Monday, June 28, 2004
I really enjoy dead stops in songs. I really enjoy the song 'dead stop' by Negative Approach. I really enjoyed the fact that Buried Inside didn't have any 'clicking in' in their songs.
The show at Gerry's on Friday was amazing. I was incredibly exhausted from the night before. Morgan, a very drunk Gerry, and a reasonably intoxicated me went to the Casino after the show at the Attic. Gerry got harassed by a disgruntled blackjack player, peed on the floor of the classy casino needle depository...er bathroom, and generally was his usual entertaining self. I mainly just pooped and peed a lot as I consumed nothing but penny candy, beer, and soda for 24 hours straight. That's usually what happens to me when I near the end of my paycheque.
I questionned my stamina and judgement before heading to the Hunter Street house on Friday night. I didn't think I'd be able to handle a crowded house show with a very loud band after only 3 hours sleep and a full day's worth of work. Work has been especially stupid lately. A co-worker asked me, earlier in the week, if I ever thought we were working with/for 'special' people, faced with the sheer incompetence of the last week, I have decided that the answer to her question is indeed a yes. I suppose that makes me a retardist. [I'll probably regret writing that so that makes me a retardist with a conscience].
Being that it was Gerry's birthday, being that it was the first Buried Inside show in the city that I would be present for, and being that I hadn't seen Morgan in two years, I figured I'd be an idiot not to go.
I'm not good at show reviews, I never have been and I doubt I ever will be. So excuse the poor writing to follow.
Buried Inside set up in Gerry's breadbox of a living room and took up approximately 60% of the space. It wasn't a pretty sight. Paul handed me some toilet paper for my ears as we made our way to the living room. Kids were packed in about 5 deep with a large number standing on desks, chairs, tv stands, and holding desperately on to light fixtures and fireplaces. I promptly made earplugs out of my scraps of toilet paper.
What was to follow was easily the loudest and most amazing house/basement show I think I have ever seen.
If I wasn't exhausted before the show, I was definitely exhausted afterwards. I left Gerry's (before This Message Will Self Destruct and the Literati played)and ended up at the Oxford Theatre to see 'Winged Migration' at midnight. I watched about 15-20 minutes of the movie before shutting my eyes and soundly sleeping until we were the last ones in the theatre.
The show at Gerry's on Friday was amazing. I was incredibly exhausted from the night before. Morgan, a very drunk Gerry, and a reasonably intoxicated me went to the Casino after the show at the Attic. Gerry got harassed by a disgruntled blackjack player, peed on the floor of the classy casino needle depository...er bathroom, and generally was his usual entertaining self. I mainly just pooped and peed a lot as I consumed nothing but penny candy, beer, and soda for 24 hours straight. That's usually what happens to me when I near the end of my paycheque.
I questionned my stamina and judgement before heading to the Hunter Street house on Friday night. I didn't think I'd be able to handle a crowded house show with a very loud band after only 3 hours sleep and a full day's worth of work. Work has been especially stupid lately. A co-worker asked me, earlier in the week, if I ever thought we were working with/for 'special' people, faced with the sheer incompetence of the last week, I have decided that the answer to her question is indeed a yes. I suppose that makes me a retardist. [I'll probably regret writing that so that makes me a retardist with a conscience].
Being that it was Gerry's birthday, being that it was the first Buried Inside show in the city that I would be present for, and being that I hadn't seen Morgan in two years, I figured I'd be an idiot not to go.
I'm not good at show reviews, I never have been and I doubt I ever will be. So excuse the poor writing to follow.
Buried Inside set up in Gerry's breadbox of a living room and took up approximately 60% of the space. It wasn't a pretty sight. Paul handed me some toilet paper for my ears as we made our way to the living room. Kids were packed in about 5 deep with a large number standing on desks, chairs, tv stands, and holding desperately on to light fixtures and fireplaces. I promptly made earplugs out of my scraps of toilet paper.
What was to follow was easily the loudest and most amazing house/basement show I think I have ever seen.
If I wasn't exhausted before the show, I was definitely exhausted afterwards. I left Gerry's (before This Message Will Self Destruct and the Literati played)and ended up at the Oxford Theatre to see 'Winged Migration' at midnight. I watched about 15-20 minutes of the movie before shutting my eyes and soundly sleeping until we were the last ones in the theatre.
# posted by Die Brucke @ 4:06 PM 
