Archive for October, 2006

The Plan:  Clutch, Little Rock, Five Friends

The Payoff: Clutch, Little Rock, Only Me

It was supposed to be me and some friends but they all fell out like dominos.  It was all “Hell yeah” three weeks before, two weeks before, and one week before but it was all “I’m broke” or the sounds of silence as the day grew nearer.  I even stooped to inviting The Ex.  I had been debating whether to take her or not.  It always seemed that, during the time we’ve been broken up, she always wormed her way into going to see concerts with me.  She’s done that to two Clutch shows and attempted to do it for a Drive-By Truckers show so I guess I kind of rebelled.  It’s not like I was holding out for a better date, I just wanted to either go to a show without her or at least get to invite her solely on the fact that I want to hang out with her, not because she’ll show up anyway.  So I invited her, in a roundabout way.

She had to go out of town for the day because of work and I had to hold out on starting the two hour drive while she decided if she could be back in time.  I got a lot of “I might not make it in time” and none of the yes or no I was looking for.  Nothing, as usual, is black and white with her.  Granted, I didn’t tell her we were going to see Clutch but I figure that if she wants to see me as much as she nags about, it should not matter what we were going to do.  She would later whine that I didn’t properly ask her out, just asked if she had plans.  Well, asking if someone “has plans” for a certain day is usually a precursor to asking them out.  If I had gotten yes or no answers instead of the multiple  “why’s”, I would have proceeded to the next step in the Asking Out process.  Closest I got was a “nothing concrete, why?”  Not my fault she had to weigh out her offers for entertainment.  She seems to be drinking from the same kool-aid that made her The Ex in the first place.  Thanks to her and the other turncoats, I went alone.

Not sure if it’s my choice of cologne or what but for some reason, at least at events that require standing to view, I am like catnip for people way over six feet tall.  There is some irresistible force that propels them to stand in front of me.  Never matters where I am at, up against a back wall, right up on the stage, or any point in between.  If there is at least three inches of space between me and whatever, some idiot of alpine stature will ensconce their stupid and usually heavily sweating ass in it.  Missing the first band and catching the second in the middle of their set, I decided to hang in back until Clutch took the stage.  I found a nice spot along the wall and attempted to take in what was left of the BellRays.  With in minutes, a pack of doofi consisting of two more-than-cornfed idiots and one, obvious to everyone but The Cornfeds, gay man decided to obstruct my viewing pleasure.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not Brokeback’s gayness that bothered me, it’s the overwrought Rockin’ he was going to solidify his Man-ness.  Decided to move down the wall a bit, finding a place with a little ledge to lean on and a better view.  Soon to follow was Brokeback and The Cornfeds so they could check out the “Rockin’ shirts” (direct quote).  Guess resistance was futile and they, of course, stayed directly in front of me.

While Clutch’s gear was being set up, I went to find better vantage point which I found, half way to the stage with a nice rail to lean against.  The chick half of the couple in front of me decided to hop and sit on the rail for a better view.  Guess she’s into roadies.  That sparked a shouting match with another chic which, as usual, escalated into a lot of cock-rattling between their respective boyfriends.  The second boyfriend was part of a Tweaker posse, one of which I happened to know.  Tweak-That-I-Know decided to stand by me so after there was a detente between Supposed Badass #1 and #2, I got to witness #2 with his 1992 doo-ragged hair, eyes emblazoned circles of meth, vigorously knash his gum and bloat about what he would’ve done with Supposed Badass #1.

Thankfully Tweak Posse migrated forward when Clutch took the stage and I took my place back against the rail with less than three feet between me and the instigating couple.  Less than three feet that must have looked so very inviting that a tall jackass decided to fill it with a buddy in tow.  He was a Fist Pumper who accented his arm flexing with devil horn, fat Elvis in Vegas moves during his fav songs.  His cohort was what Marv’s little brother would’ve looked like if he was a Hot Topic wannabe metal kid with Vinnie Vincent hair.  Thankfully I had brought my vaunted Kodak One-Time with 2X Zoom.  Wielding the Mighty Flash of Relegation, I temporarily blinded Fist Pumper and he staggered off to recover for most of the show.  And don’t even get me started on another idiot beside me who obviously missed Steven Seagal calling to get his hair back.  Oh, yeah, I was supposed to write about the show so. . . .

Again, thanks to The Ex-induced lateness, I missed the first band and caught The BellRays half into their set.  They weren’t bad.  “Not bad” being that they weren’t the usual Mastadon/High On Fire, chug-chug type shit that’s been the norm for Clutch openers.  They did have a couple of good songs and the lead singer was a black woman with the largest Afro I’ve ever seen.  She could definitely carry more stuff in it than Sweet Lou from the Super Globetrotters.

Clutch, as usual, was the shit.  Watching lead singer Neil Falon alone is worth the ticket price.  His stage antics are a mixture of that ubiquitous drunk guy at music fests that is grooving to a song no one else hears, a crazed homeless man maniacally preaching apocalypse on a street corner, and my friend Guigui’s version of dancing.  I know you don’t know who Guigui is but he is French and the whitest motherfucker on the dance floor.  Just take my word, it fits.  Anyway, Clutch definitely rocked the place.  Juanita’s is a great venue to see them, it’s too small to escape the energy they have.  Guess the only bad mark was that Clutch ventured a little too much into “jam band” territory.  You want to jam out a tune or two during the night, fine.  Just don’t jam a couple of extra minutes into one song only to jam an extra couple of minutes into the proceeding one.  More than once.  If your roadie is getting a guitar solo, maybe you should tone it down a bit.  But as I’ve said somewhere before, a bad Clutch show is better than 90% of other bands “good” show and this wasn’t a bad Clutch show.  They are a must see if they travel to your area.  Hopefully you wear a different cologne or are taller than me.


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