August 30, 2005
Inside A Bitter Tuesday
Taylor Northern, guitarist for Athens band Marvelous Rejections, sent in the following about a recent battle of the bands competition during A Bitter Tuesday at Tasty World (upstairs every Tuesday):
It is late, the stars palely shine in the dark canvas of the sky, and the night has just gotten to the point where everything slows down to a sluggish, molasses-like speed, time dripping down the tree trunk of life. My eyelids droop down and my body fades in and out of a deep, dark sleep. Suddenly I’m rudely awakened by the loud chirp of a Motown ringtone and I become attentive and alert.
My friend and bandmate Gene has just received a brief, but informative phone call from Tommy Valentine regarding a battle of the bands. I’m curious, but at this point I am too tired to inquire what the battle of the bands is and I slip off into frenzied dream of knights and warriors fighting on a brutal battlefield. Fast forward a few weeks, precisely the date of August 23rd, 2005, and I’m standing outside of the esteemed Tasty World concert venue in Athens, GA. ...
Small beads of sweat coat my hands and face as I slowly lug my guitar and amp up the creaky stairs to my point of destination. As I enter the slightly congested room upstairs, I am greeted by the smiling faces of band members in artsy concert and gig posters. Christmas has come early because strings of colorful red, green, and blue lights align the top of the ceiling and as the ceiling fans gracefully twirl and rotate, I notice blue bulbs in them.
This atmosphere is not what I expected of the “brutal” battle of the bands. I’d come with the hopes of a vast, bloody, and heartless battlefield, but as I place my musical equipment down, I realize that this venue is more keen to invite an artsy and eccentric John Wayne character as opposed to a bloodthirsty Dark Age warrior.
Either way, my optimism and hopes are still kept high and I get ready for the other bands to play. The super cool, hip and ill band Ladies Drink Free is slated to go first and I know that they will be great contenders in this “battle of the bands.” The band members of Ladies Drink Free confidently stroll onto the stage and set up all their equipment. Their inexplicably chill and charismatic lead singer Butta walks on last, obnoxiously clears his throat, and loudly proclaims to the audience that his band has got this “battle of the bands” in the bag.
In a split second the band is rockin old school rock covers, Butta has already worked the crowd, and LDF have been immortalized as gods in every beautiful woman’s mind at Tasty World. A team of beefed up security guards who are dressed in black are brought in to ward off the hordes of eager and delirious women that desire to forgo themselves to the musical knights and liberators of Athens, Ga that call themselves Ladies Drink Free.
However, in an ever more abrupt and split second, I wake up from my dream and realize that none of that actually happened. Wiping saliva off my mouth, I realize that Ladies Drink Free aren’t haughty knights and they definitely aren’t playing “rockin” covers of songs. Very harmonious, hip shaking music is permeating through the venue and I feel like I am witnessing the birth of an audiovisual lava lamp that slowly brews warm, massaging bubbles up and down. Or that I am high up on a kaleidoscopesque cloud that slowly reverberates and shakes until it can take no more and multihued and vibrant raindrops bust out of the cloud onto the unsuspecting people below.
A breath of fresh air, clear thought created, water swigged, and realization come together and we have success. So this is the music of Ladies Drink Free and the positive vibes they create. I am genuinely impressed and as LDF exits the stage, I feel relieved. I take a quick trip to the sticker-covered restroom and do some rounds around the room. I meet an interesting crew of band members and fans alike; fervent marks, tricks, scalawags, and dirty Cinderellas awaiting a slipper that will never come and they are all excited about the bloody battle that will commence.
Godsmack, no wait, Sevendust, no Cannibal Corpse, no Trivium goes on stage. The lead singer introduces the band as Cobra Clutch and I realize that they are neither of the aforementioned groups. I feel something wet hit my shoulder and I look up. The ceiling lights are gone and it has been painted blood red. I look down again and a vast ocean of green and gold faces me, barbaric forces are aligned and ready to destroy, the battle has truly begun. A size 10 black and duct taped Chuck Taylor sneaker clips my ear and an emo kid who’s obviously trying too hard, smiles.
