That fog, That accursed fog.  It was everywhere.  Nobody could escape the heated glycerol mist that enveloped Mango’s on Friday night.  I know you don’t believe it, but I tells ya I saw it with my own two eyes.  First a band from Washington state, Christmas I believe their name was, went on the stage.  They were a female fronted post punk affair, and quite good really but no match for the fog.  It’s seemed that no amount of jagged bass lines or reverb washed guitars could hold back the mist and they were the first to disappear.

Weird Party, followed and unlike the first band, they seemed to welcome the fog.  In fact, guitarist Keg Noisily seemed to be summoning it up with his voodoo makeup and hollow body guitar as singer Rowland Blackout shook in shamanistic fits to the driving pounding Rock and Roll.  Excellent rock set one of the best I’d seen all year…but the fog it summoned was ungodly as it reached past your throat and into the your lungs.  Where this fog takes you, nobody knows. Even old sailors and lighthouse keepers who’ve survived it can’t say but they speak of ungodly screams coming from the other side.  Indeed, it seemed, hopeless - there was nothing to do but wait for it to take you.  Then, out of nowhere, Indian Jewelry appeared from the midst, and with its strobe lights, ritualistic drumming,  swirls of guitars, and eerie keyboards, they drove it back.  Molecule by molecule the mist was pushed back to the cheers of those present and surely it have seemed as if they were saved but then, the unspeakable happened - they arrived.  The Lords!  The Lords of the Universe!

The Lords arrived angered by Indian Jewelry’s insolence and descended with a fury that no man or woman had ever witnessed on this planet.   Mere mortals attempting to have sway over their domain?  This would not stand.  No, the mortals must pay and so, the fog returned more powerful than ever as the Lords sang over us.   People in the audience were Snowblind as they were hurled Into The Void. Those remaining made foolish attempts to appease the Lords by singing along and bowing their heads repeatedly to the beat while raising a Satanic fist but these were not kind Lords.  No, they sang of War Pigs and the NIB. Indeed, they came seeking souls for their Black Sabbath and as they played the fog took those remaining.  Their shouts and screams spoke of unspeakable horrors as it took them…it took them all…but for me.  Now, I hear and do strange things in my sleep, and awake with a kind of exaltation instead of terror.  I hear its call and stupendous and unheard of splendors await me below, and I shall seek them soon. Iä-R’lyeh! Cthulu fhtagn! Iä! Iä!*

*apologies to HP Lovecraft.