If you host a shit ton of bands, and charge the minimal fee of five bucks, people will come. At least that’s how the 816 Bicycle Collective raised money Saturday, November 3 at the Harrison Fort.
Upon arriving at the Harrison Fort, 2832 Harrison Street, music lovers willingly handed over five aces apiece to see bands from the surrounding area like Nero, The Dark Ages, The Sperm, and lastly (but damn sure not least) Ad Astra Per Aspera. Attendees would bear witness to the bands that may, or may not, have been on their radar before the fundraiser.
In the "punk house," as someone put it, everything was open, including the kitchen and all that it had to offer. The probability that the kid standing next to you was in the next band, or was at least comfortable enough with them to use the lead singer for a horseback ride, was high. Yet, somehow it was also possible for you to make acquaintances over a bottle of champagne.
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A brief set list discussion was prompted by stage directions from a guy who spent the evening randomly stepping out of the crowd, giving the impression that he was in fact the "stage" manager. The band played one more song before handing out stickers with their Myspace address <http://myspace.com/kcnero> on it and deconstructing their set.
The Dark Ages (whose drummer is also Ad Astra’s front man) were a burst of unexpected energy. Problems during setup led to the guitarist asking the drummer to play something so he could test his equipment.
After about the third time the request was made, and an extended drum roll, the drummer quipped "I already played this whole set!" But finding no sympathy with his band mate he turned seemingly towards the crowd, to inform everyone that he needed a quarter-inch cable "or, this isn’t going to happen."
There was more testing. The set began in the overly-crowded room as someone tossed in the missing cable from the kitchen. Finally the band got the chance to put their loud and hyperactive attitude to use as they began to play, and while I’m not a fan of metal, I have to admit I was entertained.
Playing at earsplitting levels, they worked the audience into a state of excitement as the lead singer’s crazy energy inspired the crowd to return the favor. He fell to the floor and ran at different people in the audience, turning the room into one small mosh pit.
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An all-girl group named Toxic Shock took center "stage". Members included the violinist of Nero, SM Bough, an operatic (or possibly classically trained) singer, Anna Young, who also played a plastic kazoo (and didn’t really need a mic to be heard, with her vocal range, in that size venue), a thereminist, an accordion player, and a drummer.
Their sound can best be described as a rhythmic beat reminiscent of a Native American ritual you might've heard while watching some movie, with Young doing variations of what looked like some funky rain dance, while hitting high notes and chanting lyrics like “pray for me” over the beat.
Seeing as how Toxic Shock is more of a side project for these ladies - they never actually rehearse or play, and describe their gigs as "improve," - hardly any of the songs were recognizable until Young announced that the "next song was written by a friend of ours."
"She’s not a friend of mine," Bough deadpanned.
"She just drunk dials us," explained Young, before launching into a very original version of Britney Spears' "Toxic." Then they received word from the kitchen that they had two minutes left to play.
The next band took the stage with an absent drummer, to which Chris, the washboard bassist, replied “Fuck Jordan,” whenever asked about it. With no percussion, the band, Uncle Ogre, proceeded to play a song about possums and sweet potatoes.
Uncle Ogre's banjo player/singer/dancer, dressed in Mennonite gear, announced the beginning of "a little tune we wrote called 'Do, Do, Do...Something,'" which involved melodic whistling and an appearance by Young with her kazoo. Assuring everyone they were just there for the beer, the band rounded out their set with the opening chords to "Summer Lovin'," a song with the word "penis" being shouted, and a plea for the crowd to "smoke crack."
The evening was almost over when Ad Astra Per Aspra squeezed in to play a packed house. People who'd been meandering around outside all evening, individuals from other bands, last minute partygoers, and quite possibly even the neighbors found their way in.
There was barely enough room for the band to play, with the crowd practically forcing them into a corner. The front man had no room to move - almost knocked a speaker down the one time he dared to - so the crowd had to settle for extreme swaying in lieu of moshing.
Ad Astra Per Aspera began to play songs that were more familiar to party attendees, as well as new stuff that sounded just as good. From the moment they started you felt as if you were at a sold-out show, with a band in the midst of their world tour, garnering nationwide attention. The sound was cleaner, clearer, louder, and more practiced than most of what had been heard previously. It was instantly apparent that they'd done this before.
Their songs managed to inspire ass shaking, and even nods from the formerly reserved. During the breaks some guy passed a beer forth and exclaimed "Scott, I fucking love you!" while another quipped "Scott, I fucking hate you!" The bass player took the beer and shrugged. You can visit this band on the Web at <http://www.adastraperaspera.com/ > and <http://www.myspace.com/adastraperaspera>.
While I can't give an exact estimate of how much money was raised for the 816 Bicycle Collective that evening, I can honestly say that everyone there got their money's worth. Not only did they hear a wide variety of good music, but they also got to actually interact with the people on "stage," and the chance to enjoy free - albeit limited - kitchen access.
Copyright 2007 Metropolitan Community College