Anger surges throughout me and my cheeks swell with frustration. As one can tell, I am not a huge fan of mosh pits. Cobra Clutch goes through their set with blistering speed and they even manage to pass the Flash as they do it. They exit, sweaty and clammy, but with toothy smiles on their faces. The crowd energetically screams for more, more, more.
The band Of Legend is next. Suddenly, I fell ill and I do not realize why. I am sucked into a bizarre, freaky, and uncomfortable pseudo-acid trip. A big blue Cookie Monster is in front of me and he is singing unclear and distorted songs about Oreo and Nabisco cookies. The rest of the band and even portions of the crowd are rockin and vibin to his lyrical nonsense and I am generally confused. Cookie Monster stares me down, then jumps from the stage, and holds out a furry hand full of big chocolate chip cookies. He takes a cookie for himself and greedily shoves it into his mouth. Crumbs fall onto his blue, wooly chin and chest and his eyes slight roll back in his head and he smiles.
He motions towards his hand and offers me a cookie. I would accept, but I am full off a delicious and fat sub sandwich from Little Italy. I decline his offer and his face slowly twists and contorts itself into an expression of anger. A flash of a large, blue hand and I lie on the floor of Tasty World, drifting into a dark, sleepy nothing on a beautiful and blue magic carpet as my vehicle. I feel a slight touch and my bandmates are hazily floating over me. They smile and laugh at me and then I am told it is time for the Marvelous Rejections to go onstage.
I feel a strong relief as if I am a small balloon being deflated of its hot helium and I get to my feet with the support of my bandmates. Before we walk onstage, we enter a mid-sized and clandestine telephone booth and are transformed into the Fantastic Four of Athens music scene. We have come to liberate people from bad music and saving the day is our forte. In brief and less braggadocious words, we are the true superheroes of the Athens music scene. Our true fans do not listen to our music to be simply entertained, but to be internally uplifted. It is music for music’s sake and a movement that moves the masses when there is no daring and different Pied Piper to direct them.
The set we play is short, but full of energy and I feel good all throughout it. No set list has been written out and it has all been improvised, but as a band we stick together and the results are amazing. The beads of sweat that resided on my hands earlier revisit me and they converse with my eyebrows, eyes, and black fitted cap. I wipe my face free of them and look out into the crowd. People are on their toes, they don’t know what to expect. It is as if our music is some strange mystery flavor that entices the taste buds of their tongues, but they can’t quite describe the blissful taste.
A man in the crowd puckers his lips and I guess that his mystery flavor is a sweet and sour apple. Others might have gotten a different taste, but I’m not really sure. However, that is the beauty of our songs, our grab-bag musical style ensures us that the listener will never know what he or she will receive, but still remember the exquisite prize. Loud, thunderous applause fills Tasty World and my mind shuts off, packs up, and glides downstream.
All of a sudden, I’m on a wooden canoe floating on a lime green river. Huge Georgia pine trees align the riverbank and below my heavy canoe are the dormant and frozen faces of the band members of A Bitter Fight Against Nothing. I put my hand into the green water and a pale, cold hand leaps out the water and pulls me by the wrist into the cold river. Reality hits hard and ABFAN has just taken stage. The lead singer yells and screams in despair. His polo shirt is soaking from sweat and he stomps around the stage like an angry frat boy who just missed the year’s biggest kegger.
The other band members frenetically hop around like test subjects of a caffeine drug. I am not alarmed by ABFAN, but impressed. Somehow, they manage to have more bravado and charm than the Cookie Monster who paraded about onstage earlier. Loud distortion and noise clogs my ears, making them twitch, but my senses are still strongly captivated by them. ABFAN still rocks on as I pack my things up and I look back at the stage realizing that I have just survived a musical massacre. Blood, sweat, and tears have been shed at this battleground and the cloak of the silent night that envelopes Athens is my cue to leave. I blink once ... twice and then the world fades off into the long distance.
Side note: 90% of that stuff didn’t happen, but I had a good time playing A Bitter Tuesday. I would like to thank Tommy Valentine, Love Notes, ABFAN, and my bandmates Freddy Dean “The Drum Machine,” Caus Morman, and Gene Willis.