JUCIFER! @ Mohawk Place, Friday July 25th w/ Chylde and Sonorous Gale

a rudy sizzle review

What the fuck is wrong you? Why do you even waste your time going to shows if you are going to run away at the first signs of something dangerous and perhaps even debilitating? SO WHAT if you might be deafened by the insane decibels that Jucifer is about to spew forth from their monolith of Ampeg? Who cares about your hearing anyway, you obviously don’t use it if you sat through Chylde’s set and thought, “aw yeah, right there is some real rock and roll.”

Your friends, you know, the guys who all work at that sweet restaurant owned by the piece of shit Greek who has more cocaine up his nose than on his cheap Pier One glass dining room set. Yeah, the same gang that seems to run the show in town, perhaps bringing in all the hot shit just to be able to let their awesome rock and roll band open. The same people that base their entire ideology on remaining ten minutes behind the coolness curve to make sure it at least sticks for their entire night on the Allen Street strip. See yourself there, wearing those flip-flops and that torn up ironic metal t-shirt, chugging cans of PBR at the Old Pink flamingo while your boy is spinning CD’s and no one is really using their hearing to discern the blandness piercing the speakers as a flash-in-the-pan, waif-British novelty has already run its course. Reach out across the room to your pal to give him a secret-man-shake and perhaps exchange witty retorts that are all based on your favorite sketch comedy show. Make a snide remark about how bored you are with the fact there is nothing wrong with your life as your parents keep sending you a check once a week to keep you well submersed in the ever-so-boring lifestyle that you seem to think of as being a “hardcore existence.” You know, you are so punk that you cannot stand punk music, nor can you stomach the thought of watching live music.


However, if your bros in Chylde are playing, than it’s got to be a party. It’s got to be the place where all the shit is going down. Right? “Who is the opening band? Sonorous Gale? What do they sound like? Big Business? Tragedy? A raw version of NoMeansNo? Perhaps the coolest band in Buffalo? No way, Chylde obviously is, I mean at least that is what they told me. Sonorous Gale just can’t contend, what with all that precise musicianship and intricacy in song structure. That just bores the hell out of me, especially when it is delivered with such ferocity and honesty. I hate that shit. I like when my music sounds like it is overly thought out, as if the songs are eschewed from any type of shred of original thought. I need my music to remind me of what my cousin’s and older brother liked when they were 16. I cannot fathom anything that sounds remotely like it is original because then it might be too much for my PBR buzzed brain to handle. My girlfriend liked it, but fuck her anyways. She likes anything that pisses me off, that’s why she dragged my ass to Jucifer anyways. I went because my boys, my main dudes, Chylde were on stage promptly @ midnight. They always do it right, hitting the toll of midnight and letting the riffs roll and rage proper. I like to smoke a bunch of weed and pop some pills and act all stupid-off-the-chain when they riff, but my gal just idly watches and occasionally reminds me that I am making an ass out of myself. I don’t care, I love rock and I love Chylde. She loves Jucifer, probably because there is a girl in the band that kind of looks like a deranged fairy on acid. She probably digs them because they sing about the French revolution and Marie Antoinette (whoever that is?) I think that they are just a phase and someday she’ll realize that their complicated raucous is merely an allusion to the fact that they wish they could just let the good times roll and forget about stuff like historic events that shaped cultures and what not.”

Yep, that sounds about right, doesn’t it? I guess if Jucifer’s immense wall of Ampeg cabinets frightened you away before you even gave them a chance (they were selling earplugs jack-ass), then you might as well have went back to your hipster high chair for your bottle to be inserted back into your stupid mouth. Mommy made sure it was nice and lukewarm, like you like it.

~ Rudy Sizzle