11
Jan

Saturday night at Three Clubs. My friends and I were hungry like the wolf, in need of our eighties fix, ready to dance to the beat of the rhythm of the night. So imagine our surprise when instead we’re told there would be a band playing that evening. A metal band. A metal band that would be taking over our dance floor. We were crushed, but decided to stick around anyway, hopeful it would all be over soon so we could proceed to get into the groove.

First song of the night? (Warning: Earmuff the kiddies if you’re reading this out loud.) It was called “Motherfucker.” That might give you a little insight as to how the rest of the set went. Granted, I couldn’t really understand anything they were singing – I’m now at the age where it all just sounds like cats in heat to me. However, I somehow found myself becoming increasingly drawn to this strange mix of musicians as the night wore on…

The guitarist was definitely the “rock star” of the group. He was a wee lad, maybe 5’4”, but he more than made up for it in entertainment value. He donned a faded green metal helmet circa WWI and stood on this fabulous light box the entire time. (Smart move on his part, since no one could have seen him otherwise.) Even better? He would periodically take sips from his Bud Light and then spray the audience standing in front of him.

The lead singer was almost as classy. He was in his mid-forties with tatted up arms, black leather vest and the requisite hair halfway down his back. Thing is, though, he kept having to pull up his pants – kind of negates the whole “sexy rocker” illusion when you aren’t wearing jeans that actually fit you. He did it so frequently that I started a little game with myself and kept count – his record was five pull-ups during just one song.

Somewhat amusing was the drummer who dramatically took his shirt off at one point in the night. I’m guessing he thought this would be considered sexy. He thought wrong. You know what’s not sexy? A super-skinny guy with a beer belly. Seriously. To see gut jutting out just mere inches below rib cage jutting out is a little disturbing. Call me crazy, but I’ll take a three-hundred pound dude with a belly any day of the week over some guy who barely tips the scale at one-fifty yet somehow has grown Santa’s gut.

As fun to watch as the band? Their audience. Granted, my friends and I were among them, but we all thought our night would be devoted to showing off our sweet moves and hearing multiple refrains of “I love this song!” This band actually had fans, though, and I’ll be damned if they weren’t totally committed to these guys.

There was this one dude in a trench coat. Just one word comes to mind when trying to describe him, and that word is “heebie-jeebies.” Who the hell wears a trench coat to a club? Even creepier was that he was taping them the entire time. Even creepier was that he had his other hand in his pocket the entire time… Must’ve been a really big fan.

Then there was some dude who would get justalittletooclose to the band members as they performed. He would lean into each of the musicians as they played, eyes closed, head banging in utter bliss. There were a few times when I excitedly thought he was about to lose his balance and take out one of the rockers, but it never happened, dammit. That would have been awesome. The only thing that truly bothered me about this guy, though? The worst posture I have ever seen in my entire life. He was like one of those little old ladies you see in the grocery store who are so hunched over that you’re in pain just looking at them.

But my absolute FAVORITE was the fan channeling Nigel from This Is Spinal Tap. He had it all – the mullet, the leather jacket, the skinny black pants… I swear he was even chewing gum like Nigel. OMG, I wanted so badly to make him do the “these go to eleven” bit just once, but I refrained. He actually was the most subdued of the fans. He just stood there, beer in hand, smiling and gently tapping his foot to the music. Just toe tapping to metal.

I can’t say I was disappointed by the turn of events. This band was definitely entertaining. Their set finally did end, and though legitimately saddened by their departure, my mood soon turned to panic when I heard that yet another band would be taking the stage shortly. That’s when my friends finally said, “Let’s get the hell out of here and go to Beauty Bar,” where we proceeded to get footloose. All in all, a perfect night.

Image: Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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3 Responses to “Rock The Casbah”

haha. Wow I almost feel embarrased for them.

January 12th, 2010

Lol Anna this was hilarious!! I felt like I was right there with ya! Xo

Carla
January 12th, 2010

ha ha! helmet guy was the best! motherfucker!!!

Jacquelyn
January 26th, 2010