• Mindsight – Steal This Moment
• The Influence – Slippin
• Figo – Time to Get Even
• Blacktop Harrison – Polarvoid Ipswitch
• Piranah – Stupidity
• Chingazo – My Disease

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If you can’t sell five copies of your CD, how do you justify getting 1000 made?

If you don’t promote your shows, booking three a week won’t make you famous any faster.

If you can’t get the drunk and desperate 35-year-old bar fly who has a permanent spot at the end of the bar to go home with you, don’t even try going for that gorgeous 21-year-old who is only there to see her boyfriend’s crappy band.

If one of those XXL energy drink canisters doesn’t wake you up, you should probably get some sleep.

If you can’t make it heavy in standard tuning, tuning down to G isn’t going to make it any heavier. But it probably will loosen a few bowels. THAT’S metal!

If you can’t squeeze a halfway decent guitar recording out of one microphone, two usually isn’t going to make the situation any better.

Having more than one cover song in your 45-minute set doesn’t prove your “versatility,” it proves your awareness of the fact that people would rather hear someone else’s music than the music they scraped up five bucks to hear and see you play.

If your songs don’t sound good on an acoustic guitar they’ll most likely not sound good on a 7-string plugged into five Marshall stacks (unless, of course you’re pulling out some Tom Morello shit… but chances are you’re not Tom Morello).

If your three-piece band doesn’t sound good, adding a keyboard player, a violinist, a DJ, five backing vocalists, another couple guitar players, an entire horn section, an accordion player, four more percussionists, a xylophone player, a designated screamer, a few dancers, and a huge laser light show won’t make it any better.

If you can’t write a good song with just three chords, don’t expect your songs to magically become brilliant masterworks of music when you throw a few more chords, four guitar solos, and a couple breakdowns in. That being said, if you only use the same three chords for every song you’re going to be boring as hell.

If your amp sucks and your guitar sucks, adding a bunch of distortion pedals and rack gear won’t magically “take the blanket off” your amp.

If you can’t make crappy gear sound decent, you have no right to get good gear.

If you can’t play to begin with, getting a custom guitar and a vintage tube amp won’t magically make you Jimmy Page.

Most importantly: Why are you charging five bucks for your three-song demo you recorded in your living room using the built-in mic on a cassette recorder from 1987 when Clear Channel is blasting the latest Puddle of Mudd and Nickelback turds on 97.9FM at no charge to anyone listening?

• Shadowside – Baby in the Dark
• Ion Prophecy – Reflection
• Sideburn – Ghost of 1980
• Circle of Thieves – Vaporizer
• Mudvayne – Dullboy
• Mudthurst – Living Like a Rock Star

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What is wrong with people these days? Your resentment of the below-average intelligence of the typical bar-going chump is not only understandable, it’s completely normal. After all, at the end of a long week of work people just want to go out to a club with some friends, get a blood alcohol level that’s a multiple of 2, and attempt to pick up someone to share a bed with for a night. You, on the other hand, would rather plop down in front of the glowing computer screen and lurk around MySpace looking for venues and local people who might possibly have the slightest chance of being into your band’s music, as well as sending emails kissing up to promoters and radio DJs in the hopes that one of those contacts will be the one who unleashes your band’s music upon the unsuspecting masses, launching you and your band head-first into superstardom. Or at least that’s how it happens before you wake up stuck to your bed.

Everyone is out there while you’re sitting in your comfy chair in your smiley-face boxers drinking Southern Comfort and letting your waist grow. And you wonder why no one comes to your shows. The best way to get on the radar of everyone who would rather go out and risk getting a DUI every Friday and Saturday night than go home after work and go to sleep early is to intercept their routine. Get yourself in their fuzzy weekend memory banks. In other words: SHOW YOUR FACE! Go out to shows, talk yourself up, meet people! If talking to you about your band is the last thing some guy remembers before finding himself in his apartment at 5am with everything he drank that night coming out of both ends of his body, you might be doing something right (or very very wrong, but let’s not go there).

