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Bottom of the Hill April 14, 2001 Review by Janet Flemer My tolerance level was unusually high because I knew I was seeing one of my faves at the end of the night. I had missed their last show ever the first time around at the Make-Out Room (was it really almost two years ago?) Missed out on the toy give-away and instrument raffle, just because of a little brain fever. Their warm beautiful songs have always made me feel things are OK in my world. I hope this won't be the last time I see them because, well you'll see. So I was positively sanguine during the antics of Gray W. Davis. Skronk (ah, but Artful skronk! played by Thinkin Fellers people) accompanied by the speeches of our fine guvner. We only saw the last couple of songs, but I did enjoy it. Many people in the club seemed to be having a hard time with the next, um musical group. I hadn't seen Monopause before but tonight they were Monopause masquerading as White Ring, a Christian rock group of guys who met during the Gulf War, oh I mean Desert Storm. Normally I might have been running out to the patio myself but I stayed and laughed a lot; it really was a pretty amazing performance. Loved the white shirts and the prayer circle beforehand. Came back from the bathroom at the end of a number that featured a dancing girl with a bag over her head and one of the singers waving an coat hanger around; I probably wouldn't have found that one so funny. The rest of the audience was actually screaming at them to stop. With sinking heart I greeted the Mayor of the Mission, who likes to stand near me and chatter about nothin while fuck's playing. I mean he does it. every time. He hated Monopause a lot. Fuck played a lot of their old old songs which made me really happy. But my tolerance was being slowly scraped away not this time by the Mayor, but some bleached blonde fool who was perched on the sideboard at the edge of the crowd screaming "fuuuuck! fuuuuck!" Presumably he felt the name of the band gave him permission to yell naughty words, especially at the zenith of transcendent songs like "Wrongy Wrong". He just wouldn't stop and it really cut down the pleasure level. There was one funny moment when he yelled "Kyle is God!" and Kyle said "oh yeah, I invited my therapist tonight." The Mayor of the Mission had nothing on this guy, although he did try. I just have to rely on my old memories of the Crumbling Gardens show and the night they opened for Pavement at the Kilowatt, and a Halloween show when Tim wore a clown nose. I mean what do I expect when a band gets all huge and shit? --- Read our Fuck review from SXSW, March 16, 2001 |