Live Report - Leftover Crack - 5/27/2011
Live Gig

Release year: 0
Reviewed by Crash

Jesus Christ man… that was one hell of a show.

While I generally known by my friends and family as the town metalhead I have a very soft space in my heart for punk music. Bands like Dead Kennedys or Fearless Iranians From Hell often come off more convincing in their rebellion than the over the top darkness of metal. To be perfectly clear, I love the over the top darkness of metal. But a good punk band is like a kick to the sinuses. It is immediate, upfront, and uncomfortable and the bluntness gives off plenty of crusty love to attach myself to. One of my favorite punk bands are New York’s Leftover Crack, a band with such irresponsible messages that there isn’t a way to listen without a bit of a smirk and a wink. But where punk often falls short LOC succeeds in bringing songwriting and a real musical vibe to their music that doesn’t damper on the aggression.

Tonight’s gig would be at The Clubhouse, a venue that once was the top place to go for good shows. It has shown its age and its poor upkeep. This information will come in handy later. The first band of the night was Die Ignorant who like all of the opening bands, I had never heard of. But I recognized their singer: a tubby Hispanic (or something) kid I used to have a class to. Simply put, they rocked the house. At their best they were riff driven and enthusiastic while paying attention to guitars. At their worst they were like a bad NOFX which I’ll take over most stuff anyday. Their set got me grooving a bit as I aquainted myself with my old friend: The mosh pit. I had stayed away for a while, mostly being due to the shitty crowds. Too often has a pit broken up to reveal a couple assholes that just want an excuse to punch people. Too often lurkers on the corner of the pit would get pissed defending their girlfriend who is only there to be shown off. But tonight no one was spared. The kids were eager to have fun, with punks ranging in ages from early teens to late thirties. All of them became a part of the neverending shuffle through the crowd. Good band.

Next up was Corporal Limits. These guys were a bit more run of the mill than Die Ignornant. The songs were simpler and the fashion was more important. A good way to sum it up is in the content of their song Seventeen where the lyrics I could understand had to do with “No blue hair and not being allowed to smoke cigarettes or something.” Then they told us to sign a petition against Sheriff Joe which is pretty punk I guess. By now in the night the poor upkeep of the venue was making itself evident. The absence of a working air conditioner quickly became the thought on everyone’s minds, including the bands who would dump water on themselves in between songs. It must be stated that Arizona is almost in its normal plus one hundred weather. Mix that with three hundred sweaty, drunk, high, and angry punks in an unventilated room and you have yourself the heat of a dying star covered in ball sweat. To get air I skipped the next band, Rotten Youth. Luckily, the show allowed reentry for twenty one and plus’ers. Poor underage kids. I got out of the furnace and put my drenched Black Seeds of Vengeance shirt back in my car, rocking the denim vest bareback.

That was about the time the guy with the vodka came over. He introduced himself to me as Jesse, then introduced himself to me again four times. Fearing that he may challenge me to a duel for honor I assumed the battle stance. I was surprised when he asked me if I wanted a drink. But I know better than to turn down free booze from strangers and quickly rose to Hunter S. Thompson levels of intoxication.

Staggering into the inferno, I took to the middle of the crowd. After some more bitching about the heat the band finally took the stage. Even though the band members are easily a decade older than your average punk musician, they still rocked through many great songs, giving them more intensity and groove then headphones could ever provide. The pit had evolved from the standard circle into the whole venue with people in the alcoholics section dancing and rocking along. They quickly blasted through the big songs like One Dead Cop and Nazi White Trash before the heat became too much for me. Being that there was no free water (Which I’m pretty sure is illegal in Arizona… I should probably stop bitching and just write a letter in with a red letterhead or something) I had to wait for the bathroom and drown myself in the sink. That’s when the notes of my favorite LOC song came on. Life is Pain just kicked ass. Frontman Stza packed the snarl and bite that only a true degenerate like himself could provide. Celebration for the excellence was in order which only crowdsurfing could satisfy.

After being dropped on my head a couple of times I experienced a strange anomaly in mid surf. Accompanying my shouts of “Woooooo” was the feeling that my pinky was inside the place someone’s eye is supposed to be. I heard a faint grunt over the band before I was pushed onto stage. Running in fear of a Cyclops I escaped to the other side of the crowd. While I will never know his name our lives are forever linked.

The band finished off their set with the almighty The Good, the Bad, and the Leftover Crack before leaving the stage.

Thus the night was. I had experienced many odd things on this night, but they all accumulated into me being an extremely sweaty and drunk with someone’s eyeball juice on my finger. I’d like to think that I looked pretty darn punk.

Killing Songs :
Gang Control, One Dead Cop, Life is Pain, Nazi White Trash, Rock the 40 Oz.
Crash quoted no quote
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