So get out into the real world, find a show at a decent-sized venue with a bunch of bands you’ve never heard of, and talk to people. Even if you don’t instantly make a ton of friends you’ll still be more productive than if you went about your normal routine of couching it in your apartment with one hand on your computer keyboard and the other hand somewhere beneath your stomach, listening to the radio, and telling some girl on MySpace with “~~<3 I’m Only Jailbait If They Catch You <3~~” as her display name about how famous your band is going to be.

• Feral Children – Zyghost
• Circle Of Thieves – Vaporizer
• Romantacide – Hard To Find
• Romantacide – Save Yourself
• Madison Ambush – From Another Day
• Rough Roostars – Wake Up

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Hey… you…I got a secret. No seriously. I’ll tell it to you. Shhh! Don’t say anything. I figured it all out. I did. Seriously. And I’m willing to tell you. Just listen. Check it out. Those bands. Certain bands. Whether they’re really good or just totally suck. They bring out a bunch of chicks! Like, really gorgeous dumb chicks! In DROVES! The kind of girls whose mere existence made you want to pick up an instrument to begin with! Every show! Every damn show they come out to see the band! You work TIRELESSLY to get your band’s music and name out there, while these assholes do nothing but post a MySpace bulletin at the last minute and instantly bring seas of gorgeous girls. How do they do it??

Well, my friend, it’s actually quite simple. I shall call it the Dane Cook effect. Do you really think that if Steve Buscemi’s career consisted of over-pronouncing words, coming up with nicknames for fast food places, and jumping around like a frat boy after a few too many beer bongs he’d have college girls masturbating to his entire catalog on repeat? It’s the same way with you trying to make some good-looking girls laugh by telling that hilarious joke about the sex change operation: You get looks of disgust and then the girls ignore you, while the dude with the popped collar tells the same joke a couple days later and is met with roaring laughter by the same girls. No, it’s not fair, but the truth is that girls like pretty boys. Even back to when you were a kid and all the boy band shit was shoved down every teenage girl’s throat. You’d flip the channels and land on TRL and see some psychotic chick standing out in 15 degree NYC weather for three hours just to tell the cameras “I requested Backstreet Boys because they’re so hot!! Woooo!!!” These are the same brainless chicks who go to a show not to enjoy a band’s music, but just to see them presented on an elevated portion of the room as if those guy are the only ones to step foot on that stage. Oh, and they just so happen to be playing instruments.

So rest easy knowing that, despite the moisture levels of their fans’ vaginas convincing them to endlessly blabber on otherwise, it really does have nothing to do with talent. And also take comfort in the fact that once another band of dudes with nut-huggers, brand name polo shirts, and stylishly almost-too-shaggy hair starts stealing the spotlight, the band you’ve been envious of for so long will only have their music, stage show, and promotional skills to rely on. And that’s how it should be.

• Commodor – Tolt
• Daisy Grenades – Broken Record
• War Tapes – Dreaming Of You
• White Denim – Mess Your Hair Up
• Urbansnake – Energy
• Tomorrow – Are You Happy Now

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• Haven – Vertigo
• Opposite Box – Trilogy
• The Unsatisfied – White Trash
• Evervigilant – 4K
• Hypnowheel – Crack The Sky
• Almost There – Art Of Laziness

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The Band Member:
“I had a show Saturday. Woke up at 8am because I still had to work a full day first. I’d give my left nut to be able to have Saturdays off again, especially on show days, but $4 per gallon gas isn’t going to pay for itself. So anyway, I got off work about 5 and headed over to the 7-11 to get a Red Bull and one of those greasy hot dogs that have been sitting out all day. No time to go home, shower, or make something to eat before the show. So I drove a half an hour to the practice space to squeeze in a little warm-up band practice before the show. Let me tell you, this place is far away from EVERYTHING and the power works about half the time, but there are only a handful of places to practice in the area and they all either cost a ton to rent, have six-month waiting lists, or are just not meant to be practice spaces. I’ll take what I can get. And afford.

