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(I should have posted this immediately after I got home, like I meant to. Some of the excitement has worn off between passage of time, lack of sleep, and increase of chaos. But anyways.)
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audiovile and I went to see the Brain Surgeons on Saturday night--the first time we've been to a show together since Judas Priest back in (aieee) July.
Fucking. AWESOME. Show.
For those of you who are not au courant, the Brain Surgeons are the current/ongoing project of Al Bouchard, formerly of Blue Oyster Cult. (/me points at icon.) They've been around for close on ten years now, and have had a few lineup changes; have always been an excellent live band, though I've had less enthusiasm for some of their studio albums. But I think they've really struck gold with their current incarnation; the inclusion of Ross the Boss, former guitarist of Manowar (!), has given them the extra guitar punch they needed. My neck hurts.
Their original songs are good stuff (and have been improving over time), and they also usually play several BOC songs, which is fair, as Al penned a lot of them. And what makes this extra-special groovy is that they do a better job on 'em than BOC does, these days. I have a certain conceit that this may have been what it was like to have seen BOC in their early years.
Venue was "The Delancey", some hipster joint on, strangely enough, Delancey Street just under the W'msburg Bridge. The live bands play in the basement, and in fact it was highly amusing to see the thin stream of metalheads trickling through the mass of hipper-than-thou twentysomethings on their way to or from the potties on the main floor.
And about those potties...
We'd driven in, as we did not want to faff around waiting for trains at stupid o'clock, and being the Lower East Side on a Saturday night spent as much time looking for parking as we did on the actual drive; that was okay, I'd allowed for it. But I was in dire need of la facilidad by the time we got to the bar. So I made a beeline for the back, took care of business, and came out to the large communal trough-sink to wash up.
From the stall next to mine emerged an older, perfectly classic metal-meathead-looking guy who looked like he juggled Harleys in his off hours. As he walked up to the sink (and I started to amble away) Steve popped 'round the corner and chirped out "So you wanted to meet Ross the Boss; well, this would be him." I blinked, went all wide-eyed, and my mouth gushed forth: "Oh--you're Ross the Boss? I'm so honored to meet you. I love your work with Manowar!!"
...And then prayed for a lightning bolt to strike me down. I should be so lucky.
audiovile and I went to see the Brain Surgeons on Saturday night--the first time we've been to a show together since Judas Priest back in (aieee) July. Fucking. AWESOME. Show.
For those of you who are not au courant, the Brain Surgeons are the current/ongoing project of Al Bouchard, formerly of Blue Oyster Cult. (/me points at icon.) They've been around for close on ten years now, and have had a few lineup changes; have always been an excellent live band, though I've had less enthusiasm for some of their studio albums. But I think they've really struck gold with their current incarnation; the inclusion of Ross the Boss, former guitarist of Manowar (!), has given them the extra guitar punch they needed. My neck hurts.
Their original songs are good stuff (and have been improving over time), and they also usually play several BOC songs, which is fair, as Al penned a lot of them. And what makes this extra-special groovy is that they do a better job on 'em than BOC does, these days. I have a certain conceit that this may have been what it was like to have seen BOC in their early years.
Venue was "The Delancey", some hipster joint on, strangely enough, Delancey Street just under the W'msburg Bridge. The live bands play in the basement, and in fact it was highly amusing to see the thin stream of metalheads trickling through the mass of hipper-than-thou twentysomethings on their way to or from the potties on the main floor.
And about those potties...
We'd driven in, as we did not want to faff around waiting for trains at stupid o'clock, and being the Lower East Side on a Saturday night spent as much time looking for parking as we did on the actual drive; that was okay, I'd allowed for it. But I was in dire need of la facilidad by the time we got to the bar. So I made a beeline for the back, took care of business, and came out to the large communal trough-sink to wash up.
From the stall next to mine emerged an older, perfectly classic metal-meathead-looking guy who looked like he juggled Harleys in his off hours. As he walked up to the sink (and I started to amble away) Steve popped 'round the corner and chirped out "So you wanted to meet Ross the Boss; well, this would be him." I blinked, went all wide-eyed, and my mouth gushed forth: "Oh--you're Ross the Boss? I'm so honored to meet you. I love your work with Manowar!!"
...And then prayed for a lightning bolt to strike me down. I should be so lucky.
