BLAKE ESTATES PIZZA PARTY / THE PITY WHORES / JENN & RYANN / SMILIN’ DAVE / RED LINE REBELS / OPPOSITION RISING
Midway Cafe, Jamaica Plain, MA 12/11
So I’m helping my mother change the eight year old birthday card for her boyfriends eighty ninth birthday. It says “Happy 8” followed by an explanation mark and I have to make, using a pen, the explanation mark into a nine. I gave her this idea. I’m dropping her off at his apartment complex for a pizza party, as I’m headed off for a Saturday afternoon punk matinee show at the Midway and will swing back to pick her up at eight.
I park behind the Midway and as I’m coming out of the parking lot I notice some homeless people drinking in the cold, dreary afternoon. I’m telling myself, “Don’t make eye contact,” when I hear, “Hey, Slimedog.” It seems I’m mistaken and it’s the Red Line Rebels and some of their friends drinking outside. I tell them, “You got the wrong place, the club’s inside.” They wisely point out that, the drinking is free here or at least cheaper.
I head inside with them and immediately start yelling at Jenn, the door lady and promoter of the show. “I’m on the guest list, Jay (singer of the Red Line Rebels) put me on it.” She is politely explaining to me that it’s a free show with no cover but I am still obnoxiously insisting that I’m on the list. “It’s the thought that counts,” I yell. I’m drinking coffee as I have never tasted alcohol and she admonishes me for not bringing her a hot chocolate. (I make a mental note to bring her one next time).
So, it seems a couple of bands have dropped off the bill and we just have to mill about. Smilin’ Dave, the trusty longtime barkeep of the Midway, saunters over and calmly starts telling Jenn and I his tale of driving his car, earlier today, into the restaurant next door to the club. It seems it just happened three hours ago as a kamikaze driver veered off, twice, from the other side of the road causing Dave to head onto the sidewalk knocking out a mailbox and crashing into the restaurant. I might’ve had to take up drinking after that experience but he just bravely mans the PBR’s and Narragansettes.
I am greeted by Ian of Brass N Ammo (a really neat Rhode Island and Boston promotions company) who I fail to recognize at first cause he’s not wearing a hat! But it is only our second meeting. And it’s my second viewing of The Pity Whores, a band first raved to me by Andy. I don’t think I even caught a full set by them before but I do today and I am duly impressed. They proceed to kick all kinds of ass amidst the slammin’ punks and end with a great version of a G.G. Allin song, “Bite It, You Scum.”
But enough of this music stuff. So I’m hanging with Jenn and Ryann, the later is the second time I’ve met her and is one of the cutest girls on Thrash N Bang. So there’s this stamp thing, you know, with the old fashioned ink pad. But there’s no use for it today because it’s a free show. Now, I’m standing up behind seated Jenn and Ryann is in front of her and we’re all looking toward the stage and the Pity Whores. I take the stamp and I’m trying to put it on the unaware Ryann while Jenn is valiantly holding back my arm. Finally, Ryann notices and lets me put a “temporary tattoo” on her shoulder and I do likewise to mine. And all is good in the hood.
All right, sorry, back to the music. Red Line Rebels are next and Jay is sporting his new self-created hairstyle. He’s shaved his head today and had a few mishaps; he looks like Charles Manson now in one of Charles trend setting fashion styles. In good news it seems they’ve got a drummer for keeps who does an excellent job. I gotta say the Red Line Rebels are one of the few bands that capture the spirit of the original punk bands. The have a real lackadaisical, anarchical, maniacal approach to things. In between songs usually finds them with the guitar player playing a circus lick while the singer begs for beer and the bass player is chuckling to himself about the proceedings while the drummer is questioning what has he got himself into? My favorite song by them starts with the guitar player playing a kind of fifties/samba lick until they bulldozer it all away. Why bands like this aren’t on American Idol, I’ll never know.
Opposition Rising are next and it’s my first time seeing them. I only catch a few songs but they seem like a serious, politically minded band and musically they couldn’t be any tighter or deliver a stronger performance. I really do look forward to seeing them again.
But, alas, I must retrieve my mama from her festivities lest she get too impatient in her waiting. I pick her up soon and then rendezvous with Andy for our evening escapades. I guess they had a singing group at the pizza party. “I heard that someone crashed into the restaurant next to the Midway today,” she tells me. “Yes, it was the bartender at the Midway,” I explain.
Well, news passes fast like wind out of an anus. I have no seconds to spare, or moments to despair, as life is short and it would seem we’ve all got the short end of it, in the long run. Farewell until next time, keep pizza partyin’.
(Jim Slimedog)