The rest of the band showed up about 20 minutes after I got there, leaving us to only be able to tear through a couple songs before we had to pack up and haul ass. Of course the venue is on the complete opposite end of town and the owner wanted us there by 7. Wonderful.

We got to the venue at 7:05 and almost got into a car accident several times from rushing to get there, only to realize that none of the other bands would even start showing up until 8:30. The show finally started at 10 and we went on about 11:30. The place was actually filling up! So we sound checked and started our set. Couldn’t really hear myself that great so I asked the sound guy for more vocals in the monitor. The song we started after that I still couldn’t hear my vocals very well. What the hell? I asked the sound guy to please turn it up more but he said he couldn’t. What?? How hard is it to turn ONE KNOB?? Towards the middle of our set I started seeing the place clear out. Of course no one would want to hear me singing off-key. I’d leave too. Sound Guy, you fucking bastard. The entire show sucked because of him and his slacker attitude. All my friends who were still there after we played told me I sounded great but I knew better. I sucked. We sucked.”

The Sound Guy:
“I got called in to do sound on Saturday night. I worked all day at my day job even though I originally was only supposed to work Monday through Friday, and I was looking forward to a nice relaxing night alone with the wifey when the asshole owner of the venue called me up and said that I had to do sound that night. I love doing sound. I’ve been doing it for 20 years. But there are times where I’d much rather just stay home and relax than spend the majority of the night in a smoky bar where everyone’s drinking and partying except for me.

So I got there on time. As always. God, the gear there sucks, but I made due as always. I fired everything up, sound checked, the usual. Another night of band after band all sounding the same. Call me an old bastard, but I remember a time when no one would come see a band if they didn’t at least have their shit together. Not only do 95% of the bands I see nowadays all sound the same, many of them can barely even play their instruments! And worst of all, they all seem to blame me for THEM not knowing what they’re doing on stage! No, YOU’RE causing all that feedback. That’s what happens when you cup the microphone and kneel down right in front of the monitor! That’s what happens when you crank the gain on your guitar amp and play right in front of it!

Anyway, another mediocre band got up on stage at about 11:30. Same old, same old. These guys had their shit together but boy were they cocky! They kept looking around at all the chicks in the room like “oh yeah, you know you want this.” Made me a little nauseous. I’m sure the ladies felt the same way too because the place started clearing out about halfway through their set. The singer wanted more vocals in his monitor so I turned him up. The kid didn’t project with his voice at all, had no resonance, and consequently had no volume. There was only so far I could turn him up without a ton of feedback. So when he asked for even more vocals in the monitor I told him it was up as far as it could go. I told him I could pull some of the other instruments in the monitor back so that he could hear his vocals better but he wasn’t having it. The asshole actually started yelling at me and blaming me for ruining his set! ON STAGE he was doing this! That kid has SOME NERVE!”

Random Guy:
 ”So I heard a lot of hot drunk chicks were gonna be at this show on Saturday night. Naturally, I went. Cool place. The bartender made my drinks STRONG! Had big tits too. She totally wanted my cock. There were some bands playing that night but I was busy hitting on the bartender and some of her friends who were at the bar. Then a little later on in the night one of the bands and the sound guy started arguing or something. It was totally lame, so I left. Don’t remember much after that.”

• The Bohemian Embassy – 21st century blues
• Chingazo – Nothing Like Jupiter
• Megan Paige – Secret
• Robo – Last Chance
• Romantacide – Save Yourself
• Spin – Not In Love

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• Worth Dying For – Revolution
• Stuart Douglas – City Of The Lost
• Spin – Playing Dead
• One Perfect Minute – Cut Me To Pieces
• Simple Tools – Ancient Sunshine
• Red Run – No Song

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• The Crash Moderns – Pimp My Life
• Career Club – Old-Fashioned
• The Dan Sheehan Conspiracy – The Valley
• Abbot Finney – Show Me Something Better
• Autumn Leaves – Final Dissonance
• BrookroydLane – World is Ending

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The cover song you picked for your set = better than the entire rest of your set.

