When I go to a show I now expect stilt walkers or its a no-go

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We were looking for something fun to do for the weekend, so we checked the listings. We saw a band’s name that struck our interest. Hoss and I did a little Googling, as we are wont to do.

And we saw their motherfucking video right here:

(You can check out the rest of the MarchFourth Marching Band’s videos here)

It goes without saying that we were hooked. We dressed up, (they seemed like the kind of band you would want to dress up for) Hoss in a golden vest and me in my leather daddy jacket and my Dresden Dolls-style stockings. I had blue hair at the time, so that helped too.

We went to the bar across from the street to drink a couple margaritas and dry-heave a little. Hoss was drunk and feeling generous, so he gave his flask of gin to houseless woman, and we got into the show, stumbling, ready to party.

And we motherfucking did.

Straight up, MarchFourth Marching Band was the coolest show that I have ever seen, and Hoss agrees. There were motherfucking acrobats, contortionists, burlesque dancers, and maybe some fire-eaters? I don’t know, I was wasted.

The band had a very ska-y sound, and it was shit that you could skank to with abandon and loss yourself in. They played as if they were having fun, and that transmuted to the crowd. And, when they played their cover of Nirvana’s “In Bloom”, I completely lost. My. Shit. The brass was a explosive and my ears were bleeding with awesomeness. The performance artists added an element of authentic, human spectacle that can’t be achieved by the light shows and pyrotechnics of most shows.

Then something cool happened. Hoss, overcome by the sheer awesomeness, started shouting “HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT!”

People had been drinkin’, so they started cheering it too. The band noticed, and they cheered it back to the crowd, and started playing with a new fervor. They rocked our asses off again.

Then something magical happened. A fucking unicorn – kidding. No, the drummers jumped down from the stage into the audience. So, not only were there was great music and great performances, there was also a transgression of that invisible wall between the talent and the fans. The musicians were in the trenches, beating on the drums, in range for the crowd to blow kisses to them.

It’s cool when you see an awesome band with lots of talent. It is another thing completely when you see an awesome, talented band that grooves on connecting with its audience.

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Sometimes I’m scared.

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This spring, Hoss and I went to the local university’s queer formal. It was a pretty normal thing: lots of queers dancing and screaming to songs that were in a grey zone of being incredibly gay while not being gay enough. If I can’t recognize the singer, you need to up the gay. I drank some cake-flavored vodka in a parking lot with a genderfuck and stood around smoking, while amateur drag queens and a tiny little Amadeus climbed up the steps. Hoss and I aren’t much for dancing, so we headed home. On the way out, I think he dared me to or I just have the natural inclination to steal things (shrug), but I grabbed a life-size Hello Kitty balloon on the way out. We ran down the street with her trailing behind us in the wind, shoved her into the car, and drove to Hoss’s apartment where she has remained ever since.

In the arms of an angel ...

In the arms of an angel …

But in all seriousness, this is not something to be taken lightly. Hoss’s apartment was clearly haunted before, what with the flickering light bulbs and the Wilhelm screams, and we clearly just gave the demon a vessel.

As time passed, Kitty-san’s power grew. Three weeks ago, I was alone in the apartment writing, and she was just hopping around the room, floating around the kitchen. One time, when I looked up, she was gone. This naturally made me nervous, so I went to look for her, figuring that it was better to know where a demon is than to not know. She had floated into the bedroom, looking into the closet with those uncannily wide set eyes. She probably wanted my leather daddy jacket, if I had to guess. She follows me around the house as I get ready every morning. Since basically everyone who lives in the apartment is MIA, Kitty-san the demon is our new roommate. Visitors regularly punch her and tackle her, putting our very immortal souls in danger.

Did I mention that she only has one leg? SpoooOooOopy!

Did I mention that she only has one leg? SpoooOooOopy!

A shower of blood and slime.

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We had gone into the city for the special event. It was Halloween, and Totoro was in the car, smoking her cigarette in the back. Hoss and I drove to one of the suburbs to meet up with some friends.They were already done up in white lab coats with things like “DICK SLEDGE!” scribbled on them. We went inside to smoke a little and have a few pre-game drinks. We played a game of pool. We made what we referred to as a “party bowl” – a plastic bowl full of coke and whiskey. It was boozy. We were taking the subway, so that’s a valid excuse, right? Anyways, on the way to the station we brought along a Coke bottle full of the stuff, drinking it along the way, passing a joint surreptitiously between our fingers. We got to the venue. A pretty big place, and it served booze. Fantastic.

We had missed an opening  band which I really liked, American Sharks. Then the other band played, a kind of mix of dub and metal or something. The circle pit was already rowdy, and people were still trickling in. Everybody crowded to the front. Eventually we were ebbing and flowing in a stormy sea of anatomy in the reins of the filtered screams. I turned to see Totoro keeping herself afloat. We rocked on the sea, pushing, shoving, until it was over, done, as if a wind had blown the storm out. Everybody stood there, panting, taking gulps from their tall boys. Then the lights dimmed once more.

GWARRRRRR! Our alien overlords were on the stage. The show was centered around some sort of plot that was about trying to get Oderus Urungus back from the dead, or something. I don’t know; I was drunk. That wasn’t really the cool part, though. The cool part was that GWAR’s new singer was on stage. Her name’s Vulvatron.

Isn't she beautiful?

Isn’t she beautiful?

Yeah, that’s Vulvatron. She’s a giant mace wielding badass who spits blood out of her tits onto the audience. *sigh*

Along with tit blood, there was a lot of other shit going on. The band, as usual, blasted the pit with blood and slime. Everyone was moshing in costume, you see, so one time I kept a guy from falling down, and half his face was fucked up. 

But that wasn’t even the best part.

The best part was when the band decided to celebrate Oderus Urungus’ favorite things. So they brought out a bunch of giant needles and a hulking piece of plaster with CRACK written on it (Dave Brockie, the man who portrayed Oderus Urungus, died of a drug overdose).

But now I hear that Kim Dylla, the woman who portrayed Vulvatron, was kicked off the team, which makes me sad.