If you missed out on this show, be sad.
Not as sad as if you missed out on their show at Trees almost 3 years ago, when they gave a seriously unbeatable performance, but be sad.
It is my personal, factual, undisputed, universally-accepted-as-truth belief that BRMC is incapable of giving a bad performance. The night of April 27th was no exception.
Justin Bieber (or as I like to call him, Justin Gerber) is a pop sensation, and as such, it is his duty to amass large quantities of money by plastering his face to everything. Such is capitalism. There is a line, though, between Bieber Fever and Bieber Schizophrenia. Bieber Fever inspires a lot of merchandise, like t-shirts, posters, and teddy bears. Bieber Schizophrenia, on the other hand, generates weird crap like this:
12. JB Barbie: Yeah, Barbie, not Ken. You can’t expect me to look at that face and see a man. And how weird does this thing look? It’s just, like, staring… looking nowhere in particular, probably wishing its hair wasn’t painted onto its head like that. Maybe it’s the failed-decapitation neck slit that’s throwing me off, but something about this G.I. Joe-gone-wrong just doesn’t sit right with me.
BRMC no longer stands for “Black Rebel Motorcycle Club”. After their amazing show at Trees in Dallas, TX, last Sunday night, it now stands for “Badass Rockin’ Mind-Blowing Concert”. In other words, my new drug. Their concert was so good, it felt like what I imagine cult members think they’re gonna feel like after they drink the Kool-Aid.
When I woke up on Monday morning, the whole night felt really surreal, like a meth-head dream. I’ve never smoked meth though, so I have no idea what that feels like. The surrealism of the night before makes me think BRMC concerts are drugs in and of themselves, only better since they’re less likely to kill you. I’ve only been to two of their shows, and now attending more is an absolute necessity. In March earlier this year, they came to the House of Blues in Dallas, and the show was good, but Sunday night’s was way better. This was either because Robert Levon Been was on fire, or because this time around, there weren’t any douchebags asking for a tangerine to the face.
With the slew of horrendous summer movies finally coming to a close, we can all breathe easier and willingly walk into movie theaters again. But do you even need to go to the theater to get action-packed, thrilling, romantic, glorious cinematic content? No ma’amsir, you do not. Go to Blockbuster and rent everything on my newest list: movies that are often overlooked despite their poignant and outstanding cinematic content:
1. White Chicks: Two down-and-out FBI CSI CIA NYPD black men have to protect two young, spoiled, blonde white women. After inevitably getting into a steamy affair with the girls, the men ponder life, love, and discover religion. Through their physical intimacy, they lead the girls on an emotional journey and teach them how to appreciate the little things in life, like sex. Since one of the men is married, and has discovered religion (what religion? All the religions!) since consummating his affair, he feels deeply guilty for betraying his wife and begins a long trek home, disguised as the white woman he plowed. This is obviously because he feels the need to literally show the world what he’s done, and the easiest way to do that is by cross-dressing and cross-ethnicitying. His fellow law enforcement black friend joins him on his journey, also disguised as the woman he slept with, to repent with him for betraying his own wife, who doesn’t exist, since he’s not married. This movie is a journey of journeys, about journey, with the entire soundtrack consisting of Journey.
Update: I am a douchebag. The Pretty Black Chains did not open for BRMC at the Dallas HOB show. They don’t have 15 guitarists that whip people with their Rapunzel-length hair, and from the sampler I heard on their Myspace, they’re pretty good– the opposite of the band I was originally referring to. I don’t know who the band was that opened for BRMC in Dallas this past March, and it seems no one on the internet knows either. They’re ghosts, maybe? Anyway, The Pretty Black Chains, please accept my sincerest apology for my inaccurate and rude blog post. You guys are definitely not the band I was thinking of. Again, I’m sorry.
I’ve compiled a list of disgusting band names. Keep in mind that this list is not a reflection on the quality of the band’s music, just their horrible names.
Limp Bizkit: First of all, what does a correctly spelled “limp biscuit” even mean? If you don’t know, consult Urban Dictionary and prepare to barf out all your innards. Seriously, why would anyone name anything after that?! “Hey, we’re so badass that we’re gonna name our band after a super gay ‘game’, even though we’re sort of homophobes. And we’re gonna spell ‘biscuit’ wrong! Awesome.”