Oh, it started out so lame, with a pint at the Rhodeside and a look at a “private party” complete with a “let’s throw a funk beat onto every cool Rolling Stones tune anyone ever liked” band. Sigh. That might be cool in a college town, but dammit, there’s bigger fish in this part of the sea.
Why can I afford to be such a snob, you axe?
Because I had the courage to leave, and walk the six-to-ten blocks up the hill to Iota, where I have a perpetually outstanding tab which I’ll remember to pay off one of these days.
Only I didn’t go directly there. About four blocks in advance, Wilson Boulevard started to pulse randomly with some of the best proto-punk I’ve ever heard. It was coming from Galaxy Hut, capacity: 48; slightly overcrowded, the sound was bursting out onto the street as people entered and left.
People were congregating from all directions; the tunes were drawing them like moths to flame. Most weren’t going in, beacause it was so crowded. I rudged, snagged a Brooklyn, and soaked. The band is Late Night Television, and they farking smoke. I bought their CD, and their head guy told me it was cool to burn it and forward it to Hellcat Records, which I’m going to do. I will not turn this shit loose on the Internet.
Unfortunately, I only caught the last half hour of the show, which to my mind was like a cross between Government Issue and Shudder To Think, so I had to move on. Unpaid bar tabs are paid off in Hell, so Iota was next on the list.
Eight dollar cover?! What the f**k is eight bucks gonna buy me? Fortunately, even though I’m partially deaf, I could hear what was going on.
Four piece band: two guys who could be twins playing banjo and guitar, a searing mandolin, and a dude thumping a bass made from a Ford gasoline tank (I asked). These dudes take the Bad Livers to a whole 'nother level.
Followed by Jumpin’ Jupiter, I think, a rockabilly band worthy of Quentin Tarantino’s notice. The Mount Gay and Coke was kicking in hard by the time that ended, but I’m left with this impression: those guys kick ass.
So, to summarize, the music scene here in NoVa is alive and kickin’. I appeal to my fellow Arlingtonians to help me get the draconinan weekday noise ordinances repealed, so that we can continue to enjoy such brilliance on a regular basis. And get out there! There’s too much good stuff happening for you to miss.
I think I forgot to pay off the tab again at Iota. One more reason to go back.
