Review Of These Two Bands I Saw A Few Saturdays AgoSubmitted by ryandonovan at 2004-03-26 11:26:44 EST
Rating: 1.92 on 21 ratings (21 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
REVIEW OF THESE TWO BANDS I SAW A FEW SATURDAYS AGO
The Double Door is a legendary club venue for music in Chicago. Bands like The Rolling Stones and Smashing Pumpkins have performed there when playing pretentious “intimate warm-up” shows. I went there with a buddy to listen to his friend’s band. For the life of me, I can’t remember the name of the band. Something French. But that doesn’t really matter. So, my buddy, my girlfriend, and I met two other friends and headed to the Double Door.
If you know anything about the Chicago music scene, you know where the Double Door is.
If you know anything about the Chicago music scene, you know where the entrance is, once you find the Double Door.
In a heinous case of false advertising, the Double Door has in fact only one door. At least, only one door that you can use. So we went to the wrong entrance. The intimidating bouncer greeted us with a jutted jaw and an unwelcoming goatee (although he couldn’t have been too tough, because he was wearing earplugs). “Are you with the band?” he grunted. (A tip for all you youngsters out there: the answer to this question should always be “Yes”.) “No.” “Entrance is on the other side, rookie.”
I was immediately disappointed when only one of the bartenders was wearing a trucker hat. The crowd of discerning music aficionados uniformly wore solid-colored t-shirts over long-sleeve white t-shirts and no coats, despite the 30-degree temperature outside. One patron’s t-shirt bore a Stone Temple Pilots logo, which was about two Scott-Weiland-jail-stints too old to be relevant. Worn certainly for the weather and not the style, there was also an overabundance of wool hats. I nearly shrieked with embarrassment and ran home when I realized I had accidentally worn New Balance running shoes instead of my square-toed black lace-ups or my dad’s old army boots. The women in the bar all looked like the Suicide Girls… except they were all decidedly overweight and hideous. So, I suppose aside from the tattoos and punky haircuts, they looked nothing like the Suicide Girls.
Before the set started, my buddy introduced me to a guy that he worked with. I tried to engage the co-worker in some small talk:
Me: “Do you know where the band’s name comes from?”
He: “Well, the literal translation from French is ‘good word.’”
Me: “Great, so are they some kind of crappy God Rockers?”
He: “No, the term came into use in America in the 20s and 30s as slang; it was a popular way of saying ‘I’m having a good time.’”
Me: “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. How do you know all this?”
He: “I’m the bassist.”
Me: “Oh. Rock ‘n’ roll, dude.”
The band, including the bassist that hated me, got up and played their set. They played a variety of mellow/upbeat songs that compared closest to Elvis Costello. Since I don’t remember their name, I’ll call them Mellow Upbeat Songs Comparing Closest To Elvis Costello. They weren’t bad, but unfortunately the thing I remember most about MUSCCTEC was the witty on-stage banter that almost nobody could hear, consisting of things like “Welcome to the rock club – and we’re all members, if you know what I mean.”
After the set, I sauntered up to the bar for a drink. I motioned to the requisite lithe blonde bartender in a belly shirt and tight jeans with a bottle opener sticking out of her back pocket. Instead of being the typical bar hooch who used the dim lighting to look 25 years old instead of 33, she looked 33 instead of 25 (you can tell by the hands). When she ignored me, I asked Trucker Hat for a drink. After trying to order a Captain and Coke, and having Trucker Hat conceitedly tell me that they only served Busch products – which included neither Captain Morgan nor Coca-Cola, he added – I sipped a can of Busch beer. Looking around, I noticed that MUSCCETC had left free tickets for their next gig and CDs on the bar, and nobody had taken them… I took that as a bad sign.
The crowd erupted like a dripping faucet when the second band, Noisier Than First Band Sounding Something Like Lit But With Way Too Much Feedback To Be Considered Quality, took the stage. I knew we were in for a treat when NTFBSSLLBWWTMFTBCQ’s lead singer was already drenched in sweat before the set began. He sported a Rob Thomas mop and a vertical-striped shirt, and might have been wearing an ascot; I can’t be positive. He must have forgotten his button-down short-sleeve shirt with the dragon-head print (the same design as on the back of my domino set) at home. The bass guitarist wore a tie, glasses, a pull-over v-neck sweater, and a really, really large collar. The NTFBSSLLBWWTMFTBCQ drummer had an overly-tight white t-shirt and a crew cut with an “accidental” divot cut into the side, letting the crowd know that he had rock ‘n’ roll coursing through his veins. I was extremely disappointed that not one of them had a forward-brushed mohawk. As for the music, it was okay.
So I guess this wasn’t much of a music review. Sorry. In case you feel cheated, I will leave you with two interesting tidbits that I learned that night:
1. My girlfriend, who works in the dental center of a hospital, off-handedly mentioned that a patient from the psych ward called her office that day claiming that he was being raped by Jesse Jackson.
2. Apparently sodomy is all the rage in high schools right now. Guys successfully talk girls into anal based on the rationale that “it is not technically sex.” Genius. Don’t ask how I know that.
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Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-05-29 22:52:08 EDT (#)