April 7th, 2008

screenwriter, Kightlinger, hate

HOBs 103.1 FM simulcast of heavy metal

It’s Sunday, April 6. I have to work early the next morning. I get an early start because I don’t know what accommodations might be available for dinner at the HOB. It’s seems there’s always something new to learn each visit that is made to either a concert, a dinner, a souvenir, etc. at the House of Blues, but I walk up to the will call window and pick up my ticket without any problem. Odd that the eccentricities surrounding my world doesn’t provoke some sort of technicality, but I’m well prepared if you don’t count the camera I forgot to bring (I still don’t know where the HOB stands on taking pictures). The decision was made early on not to worry about cameras. I was going to enjoy this concert without a care. Last week’s tabloid à la sucky font had an ad announcing a new HEAVY METAL show on Indie 103.1 FM, and before I get into the review of the concert, I just want to go as saying that it’s about time. My satellite TV had a short lived music station which disappeared when XFM took control of the music channels and there hasn’t been a reliable radio station on the free airwaves since KNAC.

With that, I’m not ashamed to say that I got bored early on and sat thru the movie Three Kings instead. But I did catch the last fifteen minutes of Jackie signing off and she plugged her live broadcast of Full Metal Jackie to take place at the HOB the following week. That’s when it dawned on me there was another fun concert I was about to miss if I didn’t start making plans to buy a ticket.

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Back to the CU LaTour. I didn’t see anything other than the station van. I didn’t hear any mention of their presence during the show either, but I did see a cute brunette photographer with her fanny pack filled with multiple lenses and handling a variety of cameras. Such dedication. I almost wished I had her VIP wrist band so I could get close enough to listen to the music. Yes, it was that good.

I go into why I thought I related so well with the songs, though I don’t know any of the lyrics to them. What I mean is, I know it’s not always about me, though people who’ve met me seem to think that I think that I’m the only one who’s ever suffered a broken heart, a tragic story, to warrant sympathy, or at the very least a fuck.

My fuckability looks bleak at this point.
I took a picture, but it isn’t very clear. I was standing on the second floor on the side near where the Star of David was plastered on the wall for show of diversity at the HOB. The first performer was HEMLOCK, a greatful bunch of headbangers who literally let their front man knock himself upside the head with closed fist. They have that HEAVY METAL sound, and yet I recall hearing the singer say that he wanted to play a variety of genres. That is something I thought to be very considerate seeing it’s hard enough to categorize HEAVY METAL from all the other variations of METAL. From my stand point, all I could remember seeing was the cramped quarters this band had for space on stage. I could peer into the dressing room entrance to the stage and wondered what the conditions were for bands playing at the HOB. Just as each band ended their set and collected their things, more and more stage presence was made available for subsequent bands just as, I imagine, too there may be different levels of luxuries in backstage dressing rooms.

MESHUGGAH had problems from the start. I don’t know anything about sound technology, but they weren’t at all happy about their set up. After the first song, they were frozen for a few minutes trying to correct the problem. It was my opportunity to scope out the floor at my vantage point. Marvelous characters. My mind wandered and took me to a place like Cheers, a place people go where everybody knows your name. Of course, a mosh pit is always dominated by dudes, but there were a few good looking chicks there tonight. Popular band, this MINISTRY. How small women can stand it, being so short that nothing can be seen besides the backs of tall people’s heads, I dunno, but nearing the main event, I did spot somebody interesting (besides the photographer).

It was appealing to me to get down closer and start throwing my weight around in the mosh pit. It looked fun. What can I say? I don’t take pleasure, or satisfaction in releasing anger, at dancing the way the hard core metal heads rampage around. Of course, I’ve never tried it, so maybe I’m missing out on yet another fun thing, but aside from checking out the press, I was taken by the moves the gal with the Honey Huan haircut in matte black was dancing.


I wondered if HOB only allowed peeps with cameras into the show under the condition that they don’t use flash, but when one of the cameramen started taking shots with flash, all those VIP photographers got into the action. Imagine what is going thru my head when MINISTRY comes on and they’ve got this cool set up of flood lights acting like strobes, but they’re pointed directly at the eyes of the audience. I can’t see shit, that’s what. And the photographers are pretty much screwed too because the band doesn’t let up with their light show. Five minutes pass into the first few songs and the photographers disintegrate. The only thing missing was for them to scream “FUCK THIS!” with a middle finger pointed directly at Al Jourgensen. He came out hovered like a hunchback, or seemingly weighted by the sinister trench coat on his back, and one of the first songs contains lyrics I understood to be “You are going blind”.


I wasn’t drunk enough to be seeing double, but there were actually two women sporting the Honey Huan look. The taller of the two had fair skin that radiated in the dark as she bust a move to the rhythm of the industrial metal spewed by MINISTRY. I can’t even describe it. I would never be able to duplicate it, and why should I? Dudes just pick fights with one another, and chuck it off as brotherly love before their it escalates to proportions of no return. I don’t listen to the songs that way. I’m sorry. Though I’m lacking of what the hell a song is about, I like the anger behind the sound and the gullibleness of not knowing if I’m listening to real METAL or Christian Metal. I saw who these Honeys were hanging out with and it was a scene to remember on the protocol of taking a girl to a METAL concert. “We’ll meet at the end and hopefully we’re both still alive.”

I’ll always remember the music MINISTRY plays in this vogue. I’ve never seen a woman dance to metal and I personally don’t think it’s fitting for them to throw themselves around in the mosh pit. That’s just asking for being groped. Maybe it’s my attraction to club girls and their ability to dance whether on my lap or a pole that appeals to my appetite for getting what I can’t have. You’ve heard that METAL and Goth don’t mix, imagine what a couple as diverse as METAL and Techno might produce.