BK Mega Weekend Extravaganza!

Brendan Kelly - A few garbage L.A. bands (3/27/15 @ The Mint, Los Angeles CA) / Brendan Kelly - Joey Briggs - Dead Frets  (3/28/15 @ Slidebar, Fullerton CA)

My penis can only get so erect

Holy fucking shit what a weekend. It started Thursday night when I completely forgot I said I'd go down to North Park to check out our buddies bands first show. They are called Old News and they were pretty good. Minus the sound guy fucking up and not having Ricky's microphone on or whatever happened. But they totally covered Dillinger 4 and Kid Dynamite and that's rad. Also, a band called Fools Rush played, and they fucking ruled. So dragging my old ass out on a school night super ended up being worth it.

Friday, I finally ended my strike against L.A. Its been a few months since I went up that way, and it mostly had to do with "eh, I just don't feel like driving there." But when any incarnation of BK playing music comes anywhere near you, you suck it up and fucking go. We waited outside the bar for a bit for our friend to show up, and some place was cooking street food outside. I was hungry and tempted by the smell, so of course I ended up ordering a hot dog wrapped in bacon. You know, every once in a while you just have to treat yo self to a street dog. It was sitting outside waiting where I could hear the first band playing. It sounded like absolute shit. Then the second band played and I started to get really confused. They also sounded like absolute shit. Both bands so far was this weird, alternative indie garbage music. The only thought I had in my head is who books these fucking shows? I remember when I saw the Lawrence Arms play L.A. a few years ago at the Viper room, that show also had the weirdest fucking bands. Anyway, Keri finally shows up and we go inside and get our $10 drinks. Now around this point, I'm watching the 3rd band set up. They bring out the drums and bass, and I'm like "OK. normal." But then they set up a keyboard hooked up to a Mac Book, a drum machine, and seriously a rack with 8 guitars on it. I went from OK, to what the fuck is happening? And then they start playing. OK, I get that everyone has differing opinions on music, and yeah, I might not like what you like, but holy fucking shit these guys were boring. Every song you could hear the desperate cries of "please play this song on the radio." For some reason the guy who sang and played guitar switched to a new guitar after every single song, explaining the rack. The lady who sang and played keyboard more or less just stood there and kept raising her arms up and down, like she was trying to fly away in slow motion. The other guitarist and bass player just stood in their respective corners, I'm pretty sure they were under strict orders to stay the fuck out of the way. I will say this though: both singers had great voices. And they did call themselves out towards the end. They said something like, I know its weird that Brendan Kelly is playing and he is a rocker, and here we are playing our indie bullshit, so we wrote a rock song specifically for this show. Granted, it absolutely did not qualify as a rock song, but they do get an A for effort.

Finally Brendan Kelly took the stage and all became right in the world .I was a little nervous at first because he sounded fucking hammered, but then I remembered its BK, it totally wouldn't be the same if he was sober. He started by saying he is going to play like 4 or 5 songs he wants to play and then 4 or 5 songs we wanted to hear. Off the top of my head, I know he played Necrotism, Demons, Seventeener, and YMCA. He also played 2 never before heard songs, an awesome song called Hugs, which was obviously about acquiring hugs through sketchy means , and a song he wrote when he was 12 called Dicks. I think you can figure that one out. When he asked us what we wanted to hear, some guy immediately shouted Suffer the Children and BK looked him dead in the eyes and called him a pervert. Somehow, through people screaming at him, he ended up playing Pigs, Quicentuple, Dance of the Doomed, Drunk Tweets, and my absolute personal favorite Unicorn Odyssey. We laughed, we cried, we drank, I never thought I could be so entertained by a drunk and a guitar.