Putting out the same album for 20 years does not make you “true,” “dedicated,” or “loyal,” it makes you really really really boring. On the flip side to that, if people are actually buying every single one of your albums despite it being a complete recycling of your last (read: every single AC/DC album after Back in Black), you’re running one hell of a good business.

You really sounded terrible when you tried to play while hammered. Get the hell off the stage.

No one is impressed by the directionless, pointless, randomly-placed sloppy byproduct of bad technique you call a guitar solo…. except for virginal dudes with scraggly mutton chops and puffy 1988 mullets who sit wide-eyed as they listen to their Nitro CDs while jacking off into their own mouths.

And if the best part of your song is the guitar solo, you need to learn to WRITE A FUCKING SONG.

Bass solos are cool if the bass player is absolutely amazing. Like Victor Wooten amazing, not “hey look, I’m banging out nursery rhymes on the strings and acting like that alone is worth me wasting 10 minutes of a set that could have been used for actually playing songs.”

Drum solos should never last more than 2 minutes unless the dude starts playing with his cock AND balls. While the drums are moving. Doesn’t matter how good the guy is, you’re banging on shit. ‘Nuff said.

The Beatles came up with great music when they were on acid. You… not at all.

Your “exciting blend of metalcore, hardcore, and thrash metal” sounds exactly like every band of five dudes that has ever been on MTV2, as well as every band you ever play with in your hometown. There is absolutely nothing original about your sound, no matter how much you whine about how “it all sounds the same nowadays” and talk your band up like it’s the “next [insert influential metal band here].” In fact, if you’re characterizing your band as the next ANY BAND you’re automatically revealing your astounding lack of originality.

Guitar Hero is not helping your playing. At all. It’s a VIDEO GAME. You’re pressing buttons in time with the little dots on screen. It’s like DDR except you’ll stay fat. And you still won’t be able to play a real instrument.

Lastly, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: There’s always some 12-year-old little punk in Methlab, Arkansas who can play faster than you can, sing higher than you can, scream louder than you can… who can make their breakdowns more brutal, their songs more emotional, their melodies catchier than you can… who can play more instruments, can write more songs, has more contacts than you… who has a bigger dick than you, more money than you, and gets a HELL of a lot more pussy than you… who can make whatever they touch more jaw-dropping, more awe-inspiring, more dumbfounding than you’ll ever be able to… So be who you are and shut the fuck up.

• Sara Vonderhaar – Are You Listening – Chicago, IL
• Brutal Intent – Towards the Ground – Mathis, TX
• Parlour Steps – Paunt the Park – Vancouver, B.C.
• Innersurge – The Empire – Alberta, Canada
• Skypho – My Insomnia – Portugal
• Vougan – Ghosts- Brazil

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Venue Owner: Whats up guys! Thanks for playing last night! That was a great show! Hey do you think you could play here again September 24th? I’m trying to set up a good show for then and you guys would be great for it.
Band: Hell yeah, we’re all down for that. Mark us down!
Owner: Awesome, looking forward to it! And remember to keep bringing alcoholics! We can’t make any money off of Red Bull and Coke. Especially with the economy the way it is and everything.
Band: Yeah yeah yeah, we know, we know.

A few weeks pass…

[Band member at a local show:]
Band member: Larry! The fuck are you doing here? I haven’t seen your dumbass out at a show in forever!
Friend: Yeah I know man. I’ve been busy with the baby and everything. The babysitter was coming onto me hardcore so I had to fire her. She was hot but there’s that whole age of consent law and everything and I’m not trying to get locked up… again. My asshole is exit-only, know what I mean? And my psycho bitch of an ex-wife is too busy getting shit-faced and fucking random guys to take care of the kid that she helped make. Shit, she’s the one who told me she was still on the pill.
Band member. Uh… damn. That sucks.
Friend: Yeah man. Hey when’s you guys’ next show?
Band member: Oh it’s on the 24th at the Rusty Trombone.
Friend: You guys are playing at the Rusty again? Fuck yeah! I’ll definitely find a way to come!
Band member: Sweet! Bring some friends too!
Friend: Bro, I’ll bring a car full of people.
Band member: Fuckin’ right, man! Can’t wait!
Friend: Who else is playing?
Band member: Not sure yet, but as soon as I find out I’ll let you know.
Friend: Cool man. Hey Bartender! Get this crazy motherfucker a Heineken!

