Tenth Installment: Flirting With Total Fucking Disaster (06/04/09)
The shows themselves? They've been really good! I'm not going to sit here and talk about my own performances; it's like doing a Jon Madden play-by-play, circling the fumbles. Anyway, We Versus the Shark is treating this as our final tour with this material, "this material" being the inward-looking "yuchhh" of Dirty Versions. It's a bunch of sweaty screaming, and as a means of giving Luke and myself a break while simultaneously alienating the audience even further, we've developed a fun new habit. This habit involves recruiting a drummer - any drummer will do - for a rendition of "The Greatest Gift," a golden classic from '80s Texas punk freaks Scratch Acid. Meanwhile, our percussionist, Mr. Scott Smith, he of the copious sheets of perspiration and hobbit/caveman stature/hairstyle, drops into the crowd as "lead singer;" very upsetting for everyone involved. My favorite move that Scott has executed so far this tour is stuffing his entire head under some poor kid's shirt for the entirety of the guitar solo.
And so it's very fun: until last night in Copenhagen, wherein "The Greatest Gift" was very nearly a stocking stuffer of sadness. As Thom Peckett, guitarist for Blakfish, settled behind the drums and we launched into the song's surf-punk lurch, I noticed a pint glass had shattered into a web of shrapnel to the left of a monitor, all over the floor. Scott was in the crowd, barefoot. My mind was immediately flush with images of bloody footprints and a very sad trip to the emergency room. And so on the downbeat, I jumped offstage and bum-rushed Scott deeper into the audience. Of course, he thinks I'm perpetrating some fun-time mosh move or something, and so he begins pushing back harder, totally oblivious to the glass very nearly underfoot. This battle of the peons continued for the duration of the song, with me screaming over the music "GLASS! BROKEN GLASS!" and Scott screaming back "YEAH!" and other rock and roll truisms.
After two minutes of pure, concentrated idiocy, the song ended and Scott returned to his kit unharmed. He then proceeded to perch on his throne and fall into the drum kit in the first thirty seconds of the next song. Thank you Copenhagen, goodnight!
Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!
The shows themselves? They've been really good! I'm not going to sit here and talk about my own performances; it's like doing a Jon Madden play-by-play, circling the fumbles. Anyway, We Versus the Shark is treating this as our final tour with this material, "this material" being the inward-looking "yuchhh" of Dirty Versions. It's a bunch of sweaty screaming, and as a means of giving Luke and myself a break while simultaneously alienating the audience even further, we've developed a fun new habit. This habit involves recruiting a drummer - any drummer will do - for a rendition of "The Greatest Gift," a golden classic from '80s Texas punk freaks Scratch Acid. Meanwhile, our percussionist, Mr. Scott Smith, he of the copious sheets of perspiration and hobbit/caveman stature/hairstyle, drops into the crowd as "lead singer;" very upsetting for everyone involved. My favorite move that Scott has executed so far this tour is stuffing his entire head under some poor kid's shirt for the entirety of the guitar solo.
And so it's very fun: until last night in Copenhagen, wherein "The Greatest Gift" was very nearly a stocking stuffer of sadness. As Thom Peckett, guitarist for Blakfish, settled behind the drums and we launched into the song's surf-punk lurch, I noticed a pint glass had shattered into a web of shrapnel to the left of a monitor, all over the floor. Scott was in the crowd, barefoot. My mind was immediately flush with images of bloody footprints and a very sad trip to the emergency room. And so on the downbeat, I jumped offstage and bum-rushed Scott deeper into the audience. Of course, he thinks I'm perpetrating some fun-time mosh move or something, and so he begins pushing back harder, totally oblivious to the glass very nearly underfoot. This battle of the peons continued for the duration of the song, with me screaming over the music "GLASS! BROKEN GLASS!" and Scott screaming back "YEAH!" and other rock and roll truisms.
After two minutes of pure, concentrated idiocy, the song ended and Scott returned to his kit unharmed. He then proceeded to perch on his throne and fall into the drum kit in the first thirty seconds of the next song. Thank you Copenhagen, goodnight!
Jeff Tobias, We Versus The Shark. Blog courtesy of Flagpole Magazine: Colorbearer of Athens, GA Star Power!
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