LIVE REVIEW :: Does It Offend You, Yeah? + The Heavy | SF
You know, contrary to popular belief, I am not a raging alcoholic. I was flipping through some of the clips I've done in the past few months and I realize I talk a lot about being drunk. I told Charlie this morning, "In my article [today], I admitted to being so wasted and stuffing a candle in my bra," to which I quickly added, "Not lit, thankfully."
Normal people don't do this. And I swear, on all accounts, I am actually fairly normal. Do I want it to be my "thing" to go to shows and get drunk and write about them? Who knows. I know people will contend their own opinion about me, my habits, and my lifestyle, but for the sake of education, here are some facts about me:
- I work a full-time, non-music related job during the week that requires me to function fairly highly. Most of these drunk stories happen during the weekend because I still hold some shred of responsibility to the clients I serve. Plus, I am actually still in school and like to do well in classes, too. And while I hope someday I will find a niche in the music industry to work in, right now I am indeed a working stiff and know that my job is the one that pays the bills - not these reviews (unless you're offering to...).
- I love music, and I love bars, and often music venues have said bars in them. And while I do very much enjoy beer and seeing live music, I know my limit. However, sometimes you just want to have the "Fuck it, I am getting hammered" mentality, and I don't think that's bad unless it's out of control. Drinking is an expensive habit.
- I don't have an average of how many times of which I go out to shows; sometimes it's once a week, sometimes it's none, sometimes it's four nights in a row of being out. But I also know I don't have to drink at every concert I'm at, especially if I have to go to work the next day - I work 8 AM Monday through Friday. And, actually, I have turned down a show because I felt like staying in - it's in the small minority, but I've done it. Sometimes I just want to sit in my underwear and play Guitar Hero (shocking, I know).
- The bottom line is this: I love going out, and it's a balance I am more than willing to try and master. And, suffice to say, alcohol fuels a lot of these stories because that's just what it does. Maybe my drinking level is higher than most, but hey - it's an entertaining read. Sometimes, the sober stories can't hold a candle to these booze-filled adventures.
I hold the candle in my bra. CANDLEINMYBRA!
Anyway, I don't really consider this as a defense moreso my reasoning. I think I am marginally funny in what I write, and that at the end you like reading about my drunken escapades, yeah? That whole living-vicariously-through-someone shit can be exhilirating...
That being said, here's today's booze story. Enjoy!
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Live - Does It Offend You, Yeah? + The Heavy | SF
The daytime found me switching apartments: after
schlepping my gigantic book and record collections up two flights of
stairs and eating some delicious Taco Bell fiesta potatoes, I was ready
to dance my tail off after moving for the majority of the day. I didn't
even shower and headed straight to Slim's to see Does It Offend You,
Yeah? after moving the last of my boxes.
Unfortunately for me, the band was in their last three songs. The sheer lunacy I was witnessing being behind a mosh pit and watching Morgan Quaintance screech out "With A Heavy Heart (I Regret To Inform You)" made me wish I had gotten up just an hour extra to begin moving: the throaty vocals and dirty bass line caused a huge raucous, while Horrors-inspired "Attack Of The 60 Ft. Lesbian Octopus" found everyone around me spazzing out. But it was closer "We Are Rockstars" I found myself in trouble: Quaintance pointed to a sign above the backstage door that said "No stage diving" and declared loudly "Fuck that sign!" before launching into "Rockstar." And while I admit the lyrics are a little on the simple side ("Where's your real friends now?/You have let them down/You're a download pal"), that yelp of a "Yeah!" at the end triggered the biggest explosion of dance in my pants I have not seen in a long time. Live, the band is even more smutty and seductive in their electronic arrangement, serving up hot jams on a knob-twiddling platter full of deep bass lines, sexy synth, and incredible rhythm. I'm pretty sure those 20 minutes were probably the best ones of my month.
After catching my breath, I ran home to take a proper shower; after all, I was due to be in the company of some Playboy bunnies. The magazine was sponsoring an event called Rock The Rabbit at Mezzanine, a new fusion partnership of music and boobs, as far as I could tell. When we stepped inside, I was assaulted by the bunny logo at every turn; candles, projection cutouts, postcards, T-shirts. Enlargements of past, various Playboy editions graced the walls, but to be honest, I was surprised not more nudity was around. I spotted two women in the iconic get-up of the corset and bunny ears, and wondered how much they had been hassled by the very drunk crowd to get them to "take it off."
But the spotlight was on U.K. outfit The Heavy, who was playing the event and who I am convinced are the soulful brothers of The Black Keys, complete with bluesy guitars, bass arrangements and a singer equipped with a voice to make the ladies do anything with him. It's a nervy band who aren't afraid to embrace funk and rock, soul and a tinge of R&B, for a bold statement in how to engage in some merrymaking and debauchery in the classiest way possible. Tracks like "That Kind Of Man" and "Coleen" find trumpets punctuating the dance party, announcing its presence in indie royalty, while "Girl" has this killer bass hook reminiscent to The Doors "Hello, I Love You." I started out with tapping my toes and slinking a drink back in my right hand, and by the end of The Heavy's set, I was double-fisting whiskey and ginger ales, had put my dancing shoes on, and was hugging and kissing everyone I knew in my general vicinity.
What the fuck, The Heavy? How did you get a hold on me?
Needless to say, we danced the rest of the night away, but not before I decided it was a fantastic idea to stuff some Playboy swag away for later. In my dress. I awoke the next morning with a candle in my bra and a headache in my skull to the highest extend. Fritos and bean dip cured my hangover before I faced the responsibility of Sunday, and before the memory of last night faded into epicness.
Does It Offend You, Yeah?
The Heavy
By JENZ
May 07, 2008 in
NEWS
