In a town rife with electronic DJs and mellow indie bands, what’s a poor punk lover to do? Especially on a Monday night (otherwise known at most venues as either “open mic” or “fend for yourselves, you weekday drunks” night)? Is there an alternative to driving around in your friend’s old beater listening to Minor Threat on the tape deck?
The lucky answer is “yes.” Oh, yes.
There’s the Hemlock Tavern, that lovely not-quite-dive in the neighborhood-formerly-known-as-the-Tenderloin, with its four-year-old Monday night http://www.myspace.com/punkrocksideshow ">Punk Rock Sideshow (classic tunes and movies for those whose tastes tend more towards 7 Seconds than 30 Seconds to Mars) and its once-a-month free live punk shows (nice and early for those whose angst and anarchy is now relegated to the hours after 5 p.m. and before 9 a.m. Yes, even misfits sometimes have to work for the man…).
Last Monday, some friends and I made it in time to see Misled Citizen (like true aging punks, we were too busy napping to get there for Dead Ringers), a fast, loud, energetic fivesome playing old school punk to a crowd of spiky-haired, black-clad 20-somethings (including a great oi-oi cover of “The Boys Are Back in Town”). Afterwards, we chugged our PBR longnecks while bigscreens flashed '80s skater videos and a Mike Ness documentary and DJ Tragic and the Duchess of Hazard spun everything from Op Ivy to Propaghandi. And, of course, we ogled the eyeliner queens and tattooed kings in the indoor/outdoor smoking room.
It was fantastic, just like those shows we used to go to in high school -- minus the sticky floors and windowless warehouses and 14-year-old skinheads dominating the mosh pit. Perfect. Just the thing to get the thing taste of Bassnectar out of your mouth. (Molly Freedenberg)