Well that was unexpected. Hedfux at HiGate

I was under the impression that last Friday was just gonna be a party, but hey, the added benefit of live music is fine too. I am now obligated to write about it due to my predilection for upholding journalistic integrity. By the way, I’m a journalist. Internetically.

Andrew Fuckin’ Lowrey

Fuck you, he has no pictures of just him because he’s kvlt.

Mister Lowry is what I will call Acoustic Punk Rawk for lack of a better word… or phrase. He plays an acoustic guitar(obv), and his lyrics are humorous. Humerus. His style would almost have you believe he just strolled in without having lyrics thought up ahead of time, but rest assured, there’s something meticulously calculated about his flow and rhymes. And speaking of rhythm, how ’bout all the hip-hop homages and what essentially became an open-mic rap battle? Hot damn, I haven’t felt this white since I tried to sound Black that one time.

Fort! The Band

You enjoying the show, lil' lady? How bout some dick?

Andrew F-Word Lowry’s acoustic grindcore performance was simply a warm-up for his Ska/Reggae/Punk band that sounds a bit like Leftover Crack but less “Fuck the world and everybody in it” and more “Hanging out with your friends is awesome.” Got some good skankin’ action in too, as you must skank to any ska band that has a live trombonist. The difference between Fort! and other ska bands is their refusal to wear 3-piece suits, and opt instead for whatever the hell they want, which is great, because tweed does not breathe, I tell ya. Their guitarist had a kickarse Darkthrone – Transylvanian Hunger shirt, which I made sure to eye hungrily whenever he looked my way for maximum creepage. And you know a show is good when you fall on a couch several times due to rowdy pushpits. I hereby decree more venues should have couches.

Hedfux

I’m really settling here.

Alrighty, so that was a fucked up image search, I tell ya. As much as I hate resorting to Myspace for these, my need to sexually satisfy the reader comes before my pride.

Not much to say about the band, aside from their sound being aggressive as fuck Hardcore with some dirty sludge sections. The crowd seemed to love it, as there was enough movement to get a load of clothes done. It was so chaotic that I was having a hard time keeping track of who was in the band. A tall blonde guy with either fucked up dreads or a sheet of noodles attached to his head seemed to be on vocals at times, but then again he could’ve just been going for audience participation points. The real vocalist had his back turned to the crowd and thus looked like part of the crowd, and about halfway into the set I found out they have two guitarists, as one was standing off in the corner doin’ his thang. It was weird, but I liked it, kinda like being tied up.

And there ya have it. I’m getting worse at these as we go along.

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Disrespect The Space: DIY Punk show at The Midway Café

This happened last Sunday, and I’m just now writing about it on less than 5 hours of sleep. But that’s what happens when you camp in a metropolitan area with no pillows or blankets. You get no sleep. Let’s move this along.

The Ear Bleeds

Side Effects May Include Red Staining On The Sides Of Your Face And Looking Like Stu From Rugrats

Just seeing the liberty spikes and toothbrushhawk of the vocalist/guitarist and bassist respectively might give you a bad first impression, but they’re actually pretty catchy. As in you hear the song once and the main riff is stuck in your head for 4 days. They only have four songs, so getting into them isn’t difficult if you’re into Punk Rawk that sounds like it was made in the 80s, sandpaper throated kid vocals and all. Grab free pins and a patch for kvlt cred.

Ancient Filth

Good Samaritans make the hahdcoah scene go round.

The above picture is not a flash-in-the-pan moment where the vocalist stumbles once, and a lucky photographer happened to capture it. Having seen Ancient Filth twice(once being in a basement whose ceiling is now wrecked thanks to them), it’s clear now that the vocalist is into it. REALLY into it. So into it, he seems to lose control of his ability to stand up and not look like he’s having a seizure. Despite all this, he manages to get every yell into a peculiarly held microphone, which is danksauce, because incoherent yelling is what Hardcore Punk is about. And I’m not sure if he did this in the aforementioned basement show, but he showed up funky as he wanted to be, with a shirt sporting painted on stentences, the grammar of which would make Noam Chomsky have night terrors. ‘Twas a good set, full of ferocious tempos, lots of yelling, and some atmospheric stench.

Toxic NarcOpposition Rising

Obviously not political.

Opposition Rising is parts Toxic Narcotic and parts Reggae/Ska. Imagine LöC but with yells instead of rasps, and a more straightforward approach in the Hardcore vein. Tempos damn impossible to throw down to(circle pit advised), and songs so catchy you could hum the main riffs for days, the best of which being Debt Sentence and Pink Slip Murder-Suicide. Ah yes, happy pro-capitalist tunes for the whole family!

