Last night, homies Ransom, P and I ventured far into the night to see NoMeansNo at the Hawthorne Theater. I've been a huge fan of NMN since I was 14 and I got their seminal "Why Do They Call Me Mr. Happy?" on vinyl; I spent years trying to play bass like their stalwart leader Rob Wright, which is sort of like trying to play trumpet like Miles Davis. Despite the heat and humidity in the stanky venue wreaking havoc with their equipment, the band itself was top-notch, delivering about 1.5 hours of blistering, dirgy (i.e. "like a dirge", not a misspelling of "dirty") punk. Two notes on the show:
- Those guys have looked old since I first heard them. They looked old on the album photo of their first album, put out in the early 80s. They looked old the three times I saw them in the 1990s. They still look old now, in 2013, but not really any older than they ever did. It was WEIRD, you guys!
- More to the point, the show was 21 and over, and I expected it to just be a lot of old rockers like myself rocking. That was indeed the case. What I did not expect, however, was the presence of a full-on geriatric moshpit the whole time! Big, sweaty dudes who happened to be in their 40s slamming into each other! Minivan-age fellows crowd-surfing! It was grampa punk at its purest!
After getting home really late and getting a few hours of sleep, it was up for the big day-before-Plan C's 3rd birthday outing B and I had been planning. We did the following things:
- Bought a bed frame from West Elm (high-end mall-pop blaring on the speakers included) to go with our new fancy latex mattress we bought last week.
- Got fancy donuts from the new fancy donuts joint Blue Star Donuts a few blocks away (I got a maple bacon one.)
- Did photobooth pictures in the lobby of the trendy-ass fancy Ace Hotel a few blocks away.
- Went to Powell's (which is just great, as always, not really "fancy", where I bought two more dragon-slaying paperbacks (a few blocks away.)