Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Teabagged for Christmas

I don't want to be boring but I think that I am. I know that I have been writing about the same couple of bands whenever I try to steer the focus back to Cleveland music but I don't know what else to do. I only have a couple of good friends and they all happen to be musicians. So they call me and try to convince me to drive to a bar, get wasted, see them play and then drive home. It almost always works and I have a good time doing it. So then I want to write about it.

So I'm a-gonna write some words.

I got to see the Hollywood Blondes the other night at Spitfire. Man, these dudes have gotten so much better than the last time I saw them play their Pabst and Converse Punk; Cleveland has finally created our own Screeching Weasel... if Ben could wail like Stiv Bators.

I was happy enough to be drinking an Elliot Ness and smoking in doors but when these dudes turned in a long set of tunes, the night was more like a drunken yarn that some older punker told me about in American History class when I was fourteen. I can see how bloodshot that dudes eyes were and how his clothes smelled like Marlboro Reds. But, shit, it's not the mid-nineties (damn!) and I'm that old punker smelling of Great Lakes and Pall Mall smoke.

Tommy Teabagger, legend in my own mind, has honed his stage presence, finally living up to his nickname and local lore by being cocky, snotty and singing like an angel. A Hells Angel, of course. I don't have any song titles in my mind so let's just say that they were all winners and the crowd were champions too, throwing bricks of cheap fireworks into the Blondes' kick drum, creating the perfect Cle Christmas ambiance.

Go see these dudes if only to get your kicks without actually getting aggro and kicking someone. Be happy, be drunk and try not to get eaten by Tigers on Christmas.

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