Pictured: Good times

Night two I piled eight people into my 4Runner and headed to Fullerton. The Slidebar is pretty cool because all the shows there are free. It was kind of a weird set up though, it has a back room for the show, and the front becomes this weird club/bar scene. It was bizarre. But I did get to hang out with Brendan Kelly for about 20 minutes because of it, so that was pretty cool. The show was more of the same, except this time the openers made sense. Dead Frets (aka Jared from Sic Waiting) and Joey Briggs played. They both were really good and warmed up the crowd for BK, who did another drunken comedy set intermixed with tunes. I was a little drunker this night, so my memory is a bit fuzzier, but the set was completely different (minus the still awesome Hugs song). I do remember at one point I said something was "tight" a little louder then I expected and BK was like, "wow, what a fucking OC thing to say" which I replied with "Bro, just play the next fucking song, bro."

Pictured: Slightly Darker Good Times

Sunday, somehow I managed to get out of bed and head to the bowling alley for another very long Sunday Funday with a bunch of good friends. All in all I would rank this weekend up there with one of the best of the year so far. I was only 2 hours late to work on Monday! Not bad at all.

I got my fingers crossed we get a new Falcon record this year. But in the meantime, go buy Caskitt's new album This Machine Kills Sadness. It's super good and you won't regert it! Promise!

Have You Ever Seen Subhumans...On Weed? - A Wrecktrospective

The following story takes place in September of 2007...

I was talking to my friend Buddy Andrew a few weeks ago. He lives a very interesting life. He has had the same job at this pizza place forever. He is room mates with this rich guy, and they live in a massive house with a tennis court, and a pool that goes inside the house to a room with a shuffleboard table. However, he doesn't have access to the internet. He was a vegetarian FOREVER, but one day showed up at our friends house with a bag full of In and Out burgers and said fuck it. He has thrown up AND bled in my old truck. He had the same haircut Rod Stewart has, and I'm pretty sure he only owns 1 pair of cut off black jean shorts and 1 pair of shoes. This is Andrew. So when I was talking to him, he said he heard of my blog through people at work and wanted me to include him in a story. This is that story.

One day, Andrew calls me up and says he has an extra ticket to go see The Subhumans play at Soma in San Diego. Truthfully, Subhumans aren't really my style but I said fuck it, let's get weird, I'm in. So we cruise down to San Diego, and park, and realize we are a little early. We go over to the grocery store across the street to buy some beer while we are waiting, and somehow decide on buying a 12 pack of Mickey's Grenades. I think it was because they had the riddles under the cap, but this was 8 years ago so who knows. So we are just hanging out in his car, drinking and solving riddles like Batman, when the car starts shaking. First thought is, oh shit, policia. Turns out, it was just 3 kids who work with Andrew at the pizza place. When I say kids, I mean kids. Maybe 17 or 18. They pile into the back of his Saturn and crack open their beers that they somehow got. We drink all the beers we have between us and realize we missed the first band that played, so we decide to head in. After the kids get out and head in, Andrew 's like hey I got this pipe and some weed, want to smoke it before we go in? I'm kind of drunk at this point and am already stressing about not fitting in with the tru punks inside, and I did promise to get weird, so i say hell yeah, light that shit up! (Probably not those exact words. Ever.) I very very very rarely smoke pot, so naturally I got super duper high. Which was a terrible mistake for where I was heading.

We walk up to security, and I am already freaking out. I know they are going to catch me being high, I'm going to jail, oh fuck, oh fuck, why did I do this? That type of paranoid stuff. Looking back on it, half the people in that building were probably high, including the bouncers, and I made it in no problem. We walk into the giant stage room, and this place is fucking packed. The band Witch Hunt is playing (that band rules by the way) and we start pushing our way towards the front. I feel like a ghost, and I'm just floating through the crowd. We stop just outside of the pit and stand there and watch the band. As I'm watching, I still just feel like I'm floating, and I'm getting bumped into by the most disgusting crust punks on the face of the earth. Dreads are brushing by my face. Unwashed vests with studs are poking me in the shoulder. Or at least, that's whats going through my mind. I'm trying to watch this band I'm actually enjoying, and praying to god that I don't get ring worm. But I still don't move from this spot the entire show. The floating has stopped and I am now an anchor sinking into the sea of people bustling about me. I kind of just zone out and concentrate on being solid. Until MDC plays John Wayne was a Nazi, and I snap out of it for a moment, brought back to life by familiarity. But then I'm right back to it. I'm less of an anchor at this point and more of a sea cucumber, just kind of swaying along with the current. I do this through the rest of MDC and Subhumans set. After they play their encore songs, I look at Andrew, he looks at me, we kind of just nod at each other, and book it back to the car and go the fuck home.

