I made the mistake of trying to go to
a show about a week ago. I had completely forgotten about “Punk
Time” and the history of running behind schedule that Pittsburgh
has when it comes to getting the proceedings underway at the agreed
upon time.
The flyers for the show and all of the
bands involved were saying 7pm was the time to be at the venue. When
I arrived at just after 7pm, the sound guy wasn't even there yet. This was a bad omen and I should have gotten back in the car to head
home.
The plan was to get home from day job,
grab the camera bag, head to Onion Maiden for dinner and then off to
the show. I had to scratch Onion Maiden off of my list of things to
do once I remembered that it was some sort of corporate holiday. I'm
sure there would have been large numbers of well adjusted people out
and about. Putting up with the behavior of “normals” enjoying
each others company is something that I have no patience for.
Although, some sort of Python-esque
visuals probably would have ensued. Visibly angry old man sitting by
himself, angrily reading a book, amongst tables of oblivious
millennials. Shoveling food into his face like it was a recent
invention.
After a veggie burger and a pot of
coffee, I was off to the venue. When I walked in, the hipster
“promoter” told me I was kind of early and it would be a while
until the music started. He offered no reply when I mentioned the
7pm start time.
The only band that was present was the
band from out of town and they weren't able to set up due to the lack
of a sound engineer. The other to bands on the bill were local and
nowhere in sight.
By 7:30, the sound guy was there and
sluggishly laying cable as if he would rather be doing something
else. By 8pm, one of the local bands showed up and promptly started
to get liquored since they were going on second. 8:45 rolled around
and the opening band finally decided to make an appearance.
That band couldn't figure out how
their equipment worked and was taking forever and a day to set up. My patience was completely gone. I bailed and was home by 9:30. No
music and no pictures but an ass load of frustration.
Luckily, just before I ventured out
for this shit show of an evening, the mailman dropped off the 40th
anniversary/remastered version of The Crack
by the Ruts. When I got home, I listened to this record repeatedly
until it hurt.
The Ruts were a
second wave British punk band that existed for a very brief moment
due to the passing of their singer, Malcolm Owen. Some of the
snootier music press of the time wrote the Ruts off as a clone of the
Clash because of their tendency to lean toward Reggae at times. This
would be another instance of music criticism disappearing up its own
asshole. The similarities between the two bands end after British
and Reggae.
The
new mastering of The Crack
was done at Abbey Road studios and overseen by Segs and Ruffy, the
rhythm section and surviving members of the band. Paul Fox, the
guitar player, lost a battle to cancer back in 2007.
Since the bass
player and the drummer were in the driver's seat for the remastering,
those are the instruments that have the most noticeable changes. Granted, Paul Fox's guitar tone could blister the skin so it didn't
need much work even after all these years. This wasn't a full remix
of the album but some songs do sit differently on the ears after the
new mastering.
The songs “S.U.S.”
and “Something That I Said” sent me back to the first time that I
remember hearing them. I was left stunned while I sat on the floor
watching the record spin. I was hearing fills and flourishes that
were completely new to me even though I had listened to this record
countless times before.
Next
up was to drag the old French pressing of The Crack
off of the shelf and take the Pepsi challenge. The difference
between the two was night and day and a lot of that might have been
the physical differences between the two records. The old pressing
was thin and flimsy which does not bode well for the low end
frequencies that live deep in the grooves of a record. The new
pressing is on vinyl that is heavy enough to fend off a mugger so the
range of sound is broader and the new mastering has room to move. So
I guess it's time to retire the old pressing until I bore a hole
through the new copy from playing it so many times.
Maybe next time,
I'll go with my first instinct and spend time with my stereo instead
of going out into the world only to get let down by bands that can't
get their shit together.
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