The drum kit is sentient and coated in tin foil, its human overseers gaunt and warped from light years of ST37 abuse. These two jumpsuited mutants go by the earth-names Damon Edge and Helios Creed and their clingfilm (Saran wrap) skin is pallid from sunlight estrangement. While Punk was pissing and whinging about the inequity of modern life, Chrome were taking the same musical aesthetics and shaping it into a future we were expecting after the promise of late 60s space exploration and the ensuing Universe of cautionary and allegorical Sci Fi, courtesy of some of the period’s drugs of choice.
Failure Live at House of Blues, or: How I Went to Houston for 24 Hours, Bought some Records, Hung out with some Old Friends, Drank Way Too Much Beer, and Saw one of My Favorite Bands of All Time
Traditionally (at least for the last few months), Wednesday has been my day off from a week’s worth of work drudgery, my day to spend with my son, going to the park, playing with the dog, watching horror movies, reading comic books, and napping. It’s a wonderful day. Last Wednesday, I didn’t get to do any of those things…well, the boy did take a 30-minute power nap on me before we left the house…but the day was wonderful nonetheless. Just a different kind of wonderful. The find-a-record-you’ve-been-looking-for, friend-seeing, beer-swilling, see-a-band-you-thought-you’d-never-ever-see road trip kind of wonderful.
“N. Senada’s (Bavarian Composer -1907-1993) “Theory of Obscurity” states that an artist can only produce pure art when the expectations and influences of the outside world are not taken into consideration.”
I shouldn’t have to be writing this because you should have been there yourself. Luckily for you, Bob is a natural phenomenon that, like some integral celestial body circles the Planet Earth every year, so you can ensure you don’t miss him next time. Though maybe it’s us that orbits him. Anyway until next year…