Hugely awesome weekend, partyin at quasi-Octoberfest with teh SteveHo (no german sausage to be found ANYWHERE), then to Dunkirk and on to Cleveland to see NIN. In short, it was the tits.
However, as it was absolutely impossible not to make fun of all the 15 year-old wannabe goth/industrial/everything at once kids who, if not currently being chaperoned by them, were just dropped off by their parents. Booter and I got into discussion, asking if we were rockstars, would we hate our fans? The answer is: if they are anything like the assorted rejects at this show, then an overwhelming YES. Basically it's like that quote/proverb from which whom heretofore I don't know if it's real or not: I wouldn't want to be friends with the type of people who'd be friends with me.
Highlights of the show: Autolux having an identity crisis (they thought they were Sonic Youth), Queens of the Stone Age rocking out to high heaven, and NIN having my children. Even when the projector went out at a crucial moment, they finished the song like professionals and waited until it ended to belittle and threaten the A/V guys, as any true rockstar would.
Highlights of the crowd: a Scott Stapp clone (leather pants, 3 inch boots and hair and all)(CAN YOU TAKE MEEE HIIIIYAAAAHHH!), two girls so young that when my eyes flittled over their omnipresent-ly exposed g-strings I could see into the future, and above all a super-geek guy (ADVANCED Dungeons and Dragons type) who had a fetish for rubbing his girlfriend's lovehandles incessantly... like he was trying to rub them out of existance. I don't know how she seemed to enjoy his squeezing and rubbing, but maybe she was just entranced by the Flea-esque tune he was plucking out on HER omnipresent g-string as he flailed about on her flab. Not to mention, she was actually quite attractive and he must have rolled two high D-20s in a row to get that kind of luck.
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