Why the hell should it cost $4.00 to park your car? Having a good time is costly enough without some "Surfs up, bra!"-opportunist in a pink hat asking for the near equivalent of two beers. Screw that shit! I decide to become a fake guest at the Stargate Motel several blocks away. This Green Run High (circa '88)-looking pregnant whore in a Tommy Hilfiger tee asks, "Hey! Wanna party?" I answer, "Yeah, but not with you." As I walk away from the tacky sex merchant, she repeatedly screams, "YOU STUPID WHITE BOY!" at me. "Stupid white boy" coming from a dirty, pale-faced bitch who could easily double as the promiscuous daughter of a West Virginia coal miner? You go, girl!
I walk into 44 and notice a big-breasted female squirting lemon juice down her legs. That rocks! James River Scratch come out with a mid-tempo, nearly Oi!-ish sound that causes everyone to move about crazily. Haven't seen any releases by these guys yet, but I'm sure JRS will play again soon.
Evil Superman run through a solid 20-minute set of "old school" punk mixed with industrial. However, this cross-fertilization has nothing to do with ES (who are definitely grounded in the former). There is a DJ in the back room playing Ministry, Skinny Puppy, etc. simultaneously to Evil Superman's performance. Odds that the dancing girl clad in black is a witch named Felicity: 1-in-2.
Last-minute additions The Pimps rock out with a humorous drunk-punk style that serves them well on songs like "Butt Raped By Life" and "My Dad Smokes Crack." Memo to Pimps: Where's that guy in the pink jacket? He's a riot!
The Unabomers tear it up in an early '80s, in-your-face, hardcore kinda way. Everyone wants a piece of the mic during the final number (a take on the Ramones' "Blitzkrieg Bop") that closes the festivities in fine form.
If you'd like to hear a mix of ska and Southern rock at 44, get the bartender up front to play Voodoo Glow Skulls and the one in back to put on Lynyrd Skynyrd. Adjust the volume on both stereos to 22. Sit at the table along the corridor that divides both rooms. Order a Busch and place a pork-pie hat on your head. Simmer to taste. Yee haw, rude boy!
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