The MINUTE I walk into my house, I jumped in the shower to wash the grossness off me. I'll be damned if I get tetanus or lockjaw.

Lesson learned: Don't get high and go to a punk show. Don't get high and go to a show. Don't get high.

Half Hearts and Korn - A Wrecktrospective

The following story takes place in July of 2005...

First some background information. I graduated high school in 2003 at the ripe old age of 17. Sometime in 2004 I was kicked out of my moms house because at the time she was bat shit crazy controlling and didn't like that I was 3 houses down at my buddy's past 9pm or whatever. For sure the words, "but I'm 18 now mom, I don't have to listen to you" were uttered. She basically said come home now, or don't bother ever coming back. So I grabbed my very few possessions (a bed and a dresser) and bailed. I ended up setting up shop in my friend Nathan and Jay's apartment in the living room. It was also around this time I quit my job at a grocery store and started working for the plumbing company I currently work for, driving around parts and stuff. Basically I had to wake up at 6am every morning, and living in a living room of a bunch of 19 year olds party apartment was a little counterproductive. I didn't want to be a turd, but staying up until 4am every night just wasn't working. Sure, I could do 1 or 2am here and there, but there were several times I fell asleep while driving on the freeway only to wake up a few miles down the road like, dude what the fuck? It was fucking scary. So when the lease on their place was up, I casually mentioned "hey, lets get Kevin his own bedroom, huh?"

We moved into a 3 bedroom apartment in Oceanside and continued our shitty existence. Drinking and Top Ramen and more drinking. Once we forgot to pay the electricity bill and instead of fixing it, we filled the kitchen sink with ice and beer and said, "this will do." Another time we ran out of alcohol, and sat on the back porch smoking cigarettes and drinking mouth wash. What I'm trying to tell you is we were those piece shit youths, enjoying being out on our own in the big bad world.

2005 was a pretty embarrassing year for me musically. Have you ever gone back and listened to music you used to be stoked on and just shuddered? Look, I liked good music as well, but for every Hot Water Music there was a Rufio. For every Against Me! there was From Autumn To Ashes. Let's just say I felt right at home and was legitimately stoked for Warped Tour 2004 and 05.

A random Tuesday in July I made my almost weekly trip to Lou's records to blindly buy some CD's, because that's what I did. This was pre-internet band stuff. If you wanted to find new bands you read the thank you section of the liner notes or bought a compilation CD. Never heard this band, but fuck it, they are on this record label, or I saw another band wear their shirt, so I'll probably enjoy it. One of the CD's I bought was Paradise, Found by a band called Fight Paris. They were on Trustkill records, so how bad could they be? The answer was very, very bad, but I didn't know that yet. The only thing I knew about the band before hand was they liked Rock N' Roll, partying and fucking. (The opening track of the album is called Fuck Me Stilettos and starts with the classy line, "Damn right that sluts my bitch, she fucking sucked my god damn..." Seriously. Those are the words they chose to start their album.) I bought a good handful of CD's that day, so I didn't have a chance to even listen to it before later that same night we get a phone call from a friend of a friend who says "this band called Fight Paris just played a show and needs a place to stay tonight." I was pumped. Fuck yes, this band who's CD I just bought wants to stay at our place? And they party? I Party! Let's do it! (This was before I got into the DIY scene, and realized most bands you can drink with and talk to. But for young 19 year old Kevin, this was amazing.)