[Band member at work:]
Boss: Goddammit, you burnt the fries again! Screw it, we’ll just set these aside and have some nice food for later. But get your act together and stop dicking around or else I’m going to start taking these out of your paycheck.
Band member: Okay, okay. It won’t happen again.
Boss: It better not. Take some goddamn pride in your job. And go get that guy his triple bacon cheeseburger and onion rings, he’s been waiting for half an hour already.
Band member: I’ll do it right now.
Boss: Good. Hey, can you work the night of the 24th?  I’m taking off then to just chill, unwind, and get retardedly drunk. Having two jobs is kicking my ass.
Band member: Sorry, I can’t, I have a show that night. You should come out. Great music, great people, and the bartender is GORGEOUS. I hear if you get her drunk enough she’ll show you her tits. Allan told me all about it.
Boss: Really? Wow, yeah I think I’ll have to make that happen…. I mean, yeah I’ll definitely try to make your show.

[Band puts out a myspace bulletin:]
Mark you’re calendars! We’re playing at the Rusty Trombone on September 24th! That’s only three weeks away! And you’ll also be pleased to know that the bartender has some real nice boobage…
Anyway, we aren’t sure what other bands are on the show yet, but we’ll find out in the next couple days and make a flier for it that we’ll throw on all your pages, just to cover all the bases.
Hope to see you there!

[Band checks the calendar on the venue web site to see the lineup for the show:]
September 24th:
1. Tuesday Autumn Whisper
2. Eat My Feet
3. Spike of Xerxes
4. A Black Grave of Sorrow
5. Today We Will Tear Apart That Which Is A Product of You and Him or I
6. Aeortesimalitinessosity

Doors at 8, Show at 9:30
Ladies drink half off!

[Band calls venue owner:]
Owner: Hello?
Band member: Hey man, it’s Jay from Eight Auto Fire.
Owner: Oh hey, what’s going on?
Band member: I looked at the calendar on the Rusty web site to see what other bands were on the show on the 24th and I saw that we weren’t listed on there. We’re still on the show, aren’t we?
Owner: Uh, you guys were never on that show.
Band member: What? Yeah we were! We definitely told you to confirm us after the last show we played there.
Owner: I don’t remember that at all. Are you sure it was the 24th?
Band member: I’m completely sure.
Owner: Well look man, since I like you guys I can squeeze you into the opening slot on a show three weeks after that on October 15th if you want to jump on that.
Band member: Dude, no, we promoted the hell out of this show! 
Owner: Well I’m sorry, but—
[Band member hangs up the phone]

• Mystic Rage – Who’s Your Daddy
• Midnight Reign – Kiss the Flames
• Solid – Porn
• Tokyo Blonde – Blue Red Yellow Green
• Touching the Absolute – Bleed for You
• Hirax – Broken Neck

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Envisioned by Dan.

Jason and Kristina both heard the door slam shut behind them, to Jason it sounded like finality, he knew the trap had sprung and he cursed himself for knowingly walking into it. All lights and sounds had extinguished the moment they had crossed the threshold but despite that Jason could sense that there were a fair amount of people in front of them. None of them made a sound, none of them moved a muscle.

Without thinking, without even knowing what he was doing, Jason cupped both of his hands together and blew into them, as he did he felt a kind of burning force leave his mouth and enter his hands. Whatever the force was became too much for him to handle so he opened his hands and pushed the force out and away, as he did, two separate balls of light flew from his outstretched hands, one landed on a bulb in a string of lights, the other landed on a lantern hanging from a tree, bringing both to life. From there a chain reaction ensued, from each source tiny balls of light sprang up and jumped to light another bulb or flame, hundreds of tiny lights flew through the air and before long the whole carnival was alive with brightness once again.

