Dirtbombs @ 7th Street Entry w/ Black Lips, Chooglin
April 8, 2006
I went to this show solo, which is never a good idea because it gives me too much free time to sit and think of ways to irritate myself. I can be a cranky snob if given an opportunity to stew. With that disclaimer, opening band the Black Lips didn't really impress me. I could sum up their performance with the phrase, "Can I get more [blah] in my monitor" but then I wouldn't get to dwell on how their guitarist (the one who with the 70s gay porn mustache wearing a bedazzled purple smock, not the one bitching about Canada who had metal teeth) kept spitting on himself accidentally. Ick. So after more guitar in that monitor and more vocals in this monitor and ... just play already... Stache and Grill suddenly met center stage and kissed. I suppose I was meant to be SHOCKED, but I had already used all that up watching Stache play half a song trying to shake off the giant misdirected glob of phlegm stuck to his cheek.
Betwen sets I kept my earplugs in, but still managed to overhear a girl tell her friend, "The Dirtbombs are awesome, and if I like them you know they are good. I have great taste, I know about music.... hey they have two drummers? I didn't know that."
So, the Dirtbombs... They have two drummers. Two Bassists. One Mick. The show was hot and the Dirtbombs sweat top down, except for Ben, who perspired sides in toward his heart. They earn their money. And I had to pick broken glass out of my boot after the show, which pretty much proves I must have had fun in spite of myself.Posted by me at April 9, 2006 11:00 AM