We’re sitting on a grassy ridge overlooking a village on the
German-Czech border. Directly below us is a steep, dusty path down to the rest
stop parking lot. A gentle breeze
foretelling rain, for now feels refreshing. A car pulls in and stops perfectly
between two spaces, straddling the line.
A man stands on the sidewalk smoking a cigarette furiously. Probably on the high side of 50, he sports
skinny jeans and white dress shoes. A
far-too-tight sleeveless shirt betrays any notion of hiding a massive beer
gut. Ryan looks at me, cigarette hanging
out of his mouth. “Ya’ know it seems
this place has the case of the Fuck-its.
It’s so cool.”
Total rager in Leipzig last night. We were cared for from
soup to nuts by Laura and Frank. Overwhelming as
hell for the author as it constituted multiple reunions with various friends. Step out of the van and there’s Robert Refuse
with his friendly smile. Climb the dirty
Zoro stairs up to the merch table to drop off a box and Government Flu is
standing there ready with hugs. Descend
the same steps and New Jersey’s own Jeff Bastard comes around the corner. Deep down, I know tonight is gonna’ rule.
Described aptly as a “crust caslte,” Zoro is a compound of
sorts boasting multiple stages, bars, a band dorm, kitchen, record store, and a
bar booth made from the cab of a truck. I was able to savor catching up with
old friends over incredible food provided by the Zoro crew– veggie patties over
mashed potatoes and gravy and cherry-topped chocolate cake to boot. Irish Handcuffs and No Weather Talks, our
buddies from the night before in Hamburg, rock the basement stage. Government Flu (a personal fav of the
author’s) kicks off things upstairs. They
let me do a number with them, redeeming myself after wreaking havoc and
destroying an amp in New Jersey last spring.
Read that tale here.
Sweden’s Beyond Pink go next. This is the last night of a tour beset with
problems for the group, including having the contents of their van liquidated
in the middle of the night at one show.
Despite the spirit-breaking incidents, they didn’t reveal any hint of
despair, instead greeted us all jovially with enthusiasm and friendship. Any demons were exorcised from the stage with
a heavier-than-their-LPs set. Ya’ just
couldn’t help but mosh.
During Gov Flu’s trio of Negative Approach covers fronted by
Robert fuckin’ Refuse on a rampage, the top of a mosher’s head connected with
the drummer of Beyond Pink’s nose crushing it.
When they hit the stage, I was stuck standing slack-jawed watching her
destroy the drums with broken bloody nose, a snarl and looks that kill. One of the most intense drummer’s I have ever
seen.
Night Birds topped the bill with a sweaty set. A collective
sense of enjoyment amongst the crowd meant moshing was cathartic punk rock
fun. Brian exclaiming Zoro as his
absolute favorite venue in the world. As
I ran back and forth and in a circle and slid across the pit on the slick
concrete floor with the kids, I couldn’t agree more. Top off the night with
Polish home brew for PJ and Ryan, DIY tattoos (Gov Flu’s Liepec got a bird leg
busting out of his knee cap and fuckin’ ET on his arm), the author polishing
off a 40 of thick Banana juice, and bonding with old and new friends alike was
perfection at its sloppy best. Laying on
a mattress in the dorm between Joe and Robert Refuse, hearing “Oh Bondage Up
Yours” bleed into the quiet night from a still goin’ strong bar below, I felt
the tension of life’s bullshit fade and the singular existence of tour truly
take hold. A case of the Fuck-its is at hand.
Tonight: Brno! Tomorrow: Budapest!
No comments:
Post a Comment