Just gonna reblog all of this into infinity:

Wow, I was really on fire at the start of the 2000s, to wit, look at this play-by-play of a grunge nightmare (and hilariously I was just recently trying to remember which of the big dumb grunge bands I had seen back in the day) which also references a broken friendship that I rarely remember (hahahahhahaha, Todd and Alyssa!): "I've said it before, and have no problem saying it again, people are stupid, and rockstars suck. You put the two together, in a small smokey club, plus have me lose $10 because i'm wearing a dress and have no pockets so I was carrying loose bills wadded up in my jacket pocket like some sort (ok, THE sort) of indie-pop-dork-girl i may be, and you have the makings for one very disgruntled music afficianado. Girl. Woman. Whatever. Here's the thing, right, I'm all good with rockstars like Oasis. I mean, those guys are clowns. Like David Lee Roth and other big ol' egos, at least they don't pretend to be nobodies and then whip out the attitude and sucker punch you with it. They have at the very least, the nerve to be pretentious and obnoxious 24/7. They beg to be slapped in the head. But I don't mind that. I do mind bands who put on this big act, this sham of being all sublime and lowbrow and earthy and of-the-people when, in fact, they are the worst (IMHO) possible form of rockstar or musician: they ARE pretentious musicians, plain and simple. They do not respect or care about their audience, they obviously (by their behavior and demeanor both onstage and off) believe that somehow they are better than You or Me. Well, earth to asshole: you are simply in Stone Gossards OTHER band. Jeezus Christ On A Crutch (speaking of bands who do have eithics, morals and fucking a great sense of humor), let's talk about my latest unsavory brush with normal music, shall we? Let's talk about Stone Gossards little side project #2 thingy, Brad. Fine band on record. Lovely, sparkling music that is poignant and romantic and makes you believe that love is this thing to be savored and cherished. I was introduced to it, dug the records (after avoiding it as I do pretty much every band of that particular ilk) and when the opportunity came to see them in the ol' hometown, in a small club, I said, hell yeah, these guys sound wonderful and meaningful and interesting, let us go to the club and partake of some quality rock. First, and this really hurts, but what up with 1 hour of nothing (doors opened early, with sold out happening at about 8:45 by what the door guys were yapping), then almost 3 hours of DJ? What am I? 15 and at a rave? Do you see Red Bull in my hand? Am I wearing neon? Opening band? Anyone? Bueller? McFly? I'm sure someone thought that they were breaking boundries, or exposing people like me (who don't go and pay covers to hear dance music, I go and pay covers to hear people hack away at their guitars and hopefully sweat a bit while making me believe that they are having a good time making me smile and rock) to something "new". Well, whether it was the intention of the band or the booking agent, it was a mistake. Now, apologies to Riz Rollins, who rocks my world on a variety of levels, mostly in that every word that the man writes is breathtaking, and when DJing he spins some absolutely fun stuff - stuff I recognized and hadn't heard in years, stuff that sent me right back to the days of working in Georgetown at the Wiz Records on Wisconsin Ave, listening to Public Enemy and 3rd Bass and all of it. Riz kept me groovin a lot longer than probably any other dj would have, but he was experiencing technical difficulties, and the crowd was a herd of cattle like I've never seen. Seriously, never seen in a club. At first, the novelty of being in a familiar club yet not recognizing any of the faces (except those of the employees) was amusing. But that wore off quickly. They were sitting on the floor in front of the stage. What the hell is wrong with you enormous hunks of flesh? Sitting there like pigs awaiting slaughter, pressed against the edge of the stage. Now, we were there earlier than I would have gone normally, but as we didn't have tickets, and I had forgotten to try and use my scenester point to get in on the list. Turned out there was an ex-guy-I-used to hang out with doing the door, (which makes sense since the Breakroom is also booked by a woman who is in that same circle, a circle it has become very clear I have been let out of, to put it mildly) ((look I'm sorry I lost Todd and Alyssa's car keys while they were on vacation, could you people please drop the hostility? gah.)) but it didn't matter, we were ready to pony up the $12. Imagine our suprise when the advertised price at the door was suddenly $15. Which is gonna be strike #1, as the shows were originally two nights, at $10 each. Then three at $12. Nicely done. Both the band and the club suck, that's obvious. But, again, fans gotta take the credit too, as we payed for the privilege of being treated like dupes. So, there we are, 2 and a half hours to kill, no scheduled opening band(s), and no Riz until 9:30 or so. Brad, it said on the handy sheet o' paper at the door were to begin playing at 11pm. I am. at this point underwhelmed, but still hoping to be so blown away by the beauty of Brad's music that I will be transported away from the teeming mass of dolts that swelled around me. I enjoyed much of Riz's set, the popping PA nothwithstanding. However, round about 10:45, as the air began to be sucked by more jarheads and Art Alexakis clones and weird vaguely sci-fi geekgirls. Plus just straight up alternative rock fans. Overall, a lot of weekend drivers, folk from the burbs, people more