First of all, I have to tell you that last night’s Doomtree show was awesome! And awesomely loud. I brought ear plugs for once. Loudest show I’ve been to. And you know what kind of music I listen to … \m/
The show was SOLD OUT. Which still made for an intimate event at this venue (love it!) … but so many white kids rapping, and putting their hands in the air (which was strange to me — putting my hands in the air with no devil horns??)
… and I met Mike Mictlan and Dessa after the show. My friend Seth picked up one of all of their albums. I’m definitely FINALLY picking up the rest of Dessa’s albums on emusic this week. I have Badly Broken Code, but need to grab the rest.
Also, can we say kickass drum machine? LAZERBEAK rocked it.
Which is a nice segue into this post about being in “the band” … because for a while, the band had a drum machine named Rebekkah Von Stroff (yes, there was a blow up mannequin that manned it).
^I felt so badass holding that flying v. What a dork.
So in April of 2005, I got a wild hair to be a rockstar. And conveniently, there was a band looking for a lead singer. So I tried out.
The band was called “Assault Company”. And yes, I realized they were kind of metal. “Kind of” being the key phrase. I wanted something super badass.
I had a tryout and I made it into the band. The height of my career came a month later when we were accepted into the battle of the bands at the “Springfest” event (ISU didn’t have VEISHEA that year … um, the year before was a riot). And we played a set at Harambee, which was a cultural festival, that same day.
I mostly spent time with the band designing cool alter-egos and a nifty website. I had swag up on CafePress before I memorized the words to all the songs.
This was our band. And I apparently thought that hot pink frills were über-metal. As were photoshop filters.
^My alter-ego. Note the super boobs.
Also, I think this might have been another one of my alters. Which is hilarious, because I’m pretty sure that the face paint and hair match my costume from Super Prom. Again, SUPER BOOBS. I took great care with this illustration to make sure the guy was doing the devil horns when he was being smacked upside the head with a flying v.
Unfortunately there is no evidence of my aural assault. I was a screamer/growler, and it was not pretty. I threw out my voice, but it was so much fun that it was totally worth it. It was like Kittie lite, which is so not badass now that I know about black metal. I remember having band practices and dicking around to no end — the main riff from Dammit by Blink 182 was busted out at least once a practice. And there was definitely a trash can dedicated to spitting between the lead guitar and myself on more than one occasion (hey, all the growling makes your throat all gross).
This photo was in the paper. I love how my friend Mark, the guitarist in this photo, never wore a shirt. Ever. And he kind of looks like Dave Mustaine here.
Oh, and I forgot to mention. I met MY Mark this day. Yep. Him and our friend Drew lived down the hall from the bassist and drummer, so they came to watch. And yelled “Slayer!” the whole time, while my friend Eric yelled “Freebird!”.
Love this photo. We were so badass here. Kasey, the bassist in this photo, busted his hand open halfway through the show (<=== the lost footage. It’s bad. I didn’t know this song well and it was one of the ones in which I sang instead of growled). Also, the two of us broke up the band a few months later in order to form The Duct Tape Pirates, which was a fail from the start, and basically resulted in my irresponsible purchase of a cool bass guitar, and learning the riff to Megadeth’s Trust … as well as making for a badass Courtney Love Halloween costume. Yup. My mom’s suggestion, though she doesn’t play bass usually … it still looked cool. And no, that wasn’t a wig. That was my hair. Unwashed and ratted up.
Also, I kind of want to get a t-shirt with one of my alters on it. I might re-tool the 2nd one (and clean it up … designed during my 2nd semester of graphic design) and get some cool swag.
TOTALLY unrelated side note — IT’S DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME THIS WEEKEND. Spring forward. And groan, because we’re losing an hour this weekend. BOO!