In Defence

How’re you supposed to eat tacos through a slit that thin?

There was not nearly enough energy in this set. CALL MORE FUCKIN’ DUDES.  There’s no excuse for people to be not moving to Don’t Be A Moshist. Blame the shite Midway for being a venue that doesn’t look very circle friendly. Doing a run around the block would’ve been good, y’know. Aside from the critical failure to communicate that circlepits create energy that should be harnessed to solve the world’s energy crisis, it was an entertaining set still, maintaining a light air even when the songs were about corporate corruption and police asshattery. A crowd like that of the Wednesday before would have made this show taste even better, for certain.

And now for an additional bit of badly written information: In Defence was badass enough to show up for the Occupy Boston protests before heading down to Rhode Island to continue their tour. The vocalist of Ancient Filth was also there(significantly less funky), and several people from bands and labels in New England have reportedly been showing up in droves to say their piece. It’s refreshing to see people who write songs about the government sucking going out to say it in the streets. And with that, I awkwardly send you off. Hello!

Allston, I fucking hate you. Acaro at the Great Scott

You anger me, you and your silently agreed upon “Let’s Not Mosh When It’s Appropriate” policy that comes into effect at some of the worst times. I can barely bring myself to write about this show. And the opener was balls.

Swarm Of Eyes

This picture is fucked.

Words cannot enter how mediocre this band is. Bless their little hearts for their efforts, and this was their first live, so they’ll naturally not be the bestest band ever, but c’mon… The vocalist was spazmodical, going from the Metalcore vocalist stance with an arm behind his back, to a Corpsegrinder wide stance, getting down on one knee looking like he was preparing to be knighted, sprinking fairy dust at the crowd, and that whisper of “... I am not alone!” that could very well have been lifted from a Sonata Arctica joint. And he introduced. The whole. Goddamn. Band. NOBODY EVEN KNOWS YOU! Aside from the small legion of “fans” who are probably just friends of the band, wearing their merch, which looks like it was made in Cafepress by someone who thinks skulls and devil faces are scary. To say nothing of the Korn riffs(which the vocalist said later that he thought they avoided…), the burping “growled” vocals from the bassist(who looks like a mix of Charlie Sheen and Ben Stiller), the attempts at Wah pedal solos that sounded like a tortured animal, or the absolutely boring rhythm sections… Never had it been so obvious that the solos were just placeholders so the vocalist could catch his breath.

Despite railing these guys hard, it’s obvious that they’re passionate about what they do, and I can respect that, but I don’t think anyone but their “fans” enjoyed it. Last but for goddamn fucken sure not least.

They had… Their own… Banner.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Your Metalcore Name Pain Is Endearing

Ugh.

Death Ray Vision

When it’s overcast, no shadows fall.

So Brian Fair’s newest expedition isn’t as fun as Overcast or Shadows Fall, but it’s still fun, y’know? It’s a bit more on the Hard Rockin’ side of Hardcore, bringing a bit of speed and aggression in the form of the occasional breakdown and circlepitty bits. No movement because Allston’s full of fucks.

Acaro

None So Bald

So uh… they played Throne Of Blood and no one died. I have nothing more to say.

Too Cool To Leave School: Thou at the School Of The Museum Of The War Of The Death Of The Strike Of The Sword Of The Blood Of Fine Arts

So yeah, it happened, and it was awesome. I was expecting seating in an auditorium, similar to Berklee, but nope, just a little floor space with a spiral staircase to the left, and breakable looking glass to the right. Luckily, no one got put through the stairs or fell down the windows.

SKVLT

Blaaaaaagh

Not much to say, but damn they sounded angry. Powerviolence on… heroin? Speed? Whatever. Not much occurred, but the vocals had a powerful echo to them, which made it feel 15 degrees colder.

The Proselyte

Maximum the Hormone audition tape

In a similar fashion to the noun upon which their name is based, some may not dig their Sludgy grooves, likening them to Bison B.C. sans the good, but they grow on you like a rapidly developing slime mold, and you feel compelled to air bass and headbang slowly. Helped that the songs near the end of their set pulled out a little bit more melody, making it less of a twangfest and more an event of clouds opening to reveal sunlight. They’re also quite hairy!

In Defence

...Fuck this shit!

Let’s circle pit!

AROUND THE FUCKING CENTRAL STAIRS! A-PRUS!

