Show Review: 510

Thursday, October 1s: I was sitting at my local watering hole talking amongst friends and drinking 75¢ PBR. This wild thought came into my head. I wanted to party on the way to come see you guys. I didn’t want to be the responsible sober driver for once in my life…I just wanted to be with my friends and tie one on that night. Friday, October 2nd: So that morning I called and reserved a limo for the show. It sort of made me feel liberated and a little out of control. The limo went on my credit card and I called up my friends and told them to be at the house at 5:30. After all, you can’t take It with you Saturday, October 3rd: There were seven of us and 90 beers in the limo and one of the seven was my son, who is 8. The driver seemed a little suspicious of us, but we weren’t doing anything illegal. We pile in the limo and put one of your concert DVD’s on. As I looked around all of us had these big smiles on our faces and a can of PBR in our hands. That is what I look forward to in life…a simple smile. I think my 8 year old had a combination of sex ed from dirty joke tellin’, drinking beer 101 and of course the highlight of the evening at his first ever American Punk Rock Concert. After all, he is an aspiring punk himself. He had fake tattoos all over his forearms, a Mohawk, a t-shirt that said, “When I grow up I want to be a sick boy” and a cardboard sign that read Can I have your set list? Please. 9 pm: We arrive. After working our way through the crowd we were getting closer and closer to the action. Mason was on his fathers shoulders for a while, which by the way is no joke. We call him the 80-pounder hounder and my husband has a metal rod and ten screws in his back, but his adrenaline was pumping and there was no pain running through his mind. He finally put the 80-pounder hounder down and went out to crowd surf. It put a big smile on my face when I looked to my left and saw my husband with his limbs a wailing. It was like he was moving through the air. It was almost angelic in a way. I slinked my way to the front and center in a polite and innocent girl like approach. I wedged myself between two dudes almost in a sideways position against the barricade. And stood there in amazement. I could feel the sweat poor off the bodies onto mine, the bass pumping through my chest, and the aroma of cigs and beer. I watched Johnny 2Bags fingers work their magic on the guitar, like the music was built into him and found myself starring at him. Mike was completely soaked from head to toe in his music (aka sweat) and the drummer reminded me of Animal from “The Muppets” like a crazed percussionist. BEAT DRUMS! BEAT DRUMS! The bass player was the furthest away from me, but I could feel ya’. What I saw onstage was perserverence, dedication, history and attitude. According to you, Mr. Mike Ness, “Rock-n-roll is supposed to be rebellious music. It ‘s supposed to have an edge and angst and anger to it. Your quote came to life the night everyone in that roller rink sang your songs, danced to your tunes and felt a sense of belonging; a sense of pride…and you can take that to the bank. "I don’t know what you mean by country music. I just make music the way I know how." -Hank Williams