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  • Writer's pictureBurnt Breakfast

Thursday Show at the Electrical Gospel Club | By Joe Ray W


Mike


Bad Taste, finally played at a venue I could get down and dirty at. The new album, 'Nothing Left To Say', might be all filler, no killer, but they had their hits to fall back on. And they fell back on them hard, blasting out 'Real Shit Time Together' as if their guitars were falling apart, so many snapped strings. It was enough for me, but my girlfriend threw up in protest, they weren't that awful. I rubbed her back as I banged my head, who says you can't do both things simultaneously? When the security helped her escape the sticky threshes of the mosh pit, I shrugged my shoulders then pushed back on in. Raw power.


Suzie


Bad Taste, an apt name. The night before, we had a Medium reducing the audience to tears over dead dog spirits who go by the name of Mark, but that wasn't as sad as seeing a washed up post punk group play to a crowd clinging onto better days. Someone threw up, which I had to clean up. The sound was all out of whack, tinnitus for days. The lead singer made a pass at me, but he ain't no Bon Jovi tribute act, only slippery when wet. And when I thought it was time to sit back and breathe, a shoe came flying from the stage, face first. I quit.


Bad Bob


Bad Taste, we've still got it, at least that's what I thought. As I mumbled and moaned into the mic, I saw a girl puke all over the front row, it's been a while since we've received such a reaction. Pure punk. Though I noticed the crowd were fighting, I noticed my words were rambling, I noticed our band weren't frightening. So I took off all my clothes, threw my shoes out into the void, my skin and bones followed shortly after. I'm the reason you're all here tonight. So catch me.


Someone will remember tonight. I know I won't.


 

Joe Ray W has spent a whole heap of time creating short stories, largely focussing on psychological distress through the medium of objects. He guesses writing about such things helps articulate all the confusing thoughts that often spin around his mind, and maybe others will find a connection with it all too.

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