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Malignancy, Defeated Sanity, Mucopus, Sexcrement, and Compremesis @
RehabWednesday, May 21, 2008
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This show was great. Perfect, really. I arrived during Sexcrement's sound check. People were milling around outside and at the merch. table, flipping through cds, drinking liquids of varying amber colors. I went downstairs, grabbed a Bass from the tap, a stool by the bar and waited for the show to start.
Sexcrement's set was lively. A boy with long, blond curly hair and a German accent asked who they were. I wrote it on a flyer for Phobia.
Outside, I smoked a cigarrette, wondering if Max would show up. He told me about the show a week or so before. I got a call from Nick. I picked it up. "You at the show?" This is a weird question, as I knew he was in Chicago recording with Sallah. "Uh, yeah, actually. Why? Are you?" "No, but Max is. He just sent me a text." "Oh, cool! I'll go find him." I walk in, and there, wearing a Megadeth shirt, drinking a Bass from the tap is Max.
Mucopus starts warming up and we head downstairs. The punishingly hard and unconfortable vibrations begin again. The lead singer is careening about the audience, pushing it back towards the bar, spilling drinks as he teaters to and fro. Further and further until he spills MY drink all over MY jacket, my shirt, my pants, my bag...I promptly grab him by the scruff of his shirt and push him back out into the crowd, what's left of my beer flying everywhere, all over me, Max's shirt, my hair, the singer's face, eyes burning blind in the blue neon basement darkness.
Outside, we smoke more cigarrettes, talk of drinking many more beers.
Defeated Sanity starts warming up. Down, down, down we go again. To the front this time! Buying merch. after the show, the singer tells me it was their first time in the U.S. I give him a high five. I ask him how he liked it. "Not enough moving." he says.
Next was Malignancy. To tell the truth, I was pretty drunk by this point. Max and I had been killing beers at every set and at some point I decided to treat myself to a shot of Maker's Mark. I went back outside with Max to smoke another cigarrette after a couple songs. At some point in the night I met Makoto of Pyrexia/Hate Eternal. There was an after party at some lower side joint that had a decent soundtrack working in the background. We flood the bar. It's packed not, barely room to move. Makoto and I drink gin and tonics. Our group gets pushed out after last call, watches the sun come up at some pizza joint in the lower numbered streets.
By 6 am, I was leaving the 6 station at 96th street and walking West. I crossed the park with joggers and early commuters. My face glistened with the beading moisture of dew, sweat, Bass and gin. It sparkled against the saffire sky of the warming dawn. I fell in to my bed, fell asleep with my shoes, my saturated clothes still on and did not remove them until 2 that afternoon.
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