|
« Accidental Tourism in Protest Culture. |
Main
| Urf Unhg Pant Grunt Oof »
April 11, 2004
Earning my Fangirl Stripes.
Still sore and cranky from the Clutch concert last night, and I know that no one really cares about the details anyway besides me, so I'll keep this pretty short.
Fucking awesome.
Spent both sets five inches from the stage, despite best efforts of drunken, blonde Trixie who didn't know the band, didn't know the lyrics, was under the impression that "Walking in the Great Shining Path of Monster Trucks" was appropriate to bellydance to.
Assisted in inadvertantly destroying the stage barricade. Oops. Club was not prepared for a Clutch show.
Got to hear most of "(notes from the trial of) La Curandera," even after the mic gave out. That close to the stage.
Touched Neil. Twice. This is a big deal for those of us with no lives, so just try to be happy for me. I also gave him some pictures.
These won't really mean anything to you unless you've heard and understood Blast Tyrant, but that doesn't mean you can't just appreciate 'em as drawings.
Worm Drink. Kind of a demon, kind of not.
La Curandera. In case you're too lazy to look it up, a curandera is a kind of folk healer; this one was described in the lyrics as a young girl, who gave quarter to Worm Drink during some kinda duel and patched him up afterwards. She goes on trial for it. Helping fugitive demons is bad.
If I had it all to do over again, I'd probably make her look less like Buttercup.
The crew of the demonic airship The Swollen Goat is described as being composed of "dog men." I decided to take that literally.
The Blast Tyrant. I felt that drawing the characters from the rest of the album but not drawing The Blast Tyrant would be pretty stupid, but he's the kind of villian that's better off shadowy and indistinct. So I just did the eyes. Goat eyes, to sorta suggest his general malevolence and creepiness.
I didn't have time for the women of Cypress Grove (Maenad reference), Diane the Huntress (Diana reference), the Smoking Irish Fly (your guess is as good as mine), or The Beast with Fifty Eyes (The US?). Oh well.
I handed these pictures wrapped up in a cd case to Neil Fallon, the lead singer, when he came on stage for the second set. I am lame. But he walked off stage with them at the end of the night, which gave me paroxysms of joy. I'd been about 80% convinced he'd be so overcome by my spazziness that he'd leave them on the amp where he put them. Guess not. Enjoy, Neil. They'll make awesome beer coasters.
Posted by Spike at April 11, 2004 12:14 AM
| 
