Doubling Down

I need to fess up.  The Man is back.  And that dude has a hankering for my skinny little behind.  The Man, like government tax collectors, is insatiable.  He wants all of me, and damn if there aren’t times when I just go belly up and get savaged.  This has been one of those times.  So forgive me for not posting in a while.  But The Man’s ass-busting has a silver lining.  It has allowed me to build up a storehouse of stuff to enthrall you on these Fall nights.  Let’s get to it, then.

[Hey, quick side note.  Speaking of Fall, you do realize that I hate hate hate to see summer end, but alas, Fall brings with it the gridiron.  And yes, our beloved Hokies won the Hillbilly Bowl over the hated West Virginia Mountaineers - as the t-shirt says, there is the good (VT), the bad (UVa) and the ugly (WVU) – and then rolled over Delaware and shellacked East Carolina.  The Hokies sit nicely ranked in the top 15, and have gotten off to a swell start to the season.]

Sorry about that Hokie interlude, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, and if you went to a sorry ass school that doesn’t have big-time college football, you have no idea what you are missing.  We weep for you.  Now, onward to music.  I ventured out to the Festival Pier at Penn’s Landing last Thursday to see Royal Blood open up for Queens of the Stone Age.  Can you say “bring the earplugs?”  I knew you could, and you better believe that I did.  It was L-O-U-D.

Now, the Festival Pier is an outside venue that requires you to stand the entire time.  I’m ok with standing in a club where that guarantees a sweet perch close to the band.  But standing waaaay back when 10,000 people are crammed in is a different story.  I’m ambivalent about this place.  It’s by Sugar House Casino, so you can park there for free.  But it’s kind of a pain to get to it from the glorious heart of the Main Line - it’s spitting distance to New Jersey (which, don’t you think, deserves a good loogie?).  And while the acoustics are ok, they aren’t fantastic as the winds and outside setting wreak havoc with the consistency of the sound.  And, like many venues, the floor is flat as a board, so if you are height disadvantaged, you are going to be seeing a lot of the dude’s head in front of you.  And even if you have a healthy size to your frame, you can still get crushed like my buddy Jeff, who got stuck standing behind the Missing Link, a giant of a man with a thick skull custom-designed to block sightlines, and an ass that issues like clockwork some of the most foul funk, the kind you can only get from eating too much Jack Links beef jerky.    
Man, I’m 4 paragraphs in and still nothing about the music.  Make that five:  this show attracted an interesting group of fans, and I’ve got to quickly discuss them.  I haven’t smelt that much weed being toked since, well, I can’t remember.  Like Chicago voting, it was early and often for many in the crowd as they got stoned out of their minds.  The sweet smell of cannabis filled the air.  It was nostalgic for someone who grew up going to arena shows when everyone was blowing bones and the arena had a huge cloud hanging down from the rafters.  But it did present a problem with Missing Link’s methane discharges.  Blue flamers unite!

Royal Blood.  You regular readers of BRP, and I mean both of you, know that I just saw RB at Union Transfer.  They rocked.  And here they were again, a duo that proves that fact that two guys can make a hell of a lot of noise.  So RB kicked it again, tearing through some old favorites, bringing in the new stuff, and getting about 45 minutes of opening act time to flash their stash.  I got a couple of pics, but I was pretty far back, and they aren’t great.  But they’re probably better than what you have, so take a look-see and enjoy.

Queens of the Stone Age.  I think the Stone Age thing in their name is kind of cool, particularly for guys who play heavy rock ‘n roll.  But the Queens stuff puzzles me.  There are no chicks in the band.  To whom do they refer?  I’m too freakin’ lazy to look it up, but I think it’s an odd name.

Nonetheless, QSA rocks.  Their songs are not instantly hook-filled so that you buzz up on them immediately.  Like Bach, they are more challenging to the listener and require repeated listens to get the vibe (not for all of their songs, of course, but for a sizeable part of their quiver).    But it’s worth it.

QSA has something like 6 albums out, and Ryan reminded me that they didn’t play one song from their debut effort.  They did grab some from their most recent release, which is a jag from their normal sound and, dare I say it, danceable.  And they pulled out the truly great songs, like Little Sister and Millionaire. 

It was a good show, BRP pushed his way closer to the stage to get the kinds of shots that you gaggle over, but alas, I was too stupid to bring the GoPro, so there is not any exclusive video content.  Mulligan!  Enjoy what I did bring to the feed lot, and gorge for a while, ok young uns?

Alright, I’ll be back with a photo explosion from my most recent venture to Union Transfer.  Oh yeah, baby, it was a Low Cut Connie night, and there was nothing but loving on Spring Garden last Friday night.  Check back soon for the most ass-ripping photo ensemble to ever grace the pages of BRP. 

And with that, I bid you adieu.  Love you, rockers.