The crowd of undead standing before them scattered making weird, screeching, pig-like sounds, it seemed that they were just as surprised as Jason was at his trick he had just pulled. As they scattered, attempting to hide behind rides and food stands, only one stood his ground.

The body that had once belonged to a very sensitive young man named Larry Vannay was now almost unrecognizable. While Larry had been a respectable 6 foot 2 inches, he was now a little closer to 7 feet tall, his bones and muscles had also grown considerably leaving the former tenants skin ripped and mutilated. Ceraphin grinned at Jason with what had once been Larry’s mouth.

“Well, well, well, I wasn’t expecting any of those dip shit towns people to show up for at least another hour, but it seems our trap has netted us an even bigger prize! A wizard! Your soul will look wonderful in hell!!”

“Who are you? And where is Drussellia?” Jason asked. “I heard her laughing when I entered.”

For a second Jason saw a look of curious uncertainty cross Ceraphins face before it quickly reverted back to the grin. “Ah, but it must have been a trick of the mind, this little carnival of mine is designed to trick and confuse, I see it has worked quite well.”

Jason could tell Ceraphin was sizing him up and despite the grin, Jason could still detect a question in his unnatural eyes.

“Your not a demon, and your sure as hell not a god, so tell me human, how do you know of the queen? I have my doubts that you have met her, that always ends in a very horrible death. Are you by any chance one of her followers?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Jason responded “I heard her army’s were building and wanted to join.”

He had no idea what he was talking about but he also knew that whatever this thing was, it had no idea who he was. Also, he seemed not to have noticed Kristina standing in the shadows behind him, if only she could get that door back open they could get the fuck out of there. He could hear her quietly rattling the handle.

Ceraphins smile faltered and Jason saw the look of confusion come forward again. It was clear he couldn’t decide what to do with his visitor.

“You heard? But how did you hear? Nevermind! Her army will be made up completely of my hordes, I didn’t approve anything about humans fighting with us!”

Jason decided that as formidable as this being seemed, it wasn’t very smart, pretty soon it would revert to what it clearly knew best, destruction. And despite doing that light trick, he had no faith in any kind of defensive powers manifesting themselves anytime soon. All he could do was wait and hope Kristina got the door open in time.
“Come on,” he heard Kristina whisper “I’ve got it open.”

“Well then,” Jason said with as much of a smile as he could muster, “I guess I’ll be running along now, I must have heard the good news wrong.”

Ceraphins smile returned with more than just a small bit of malice and by this time all of his “soldiers” had regained their courage. With shovels, baseball bats and various other crude weapons raised they all crept out of their hiding places and shadows.

“Follower or not, you will in some shape or form join my army, what I don’t use now will be used again later when I return to hell.” Ceraphin screamed at Jason. And to his soldiers he yelled. “Don’t worry about his powers you cowardly motherfuckers, destroy him!!”

I think we can all agree that the average music listener is a fucking idiot.

Okay, now if you managed to get this far we’re on the same page here.
Any idiot will shell out $85 (plus $20 Ticketmaster charges) to go to the Bon Jovi show “coming to a stadium near you” just because the local Clear Channel payola-driven media machine – I mean, “radio station” – promoted the hell out of it. But it takes special kinds of people to frequent local shows.

First we have the most common local show fan: the dive bar regular. There are thousands of tiny little dive bars tucked away all around you, but these particular people happen to spend a large portion of their lives at one that doubles as a venue. They might be full-blown alcoholics but when they like a band they’ll talk them up. Many of these people arrive at the bar when it opens and stay after hours, so their tastes in music are often very discriminating based on the sheer number of band shows they view weekly from their shaky bar stools. The regulars who happen to be well-established professional musicians are often indistinguishable from the just plain drunks, but they’ll all support just the same.

