The first people to arrive is the Here Holy Spain crew so Erin and I take them across the street to a Mexican restaurant and treat them to dinner, hoping Randy and the boys would be gone when we returned. Having Mr. Palmer drunkenly supervise my event was not part of the deal. This was our place for the evening per the agreement but that didn’t stop his pride from dictating that this was his place and he calls the shots.
Matt arrives, and despite Robyn asking me not to officially announce the showcase (or namely the Death Set’s involvement) until a few days before for fearing that it could compromise their position at an official showcase, I hand him a list of RSVPs that total close to 2k.
We finally open the doors, equipment is in place inside the ring – I get in, make a few announcements, wish Erica, HHS bass player a Happy Birthday and the show begins.
They kicked ass as I knew they would, their were only about 60 people thru the doors by the time they finished playing, but it was a great start and was so glad to have them.
Next up was the Blind Pets, By the time they started the place had almost tripled in attendance.
Now pay close attention cause this is where all hell breaks loose. After the Blind Pets had played their equipment remained in the ring as I had worked it out with them and the Death Set that the DS was just gonna show up and plug in as they were coming straight from another show to play ours and everyone was in agreement that the Death Set would just play on their equipment. The spot was about to be blown up – here’s how:
I had a million people a second stopping me to talk to me or somebody needed something or my supervision, so much so that I didn’t even recognize Robyn when she came in with the band until she grabs me and I snap out of it and start directing them where to load in.
They blew the spot up and insisted on using a mixtape they had just released over the PA (that meant thankfully no more DJ Randy Palmer) Their were now noticeably even more people there to see the Death Set. I could sense Josh’s pride/ego ticking away like a timebomb. Here was a band playing his town on his equipment and I could feel his who-the-fuck-do-they-think-they-are vibe so when the Death Set were not happy that all we had was beer and asked for champagne I thought he was gonna spontaneously combust.
Once again, my team to the rescue, I told her what I needed and again in a flash, they returned with the bottles of champagne I had asked for, and sadly didn’t even get to partake in any of it or even the toast that she deserved to be a part of, for they had to return to immediately assist the bartender.
Ok, ring the bell son, the Death Set are climbing in and here we go – just as I had anticipated/wanted – the band instructs the crowd to get into the ring with them and go freaking nuts, and that’s exactly what happened.
It was all happening, my dream was coming true, my vision was being realized, it looked exactly as I thought/hoped it would.
All for about 40 mins that is –
Here is how it went down –
The Death Set start playing and of course as expected/encouraged, they invite the entire crowd on the floor to join them in the boxing ring for a crazy, memorable time. Mr. Palmer, apparently forgets the conversations we had about this and starts losing his mind. He is in the back on a mic, shouting for people to get out of the ring – ummm..hello? Mr. Palmer, this is why we are here, this is what we came to do, this is why I was willing to have the showcase two miles from downtown – to give people a reason to come and do something different and awesome. Seeing that crowd run into that ring was such an awesome rush and I couldn’t have been happier. Mr. Palmer sends Josh in to do damage control, who is all too happy to bust them up. He makes the crowd leave the ring, but not before stealing the mic Kanye style and bellowing out this gem:
“This is a BOXING RING, not a fucking BOOT RING!! everyone get the fuck out of this ring right now!!”
It was cringe inducing, (no boots in Texas?) and since we live in the information age, something that tasty will not go without its own little meme.
Here is a video someone made of the incident labeling Josh with the new moniker of Boot Nazi –
I’m hearing this from outside as I’m dealing with another crisis – Before I walk in Josh comes running out to find me and starts screaming at the top of his lungs of his desire to smack the singer in the mouth. Apparently Johnny had told him to fuck off or something, or whatever it was etc.
I go back in and reach an agreement that if they take their shoes off, everyone can go back in.
The show resumes for about 20 more minutes.
During that entire time, Josh and company are having full blown anxiety that the band/crowd are harming/potentially harming their equipment etc.
Personally I was standing on the steps of the ring in front of the equipment and saw zero signs of impending doom or I would have seen it and done something about it.
Suddenly power is cut (during Negative Thinking no less) to all of our surprise –
Alot had been said about this, online and in the press and in several interviews I’ve given about the event, about what really went down, and let me set the record straight. I didn’t learn (though I had a sneaking suspicion) till weeks later, that Justin, the Blind Pets bass player was behind the ring where the power source was and he cut the power at Josh’s direction. There you have it – plain and simple.
The Blind Pets did not like the Death Set – resented sharing their equipment with them/the Death Set being the bigger draw/ and a cultural clash of North vs South attitudes.
The ring was not being torn up nor was their equipment in danger or being abused – it was simply ego/attitude/pride.
I jumped in immediately to try to restore order, but by that time the band was just exhausted (this was their third show of the day and their 10th in three days) and this was the last one before they got to go home, so they weren’t really in the mood to fight over it and said fuck it. I do not blame them.
The Death Set and Robyn were nothing but courteous to me and thanked us for having them and we all agreed to laugh about it over a drink next week in NYC. I got a car service to take them straight to the airport, and thanked them for stepping literally in the ring with us.
Sadly this created a vibe that the whole event was over, so I scrambled to get on the mic and remind people that we still had three more bands and as many kegs to consume and this seemed to surge the crowd a bit. The House Harkonnen were up next.
This is a band that I greatly admire, who I feel is ready for national stardom if they want it and are about as good as it gets. Their were alot of people there to see them and I myself was excited and have been championing this band for weeks. Tonight there was a certain swagger that I felt was completely circumstantial of the events of the evening. Like their was something like, “this whole thing is fucked, so we are gonna go down swinging and tear this fucking place apart” . Like the agenda had changed from to entertain to downright maim.
This was evident in the size and volume of power they brought with them – that they used with wild abandon. They weren’t gonna mess with the boxing ring shenanigans and started setting up enough amps to rock a stadium. This picture with the sound guy says it all –
They hadn’t gotten two songs in where they were so loud people were fleeing outside, and with the people gathering outside and the traffic of the door it attracted the attention of some inspectors in the area that jumped on us like white on rice. They talk to Mr. Palmer first, who was totally inebriated and then they came found me. I showed them the permits that I had secured which they went over with a fine tooth comb, and finally gave up and left. Somebody (Randy?) said something to them they didn’t like as they were leaving. I had a feeling that this wasn’t gonna be the last of them and I was right.
The band keeps rocking but their are more people outside than in, all with open containers and the band is so loud the walls are breathing, and about 10 mins after the inspectors left, here come the police. Several people immediately bail and the police run me through the whole procedure again, while telling the band to stop playing. I show them the same permits, but they don’t seem to care. They seem to especially have a problem with Mr. Palmer, who was cool with them, but it wasn’t enough to salvage the evening.Threats of issuing expensive tickets are made and that was enough to permanently end the evening.
I felt the most for Wildstreet, who traveled the furthest, and who are my com-padres back in NYC. Who had come all this way, just to play this show. Thankfully they were able to get some pickup dates and get introduced to the festival, so it wasn’t a total loss, but this was supposed to be the crown jewel and their were alot of people their interested in them.
One of my favorite lines of the evening came from Matt (who has Motley Crue lyrics tattooed on his body) when the Wildstreet guys were coming in, he looks at me and says “Dude who the fuck are these guys? they look like something I’m gonna enjoy”.
Too bad he didn’t get that chance.
I woke up the next day and we are all over the press – the freaking Village Voice listed us in their Top 10 events of the festival just under Kanye and Jay-Z (hey we’ll take it).
Thanks again everybody, we will be back next year with something even more irresistible to the police.