So these fucking guys and our friend and some random lady who called us show up at our apartment. First thing I notice is one of the band members is missing. "Isn't there 5 of you guys?" I inquire. "Yeah, but (so and so) won't leave the van because she (points to the girl) said she won't fuck him tonight." And so the night begins. These so called party animals brought a 24 pack of Coors Light, so there was that. One of the guys saw our Nintendo 64 we had hooked up and immediately challenged Nathan to a game of NFL Blitz, and proceeded to get his ass whooped for half an hour until he finally just gave up. Meanwhile, I was talking to one of the band members and he was explaining how "yeah, they like to party hard" and they even made a band shirt out of the Coors Light logo. "You see, Fight is in the Coors font and Paris is in the Light font, like their logo, but its our name!" Riveting. It was around this point I looked at Jay and saw the glossed over bored look in his eyes too, and he nodded at me. It was time to liven up this party. "Who wants to do shots?" Of course everybody said yeah, because if you didn't know by now, they party. I had a handle of Captain Morgan for reasons unknown to me, so we pour out the shots for everyone, and I take the bottle since we ran our of shot glasses. We do the standard cheers, they take their shots and I take a drink from the bottle. And I keep drinking, and keep drinking, and keep drinking. Everyone looks on in horror as I chug the rest of the bottle of Captain Morgan Spiced Rum. Why did I do this? No idea, I was 19 years old, one month away from 20. Logic wasn't exactly my strong suite.

I woke up the next morning at around 9 or 10. Head pounding. Eyes blurry. I was a good 3 or 4 hours late for work, so I grabbed my phone and called in sick (the only time I have ever done that!) I had the urgent need to puke and pee, hopefully not at the same time, so I headed to the bathroom as fast as I could. Something looked strange as I ran through the hallway, but I didn't have time to check it out because as soon as I crossed the threshold into the bathroom I started spewing. When I was finished, I headed back to check out the damage. There was no sign of the band, there were beer cans everywhere, and the empty bottle of Captain Morgan was in the grass downstairs. OK. I headed back to my room to see what had caught my eye earlier, there were red hand prints all over the hallway walls. It looked like a scene from a zombie movie. Fuck it, I didn't have time to worry about that right then, so I went back and laid down. Only something was off. Everything was sticky. And red. I ran back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror to see I was completely covered in fake blood and sharpie. Then my phone rang. It was work, I absolutely had to come in because I had an appointment that day to get my brakes fixed by our mechanic. Fuck.

I had a few flashes of what happened the night before and the rest I pieced together from stories. It started out on the patio smoking cigarettes. Our down stairs neighbor (I believe his name either was, or we just called him Ed for some reason) came out to do his nightly ritual of coughing really loud while smoking and creeping in the parking lot. Apparently I had enough because I just screamed at him to shut the fuck and go away and threw the empty Captain Morgan bottle at him because I still had it in my hand for some reason. It must have been around that time the band told me to calm down because apparently I yelled at them (and Jay still quotes this to this day) "Or what? Is Fight Paris going to have to Fight Kevin?" Look, I had almost a gallon of disgusting Captain Morgan slowly shutting down my brain, wasn't exactly on my A game. I have no idea how long I stayed on my feet, but I did briefly unblackout to everyone in my room and I was talking to the guy with dreadlocks about shitty tattoos (I had just gotten my first tattoo like a week before, just the outline of the heart on my wrist, and half of it fell out, so I was kind of regretting it) when he pulled up his shirt and showed me his Korn logo tramp stamp, and I realized, maybe it wasn't so bad. Then nothing. Apparently Jay had to hold my dick so I could piss all over everything in the bathroom (thanks Jay!) and then I finally passed the fuck out. It was about this time the band decided to sign me, and found a bottle of fake blood in my room (don't know why it was there) and emptied it all over me*.

Lesson learned: Know about a band before you let them stay at your house, or you might succumb to alcohol poisoning or worse, absolute boredom.

