Unwritten Law arrive in Melbourne for the trillionth time this week, and I’ll tell ya, it’s like an old friend coming to visit. No wait! An old boyfriend. I’m not so much a fan of the newer material, but boy do I still hold a very sturdy flame for Russo and his crew of lovable misfits.
It got me thinking about my past loves, for example, Goldfinger, who were my equivalent of my a 7th grade pash behind the bike shed. I shared some good times with them. Goldfinger introduced me to some amazing new bands and we had something really special, in a pimply, awkward, ‘my friend likes your friend’ kinda way.
But eventually, like any lustful affair, that fire inside was slowly extinguished. Drummer, Darin continued to shove that goddamn twinkie up his clacker every time I saw them live (I’m convinced he was genuinely sexually aroused by his fans eating a cream-filled cake out of his arse), singer, John Feldman kept harping on about carnivores being the moral equivalent of Jack The Ripper, and the mere sound of his voice soon grated on my nerves like a live venue with no tap beer.
Then I heard 2002’s Open Your Eyes and ironically, it did just that…So I broke it off. It wasn’t mean spirited. It was the end of an era. I still run back to them when I’ve had a few too many raspberry Cruisers, and reminisce about those good (bad?) old days.
Next week- guilty pop pleasures (Fall Out Boy’s Arms Race anyone?) as the fuck buddy….? Or not.
It got me thinking about my past loves, for example, Goldfinger, who were my equivalent of my a 7th grade pash behind the bike shed. I shared some good times with them. Goldfinger introduced me to some amazing new bands and we had something really special, in a pimply, awkward, ‘my friend likes your friend’ kinda way.
But eventually, like any lustful affair, that fire inside was slowly extinguished. Drummer, Darin continued to shove that goddamn twinkie up his clacker every time I saw them live (I’m convinced he was genuinely sexually aroused by his fans eating a cream-filled cake out of his arse), singer, John Feldman kept harping on about carnivores being the moral equivalent of Jack The Ripper, and the mere sound of his voice soon grated on my nerves like a live venue with no tap beer.
Then I heard 2002’s Open Your Eyes and ironically, it did just that…So I broke it off. It wasn’t mean spirited. It was the end of an era. I still run back to them when I’ve had a few too many raspberry Cruisers, and reminisce about those good (bad?) old days.
Next week- guilty pop pleasures (Fall Out Boy’s Arms Race anyone?) as the fuck buddy….? Or not.
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