“Maybe, I am a killer! Why should you
care? All you do is sit around here, fuck my mother, and eat her food.”
In a small town much similar to the one portrayed in ‘The River’s Edge’ comes to you a carnival of rebellious, out-out control, gravel road redneck bands, most likely products of poor parenting. This small town stoner sanctuary provides troubled visionaries a place to gather, disperse, and come back next year to check on the buried bodies. Huddled throughout the parking lots were loads of stoners while a gray cloud of marijuana smoke hovered. To recap the band lineup at this point may require brain cells, so bare with me. I jolted inside to make sure that Blythe, who drove up from KY, was unscathed. Party Dream were prancing half naked on stage and again, damn lucky in an audience full of burly murder junkies that they weren‘t assaulted, shot and raped. Luckily, I found this nineteen year old in the nick of time, and at the end of the beer line. Shortly after everything became a drunken blurred haze. Everything and one was withered, dark and gray. We made it back to The Tally Hotel with splatter walls of bloodstains. During my black outs and murder sprees I made a point to miss many bands I’ve already seen. What I will do is sum up the ones I haven’t seen. Scissorfight are a loaded .22 gauge aimed straight down your teeth. Dancing with suicide isn’t nearly as grim as it seems. Following all their loudmouth bellowing, these weren’t tears rolling down my cheeks, but visions are said to be had during great peaks of heat. Acid Ape were a fine three piece of Swedish meat I would have been sure to freeze. In order for them to even tour the states they brought with them shoes and two guitars with case. Less mess for me to clean. Mastadon I missed in TX earlier on this year thanks to the Fire Marshall’s limits of capacity. Nyabinghi’s with their sold out gates, again was difficult to see. Atomic Bitchwax were the prime suspects taking head lining stage. Dashing through the bar and streets, I might have been spotted frisking Party Dreams’ groupies over by the abandoned hurst. If I remember correctly someone does have pictures, but not me. I never keep incriminating evidence on me. Booze after booze after booze after wine, I finally found time to sleep, but not really. This may sound crazy, but booze have a chemical imbalance on me. I found it to be more like liquid cocaine than the depressant it‘s pended to be. Back to flicking cigarette butts in Youngstown, Ohio where I’m no stranger to the forest rangers. Report just in: Sons Of Otis were involved in the likes of an automobile accident, resulting with Lo Freq in from Missouri on the bill giving all rock chicks a reason worry. Stinking Lizaveta, I’m not sure what it means, but this handy twosome brew their own goddamn instruments out of steel and strings. Acid King have been at it more than almost any of these bands, and will most likely still be standing in the end. Lori’s boots were made for strutting, and that’s just what she’ll do. One day Acid King’s hammering venom blister’s will burst all over you. What appeared to me as Wino’s new band, The Hidden Hand, is accompanied by some Star Trek geek, but don’t underestimate this whiskey swiveling, string shredder on any of his backup bands. And there you have it. The ear drum damage was done. Emissions From the Monolith V was tons of pun!
~Spring