Photo by Lauren Gosninski from VIA

Words by Brendan

What a way to start off a year of concertgoing. I’ve never seen a show end due to a band injury before, but that’s exactly what happened here.

I really dig Raw Blow. There’s something awesomely appealing about their sound mixture: 60s pop samples, great drumming, hip-hoppy vocal stylings, rumbling bass. I’ve never heard anybody else like this and yet I’m still convinced that they’re the best at what they do. Who could be better? It makes me wish they had more recorded material to their name; as of now, it’s just the “Purple Haze” 7″ single. Their live shows are absolutely outstanding, though; they can work the room into an energetic frenzy and keep everyone’s attention, and I’ve seen this happen at such disparate venues as The Warhol Museum, Brillobox, and The Shop, so kudos to them. My friends and I showed up partway into their first song here and they went on to play five or six solid songs that I recognized, which makes me hopeful that we can expect something official from these dudes soon.

There was a bit of a lull while waiting for Sickoids to set up and take the stage, so we milled about and chatted amongst ourselves. I looked around the room seeing if I recognized any faces, and I had a nice, kinda warm-and-fuzzy realization. I did recognize a lot of faces. I don’t know what other cities’ music scenes are like, but I grow increasingly pleased with and proud of our niche here in Pittsburgh the more and more I partake in it. I don’t really know any of the people I saw there, but to recognize that barista from a coffee shop I’m at three times a week, or that librarian I rented a DVD from a few weeks ago, or that guy who always wins Brillobox pub quiz, or that dude with the crazy moustache who’s everywhere … it makes me feel like we’re all part of something memorable. #contentedsigh Unfortunately, Sickoids was not so memorable, at least for me. The guitar and drum sounds were really great, don’t get me wrong, but that screamo vocal shit just grates my ears to no end and makes every song sound the same. My friend and I ducked out for some air and a walk, heading down the street to Brillobox to buy some tickets for the next night’s show.

We went back inside a while later and had a short wait before Kim Phuc got onstage, then another short wait while they fixed stuff, then another short wait while they tuned. I’d streamed their album online a few times in the week leading up to the show and, although hardcore punk is really not my scene or typically listening experience (see Sickoids comments above), something about their melodies appealed to me. Yeah, it’s heavy rock, the stuff that makes you want to bang your head and chug a beer and pound the wall and scream out loud, and their album definitely made me feel that way, but I gleaned some new insight into their aesthetic from a Post-Gazette article by Scott Mervis published a few days before. Something about guitarist Ben Smartnick’s description of singer Rob Henry made me think about how I approach punk rock:

It’s not always easy to hear. Can you talk a little about Rob’s lyrical approach?

Rob typically sings from the first person, which seems to work best for him and the music. I mean, the song “War Pigs” is so ill, but if you sing about war and politics without relating it to yourself, the listener just feels like they are being lectured. Rob’s just a dude with some problems, and he’s going to yell about them.

That just makes sense! Why not yell about problems? Anyway, the show itself was pretty much what I expected at first. They launched right into the tunes from the LP, the ten tracks of which they planned on playing straight through. A crowd in the front formed a circle and pushed each other around while Henry stood by the front of the stage and yelled, holding the mic up for maximum volume potential. Someone threw a beer at the drummer. He threw it back. Henry threw a milk crate he had been standing on. Four songs in, Henry joined the moshing/crowd surfing. We watched from the back of the room as he was floated along the left side of the crowd like a surfboard. Then the waves parted.

Photo by Lauren Gosninski from VIA

I don’t know if somebody dropped the ball, or wasn’t paying attention, or if the crowd just separated without thinking, but Rob Henry took a tumble, crashing straight down on the floor, mic in hand. I didn’t hear any yelling or loud noises, so we couldn’t tell just yet what the damage was. Some nearby folks helped him up and he walked back toward the stage. A dude pushed his way past us through the crowd, then came rushing back a few seconds later with a towel and a water bottle. The band played on as Henry held the towel to his head. I couldn’t see over craning necks and heads, so we couldn’t tell how bad it was, but clearly he was somehow shaken up. That didn’t last long, though. The song finished and they talked amongst themselves and decided to play another one. Henry poured his heart into that one, as best he could, but it became obvious he couldn’t go on past that. A guy grabbed his arm and pushed through the crowd and out the door. The bassist thanked us for coming and said, “Pick up your fucking trash on the way out.”

I learned later that Rob Henry got a bunch of stitches, a possible concussion, and he might have torn the MCL in his knee. Wow. Someone got a close up video of the incident, so watch it if you’d like, but it’s not for the faint of stomach. Here’s the lesson, kids: be as punk as you fucking want, but be safe. If you get injured, show some stones and stick it out for a little bit, but ultimately, go to the hospital and get checked out. The crowd will love you for your attitude and disregard for human life, and your friends and family will love you for taking care of yourself. Win win. Or something like that. No, fuck it. The real lesson? Get well soon, Mr. Henry. Here’s to a speedy recovery and future health. Meanwhile, go out and buy their vinyl, folks. Chug some beer and yell. But don’t get hurt.

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Kim Phuc on the web: Blog / Facebook / Iron Lung Records
Sickoids on the web: Facebook
Raw Blow on the web: MySpace / Last.fm

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Filed under: Concert Reviews, Homegrown Goodness, Mind Blowing