Here's my take, fwiw.
Arrived at 7:20, stood outside for 10 minutes waiting for friend. Stood close enough to Seth to overhear him as Geraldo or some other Fox personality was interviewing him outside the club. Nice green shoes, Seth. And thanks again for letting me in.
Didn't see any of the bands before Keene, but still feel qualified to review them. Pretty decent, the whole lot.
Went in at 7:30 to the strains of Keene. Nice to see Tommy letting his grampa play the drums. Even nicer to see the sticks ceded to Tommy's young nephew. Did the kid get a backstage lesson from Growl? Sounded good, as did the whole band. Funny, though, I always thought these guys were supposed to be a middle of the road Britpop band. They had a bit more crackle than I was expecting.
Went to Backbar for a beer, came back up, and Ian Mackaye was playing a Dave Matthew-esque tune, and he had HIS niece on drums. Joe Marshmallow (nicely clad n his very retro, brand new straight off the streets of Rockville Soul Asylum t-shirt I might add) was looking up adoringly, it really was touching. Figured I'd have a chance to talk to Joe later, but never saw him. Probably left early with the disappointed masses who only got to hear one Foo song. Right, Joe?
After a few minutes, Henry Rollins appears, and man has he let himself. Shaves his head now too, so maybe he's straightedge now. And the piercings and other body mods, nice touch Hank. Hank introduces Seth, who introduces Justin Jones as the next big thing. I'm not sure about that (this guy got the gig because he's Seth's nephew, right?), but anybody that dedicates a song to farmers is a-ok in my book.
While Jones was playing, I noticed a dork in an orange "can't miss me" Atari t-shirt with some hot eye candy on his arm. As Jones ends and the strains of Old 97's kick in, I muster up the courage to hit Sweetcell up for the beer I won in a bet five (or more?) years ago, but have never collected because our music tastes have never merged and brought us into the same room until now. Thanks again for the beer, Sweetcell. Nice to finally meet you, and your lovely wife. And folks, Vansmack was right. Sweetcell and I both lucked out in the wife department.
Then the real Henry Rollins shows up, and the fake Henry Rollins is relegated back to his local celebrity status. Henry introduces Bob Mould, and it becomes apparent that Henry's missing 30 pound of muscle has been grafted onto Bob's tummy, and it aint muscle anymore. God bless middle age.
Then Henry is back and intros Ted the leprauchaun. His set really made me hungry for some Lucky Charms...I had to settle for Golden Grahams when I got home.
Then Henry introduces the third solo middle aged white guy with guitar in a row, Dave Growl. I have to admit I can't name a single Foo song, so the idea of a bunch of bros singing along to Foos wasn't really calling out, and a 10 minute pee break was. But then a great thing happened. Dave ceded the spotlight to some guys who looked more like government workers than Dave Growl, and the game was on. Definitely one on the highlights.
Am I forgetting anyone? Was Clutch next? We went downstairs for another beer. The lovely bartendress actually must have seen me for the beer geek I was, and let me try three generous samples (unprompted) in addition to the beer I finally settled on. Very nice!
Went upstairs and heard the last Clutch song. Much better than I had anticipated.
Oh wait, Pietasters were before Clutch. Second special mystery guest of the night. American Idol champ Taylor Hicks fronting the Pietasters. They played the second best song ever about Maggie May. Side bar story: Years ago, we went to a free show by the Pietasters at one of the Fairfax parks. This local
politician, who was the wife of (then) U.S. Congressman Tom Davis, introd them and said " Ladies and Gentleman, the Piemasters!"
WAs it Trouble Funk next? They were awesome. Definitely the highlight of the night. Definitely Julian's worst nightmare. Was that Ted Leonsis not dancing up in the penalty box? He was later replaced by a rather stiff but at least dancing Barack.
I think that was it. I drove home down 395 in my 95 Saturn blasting Rod Stewart's Greatest Fucking Hits, which really capped it off. Thanks to all who made the event happen. I guess that's were the $7 Yuengling money all went.
