Fuckin' Rockstar XII

Ok...so Quincunx played a gig at Pioneer Square's CENTRAL SALOON last night...the evening started off wild since Thursdays are BIKER NIGHT at the Central: Arrive on 2 Wheels = No Cover...this added about 5 people to the usual mix. Five people in long hair and full biker leathers, I might add. I kept hoping someone would bust a bottle into someone's head...but they were all pretty tame...like a gang of fluffy kittens in leather chaps. cute.

OKAY...first band up was Element 57.
My #1 Music Pet Peeve is: sax players with receding hairlines wearing brass button marching band jackets (open), baggy jeans, and fucking wrap around shades. This sax dude was a total douche...I'd normally say he was a dick but have since been corrected and I have to agree he falls more appropriately into the douche category. Actually his fucking sax player shimmy he was shimmy-ing throws him back into the dick category...so let's say this guy was like 2/3 douche and 1/3 dick. He was like a dick douche.
My #2 Music Pet Peeve is: Bands (with saxophone) doing rock covers...badly. Element 57 totally fucking butchered my fond memories of the Police Synchronicity Tour in 1984 with their shitty version of Message in a Bottle. Fuckin' bunch of dicks.
...mid-way thru the first band's set I switched to doubles. I blame the sax. Fuckin' dick douche.

OKAY...finally Quincunx takes the stage. Doug bounces out from stage-left to stage-center after the guys start playin' looking like a cross between Zorro, Steven Seagal, and Andre Agassi... dude is fucking hilarious but once again paints a portrait for my future nightmares. (see "fuckin' rockstar IX" for past nightmare inspiring Doug get-ups). Ass-Kickin' Kickass bassist Matt Bird could stand on the stage and tune his bass for like 4 hours and still leave me stunned...so even though this wasn't the best Quincunx set it was still well worth the $5.00 door and the "too much booze and the get up too early the next fuckin' day" way that I feel right now. The over-all set was polished but strained...it just didn't pack the usual cunt-punch power that I'm used to.

P.S. I can't talk about the evening without mention of the super hot bargirls bouncing around taking orders in low-cut tight tees...they were very attentive and cute and funny and did I mention they were wearing low-cut tees? Greyhounds served by busty barmaids are especially delicious.