After I finally got around to listening to this bands album, I realized even then in the midst of my darkest days musically, that they fucking sucked. Both as people and musicians. Seriously, that album was fucking terrible. I think a few years later the band broke up, only to fade away into absolute obscurity. Thank fucking Jesus.


*About 6 years after the fake blood incident, I bought a new mattress, and when they came to take my old one away, had a fucking blast explaining the giant human shaped blood stain. In all fairness though, I'm pretty sure the sketchy mattress people didn't even fucking care.

In Dog Years, We Are All Dead

Western Settings - Caskitt - The Bertos (3/12/15 @ Tower Bar, San Diego CA)

I'm not going to spend a lot of time "reviewing" the music portion of this show (Because you know, I normally totally do). It's Caskitt and Western Settings, if you can't figure it out by now, well I feel bad for you son. I got 99 problems but shitty punk ain't one (that was weird. I'm so very tired)

I have several life adventures coming up that is going to require a bit of money to be saved (see you soon Seattle, Portland, San Francisco and Las Vegas) , but it seems every time I go into money saving lockdown mode, I immediately just start spending more money like an asshole. This time I decided to fuel a 3 day work-drink-work cycle that I am super not regretting this morning. You see, I work at 6:30am Monday through Friday, and I'm getting old. I'm definitely not a math wizard or numerologist, but I believe that: (late nights)(old age) + Booze/waking up early = weird shits and angry mornings. Feel free to check my work on that, that new common core math is confusing. Needless to say, even after 2 cycles of work-drink-work, I was already drained. But when a human as lovely as Justine has a birthday party show, you suck that shit up and cruise it. Plus I recently rediscovered taking naps in my car during my lunch break. Sweaty sweaty naps.

But its only Thursday!: an adventure in 4 parts

Part 1: Whiskey

I picked up my friends Kenny and Rich and we headed to North Park. We decided to go a little early, because honestly, why the fuck not? The only problem was, we didn't really have an end game plan. But like all the best things, the decision was made last minute on the fly. Rich looked up "bars" on his computer phone, and the closest one was a little place called Tiger Tiger. We decided to do a drive by check out to make sure it would suit our needs, but upon further investigation, the place looked a little out of our price range. Which is the nice way to say it looked fancy as fuck and we poor. So we went with plan B, which was a place called Seven Grand. The selling point was it is a whiskey bar, which pretty much spoke to my soul. Everyone knows parking in North Park is fucking bullshit, so after circling the block, we finally found a prime spot 4 or 5 blocks away in front of an AA meeting place. Oh, the irony (or at the very least Canadian irony). We walk into this whiskey bar, and holy fuck. It was dark, freezing, and the bartenders wore vests and bow ties. But alas, behind the bar, behold! At least 300 different kinds of whiskey! Did I get beaten to death by the police and somehow sneak into heaven? My white skin and lack of stealth abilities says no, this is real life. We all took a seat at the bar, and pondered if this was the meaning of life. Kenny and Rich both got whiskey sours, which somehow came out looking creamy (or frothy?) and fucking delicious. Normally I like to drink whiskey 7's, but in an establishment such as this, you can't drink that piece of shit, so I went with an Old Fashioned. Probably one of my better decisions I have ever made. That was a tasty beverage. We slow sipped our fancy dranks like the piece of shit posers we are, and then it was unfortunatley time to move on.

I should know sir, I've always been here

Part 2: Foooooooooood

We left the place I will probably someday drink myself to death in, and ventured off to find food. Again, we didn't really have a plan except to "walk that way until we see something." Sushi, sushi, vegan sushi, PIZZA! Duh. We wandered into Berkeley pizza and grabbed a couple slices and a beer. Now don't get me wrong, this place was no Luigi's, but it was still pretty damn good. The slices were deep dish style, so while they lacked overall size, they more than made up for it in depth. Which made them dangerous. You look at it like, "oh that slice isn't that big, I could easily pound a whole extra large pizza by myself." That would be a mistake you fat piece of shit. I was hurting after 2 slices. A Peperoni and a Pesto Garlic, both very delicious and very filling. Thank god we had a hike back to the car, because I had to seriously walk it off.

