show # 86

6/27/09 Columbus, OH @ Monster House

La Armada

Diente Perro

Copyrights

Dear Landlord

Austin combined efforts with Dennis (Black Dove) for this half hardcore half pop punk show. On this occasion it was better to combine then compete. I am a fan of genre mixing because it keeps things fresh and gives everyone a little something to enjoy or maybe to be turned on to for the first time. Also, a new blend of people happens, which is good for the CSBYS scene. Having bands from outside of the US is always a plus too. Usually it means cultural exchange through punk and the chance to be a good host.

La Armada came from Chicago by way of the Dominican Republic. Fast songs. Political lyrics. Melodic hardcore.

Diente Perro came from Puerto Rico. They had a playful, old school skate hardcore style. They were animated and fun. Both bands got to speak Spanish to Columbus residents Ana and Brenda and I think they enjoyed that. They had been doing their best at English all night, something I can only imagine to be very intimidating and tiring.

Dear Landlord from MN and IL is no BS, rough voiced, Midwestern pop-punk. Their music is meant for a basement. Their 7” is recommended for late weekend nights when fun is being had and you wanna shout but to a simple melodic tune.

Copyrights from Chicago have been a favorite to see play consistently. They play hard and very tight. They always sweat a worthy amount. Every song is a desperate anthem that if you haven’t lived as a punker, you probably will at some point. They did not disappoint.

I checked in earlier than usual after the show. I started to sleep in my on tour roommate’s bed because I was in the middle of moving rooms in the house. I woke up to noise in the backyard. Two band members that had some drinks were kicking a soccer ball around. One was standing right in my young garden of hopeful sprouts. I opened the window and said,

“Hey! You are standing in my fucking garden.” Blah blah, swear swear.  They apologized and stopped. I fell asleep mad. In the morning, there were two deep foot prints in the garden’s dirt and a trampled tomato plant. More of the reality of living at a punk house. Ugh. Woe is me.

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