Vomit Lasers Family Band

The Black Lips/ Dark Meat/ Fatal Flying Guillotines
February 22, 2007 @ the Bottletree











"I feel as if I were being vomited inside an amplifier inside of a volcano"
- Jacob Tubbs

The first band, Fatal Flying Guillotines, were so extremely loud that we had to text message each other to converse about how loud they were. Greg, the bartender happily handed us two sets of earplugs and Jacob flashed his T-shirt that was under his sweater, which featured a Spinal Tap Amplifier dial that went to 11.

For some reason I thought that there were only two bands playing. As we heard instruments murmuring behind the movie screen on the stage, we got up from our table and moved toward the front, ready to see the infamous Black Lips. But when Merrillee rolled the screen up, Jacob and I both were a little overwhelmed to discover, this was not the Black Lips, this was THE LARGEST BAND EVER, Dark Meat, a music collective from Athens. There were almost 20 people on that little stage, guitarist, two drummers, bassist, 3 girl singers, a horn section (which featured an unamused fife player), a girl with a pair of marracas, and a guy with drum sticks and other gadgets who beat on pretty much everything. Oh, an did I mention that they had an EXTRA saxophone player?

It was the loudest, craziest thing I'd heard in a long long while, the totally packed stage was positively writhing with activity, people in costumes, dancing, jumping, whirling. I looked over at Jacob and he still had Chachi on his finger while he bobbed back and forth, the people all around us were dancing too, hands in the air. One guy in front of us, a long haired metal dude, knelt down to the stage as if he was at the invitation at a baptist church, probably praying to the gods of distortion.

As I looked at everyone on stage, I realized that two of the girl singers were Page and Claire Campbell, the sisters from one of my FAVORITE bands/collectives/whatever Hope For Agoldensummer. I cannot tell you what a joy I've always found watching them sing and play. I've booked them at the Moonlight. Absolutely incredible. Now, to watch them wail over a bursting madness of instruments...it was a bit euphoric.

After the set, I realized how late it was, and like Cinderella ran out the
door, down the steps and into my awaiting coach. I hated to miss the Black Lips, but sometimes I feel the need to do this really lame thing called "Sleeping" before I work a full day at the Emergency Room.

I got a little bit of sleep. I dreamt of Jacob dancing in front of the
stage, in front of the Black Lips, Beer in one hand, Chachi on the other, arms in the air. He was sort of riverdancing, and in his Freddie Mercury Halloween Costume. But that's cool.

not a problem

It's super okay, rolling over the days like this. The distortion from the Black Lips kills what quiet thoughts I had left. My head wags back and forth and as the pressure runs from side to side and settles in the back of my skull, I start to remember. I run to their car, jump inside, the tail lights bobbing as we pull away from the curb. We turn onto College Ave, up the street and on into the night.

On nights like this we'd drive through the country side, the flat dark backroads beyond St. Elmo, into the oil fields and pastures and woodlands. Shawn and Josh and little tiny me, laughing stifled teary laughs in the wind that flew through the broken sun roof of the El Dorado. The curves of the night, the gravel and broken pavement, the fresh green field-filled air, the genius of teenage invention. We spent the hours on the edge, the only edge I knew, this dangerous quick turn, my hands extended out the window, my eyes closed taking in every jolt, every rev-v-v-v of the tired engine, the night air whipping the long locks of my hair into my eyes and face. Shawn, from the passenger seat, nodded his head in time, his curly hair just hitting the shoulders of his flannel shirt. He turned up the stereo and Josh peered back at me in the rearview mirror and smiled. I sat in the middle of the back seat, hands steadying as we took another turn. I stared back at him through one eye and then the other, turning my head slightly with each small look. I leaned forward between the front seats, elbows pushing against the sides, my head resting on Josh's right shoulder. Shawn pulled a paper bag from beneath the seat, motioned for me to sit back, pulled out his lighter and lit a bottle rocket, flinging it out of the sun roof and into space, a POP resounding in the dark distance behind us. Josh leaned forward, the drumming hum of the car, the crushing sound of rock'n'roll through broken speakers pulling us out into the night and on into the future.