accustomed to attending shows at the Gorge, it would appear. The noveltly was gone. I'm a band kinda girl, it's where I come from, and I don't get the whole no-opening band policy. I find it a little arrogant and ridiculously pointless to offer no other live band on the bill. Couldn't it have been opening band-Riz-Brad? Wouldn't that have been more scene healthy, wouldn't that have merged crowds? Wouldn't that have given the cattle something a little different to consume than the passive atmosphere that was provided? Everything I've read about Brad harkens back to the days of the band Satchel, and how amazing and intrisic they were to the Seattle scene, what groundbreakers they were. Let me say at the risk of offending, well, I'm not really sure at this point: that crowd was pretentious and arty and (hello!?!) boring to begin with. i shoulda known better. Pigpen. Critters Buggin, Satchel - that whole post-punk-rock-rootsy-hanging-at the OK Hotel crowd. I shoulda known, I shoulda known. But oh, how desperately I wanted to be wrong. So, I lost the $10 when I bought the second round of drinks, and I think the real reason that it pissed me off so much was that it meant I couldn't buy a third round, and with three hours to kill, I could have used one more bourbon and coke thankyouverymuch. But whatever. Ok, so it's 11pm. No sign of the band. Yes, a guy with a bass guitar came onto stage and plugged in (he received applause, what a bunch of dorks this audience truly was) and then another guy came out and replaced some light bulbs. Which is all well and good until you realize that this band played on that very same stage the night before. So uh, I don't want to ruin it for anyone but I can tell you as someone who spent a good 12 years of her life playing live music in clubs, no sound check should have been needed. It's not like there was some other band's gear onstage, or who had the PA geared to their sound and so it needed to be adjusted. Nope, it was all just like they left it LAST NIGHT. 11:15. Still no sign of the band. At this point, I'm in full punk rock mode - making the audience wait is rude. Making them wait without any explanation is arrogant. There can be only one reason they didn't start - they didn't want to. It wasn't important for them to be on time. They knew the crowd would wait. It's bullshit that the crowd did. I started loudly discussing the situation with SMRGE, who agreed (and he's the huge Brad fan) loudly as well, but no one near us agreed. People. Musicians are not god. It is not as rarified as you think to be on a stage and play music. People who passively consume music as if it's tv (I guess like the people at the Tool show who need to seee videos because the band doesn't wear makeup and spit blood or run around naked onstage) make me sad. I wish that every one of you could have the experience that I've had - to be onstage playing music. Even to go to a show where the bands are just like you, where seeing them and hearing them play songs that strike a chord in you make you want to create. To be standing on the same floor with the people making the rock is empowering. To understand that it is within your grasp to be a part of it on some level, or to expect that the bands respect your attention and work as hard as they can to show you how much they love what they do. And if they don't, if you watch something you don't like, or hear something sull or boring, at the very least, leave. You don't owe any band anything (unless you do owe them, like money, or a van, or a gig, or something like that). I wish I could give that perspective to people. Instead, I watch helplessly as people sit quietly and wait to be thrown a bone. Dear members of the band Brad: you guys are sucky rockstars and might as well just ask for one of the colors of your M&M's taken out of the bowl. You don't respect your audience, and you have clearly lost the joy of performing live. When they finally did wander onstage (and wander they did, as if they were suddenly suprised that the room was packed full of people) they proceeded to go through the set with no joy, no emotion, no fucking soul. Which, as I may have mentioned, was what I think they should have been oozing. Now, don't misunderstand, oh memebers of the band Brad - you are all wonderfully dexterous musicians, and Stone played some magnificently evocative passages, but man, were you boring. Boring. There was no connection with your audience, you appeared bored and bemused and fat uninspired. So what is the point? Do you play live because it's quick and easy money? Fine, but quit presenting as if you are something less than the stereotypical rock star. Because that is what you are. You don't support the scene (don't let other bands open for you, don't really want to mix audiences) you rest on your laurels ("Now we're going to play a few Satchel songs" yawn), and you allow the media to portray you as some sort of member of a DIY scene that you obviously never wanted to be a part of to begin with. What a sad state of affairs for a band that has so much beauty in it's music, to be so typical, so normal. Also: Ponytail boys think twice before you flick that rattail back, I might have scissors next time, and will relieve you of either the ponytail or a pint of blood with said scissors if you smack me in the face with that hunk of mane again. Also, Phish-loving-looking guy who had to embrace his girl and rock menacingly back and forth from the first not until the moment (about song #5 I think) that we left: you are not cool. Just you know, FYI, hippiewannabees are the single saddest life form ecer. Yes, sadder even, than Trekkies." 10:13 a.m. - 2001-09-04