Paradise Lost Benefit Concert : