We just saw the Trashwomen at Budget Rock at Mr. T’s Bowl.
Jeezuz Christ, was it good. It was so good, it was like reliving some wonderful time in my life that never actually existed. While they made a lot of mistakes, that only made it more authentic, more had-to-be-there. It was like the surf rock version of hearing X-Ray Spex live: lots of omissions and power outages, yet somehow you feel the energy and the rock and the wonder of it all. I imagine that some of the original surf bands had similar experiences in the Memorial Halls of yesteryear, but these gals crystallized what was so wonderful about those old bands–the staccato reverb, the instrumental boom boom, the matching outfits, the confused singing.
Oh God in heaven, sometimes I get the existential blues, wondering what the meaning of my life is when all humans live in isolation and there is no goal to attain in the afterlife. But the Trashwomen reminded me that rock and roll is a meaning as rich as Jesus to the sacrament-minded athiest.