Reviews with Spike.

Hey fuckos, occasionally Spike hits the town to move his product, unload flyers in the dumpster behind the HOB, and catch some tunes. I would have shared this with you fledging little Spikesters if I hadn't taken a coke nap in Salinas for two weeks.

Didn't catch the band's name.
CWG Mansion, Hollywood Hills
Oct 31, 2009

7:15 pm
Wow, they're on already? Okay, its early, but fuck yeah, I'm ready to forget about that sloppy hobo who tried to stab me for my Snack Wrap at Macarthur Park. The excitement in the air is thick - its a hard pill to swallow that there are only 10 people in the room. By my calculations: Parents, a guy that runs a label from his basement, and girlfriends holding man-purses. Oh, by the way I swear it wasn't B12 and baby powder, I only sell that shit to burnt out hippies from Boyle Heights. Anyway, back to the show and the best band American Express can buy. So the band comes on and I quickly pop some amyl nitrate in anticipation (might as well drinks are double the cost of my ticket
at the mission).

7:17pm
After what seemed like an hour, ruining my amyl buzz, the band finally flips the switch on their instruments. Right away I can tell that this is not the correct venue for their type of music. Personally, I would have recommended a venue along the lines of a windowless bedroom in El Monte...hopefully one equipped with a 15w amp and some solid noise canceling earphones - just my opinion.

7:35pm
Is the bass even turned on because at this point all I'm hearin is a some yuppy dicking around on his guitar while whining about transylvania and the thermostat at the office.

7:39pm
The last of my amyl buzz is gone. Certified. I wonder if I can get a weez off of the Newcastle spigot when the bartender isn't looking? Fuck, all this Blue Ribbon is giving me rotgut - but it remains plentiful as long as the audience of Wire-loving-douchepumps keep abandoning their cups when they take bathroom breaks to rip some toot.

7:40pm
Can you actually call yourself psychedelic if you have the range and creativity of a
2x4...this is painful, its like the band is playing roshambo with effects pedals.

7:52pm
Ok, well, more calculated feedback and boner hiding poses. Time to tune out - I hope they're serving turkey chili at the mission on Slauson tonight, gotta remember to stop by Jag's squat to pick up more baking powder and gelatin capsules...you know the hard stuff - okay sets over. Well, my final impression is that no one will remember this band by next week. But, you can't fault them for trying, for following their dreams...I mean I remember when I wanted to be the Hamburglar but alas, here I am outside the club trying to move roadblock and z-jays by Sergie (my Belarussian confidant) to curious twenty-somethings (if you gotta ask you can't
afford it).