Nightmare or utopic future?

Interplanetary Revolution


Saturday October 25th, was the annual Revolution party - this year hosted at Plan B. On the bill were both of p-town's only Russkie bands: Mirumir! and Chervona; as well as Niayh and a hectic set by Golden Greats

Arriving late, one was presented with a devilish scene. The dark misty night, pierced by cries of joy or pain, was juxtaposed with a packed darkly flashing room. It was a circus. What it might have looked like if the 1917 revolution had taken place in a cramp basement with a hodgepodge of 20th century misfits getting drunk to celebrate the end of time. Explosions of glitter and melting faces, trapped between concentric loops of gyrating soviet hips, sip that 22 out of your bag because you shouldn't drink whatever these people have been. A free speech stage in the back lot, sporadic piles of bicycles and heaps of broken youth, while someone's sad mumbles of the futility of our supposedly democratic system were washed away by the chanting of the red-painted Obama youth brigade. A confusion of elements, Halloween a week too soon? Mario with sad drooping whiskers bent over a mechanical music monster, perused by Hunter Thompson in board shorts and safari cap, while a chair fight broke out over the last of the cold left-over socialist french fries. sensory overload

So swig it fast, try to ska-dance, and get the hell out of there while you've got your wits about you. Tom Waits, heckling and jeering, the Master of Events, his waxen face almost brushing the stage lights as he beats those lousy derevniks in their striped shirts. beats and beats them with his howls and curses; oh so painful - as they strike up another rollicking tune.

Back outside, lit cigarettes, and nervous shuffling. What's 5$ when you have the whole future ahead of you?

Lurve,
SpecSocWrite