picture of while working the sound board (see below). The entire set was superb, except for their closing lip-sync dance number to Avenue Q’s “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist.” I wouldn’t call it un-funny, just wasted time where they could have played more songs. Perhaps the funniest moment of the weekend occurred after we left the venue. A school bus was parked out front to haul some of the crowd to an after party. People out front were laughing and taunting them while they hung out of the windows of the bus, and the bus crew were yelling back in turn. As we were walking down the street to catch a train back to our hotel, the school bus passed by with all the punks hanging out of the windows, making horrendous noise and yelling at people on the street. Right before the bus left our sight, we saw the emergency roof on the top of the bus being opened by someone, who then stuck there head out into the night air. Never had I seen such a hilarious and encouraging sight. Watching it made me feel like a teenager again, and gave me hope for the future. Poor bus driver, though.

Fat Mike aka Cokie the Clown

Kent!

Sunday night found us at a cool little restaurant having dinner with an old friend before heading to the Congress to see the one and only Screeching Weasel. Much like the Dead Milkmen on Friday, the Weas were not the headlining band, so we knew we had to get there with plenty of time to spare. After leaving the restaurant, we were under the impression that we were very early to see the band; we were not. As we walked up to the balcony to watch what we presumed to be one of the first bands of the night already in progress, my wife turned to me and asked, “Does that sound like Screeching Weasel to you?” I said with utter blind confidence that it didn’t, then ran out to the seating area of the balcony, only to see grumpy frontman Ben Weasel singing about a girl named “Cindy,” who currently was having a problem with methadone. I turned in horror to my wife and stared blankly. “WELL C’MON!” she shrieked, and we bolted down the stairs toward the venue floor.

Mary Alice had the good sense the ask a merch guy how long they had been on, who shrugged and offered that they maybe had been on five minutes. Now normally this kind of situation would make me crazy, and I would not be able to get over how we missed the beginning of their set. But once we stepped on the floor and saw the band under the lights, it didn’t even matter anymore. Sure I’d been drinking, but I was still instantly sobered (ouch, sorry) by the sheer magnitude of it all. Here was a band that I had been following with only my ears for 14 years, and suddenly their songs were coming to life before my eyes. I had never seen Ben Weasel or Dan Vapid (the only two classic/recognizable of five band members anymore) move around before, and I was just mesmerized. I’m not usually that much of a fan-boy geek, but I couldn’t help it. The songs being performed were my life, and represented so much of the life my wife and I have made together. During one of the last songs, my wife and I turned to each other and kissed amongst the surrounding mass of humanity. At that moment she and I were the only ones there, and band was performing just for two lovers.

Now that you’ve barfed, I’ll just say that it was a great time. The staff and crowd were getting irritable and stressed after three chaotic nights, Mary Alice was underwhelmed by Screeching Weasel’s performance as it compared to NOFX’s the previous night, I really had to pee after their set, but none of it even mattered.

We were all that mattered.