Someone Needs To Get Punched

Maybe that person is me. Maybe that person is my old boss. Maybe that person was the dude smoking out of an apple on the way to the venue.

Or maybe it’s Cloakroom, who opened the show with their Colorado friendly jams. And by that, I mean you could easily get high and have a good trip to their vibes. But they need a good punch, because that type of music needs a sick ass light show. And their lights were blue. And only blue. And then more blue. Because they had no light tech. Even for a metal show, I was not unhappy with their slow, epic jams. But man, the lack of a light show made it monotonous. I need to punch whomever decided they didn’t need a trippy guide.

Or maybe I need a punch, courtesy of Spy. This was the one time I ever thought a singer would punch me. Not because Spy are assholes, but because they’re just that intense and also they don’t shy away from getting low on stage. Or maybe the drummer needs to get punched because what fucking drummer stage dives? Theirs does. It doesn’t make sense, but it happened, and it confuses me.

Or maybe Dylan Walker of Full Of Hell needs to get punched. And not for any other reason other then he looks like my old boss who stole tens of thousands of dollars from his employees and is now under multiple state investigations. Like, there’s no reason to hate Full Of Hell. The dudes seem nice and the pit was open the entire time. But no one punched Dylan Walker. If someone punched Dylan Walker, by all intents and purposes a fantastic front man, it would have looked like someone punched my old boss. And there’s a chance I would have had a mini orgasm. It’s not Dylan’s fault he looks like my asshole boss plus a bunch of tattoos, but the reality is, he does, and I hold grudges when it comes to egregious theft.

Or maybe I need a good punch, which nearly happened again during Better Lovers. Not because I can’t look past people’s looks, but because the crowd surfers didn’t wanna stop moshing in the photo pit. That was weird. But what wasn’t weird was how Better Lovers are much better live than on record, and they’re fucking good on record. Honestly, listening to their album, I knew they would put on a great show, but what I didn’t realise was they would jump off Summit’s balcony. When I say they’re better live, what I mean is, listen to the album, and then imagine it happening while the singer balloons towards you from the heavens above, literally.

Someone needs to get punched. And as a grown as adult with the ability of introspection, apparently I do according to, well, me above. That sucks. Maybe you do too if you miss this show.