Friday night a number of us, being Thax, Erika, Flavio, and our native guide Joseph, ventured out to the CD release show for THAT Damned Band's new Mutantstrosities album. I thought nothing of the venue or address of the show as we piled into a carriage and made our way out. We searched around a very seedy part of town for a while before realizing we had found The Broken Neck, a self described "DIY Punk Venue". We could also easily describe the place as "Ghetto", "Industrial frightening", and "terrorific". There were no signs to let us know it was there next to the mechanic shop, no parking lot, nothing but a small group of gents with instruments smoking in front of a small open door.
The Broken Neck, a "DIY Punk Venue". Where you ask? See that small door slightly to the right of the middle? Yes, that's the entrance.
With some trepidation, we approached the door and were warmly greeted by the band and entered the establishment. Inside a converted warehouse we found it clean, well lit, a blank slate on all four walls; nothing like what we might have expected from the outside. A large stage and sound system was set up across one side of the room, with displays of circus posters and taxidermy curiosities placed for our entertainment. We were quickly joined by our friends Mike and Sam, and make comfortable chit-chat while the bands tuned up.
The Susquehanna Hat Company were the first to perform, and I regret to say they failed to win our affections. Most of their work sounded the same, and was slow and dreary. It was taken as a queue by Sam to break out the Revel Stoke, and favored spiced whiskey of theirs, and we passed it around. And we passed it around again. And again.
Joseph told me later that he, being taller than any of us, could easily overhear conversations around us about "the steampunks" and how cool we were. Things of that nature which seem... odd to me, I guess. Although I enjoy our outings a great deal, it never occurred to me that we are making an impression on others, or engulfed in some sort of aire of brilliance that other people are awed by. Do other people in the culture get that sort of response when they're out? It just seems so strange to me.
We were all feeling high spirited but none more than Flavio. We didn't realize right off that every time he hit the bottle he was trying to drown a demon. He'd already pointed out the comely young woman in dreadlocks and the elegant tall woman in the hat more than twice before the second act, Dave Quanberry & the Dirty Brassos All-stars hit the stage. He remembers very little after that.
Let me say here that Dave & the Dirty... stars (far too long a name) were rather excellent, with a full brass section including a tuba and french horn. You don't see those used in a punk style much these days. Mr. Quanberry had an excellent voice, and skill in multiple instruments. We should have to find them at their next performance.
Although they had not completed their act, our time had to be cut short. Guests were coming to my house and I'd hoped THAT Damned Band would have played far earlier since their show was due to end at midnight. I was ignorant to the tradition that a main act goes on at midnight, so that was bad planning on my part. Just as well, however, because Flavio was in no condition to continue. We brought him back to my home and placed him in a chair to rest off his condition before traveling back to his residence. I'll save any further details that would embarrass, and there are a few, but know that everyone got home safely and without permanent harm.
Some interesting Flavio quotes should be recorded here for posterity:
"I've never been this drunk... in my whole life."
"I've never been this embarrassed... in my whole life."
"I graduated from high school, then I graduated from testicle school."
"I love you guys." "We love you too." "You don't even know me!"
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