right in with anybody on Amphetamine Reptile. No quirky, ethereal, dark moments here, we’ve got drunk college radio people in the crowd. It seems to be working, because even though we’re implementing our “no talking between songs” rule (made specially for me because I have a nervous tic of unintentionally insulting the crowd from the mic when I’m nervous), and we’re blasting through song after song, we can see they’re going nuts out there. I mean, there are a ton of frat brothers right up front dancing, jumping in the air, doing the drunk premed version of moshing (because these dudes in their pastel wifebeaters have no idea about punk rock, so when they mosh I sort of want to smack them between the eyes with my headstock). Now there’s even a sloppy-looking guy standing right in front of me on the floor mouthing “I LOVE YOU” about as subtly as a raging herpes cluster. Great.
I give Travis a look during a break between songs and he gives me the nod. He moves closer to me, steps right to the edge of the stage and levels a pretty menacing “fuck off” stare at the guy. Travis, as nice a guy as he is, has a fairly convincing “fuck off” stare, so the guy cools it, steps off to the side. But within two songs, he’s back. Now Cole has picked up on it and he’s eyeing the guy, too, but this guy is obviously toasted and not giving much of a fuck, and unless we want to make a big deal out of it (and I don’t), there’s not much more to do about it now.
Travis’s behavior isn’t possessiveness or jealousy, by the way, so don’t read that into it. This is a matter of respect and safety. I’m a female, I’m fairly young, and I’m singing in a club away from home. Some guys are assholes. This is a fact of being in a band, or a fact of being born with a vagina. While the vast majority of guys are totally respectful at shows, it’s still not uncommon enough to run into somebody who just isn’t. Who doesn’t get it. Who tells himself that if you have tits and you’re on a stage, you’re obviously there so he can try to fuck you. I know some folks think, hey, if you don’t want the attention, why do you do it? Because fuck them, that’s why. Nobody in the world gets up on a stage who doesn’t like attention. I’m up here because I wrote some music and I want to share it with you, and that is not the same at all as wanting to share my body or anything else I have, you dumb motherfuckers.
So this is why Cole, Travis, and Joey are fairly quick to intervene if somebody is getting too much in my face. They’re my pepper spray. And tonight when Vampires and Assassins are in the crowd and they see this going on, all three Johns and the two Brians move up and not so subtly crowd the dude right out of the front row so I can stop thinking about his ugly flapping lips in my face and worry about stomping on my Big Muff at the precise moment I need to bring the heavy riff out. I look up and Original Brian (the singer) gives me a nod that the douchebag has been flushed.
It’s all going great now, and I’m back into it. But just before the end of our set, to my and everyone’s great surprise, Toby comes wandering out into the crowd in nothing but his boxers and combat boots, holding a pint glass full of piss in the air.
“I FUCKING PASSED IT!” he yells to us right after we finish “My Yes My No.” He is so hopped up on natural endorphins, he jumps up on stage next to me, half naked, sweating, but grinning maniacally as he holds the glass up in the air and shows everyone the shards of the stone he just passed.
And I have never seen anything more badass in all of my rock career as that.
“You’re a hero, Toby Secret,” I say.
“Let’s rock, motherfuckers!” he cries (Live! On WJHU!), and we all pump our fists in the air and cheer, totally ignoring the meltdown the station manager is having at the bar.
“He’s not even from Jersey,” I point out.
***
The rest of this show is unreal. I can’t even tell you how hard the Corporate