The venue is located in the "downtown" area of Silver Spring, a suburb of Washington, DC. Driving with my brother-in-law, John and my friend, Tim we quickly found a parking lot behind the club. Surprisingly, the parking fee was only $10. We parked the car and walked around to the front entrance of the club where we noticed a time schedule of the bands. It turned out that there would be two opening acts and The Cult wasn't scheduled to take the stage until 10:15. Since we all had to work in the morning, this was a bit of a bummer.
As we entered the club, we were greeted by a security guy with tattoos all over his face and shaved head. He "wanded" us down to make sure we didn't have any metal contraband. As intimidating as he looked with the Mike Tyson-like tattoos and large electronic probe, the security guy seemed friendly enough. The wand remained quiet and we were granted access to the club.
Once inside, I felt the familiar magnetic pull towards the bar where I ordered a couple pints of draft beer and a cola for Tim who doesn't drink alcohol. When the barmaid rang me up, I was shocked to see the total at $21. I'm sorry, but if you're charging $8-9 for sixteen ounces of draft beer in a club, it should come with a complimentary lap dance. Nonetheless, it was probably a good thing because nothing controls my drinking better than a ridiculously overpriced beer.
We couldn't help but notice the total lack of bar stools in the place. In fact, on the main floor, there wasn't any place at all to sit. They served a limited menu of food items which you pretty much had to eat standing up.
We settled in to watch to the first band, not really knowing what to expect. I can't even remember the name of the band which is probably fitting. It was a bit disturbing as the lead singer pranced shirtless around the stage. It wouldn't have been so bad, but the guy resembled and anorexic Iggy Pop. I'm not sure if they were trying to be artistic, but the band, at times seemed to be producing nothing but incoherent noise. To add to the torture, when the singer wasn't screaming at the top of his lungs he felt the need to dangle his microphone in front of the stage monitors in order to produce an annoying feedback. I was really starting to worry that someone would jump onstage and beat him over the head with it. My buddy Tim, who is a walking rock-and-roll encyclopedia, summed it up by saying, "I think that's the worst f*cking band I've ever heard."
As we tried to stop our ears from bleeding, we really started to worry about how the second band (Against Me) would sound. When they started to play, it was obvious that this band was more tight and polished. They played with high energy. If I had to describe their sound, I would say that it was a cross between the Irish punk band, The Dropkick Murphys and the All-American Rejects. Noticeably absent from their songs was the guitar solo. But they made up for it with their hard driving riffs and catchy lyric hooks. The lead singer, who seemed very comfortable on the stage, had an androgynous look. He had the deep voice and stature of a man, but the look of Molly Ringwald. I couldn't quite figure out if he was a woman or she was a man. After the band finished, I googled the band's name and found out that the singer had indeed been a man at one time, but after going through a sex change, was now a woman. Obviously, with me being a conservative-minded person, it seemed a bit strange. But who am I to judge? In a nutshell, the band was really good.
When 10:15 arrived, we looked forward to seeing the headliners. The Cult finally took the stage around 10:30 and the crowd was more than ready. The band kicked into a series of lesser-known songs, but they sounded great. The familiar tone of Billy Duffy's guitar lit the room on fire. And singer Ian Astbury might have aged a little but he still appeared to be full of piss and vinegar. His vocals were solid and he had the attitude of a bonafide rock star. Strangely, he was wearing what appeared to be a winter jacket with a bushy fur neckline which I didn't quite understand. I also noticed that he has a habit of spitting on the stage. I'm not sure what's up with that. And Tim warned me that Astbury can go on political rants at times, so I was a little nervous about what he might say that could sour the show for me. He did manage to throw out at least one anti-Republican comment, but I didn't let it bother me. I really wish all bands would leave the political statements out of their shows.
About an hour into the show, I was lucky enough to have "the dancer" take a spot on the floor right in front of me. If you don't know what I'm talking about, "the dancer" is the guy who drinks too much and then starts bobbing and weaving like he's auditioning for a Janet Jackson video. He starts to bump into me with his herky-jerky dance moves, so taking the high road, I move out of his way and over about four feet. Within 30 seconds, the guy has invaded my new space and begins to flail his arms and shoulders yet again in my direction. Thank God someone finally calls for him over at the bar and he disappears from my life forever. But I'm sure his legacy will be carried on by some other asshole at the next show.
The Cult played for almost 90 minutes finishing up with a kick-ass encore of "Love Removal Machine". Although there was a large crowd, getting out of the parking lot and onto the open road was pretty easy. Overall, aside from the insane drink prices, I thought the Fillmore was a pretty nice venue. Who knows, maybe I'll even go back someday. But probably not on a week night....
kw
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| The Cult on stage at The Fillmore 6/12/2012 |
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