So, looking forward to seeing them again tomorrow(today?) fur shur. My shins are still fucked from two-steppin, half-steppin, wall-to-wall pits(literally), and the aforementioned stairclepit. Having to occasionally climb stairs or run in my busy, busy life didn’t help, either. But yeah, they are new favorite band potential based on that one song alone, and all the other stuff they played(including a cover of Ready To Fight by Negative Approach) was great too. Damn near 50/50 Thrash and Hahdcoah, khed. The vocalist was nice enough to take a fan request for a song they never play live, and repeat the chorus of Don’t Call Me A Moshist one last time so someone could pull a beastly bodyspring crowdsurf Ninja Turtle Style into a net of meat and bone. Must experience again.

Thou

This bat’s dick is fucked.
This statement is false

Coincidentaly, I wore my ‘Vitus shirt to this show because of Thou, even though I’d not heard a note of their Sludgy Doomy Dooms Of Doom, much like all the other bands there. So yeah, I went in blind, and came out blinder. Holy fuck, this is heavier than star matter. In the vein of Weedeater, Electric Wizard, and Buzzov*en, only with some stabs at melody to get you out of the murk and smoke.

Most surprising thing about this set was the resurgence of pitting, and a couple of badass crowdsurfs. Normally Sludge is chill-the-fuck-out or spazz silently in a 3 foot circle you call your own, but this crowd decided to become enraptured in wave motion. I think I nearly fell down the stairs a couple times there during Smoke Pigs.

Class A controlled substance

There’s a strange beauty to Thou’s work, even though it is coated in the grime of forgotten civilizations and the blood of sacrificed thousands. Hark, winter is gonna be here soon, and I’m gonna need to stockpile the most depressing shite out there for snowgazing, so come aboard, Thou, and we shall revel in dirt. I’m starting to suck at writing so I quit for tonight. Next up, I review the most non-reactionary crowd ever at Born Of Fire with Motherbore and friends.

Ramlord at PT-109, And The Day Boston Got Interesting

Blackened D-Beat/Crust with some nice melodic sections from New Hampshah Fa Damn Shah. They put on quite a good show, and if it weren’t crowded ass PT-109 and a crowd of people who probably didn’t want to lose all the buttons they put on their jackets and vests, or were possibly too stoned, there would’ve been a little violence. I gotta say, I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected I would. As for the rest of the bands, skipped out and got pizza and fries. YEEEYUHHHH.

Now that that’s out of the way, time for something I haven’t done in a loooooong fucking time. NON CONCERT NARRATIVE!

Fuckin’ A, it’s been too long. How I missed you, reflecting on everyday life. I’m sure all 4 or 5 of you that read this post probably did too.

So, it was gonna be a so-so day: Wake up early, go to work, wish I were not working but still getting paid, getting kicked out of work early because people are stingy, not encounter anyone interesting, procrastinate, rinse, feed, kill, repeat.

NO.

So here’s the dizzeal, complete with somewhat related pictures.

1. Drunk Native-American Erykah Badu fan who flashed me the metal horns, somehow divining my music taste.

Hooray for stereotypes!

Either that or he knew was giving me props for having a Sigh shirt on and I missed it because he was words cannot enter drunk, and thus the only things I understood were South Station(though he got off at Central Square), Erykah Badu(he “fuckin’ loves that shit”), something about Africa, and I don’t fuckin’ know, but he was a very nice guy. Should’ve got his name, but I’d probably get Mrnugnub Lergytigmb.

2. Some old Black guy singing incoherently about someone drinking water and strumming a nice acoustic riff.

Thug Life, OG

If I were to review his performance, it’d be “He drank da water” in varying colors, inflections, and fonts, because that’s all I could understand. It was otherwise, an okay song, but it got progressively more hilarious as he yelled “HE DRANK DA WATER” and mumbled something or other about this water consumer’s life. I’m clueless, but it was a good show nonetheless. I’m feeling a strong 8 out of 10 on this one.

3. The Most Ethnically And Causally Confused Parade Of All time

Fistful of Huh?

All I know is this made crossing the street a little awkward, and the parade seemed to shift from Nawlinz band to Chinese New Year to hipsters and back again. My brain was full of fuck. And I had to go to the bank.

3. A School Of The Museum Of Fine Arts student requests my assistance with a project involving fridge magnet poetry.

Might as well.

And uh… not much else to say there. Though it was fun to do. I think my sentence was had something to do with a plague of insanity and destroying a planet. The guy seemed to like it, and that I was pretty enough for a picture. Pictures shall be posted of that sometime in the future.

So yeah, go away now.