Things to do before you die
In my opinion, there is only one thing you need to do before you die: see Turbonegro live.
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The first time I saw them I knew nothing about them and had no idea what to expect. How was I to know that walking into the venue WITHOUT a sailor hat would be deeply embarrassing? I spent the next 2 hours enthralled by costume changes, lyrics about erections, and truly talented musicians (despite the nature of their lyrics and their costumes, these dudes can write the fuck out of some songs and play the fuck out of some instruments). I learned my lesson fast and walked out of Webster Hall as a convert, armed with Turbonegro dollars and covered in confetti.
A year later, my heart was crushed when they pulled out of the lineup at Thrasher magazine’s SXSW party. I wasn’t alone; I went to the party anyway and was surrounded by Turbojugend members, wearing their jackets with pride to honor our absent heroes.
The second time I saw them, Lucas and I were prepared – Lucas in his Turbojugend Glasgow jacket and me with my sailor hat. We were befriended instantly by other Turbojugend members who gave us hugs and buttons and insisted we come to the monthly meet-ups. Before the band came on, the projector at Slim’s was rolling old footage of the Dead Kennedys playing. I look to my right and who’s sitting at the bar next to me? Mr. Jello Biafra of the goddamn Dead Kennedys. He snickered and commented to his companion “Oh, I remember that one!” pointing at the screen. MIND BLOWN.
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Last night I saw Turbonegro for a third time. Despite my best efforts, Lucas’ Turbojugend jacket just didn’t fit, so I had to ditch it at the last minute. But I spent all day counting down the hours to the show and I WAS READY!
(Mrs.) Joey Dickpants:
The show was brilliant…..fuck me if those guys don’t just get better and better! I settled in with some vodka and watched the mayhem unfold. Hank strutted out wearing a white tuxedo vest with nothing underneath it, a bow tie and cufflinks and a black feather boa. My friend Ally who’s doing their backline was also apparently on wardrobe duty, catching Hank’s boa and running across the stage to grab the sweaty, discarded tuxedo vest and folding it up nicely before returning to tuning guitars. By the time it was all over, the crowd had spilled onto the street, not wanting to leave, singing all the songs we’d just heard. It was almost enough to convince me to drive down to Coachella today……almost. (P.S. Jello was there again last night, looking happy as a pig in shit!)
Scoured from YouTube:
Sailor Man
All My Friends Are Dead
I Got Erection (pro-shot)