Part 3: X Gunna Give It To You

Around this point we started to grow weary of fancy things and wanted to venture back into our more familiar "seedy" scene. So off to Live Wire we went. I'm not going to lie, I was a little jealous of Kenny and Rich's Whiskey Sour from earlier, so I decided to get one here, make it a double. Well, the thing about that is a fancy whiskey bar will put some time and effort and love into making said drink. A dive bar puts only hatred into it, which amounted to whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiskey and sour mix tossed into a pint glass. Which I personally love, but I'll admit was a little disappointing after seeing how the 1% drink theirs. We met our friend Ly Yen and had some in depth conversations about shitty movie remakes, Punk Rock Bowling, and how DMX, Ja Rule and Mystikal all need to make comebacks, preferably together as one yelling, gruff voiced super group. Also I learned DMX sang Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer once, which is absolutely as ridiculous as it sounds.

 

Part 4: The Show

 Ah, the reason we all went out in the first place. We headed east to the Tower Bar a little later then expected, but shocking! It was OK. The show hadn't even started yet because the guest of honor hadn't yet arrived. Once Justineysomeany arrived, the party started. First up were The Bertos, or the only band I hadn't ever seen play. They consisted of that guy I've seen working at Luigi's on guitar, Ricky the bass player on drums, and Davey Tiltwheel "Mikey Erging" on bass and drunk rambling about ketchup and stuff. They played short fast typical pop punk songs and were super rad. Definitely check them out, they totally made my list of bands to investigate further. Caskitt played next and were awesome as always. They even covered AFI's "Days of the Phoenix". Stoked. Finally Western Settings played and I once again found myself outside. Seriously, what the fuck? Every time. Its becoming a real problem. I righted that wrong, and went back inside to watch them, because they seriously fucking rule. After making the bar sing Justine happy birthday, they finished the night off with "Kicking and Screaming" and everything was right in the world.

Western Settings, now with 25% more Japanese robots!

Epilogue: Don't Let Go, You've Got the Music In You

Fuck, waking up this morning blew. The only thing that got me out of bed was the fact that it was burrito Friday at work. But I mean, in the end its all fucking worth it. I made a decision a while ago that I will not let work dictate my life. I mean, I'll complain about it all day long, but fuck it. You only YOLO once. Am I a worthless piece of shit today? Yeah. Did I write a blog entry when I should have been working? Also, yeah, but its Friday, who gives a shit. And it could always be worse, at least...I'm not fucking dead... nailed it.

 

Pomona and Las Vegas, get your shit together you have Western Settings, Gentlemen Prefer Blood and the almighty DFMK coming your way. Get into it.



Farmers can go suck a lemon

The Shell Corporation - Western Settings - Gentlemen Prefer Blood - Dead Dads (3/7/15 @ Tower Bar, San Diego CA)

Seriously, Daylights saving time can go fuck itself. Yeah great, the sun stays up until 9pm now and I guess I can go play outside or whatever. Why do we do this? I think it has to do with farmers or some shit, but that could totally be one of those things you think is true, but has been a lie your entire life. Like true happiness or you'll catch a cold if you don't bring a jacket. And I mean, do farmers really need an extra hour of daylight when they are just pumping human growth hormones and HPV into all your fruits and meats? Oh, you only eat free range, organically grown tomatoes from a farm of sunshine and happiness and that bullshit Daiya cheese? Good for you, go fuck yourself too. Have fun living a month or 2 longer than me, I'll be over here enjoying my gas station corndogs and carcinogens. What I'm trying to say is this time change fucks with my sleeping schedule, and I absolutely do not have time for that. This is the only nice thing you will EVER hear me say about Arizona, those racist desert turds are smart for skipping this shit. But they can still go kick rocks. Because that's all they got there. Rocks. As far as the eye can see.

