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| kinetic i take pictures without their permission. | Posted On 17-04-05 04:27:24 Subject: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. At Ten pm or a few minutes past, we stepped out of the street, up the stairs, and into the middle of a friggin' nightmare. The filthy, undead creatures were everywhere, the room was thick with them, all staggering about, their dead eyes scanning the room for warm, living flesh to feast upon. This was going to take caution and skill; things could get ugly at any second. I had come prepared: my face had been smeared with enough greys and blacks to pass for putrefying skin, and i had spent the day mastering my undead stagger and unholy moaning. My girlfriend wasn't so lucky; she was clearly still among the living and would need protecting. The door was being guarded by two wild-haired monsters whose clothes and faces were in tatters. They gave me only a cursory glance - my disguise had succeeded in fooling them - but eyed my companion hungrily, clearly suspicious. I grunted that she was with me and was not to be eaten under any circumstances, and they seemed to accept it. We were in. As we entered, i scanned the room. My God, what words could describe the scene we beheld? My blood chilled as i saw that the creatures had reshaped the room in their own image. It was as if the place had been reworked by Hell's interior decorator. Terrible scenes and postapocalyptic grotesqueries hung from the ceilings and stood piled upon each other. They stood about in groups, awaiting the rituals they had gathered to witness. The anticipation was palpable, even among these Godless things. And yet, among the living dead, other still-living friends were found. Some had come as protectors, armed and ready to hold back the legions of the undead should they rise up to attack us. These were the brave souls who had come to appease the resurrected beasts with sounds both sweet and chaotic. The first of these were a crew of rugged minstrels who called themselves the Atomic Machetes. The moment their beastly noise began, i knew this would be just the thing to please the brutes (the creatures, i mean, not the band). Aggressive, exuberant raunch poured relentlessly from their guitars, as their vocalist belted out sounds (i can only assume they were words) to match. Up until now, the creatures who had gathered here had been standing or sitting in loose-knit packs of two or more, and i had begun to worry that they would soon grow restless and set out in search of living victims. But when the music began, they were immediately drawn to it like suicidal moths to that oh-so-irresistable bonfire. They stood gazing up at the performers, their attention held as if by hypnotism. Even i, whose blood still flowed warmly in my veins, had to admit an admiraton for the band's unyielding charisma and keen riffsmanship. Loud, too. So very loud. The next performer to risk a grisly death to keep the beasts occupied was a mysterious poet known only as Collide. He had come ready for anything, and showed no fear as he strode to the stage, pistol slung low on his hip and everpresent shades hiding his eyes. Manning the stage with him were a motley assortment of soldiers. As Collide's complex and cunningly catchy rhymes fired out of him with gattling-gun speed, strange and unnatural sounds rose from the instruments in the musicians' hands, filling in the spaces around the words like syrup filling waffle squares. The undead horde drew closer, but the musical warriors refused to back down, firing off line after line, song after song, to distract the monsters from their murderous hunger. Despite my fear, i found myself standing among them, sharing their desire to be closer to the odd mix of Collide's lyrical rat-a-tat and the masterful sonic fluidity of his accompanists. And then it happened. The man, the visionary, the evil genius who had called all these people from their graves to him with the force of his will and the lure of his song, like some postapocalyptic Pied Piper, leading the dead safely away from the living...took to the stage. The man goes by many names: he is jeTprojecTlabs, T.LeChe, Mimic, and a handful of other aliases designed to keep his true self, his true mind, safely away from the clutching, grasping hands of the undead masses that flock to him. But behind the myriad faces and phases is a single soul. Though the stage was crowded with bodies and machines, they had come together at this moment to form a single entity, known as the Broken Boy. They moved and shouted together, haunted sonic electronics blurting and bleeping in time with sweaty organisms in the chaotic harmonies that are jeTprojecTlabs's signature sound. Buried beneath the layers of grimy grooves and shattered beats are simple, honest songs about love and sorrow, and the truth of it all seemed to touch something inside the cold dead bodies all around me. They moved more freely, more joyfully, than i would have thought possible. They looked up at these musicians not in dead-eyed fascination, but with what seemed like genuine affection, appreciation, even kinship. What spell was being cast here? On and on the sounds went, relentless as a saint chasing away demons. And as the life poured from the stage, the crowd soaked up every ounce of it, becoming less and less like evil, grey-skinned brutes, and more like a gathering of kin, of family, a family of which The Weird Guy was a member. Something happened tonight. I don't claim to understand it, but when the lights came up in that room, it was no longer the nightmare scene i had walked into. Life had come back into the place, and joy radiated from every body. There was life in them. The evil had been banished. I know what i saw, and i can assure you if those brave musicians had not worked their magic tonight, even now those things would be wandering the streets, feasting upon the unwary. Those poor souls out there will never know how close we came to ruination tonight. I, for one, am grateful to the Machetes, to Collide, to Troy, and to all of the kind souls who found it in themselves to share what they had. Humanity owes you a debt of gratitude, and i salute you. |
| jordanz alive & breathing. | Posted On 17-04-05 10:39:59 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. yes! <3 |
| adam almost killed me | Posted On 17-04-05 11:51:41 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. Astonishingly, I escaped unbitten. I enjoyed Collide's apparent Wax Mannequin costume, also. |
| lashingouthilariously Errrin Just another manniquin face? | Posted On 17-04-05 11:54:37 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. Good work. |
| MEG | Posted On 17-04-05 12:55:26 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. holy shit! amazing, kinetic :) |
| tan-nee | Posted On 17-04-05 13:35:09 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. nice review!! you should get that posted on giraffecycle reviews section yo yo yo. also: collid = best costume ever. |
| fallq dennis | Posted On 17-04-05 22:10:36 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. thanks troy and all you other crazy bastards for the oppurtunity to assist in all the chaos. hope your hand gets better troy. i have $25 for jud on the next hot sunny day....... i hate music. my shoes hurt. |
| Zoe Woods Giraffecycle: Your Girfriend. | Posted On 17-04-05 23:51:31 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. unBELIEVEable! That was so awesome, equally as awesome as the show. |
| Throy I want Fro at my | Posted On 18-04-05 14:47:53 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. When I saw the subject I thought it would be about the 7 children I saved from that burning church on Friday... Ah well... For real thanks soooo much for the awesome review, attendance on saturday and good times. That show felt sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Good... right after a string of horibble luck and difficult travels. I come home and you all supported the shit in Spades. Curbside rocked my fucking world that night. It was a treat worthy of a big city hysteria right here in SJ. The Machettes started the night just like they were supposed to with Hard rocking mutant bliss. I loved when Scrud used Eh steves head as a guitar pick... So fucking sadistically rock. Linda and Brian, Hidden city..Thanks for putting this shit on and getting peopla together. Anyway Im fully caught up on sleep..Finally 2 nights of 12+ hours at my parents house. Lots of weird fucking dreams. But, Im ready to swing into action. Ill be round all summer... right here ... my favorite place and people in all the world. Peez |
| kinetic i take pictures without their permission. | Posted On 18-04-05 16:17:21 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. Troy, did you get my email? I sent you a copy of that review in case you want to put it up on Subvert. And thanks to the people who said nice things about the article. I hope to do more show reviews in the future. |
| adam almost killed me | Posted On 18-04-05 16:26:15 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. I hope you do more show reviews in the future also. |
| Panik How was my weekend? one of those bridget jones movies Thanks for asking. :( | Posted On 18-04-05 21:15:20 Subject: RE: Troy Chenier saved your freaking lives. sounds like it sucked..im glad i missed it. *turns green then red* |
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