El Beardo's Corner: While all of this is going on inside… let's look at what goes on outside - Brief Article

Thrasher Magazine, March, 2002 by Andy Harris

HOWWWWDY! EL BEARDO HERE. YES, I DO keep comin' back. Whew! So many fun thingies to get into out there and so little time...Been going to a lot of rock shows lately, and I've been noticing 80-percent of the time that the bulk of the fun is going down outside the damn club! A lot of times it'll be like a creepy-still graveyard inside while outside in the parking lot it'll be a full blown party complete with make-out sessions, beatdowns, and all kinds of weird substances going down or up or sideways into people's various orifices. Depending on what side of town the club's on, you might have all sorts of sketchy street peoples wandering into the festivities, and with so many touring bands carrying their sticks in the van, impromptu skate sessions may ensue at any point on any obstacle available. Makes you wonder just what the hell the purpose of a rock show is in the first place--whether or not it's just an excuse to go someplace different and get crazy. But hey there, don't dwell on heavy brain junk like that f or too long. The parking lot party is on, so go get stupid, stupid.

(beer smuggling)

Redbone here is partaking in a time-tested tradition of the rock show, the old "Tuck 'em under the jacket (or in this case vest) and slide on in" move. First made popular at senior proms in the l950s or something, this maneuver goes down at nearly 99-percent of all gigs-yes, even the Christian straightedge ones. The beer smuggler is thought of as an intermediary between the crowd outside and the crowd inside, providing his homies on the in with free liquid-courage and his chaps on the out with news of whether the band on stage is yay or nay.

(get in the man)

Seems like most of the bands at any given show could care less about their fellow band's music or onstage antics before or after them. Instead, they opt for the stinky environs of their tour van for most of the night. The band may only venture out of the crib to expel their 30 or so minutes of stage noise, and then immediately dive head-first through the slider door back to safety. Sometimes it'll be like a derelict covered wagon train settling in for a night on the plains, with four or five vans packed together in the lot, drinking and carousing amongst each other. The variations on the vans are endless: from your typical plain white to the short yellow school bus favored by our "special" citizens. Most often they're pieces of shit that break down more than they're worth. To have a competent mechanic among one's bandmates is rare, surely due to all the practice time necessary to rock furiously. An oil change is about as rare as a hotel room on the road. Those individuals with gearhead tendencies will soon fi nd themselves in high demand for all problems of the automotive nature--from not only their own bandmates, but also any other saps out on the road who came unprepared.

(Croatia rock show)

A couple years back, I wound up in the country of Croatia. Don't ask. I went to this punk show that was being held in a 2,000-year-old castle (I swear). It was crazy...all the kids were into the Exploited and the Ramones, and my girlfriend at the time got beat up by a big skinhead guy in the castle bathroom. I went to buy a beer at the concession thing but was given a huge cup of white wine instead. Everybody was crazy drunk off this shit, which might just explain the beatdown on the ex.