Sex Sux (Amen) is Back!

Sex Sux (Amen) is returning from its brief hiatus for another season of debauchery, serious insecurities, bad manners and taste, and unfortunate bravery.

Check out the concert calendar for the upcoming local shows you should be attending and get ready for more consistent posting from now on!

Here’s a summary of my first three concert experiences in the year of purity, 2011.  I work my way backwards, using cynicism!

Concert #3:  The glory hole known as Castlevania had an excellent musical melodrama that starred various players, player-haters, and pretty much anyone you would want to meet in helllllll.

(Actually on Friday, January 14, cuz that snow was snowy)

The first performer was a noise crank and I asked my friend if I was an asshole for liking the racket and he said, why yes, liking this music does make you a smarmy worm.  Hooray!  His name is S2F19K314.

O I enjoyed the noise rage!

The second band, Signal Break, had a sick attitude and a wonderful hair-cut and a cello and an effected drum.  They were good, whatever, ladee ladee dah, I get distracted/forget things rather easily = don’t have great adjectives to achieve better descriptions in this review.

Stuffing is my favorite food, when eating turkey dinner.  I also like gravy.  I could probably just eat stuffing with gravy and be perfectly fine for a couple decades.

Let’s see: the rest of the night: there was an immensely long break in between sets and I can’t even remember if someone actually played, bashed on something with machines and wires and/or wieners, or if I hallucinated the whole experience and in reality there was just a dog running around and I was in his head and I saw how he imagined the whole night and damn, that was a fucked up moment.

And then Gila Monster came on.  At the point the crowd had grown almost into a full throng.

“That throng thra throng throng throng.  Let me see that crusty goooo.  Ooo that crusty throng throng throng!”  New theme song?

This post sucks.  OK, Gila Monster, they were  great that night and Castlevania turned into a beast.  People were hanging off that fucked up netting and falling around and pushing and yes, this was the best Gila Monster set I’ve ever seen and yes, the bodies hit the floor.

Overall, despite the the serious lack of mental health, the naked truth of people’s need for breast implants, the public hair found all over the ground, and all the lies I’ve written in this post, the night was hip as fuck.

Concert #2:  The second concert I attended was the band “Deervana” on Saturday January 8 at The Met in the Pawtucket bucket.  They’re straight from the oven into your mouth, the muffin tops of testicles, the sundae surprise that is found on your chest after a night with ‘Doc’ Gooden.  Strike three!

First, I am forced to note, due to my ‘keeping it real integrity rule,’ that the opening band was maybe the worst, stinkiest, most boring of all boring musical groups I’ve ever had to pass a kidney stone through.  I’ve farted under my covers and smelt less odorous monstrosities.  The musicians seemed nice and cute and very serious but I brought friends to this show and hey, this embarrassed me.

Thank goodness the band known as “Deervana” were more musically enlightened, and super duper close to the real Kurt Kokaine.  My favorite songs were Molly’s Lips because that’s a Vaselines song (hey!) and Sliver because that’s such a sick song and Smells Like Teen Sprite (Obey Yr Thirst).  Also, there was a trendy mosh pit and flannel like the 1990s and a serious lack of seriousness.  Never be serious, please, that makes music boring and suck and yeah, that’s that (Doom).

Concert #1: I went to a show near Providence College on January 7 Friday at the space known as “Space Jam.”  I was hoping for more aliens, purple, and nudity.  That is what I call high expectations, I’m sorry.

There were two bands and one was OK and sounded like Battles if they didn’t feel like editing themselves and coughed up blood and rubbed it into their hair and it turned out like this:

Turns out they are called Bees and they are from Binghampton, NY.

I imagine this is how people from there talk: BING BING BONG BOING!

Translation: This band’s alright.

And then the next band came on and they played guitar realllll fast and that was a blast and then I left cuz it was actually sorta boring:

Turns out their names were Anisette.

Boop.

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