There are two types of local band girlfriends. The most common is the circumstantial fan. Her logic is that his Richard is burrowing in her Susan, so therefore she must love his music, attend every one of his shows, and pretty much just be the perfect fan, if only just for him. This girl will often be the girl that everyone in the venue with a penis between the ages of 18 and 80 wants to bang. Badly. This girl will run the merch booth every chance she gets, and she’ll know every word to every one of the band’s songs, no matter how shitty their lyrics are and no matter how god-awful the singing or even just the music in general is. Despite her devotion, she’s likely to end up cheating on this guy with someone in a bigger, more established band, usually one that landed a couple lucky gigs opening for a washed-up national act.
Another type of local band girlfriend is the one who is well aware of the lack of talent on her boyfriend’s part but figures that if she goes to a show of his every now and then when she’s not “busy” she won’t hurt his feelings. This girl can often be seen at the bar, in the bathroom doing her hair (or doing coke off the top of the empty paper towel holder), talking to her friends at the back of the place, text messaging her friends about how bored she is, or pretty much anywhere except in front or near the stage.

Next there is the little brother type. The little brother type sees in a certain local band (it’s usually only one particular local band) everything that he himself wishes he could be but that he isn’t and doesn’t think enough of himself to even strive to be. This guy is usually far from the most good-looking, and has the tendency to be that annoying guy with crooked glasses and a slight lisp who tells you with PBR breath through the gap in his teeth about how amazing this band is and that they’re gonna be world famous someday and how he’s gonna be their roadie because they told him he could and he’s gonna take pictures of them playing and send all of them to their MySpace page and goddamn they’re so incredible and he’s known all of them since high school when they were all in band and sports and popular and banging the hottest chicks in school while he was doing the pole polish to Maxim because he wasn’t old enough to buy porn and didn’t really have any friends except for these guys even though they were always too busy with what they were doing to pay much attention to him and holy shit they’re going on in five minutes and SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!!!

• The Stone Coyotes – Tomorrow Is Another Day
• Alyse Black – Emeline
• Edible Red – Sugar and Spring
• Guards Of Metropolis – Perfect World
• Me Talk Pretty – Flame
• Rotten Cheri – Things I Hate About You

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I am that guy. Ya know, THAT guy.
I’m that guy who will go to a local show not only wearing the well-worn and faded t-shirt of the band I came to see, but telling everyone who comes near the door to stay for the band, because “being fully conscious at work tomorrow isn’t as important as staying for this band. Trust me.”
I’m that guy who, upon seeing that a great high-energy band is getting no more than head nods from the people watching them, will instantly yank my hair tie out, jump in the empty space right in front of the stage, and do figure 8s with my mane while flailing around like a fish out of water.
I’m that guy who sings along to every song a band plays that’s on their CD that I got at their last show no more than a month before.
I’m that guy who will tell a band after they play exactly what I liked about their set, sometimes even down to that two-note bass fill toward the end of “that one song you played before the second-to-last one I think.”
I’m that guy who will start a conversation with a gorgeous female at the show with “those guys are fucking AWESOME!” and forget to whore out the bands I’M in.

Yet, I am also that asshole. Ya know, THAT asshole.
I’m that asshole who will go to your show specifically to promote my band, shamelessly taking advantage of the crowd you worked so hard to bring in by talking up my band and handing out CDs and fliers.
I’m that asshole who, if a band are straight-up dicks to me or any of my good friends, will do any completely un-cool and possibly gay dance I can think of during their set, from Vogue-ing to doing the Macarena to doing a super-pasty-white-boy version of the Cabbage Patch to even just jumping up and down and making jacking off motions.
I’m that asshole who shows appreciation for the band playing by screaming between songs such inane obscenities as “I TOUCH MYSELF,” “MY NIPPLES ARE DANCING WITH JOY,” and “MY DICK JUST GREW HORNS!!!”
I’m that asshole who will actually pull a band aside and give them constructive criticisms because I think they have a lot of potential, despite my caring suggestions usually pissing them off.
I’m that asshole who will blatantly hit on an attractive female the whole night, find out from you that she’s your wife, and then have the nerve to send you a friend request on MySpace the next day.