Tuesday, January 30, 2007

We Don't Know What We're Doing But Neither Do You

The purpose of this blog is two-fold: to promote the concept of a magazine born in Cleveland that is made for those of us who covet the local music scene and also to promote and discuss said scene through our own (free) forum. I don’t see much need to explain any of it further; even if you're halfway through a case of cheap beer (which is probably about right), I think the message is clear…what ever the fuck we are doing here.

Let's start off with a show review, shall we?
The Dwarves @ The Beachland Ballroom 1.29.07

Honestly, the twelve dollar door made me rethink ever leaving the house in the first place; typical Cle complaining which I am always capable of but I'm glad I broke through that initial cheapness. Walking into the Ballroom was kind of a shock, only a few kids loitered around the room; not so much of a shock was the discovery of a half-dozen more holding down the bar. I chose to follow their lead.

There I found Tommy Teabagger of openers The Hollywood Blondes; tall can of Pabst in hand, shit eating grin firmly on face. His band was about to play for a small group of friends in a room that holds five hundred and he didn’t give a shit. A welcomed attitude that is not ironic to find at a punk show, it makes you feel better about it all.

The Blondes cut through a set of passionate pop-punk brining back memories of hard-ons in study hall and drinking beer at the local park. The guys in the band are far too old to still take part in those past times but the mind never forgets those magic moments. The crowd responded with warm ovations between songs that were quickly drowned out by overblown band banter. I'd rather have heard 'Back & Forth' played one more time.

Sounder blew doors down a little later, upping the ante with big amps and big riffs made for small minds. Dude-rock, for sure; loud as a Motorhead set, drunk as a five-am steelyard crowd.

We are going to take the high road and resist mentioning the Turbo Ac's. Cleveland has a large history with 'punk and roll' (this term was introduced to me by a girl I knew while describing a Cleveland band that she thought was both Rock and Punk...also known as Pumpkin Roll), such as this. The singer of the almost-forgotten Crash of '59 did pelt the front-man between the eyes with a can of Schlitz, worth noting.

The Dwarves. I don’t know what to say here that fans would not instantly shit on me for. But it was exactly what I expected without even putting any thought into it. What stands out is the fight between two girls in red shirts, the agro security team that pushed every kid who came onstage to the floor without any regard to safety (the only time this ceased to happen was when singer Blag Dahlia, in a flash of genius, took the opportunity
to take off some girls top), and the police state at the end of the show.

Cocks hanging out of thongs on stage, tits being groped by an old punk legend, cops just waiting for some kid to give them a reason.

I do enjoy Cleveland winters.

--Matthew Chernus