A fairly humorous arguement before
the show between a couple drunken punks claiming they
had already paid to get in and a doorguy unfooled by
their Sharpie-rendered "handstamps" ended with one of
them hurling a beer bottle at a neon sign outside the
venue. As security chased the vandals down the street,
one of us "been there, done that" oldschoolers standing
in line jeered "If you were really "hardcore" you'd have
thrown that at the doorguy's head!"
I
had never heard of
Satisfaction, but their
name alone (obviously adopted from the Rolling Stones
classic) left me wary of what to expect. A cheesy,
mid-60's rock 'n roll re-hash? No. It was worse... Think
Wings, think Fleetwood Mac, think mind-numbingly dull
70's soft-rock complete with "groovy" keyboards
masquerading as "alternative." The bulk of the crowd
mingled obliviously in the lounge as vocalist/guitarist
Michael Rosas prefaced introducing his fellow shagg-heads
by simpering to a few co-eds at the edge of the vacant
dancefloor "I know what you're thinking: 'Who ARE these
beefcake studs?'" in a faux-self-deprecating display of
hipster egotism before they slouched through their
For Men And Women EP and some other equally awful
tunes. Asking my friend
Tim if he found it as
ironic as I did for the The Avengers,
one of SF's first punk rock bands, to have these
shysters open for them resuscitating the same dreck
their scene was so vocal about "destroying," he shrugged
"Who cares? It's not like anyone is paying attention."
True enough.
The
neutral stagelighting was adjusted to a simmering red
for
The Sermon, a local
outfit initially boasting past members from lo-fi trash
rock and garage beat faves The Fells and The Revelers
fronted by Mount McKinleys' all-black clad theremin/echoplex
player Mike Gabriel on vocals, which complimented the
moody angst of their psych-damaged maximum R&B jams
nicely. Newcomers Matt Gabriel (guitar), Greg Daniels
(bass), and Dave Leonard (drums) driving what little
audience there was for Satisfaction right out the
door with gumptious versions of "No Beast So Fierce,"
"Time Has Come," "Luzerne County," "Exterminator," and
"Get Over, Again" from Volume, the
group's premiere CD/LP, while at the same time slowly
drawing more and more of the rest of us from the bar to
the stage to check them out. Aside from Mike's low,
mumbling cadence being virtually inaudible even after
his mic was turned up several times, and my basically
equivocal opinion regarding "primitive rock 'n roll"
circa '66-'72 notwithstanding, I thought they weren't
half-bad.
Vocalist
Penelope Houston has taken to playing du Nord on a
semi-regular basis as either the ScAvengers or the
The Avengers -
depending on whether original guitarist Greg "Scars" (aka.
Greg Ingraham) is joining her - with Joel Reader and
Luis Illades (both moonlighting from indie power-pop
darlings The Plus Ones) supplanting bassist Jimmy
"Blaze" (aka. James Wilsey) and drummer Danny "Furious"
(aka. Daniel O'Brien) respectively. In this case Greg
was part of the lineup, and they were pretty damn good
in spite of recurring tech problems that eventually
provoked Pen into stopping the show to berate the
soundguy until they were fixed (eg. "Hey, you want to
EARN YOUR PAY and do SOMETHING about these fucking mics?").
His razor-sharp riffs effectively underscoring her
raggedly melodic caterwaul as the rhythm section
followed their lead for most of the self-titled "White
Noise" EP, posthumous "Pink" LP, a cover of Barett
Strong's "Money (That's What I Want)" (made popular by
The Beatles), and "new" songs off 1999's Died For
Your Sins CD/LP anthology of previously
unreleased/recorded material including "Teenage Rebel,"
"I Want In," "Joker's Wild," "Crazy Homicide," and "The
End Of The World." On the other hand, security's rigid
enforcement of the club's absurd "no side-to-side
dancing" policy to the point where they were threatening
to kick some of us out for pogoing - not slamming, but
pogoing - was complete bullshit.