But I'm not here to talk shit about Arizona or Father Time. I'm here to talk shit on the "bands" I was "lucky" enough to catch this weekend. Lets get into it.

Friday I was supposed to go up to LA to the Redwood to catch Shell Corp, Bad Cop and the Bombpops, but unfortunately that didn't pan out. By the time everyone who was supposed to go finally met up, it was 9pm, and a 2 hour drive north just didn't seem like it was worth it. Plus, I'm pretty sure I saw this exact same show last August maybe, and all these bands will play again, so it wasn't the worst thing in the world. We opted to get drunk instead. Duh.

Saturday morning I had 2 options. 1) Get up and head down to North Park to catch the singers of Cheap Girls, Hard Girls and Fake Problems play an acoustic show at a brand new record store, or 2) Stay in bed and watch the new Netflix series The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. Please. If you were a fan of 30 Rock, you will probably like UKS. It is written by Tina Fey and was intended to be on NBC, so it has the same look and feel of 30 Rock. The premise is basic, Erin from the Office gets abducted by a cult as a kid, lives in an underground bunker for 15 years, and then gets rescued and has to adapt to life above ground. She moves in with a gay Tracy Jordan and works for Jenna Malone. That's the way it seems at least before it finally feels like its own show about 3 or 4 episodes in. I don't want to spoil anything but the Werewolf bit, The Reverend and who plays him (including solving what the mystery crank does!), and the back story for Mrs. Voorhees are all gold. I highly suggest checking out this show, and giving it a few episodes to warm up.

Around 7pm, it was time for me to leave my cave of shame and head over to Rich's house. Because if you can't tell by now, pizza and beers are a must before a show (Pizza and beers is a must before anything really). I got over to his house in time to catch the tail end of Jared (Sic Waiting, Dead Frets) hyping up Del Taco to Jan (The Shell Corporation) as Jared normally does. Seriously, ask Jared about Del Taco and prepare to discuss it for hours. He was also really excited about these miracle brain pills that make you concentrate or whatever. "And who doesn't want to be Bradley Cooper?" I tuned it out. Eventually we got our shit together and headed down to Luigi's and got our pizza party on.

Dead Dads

These guys and gal are a band from up in Sacramenty. I feel like I'm always kind of repeating myself, but I have heard good things. They totally didn't disappoint. Kind of bummed I got there about half way through their set and only caught the tail end, but what I did hear made me download their old album this morning and I'm probably defiantly going to pick up their new album that just came out last month soon. It's fucking called Space Camp. How could I not? These guys totally made my check out the next time you have a chance for sure list. Because that's a thing.

Gentlemen Prefer Blood

I have this band on my iPod and I know I have seen them before, but for some reason I always thought they were a different band. I think I made up a band in my head that's part Dudes Night and part Horror Squad. No Idea why. Anywho, the real GPB, they were pretty good.

SURPRISE!

Caskitt played a short surprise set. 5 songs and the Friends theme cover. I am a little bummed because Matt said they covered an AFI song the night before at VLHS, but they didn't end up playing it this night. Dumb, but I guess I'll survive. Go preorder their new album, This Machine Kills Sadness. Shits tight. Midwest Summer Nights is the jam.

Western Set

 

Yes It Is

 

You're welcome

The Shell Corporation

I am a newer Shell Corporation fan. I think the first time I heard them was in the middle of last year and they blew me away. Since then, I have refused to not see them play when they are near (except, you know, Friday night). This night was the most fun I have had seeing them so far. At this point in the night, I had been drinking just enough to accept Jared when he grabbed me and to scream along to every word. Seriously, if The Shell Corporation is in your town, go see them. They are crazy good live.

The Jerk

 

 

All in all, a pretty decent night. Good bands. Good friends. Good pizza. Good beer. The four horsemen of a good time. Herding drunk Jared home was also fun. The best was Rich luring him out of his car with promises of Sour Patch Kids. White people, am I right?!?

 

Get out and support your local music scene you piece of shit.