the elevator dumps you onto the fifth floor with only enough space to pay the man and move inside. the hall itself is fumbling dark and smells like a frat house basement. red spotlight oozes from the stage and mingles with cigarette smoke filling with room with a fluid, burning sensation. a green haired man behind a cage sits sunglassed and motionless pumping indiscernible punk at a vengeful volume - arms crossed, he more than anyone looks completely unaffected and uninterested in it. the floor changes level and texture with mild regularity (good). the ventilation system and piping in the ceiling are all exposed and sloppily painted black (check). the walls are decorated with many years accumulation of photocopied flyers and hanging extension chords (check +). finally, the kids are long-haired, safety-pinned, and drinking beer from paper cups! sure enough, this place has all the sure signs of a proper dismal chamber. though i'm filled with an odd sense of foreboding, for me, this place is a little slice of home - let the rocking commence!
the first band, a 2 piece, takes the stage in silent darkness. full on feedback and lights up, they rock along with work they've done on a laptop pc. despite their lack of a live drummer, they lay down a respectable intro with real from-the-heart rock! my ears are ringing and my heart is soaring.
***
it was then, when things seemed their most promising, that they took a turn for the topsy-turvy. the group finished their first song to polite applause.. and then.. complete silence. the singer took center stage.. and, with the exact posture and mannerisms of a first-grader reciting his single memorized line of the gettysburg address, informed the crowd politely of the evenings events. i couldn't believe my eyes! i looked around the room at the audience - he had their undivided attention! it was then that i noticed that they were USING the ash trays. they were making sure people behind them could see. there were 3 trash cans.. these kids were recycling, godamnit! the singer, with a series of low bows, took another minute to respectfully thank everyone involved for their contributions to the nights performance. then, in super-honorific japanese, he begged us (the audience) for our acceptance and approval of his work and his person.
only having completed this all-too-japanese ritual was he free to finally rock our socks off once more. i thought the event was a fluke, but smaller versions of the same display occurred at regular intervals and by every band! throughout the night, the most punk of all rockers temporarily reverted from a spiky hellspawn to a schoolboy and back again! it was a little strange to hear the japanese super-honorific used just seconds before the english, "ONE, TWO, FUCK YOU!", but it wasn't long before i was bowing along with the rest of the crowd to show our thanks and approval.
despite their un-punk politeness, these bands were unusually skilled in both their technical ability and complete rock stage presence. in fact, when they were switched on, they were ALL way more talented than the average group of shit head americans that play the pig in ann arbor. maybe there's something square-peg about punk rock that doesn't easily fit into polite japanese culture, but these blokes knew the score. it's not as easy to get a rock group together in a society of small spaces and neighborly way - these guys worked very hard to play this shit stage and their hard work showed in their performance.
dive bar = good. color me regular -
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