The thing about getting old is that I really don’t want to do it. Luckily, neither do the guys in Strung Out who played two of their earlier albums straight through and back-to-back last night. I will say at the outset it was pretty fucking incredible. It was also a bit different with an older crowd in the house:
- By rolling through on a Thursday night, having three openers, and playing two 15-year old albums, Strung Out guaranteed that only a handful of aging new-school punk rockers would be in attendance and that handful happened to be among the less well-kept (excluding myself, of course). Owners of 15-plus year old tattoos who don’t have them touched up might as well shit on themselves and smear it around, because the visual effect is the same. We’re getting to the age where that sort of behavior is expected and accepted anyway, and depending on what the original piece looked like, a shit smear might be an upgrade.
- There was something resembling a pit although it looked more like a friendship circle with the obligatory tween girls heading up the front. There was also a bit of stage diving but even more stage leaning, whereby aging punk rockers would slowly lean into the crowd, weary of the crowd’s desire and/or ability to catch them. “OK, I’m fucking coming! You guys ready?!?! Alright, seriously, you ready?! I’m easing in, yep, easing in, leaning over, making contact with some hands, and I’m down! Strung Out!!!”
- Strung Out’s backstage entourage has seen better days. You’d think a polo shirt and khaki pants wouldn’t be prevalent in the backstage punk scene but at this show you’d be wrong. Obesity was also in with this crew, although some of them may have been pregnant women, I couldn’t tell. In any event, there was no excuse for the tie-dyed t-shirt and I hoped all night that fuck would fall off the stage.
- One noticeably absent punk rock accessory was hair. I saw one formal mohawk but for the most part the male audience members had long since parted with the hair on the top of their heads and had retained only the smallest amounts on the sides. Sucks to be you, men.
Good times all around, except for when I woke up this morning and the gravity of my age and (in)ability to party hit me head on in the form of a job and real world responsibilities.