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Thursday, Nov. 20, 2003

Who is the happiest smirkingest sorest old industrial lady you know? That would be me.

I had one hell of a time last night, and I am STILL grinning like an idiot.

I can not even convey how much I enjoyed myself last night!

It started off with a LUPEC gig downtown, serving drinks to the under 40 movers and shakers before they attended a performance of the dirty british sex play being put on by Quantuum Theatre. The drink we were serving was called the Come Again(get it!?!?) and was only just gin, orange bitters, and fresh mint. People were loving it though. Even though I was wearing my LUPEC lady hat(figuratively), I still could not help myself from catering---arranging things in nice rows, replenishing the beer and the crackers, making sure there were plenty of napkins, etc. It was fun. Foxy Moxy, the burlesque performer for the evening, was extra nice to us and we developed a special bond. Of course LUPEC wants all the strippers to be on our side. And we on theirs.

And, as a special treat I got to see my newest gay boyfriend outside smoking, who was looking very sassy in a full length woolen coat. He gave me big hugs and kisses and told me I looked great and also told me that I MUST contact someone at CMU who keeps throwing events with lousy catering. He's got our back, yo.

And then, it was time to make my way to Oakland. I got to Laga and it all felt so familiar, going up the stairs by myself, acending into darkness. I paid the cover and decided to go and sit in the bar area while the opening bands played, as I was not sure who they were and was pretty sure they would be mostly cookie monster music.

OH! I forgot to say that on the door downstairs there was a poster of who was on the Pigface tour this time. The only people I recognized were my beloved Martin, most hardcore drumming god of all time, and En Esch, giant intimidating German growler. Still, there were a bunch of people, and I was sure that it would be all worth my while. Little did I know.

So I got a beer and a seat in the back and paid very little attention to the first band---apparently locals. They were loud and thrashy and not very interesting. The most interesting thing to do at a show like this is to look at all the leather pants and skin tight vinyl dresses, which is what I did. The entire night there was only ONE person I recognized in the whole place(besides the bartender and some of the folks on stage) and he was someone I knew peripherally. That was sort of sad---all the old goth kids have grown up or moved away. But I was happy to represent among the youth of today. Some of them were very pretty, but most of them have adopted that more grungy than romantic industrial look. Sigh.

So the first band finished and the second band came on and announced "We are Rachel Stamp from London England, and we have come to save your life." And then, they proceeded to. Save my life, I mean. What a phenomenal group! The lead singing boy is so completely androgynous that I could not tell for the entirety of the show if he was a boy or Joan Jett. He looked exactly like Joan Jett as a boy. There is a sexy vixen on keyboard, and another fellow on guitar, and they just made gorgeous sexy music. The song "Black Cherry", in particular, rocked my world. So incredibly glam, sleazy, sexy. I ran over to the merch table when they were done to get their CD. I also so a copy of my old favorite Chemlab Cd which had been stolen from me TWICE, so I decided to go ahead and get it since it was on sale and since the profits would go directly to Invisible and be a sign of my love for Martin. So I talk to the nice boy behind the counter and tell him what I want and he says to me "Those are two of my favorites! Be sure to come back afterward and have Jared sign that." I stood there a moment in stunned silence---was he really saying that Jared was going to perform? But I didn't see him on the poster! I wouldn't have missed Jared, the man who singlehandedly sealed my fate as an industrial girl forever that sweaty night at the Decade in 1996 when he crawled onto the amplifier and reached his skeletal silvertipped fingers out to my hair---would I? I was buzzing. I wandered around while the next band, DOPE, set up. A lot of the dirty kids were there to see them, obviously. I ran over the possibilities in my mind---was the guy in Rachel Stamp named Jared too, maybe? No, I checked. Was Jared in DOPE? No--that became abundently clear when they took the stage and were all sporting those silly industrial dreds. Definitely cookie monster music. They did a passable cover of "You Spin Me Round" by Dead or Alive though. That was nice. Mostly I went back to crowdwatching--my favorite being an amazing Ben Stiller in Zoolander exact lookalike---right down to the black leather coat with poodle collar and cuffs---who turned out to be a programmer for Pigface. I went back to the cage to think, and to escape the assault of Dope. The kids were really enjoying songs like "fuck the police" and "die motherfucker die" while I tried not to laugh out loud. I mean, really. "die motherfucker die"? How can you introduce that song with a straight face? I don't care how angry you are. That's just funny.

And so then they were done, and the screens went up, and I could see the shadow of Martin's distinctive floppy hair bouncing around, and I could see a tiny little slip of a silhouette with a big pouf of hair that just might be...could be....and it took forever but soon the beats started and the lights started and someone was reciting poetry and the energy was building, and building, and then the screens came down and. There he was. In red vinyl pants and a black vinyl shirt and elbow length black velvet gloves and a big leather bondage jacket and a big pouf of blue tinted hair and silver eye shadow. And he was running around like a maniac and jumping on speakers and swinging from the bars of Martin's drum cage and and and.... I almost forgot to look at the NINE other people on the stage. (not including Martin---I never forgot to look at him. He in absolutely spellbinding and mindblowing) I can't even describe a Pigface show. It's ritualistic and cathartic and really made me want to play the drums again. I would run away in a heatbeat to join Pigface. There's really nothing like it. En Esch in all his 6 and a half feet of bald German severity, dressed in jack boots, ripped fishnets, and polka dotted boxers with a military shirt on top. And the ladies, all sleazy and glamor and power(hips, tits lips, power, the chant goes, and you just have to believe it!) The requisite dirty boys and the huge black guy with the mowhawk on bass, and various other people floating on and off stage...and the whole time, Martin just pounding his heart out, and SMILING the whole time.

I feel ready to take on the world. At least to take on the mountain of laundry. Hand me my eyeliner.

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