Well, here it is Monday and Hurricane Ike has pretty much thrown Houston and the surrounding areas into utter lameness and my favorite island is decimated by the sounds of the radio reports. My best hopes and wishes to those who suffered any losses in the storm. I’m exiled in Sugarland and we have no electricity and that means no fridge, no internet, and everything else you can think of. Houston is under curfew meaning Ike has effectively killed the scene this week. No booze, no music, and, hell, even my band’s rehearsal is down for the count. I’m gonna guess that by now, as we wait for power to come back on line and food & gas supplies to get back up to speed, everyone in the city of Montrose is pretty much freaking bored out of the their skulls.

A week ago boredom was hardly the case as I went down to the White Swan for a relaxing evening for metal/grindcore. Normally, I’d do a longer review but things being what they are (and my laptops battery is waning) I’ll keep this one brief and let the pictures do most of my talking. Let me make a few points though about the Gulf Coast Hardcore scene. First, one friend of mine asked during the last Hootenanny “Where are the kids?” Well the Riff Tiff’s show answered half of that question and this one answered the second half – they are skanking around a circle pit to some of the most brutal and uncompromising music around. Another writer asked me a question along the lines of where Rock lost its grit. I told him go to the White Swan on the 10th and you’ll find plenty of grit. Somehow he dismissed it as being too much of a subgenre to count towards his question but that’s typical of the media reaction to grindcore and metal. The fans are considered mindless and the music nothing more than a macho affectation. The irony being that the bands and their music are some of the smartest and sharpest shit out there and the fans are (surprise surprise) actually painfully good natured and courteous. That’s not to say you won’t get an elbow in your side during a set but unlike the five or so fuckheads at “We Are the Hollow Men” who were out to hurt people this was pretty much a well mannered circle pit. My favorite moment was during Dissent’s set when one kid, in early Woody Allen mode, shouted “Hey! Hey! Quit it! Just pushing! None of that!” after getting konked. That drew some laughs but, for all the poseur jokes, the person complaining was taken in stride. And, by the way, it’s not a sausage fest either but there was a fair showing of women at the show. All in all, it’s a pretty accepting scene of the classic Rock and Roll freaks, geeks, and losers who do what they love despite being virtually ignored by other scenes, media, and networks outside their own. It’s DIY at it’s sweatiest, smartest, and savviest. If anyone is carrying the punk rock flame, it’s these cats.

But enough rambling - the bands in Cliff’s Notes. Gorenado opened up and, being their first show, it was pretty good. Solid rhythm section and guitar but it still came off as “this is our first show and it’s still jellin’.” Nevertheless, a good way to start the evening. Now when PLF (Pretty Little Flower) started - night and day. Everything became louder, faster, and uglier and the audience rushed to the stage with their fists pounding to the blast beats and the cookie monster vocals. Picture a machine gun shredding you to pieces for 25 minutes and that about captures the charm of PLF. Dissent took things a bit slower and a bit more metal but to no less effect. What they may not have had in speed they, made up with brutal low end crushing of guitars that drove everyone into a frenzy of screaming, circle pits, and sweat. If you want metal that makes you ears bleed – this is your band.

OK apologies for the brief nature of this review but I have 5 minutes of battery left. Good luck all you FPH readers.

Link:
More pictures on my Flickr (Link)

PLF myspace (Link)
Dissent on Mysapce (Link)