Marc
The Juke Box
Okay. The Pub II is an evil establishment. Most of the time it's filled with the Greek system types with their pre-faded jeans and their carefully coreographed colors and letters and sweaters. That's fine. It's their establishment, and I'm not the type to change places unneccesarily. I normally steer clear of the place at all costs. But last night was an exception as Scooter and his chums were down, visiting before the Bears game the next day. So, I'm game.
After about half a beer, the music in the place cuts to this oddly familiar C to G chord progression. Thicky. Heavily distorted. Then it cuts to the palm-muting that sounds oddly familiar. The vocals come in, "You came to me like a dream ..." and suddenly it feels like the world has been turned upside down. Why the hell are we in THE Greek bar and they're blasting the "Fucking" Alkaline Trio on the speakers? I mean, sure, go for it if that's what gets them off, but seriously. You usually hear nothing but Dave Matthews and Rusted Root and that goddawful "American Pie" song in this bar, which Zach has already filled you in on. It's like our lives were on repeat that entire year we lived above that other bar. Going to the Pub, to me, is no different. Drink. Glare at all those fucking frat pricks. Drink some more. Get fed up with the joint. Go home and don't go back for at least two or three more months. When did the fucking Alkaline Trio get thrown into the mix?
The oddest thing, though, is that it wasn't the Vagrant album, or either of the two full-lengths they put out on Asian Man. It was that singles compilation, which blew all of our minds, including Zach, who's never claimed to like the band. So, we listened to shit like "Cooking Wine", "Bleeder", "My Friend Peter", and "97". Do you have any idea how awesome it was to sit in that bar and listen to "97"? Unreal. I never would've guessed that it would've happened.
I don't know. This isn't very funny, I guess. And it's probably not interesting unless you know about the place I'm talking about. Que-ev. Night bastards.
The Juke Box
Okay. The Pub II is an evil establishment. Most of the time it's filled with the Greek system types with their pre-faded jeans and their carefully coreographed colors and letters and sweaters. That's fine. It's their establishment, and I'm not the type to change places unneccesarily. I normally steer clear of the place at all costs. But last night was an exception as Scooter and his chums were down, visiting before the Bears game the next day. So, I'm game.
After about half a beer, the music in the place cuts to this oddly familiar C to G chord progression. Thicky. Heavily distorted. Then it cuts to the palm-muting that sounds oddly familiar. The vocals come in, "You came to me like a dream ..." and suddenly it feels like the world has been turned upside down. Why the hell are we in THE Greek bar and they're blasting the "Fucking" Alkaline Trio on the speakers? I mean, sure, go for it if that's what gets them off, but seriously. You usually hear nothing but Dave Matthews and Rusted Root and that goddawful "American Pie" song in this bar, which Zach has already filled you in on. It's like our lives were on repeat that entire year we lived above that other bar. Going to the Pub, to me, is no different. Drink. Glare at all those fucking frat pricks. Drink some more. Get fed up with the joint. Go home and don't go back for at least two or three more months. When did the fucking Alkaline Trio get thrown into the mix?
The oddest thing, though, is that it wasn't the Vagrant album, or either of the two full-lengths they put out on Asian Man. It was that singles compilation, which blew all of our minds, including Zach, who's never claimed to like the band. So, we listened to shit like "Cooking Wine", "Bleeder", "My Friend Peter", and "97". Do you have any idea how awesome it was to sit in that bar and listen to "97"? Unreal. I never would've guessed that it would've happened.
I don't know. This isn't very funny, I guess. And it's probably not interesting unless you know about the place I'm talking about. Que-ev. Night bastards.
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