It was so cold last night that I let grumpiness consume me on the walk to the Skull. With my hood up, my shadow looked like a human-lion or a person with a fro, but blocking the frigid air from slapping me in the face was all I cared about.
When we passed over that Union hill and the Skull came into view, contentment immediately replaced my grumpiness and I was ready to forget about my fragile, fractured ankle and rock out with my cray-cray out.
First up was 99 cent Dreamz, who is a a man named Paul. By himself, he played some pretty raw tunes consisting of his guitar solos and electronic drumbeats. He apologized for the shitty sound a few times, because the sound wasn't THAT great. But he worked with what he had, which was apparently music equipment he bought from friends. The best part of his set was when he invited his friend onstage with him to perform a rap-garage rock hybrid of sorts. The guy rapping, whose name I didn't catch, was awesome and really s'pportin' his buddy Paul. I was grinning pretty big the whole time.
After that was Blithe Field--a local favorite of mine. There may not be a lot of action going on onstage, but it's as if his fingers are band members in and of themselves, each responsible for an instrument within a button.
I can't help but find myself mesmerized by the bouncing movement. It's such a mystery as to what noise will come from each tap and manipulation of the machine. Once the ear's anticipation is met, it's deeply satisfied with the sounds of children laughing and soothing synth and samples of acoustics and even Joanna Newsom! Boy was a excited to hear that neat little tweak of "Peach, Plum, Pear."
Don't forget about the dog! There was a big ol' black mastif just walking around the bar and he was a cute-cute. I tried to make friends with him, but so was everyone else, and he didn't choose me.
Up next was Guinea Worms, and they were rambunctious young men: Rambunctious and weird and a total blast. They played some hardcore-ish garage rock that was as coarse as a horse(?). We found ourselves jumping around the Skull's solid ground, punching our fists through the air and kicking our heels and shaking our heads. That remained pretty consistent through their whole set.
We missed the last band because we grew tired and hungry and decided it was time to leave.
And so, the sound that lay me to sleep that night was that of my ears' ringing, which was so piercing that I, aloud, asked my ears to please be quiet. And they didn't listen, and still aren't listening. Damn ears. I can only imagine how incapable you're going to be when I'm old.
--Hannah Cook, Managing Editor
Photo Credit: Guinea Worms Myspace