I’m watching two sexy women salaciously roll around on top of each other in front of moderately attractive dudes playing hardcore music. There’s a submissive in the corner doing some strange form of masochistic yoga in-between songs/lashings. The mosh pit is a haze of beer, sweat and glitter. There was a time I’d feel insecure even watching this show. Now I’m wondering if I should join in. I was offered glitter before the show by an Amazon in thigh-high black vinyl boots and a shiny rainbow bikini. I politely refused while slowing inching away. I’ve been glitter-free for almost a year now. I’d like to keep it that way.
*****
The Gloryholes set the tone for the show when Brando opened in nothing but a jock strap. Adam’s spangled figure skating ensemble completed the look. Their music consistently unites audiences in chants about blow jobs while poking fun at typical pop punk. The Gloryholes are a great Memphis band. Make sure you catch them at next year’s Punk Festival if not sooner.
Special Victims Unit was center to the musical menage a trois. Local favorites, SVU adds heft to any bill they’re on. I never get tired of seeing Ivy and her posse incite small riots on stage and this was no exception. I saw the microphone get highjacked at least once by an audience member and I saw the same tutu worn by two separate men. I don’t think there were any permanent injuries but I never get close enough to really see.
Gash was all that and a bag of chips. The sound was screwed up so I couldn’t hear most of the vocals to the music but that didn’t dampen the show. The aforementioned Amazon knew exactly how to move in those boots and her cohort, the lead vocalist, wasted no time getting straight to business. The mosh pit was a free zone for the women to whip, spank or sit on any brave soul who entered. Boys flung themselves into the fray, often discovering that a well handled lash will leave a mark.
A few audience members gleefully played with different whips while one of the Gloryholes straddled the slave. I particularly enjoyed seeing the dominatrix sit on the kick drum and grind it like an off-balance washer. There was enough raw sexual energy present that I felt it from my wallflower position. When the women began grinding each other on the couch beside me I unconsciously started thrusting my pelvis to their rhythm.
Such wanton display used to make me blush. Now I see the beauty of two people brazenly enjoying lustful impulse. The exhibitionist inside me wants to join them. For the record, nothing officially inappropriate happened. One woman had to slap a guy that reached for her tit during the show but that was the only injunction. This show was about the art of sexuality and how it relates to primal energy in punk music. Gash supplies a tactile experience without crossing any lines – very effectively.
