We’ve known each other long enough, you and I…so I feel like we can well, you know…be honest with each other. It’s time, for me to just…come out and tell you the truth. I just want to say that…I’m a fan of this band:
After putting out a record shaped like a tortilla chip just dipped in nacho cheese, how could I not back Weekend Nachos? Weekend Nachos, along with The Repos and Punch In The Face were among one of three bands that I set out to see this past Friday. Sure there were other bands playing, but I wasn’t as nearly as excited to see them. After many months of not listening to any hype or even any genuine, honest enthusiasm for these guys by other Chicagoans, I am no longer mildly embarrassed to be associated these young gentlemen. After putting out a few records and doing a tour this past summer, WN have gotten to be pretty big it seems. I wouldn’t know as I pay no attention to the internet hype machine that collectively transmits from participants that have both lived too long for all the wrong reasons and have the worst taste in the worst music. Bottom line is that after a few years and a handful of member changes, WN has become more than just a bunch of nerds playing in a goofy band with a funny name. They’re still a bunch of nerds (though there are now different nerds) and the name is still certifiably terrible, but they’ve managed to missile themselves from being a fun, but ignorable band, to an intense, throat-punching hate machine. Okay, maybe “hate machine” might be a bit too much, but it seems a bit more accurate than “mosh machine”. Besides, “mosh machine” just sounds stupid. I don’t know if the line up changes had anything to do with it, or if it was the members of WN own interest in the band being reinforced by whatever popularity they’ve now attained, but whatever the reason, I’m glad they’re at the level they’re at now. I mean to say in terms of their sonic configuring and live show and the recognition they’re now receiving for both. Click on the photos below if you want to see them a little bigger.
Weekend Nachos wasn’t the only reason I showed up to this gathering of angry and insecure individuals though…the reason I crawled out of my cave for this one was to get one last glimpse of The Repos in Chicago. I was up front when they played, which makes sense given how much I like them, but the irony is that I got so close I couldn’t even watch the band. I got so close that I ended up “volunteering” myself for “crowd control”. In other words, I had nowhere else to go, so I just held on to the bass drum and tried to keep weirdos from diving/moshing/wall of deathing/molotov cocktailing/whatever into their drummer and guitar player. I didn’t even get a chance to get my coat off, and even if I tried to, I would’ve been at the risk of getting moshed eyeballs first into the sharp end of a cymbal. It was both infinitely stupid and pretty surprising that it got to be so out of control in that disgusting basement. People just wouldn’t move back. I’m all for kids getting psyched on a band, and I can get behind acquaintances of the not-way-overweight variety using my back as a means to dive, but c’mon…It was so tight in there that I ended up only getting one photo from the entire set; I wasn’t even looking at what I was shooting. The rest of the time I was just looking at the floor. To some it might sound like a nightmare, but I can guarantee it’s exactly what The Repos wanted.
On the way out, I and other likeminded basement show enthusiasts started pushing kids in front of us up the stairs to make it out of the cellar turned war zone when some baby started whining for me to “quit it”. It was like he was a little brother of mine that I hated for no reason and he was complaining about me pushing him just so that I would make him cry. After he gave me the “I’m gonna go tell Mom” face a few times and threatened to stand in front of the door to keep me from getting out, I just kept pushing him and agitatedly said something like, “I was just…holding Repos’…drums…so…” as I wasn’t nearly functioning at full capacity due to my being well on my way to getting heat stroke (despite it being freezing outside). Whoever this joker was then push moshed me when we got out the door, and then again after I ignored his initial push/mosh. I don’t know if he yelled any choice one-liners or not as I walked away from him, but he didn’t do anything while I stood twenty feet away from him, took my coat off and tried to not to fall over. Point being: it’s always good to see new kids at shows – especially sober ones – but no one likes dorks that try to start fights at shows for no reason. I would’ve been less confused by his desire to duel if this were a metal show…but here? I would’ve given the kid credit if he came after me with one of the 2x4s injected with a bounty of exposed nails that laid in abundance in the basement; only because it would’ve been so unnecessary it would’ve been equally preposterous and hilarious. Instead he just left. No battle to the death was engaged in. Weak. Judging by his actions, I’m guessing that he didn’t even watch The Repos’ set. Even weaker.
At least it was less bothersome than the tourist/suburbanite/young urban “professional” that decided to take photos of me without my permission while I was out eating dinner. After a short bout of fact versus paranoia, the situation was simultaneously handled and ignored. I mean, I know I’m photogenic or whatever, but watching me eat french toast swathed in syrupy pecans can’t possibly reason enough to capture that particular moment forever.