I ain't gonna sit here and type for too long, 'cause there are rakes to be leaved and shining to sun and a kitty cat to cuddle on this smiley hungover Saturday. But I did want to note that
The Live Ones played a great damn show last night at Trash (home o' the free tater tots -- though I didn't see any floatin' around the bar last night, just a couple nasty old hot dogs circling endlessly on a heated carousel).
I mean they played great. Everybody was on. Mike was in fine form, spewing his curious brand of rock 'n' roll preacher wisdom and the occasional incoherent rant. Oh, and his drummin' weren't too bad neither. If Mike's sweatin' you know something good's going down.
Jon played a mean guitar, and his vocals sounded better than usual, too. As for Brett, he's bringing a cool old Sabbathy sound to the band I really dig. He seems to be a good fit to play with those guys. Hope he doesn't spontaneously combust like the rest of their bassists....
I do have to get used to the fact that they're playing some of the songs in a lower key, so they sound a little different from what I'm used to hearing. Other than that, I'm digging the evolution.
They played with
The Brought Low. Awesome. Great players, super loud. Went down real good with Irish whiskey in a plastic cup. Nice. Picked up their records. Cool, but as Neil Young once
wrote, "Live music is better bumper stickers should be issued."
OK, now I'm sick of sitting at this damn computer, so no more. Time to rake the leaves.
Oops, almost forgot. The Mudhoney show last week was kick ass -- good and dirgy. Too many douche bags in the crowd, though: a bunch of college kids trying to capture the 90s rock experience they missed 'cause they were like 7 years old and too busy playin' nintendo and watchin' Saved by the Bell or some shit.
I'm gonna sound like a lame girl right about now, but dammit, I still gotta thing for that Mark Arm. Pretty boys ain't allowed on my list, baby.
Labels: douche bags, live music, mark arm, mudhoney, the brought low, The Live Ones
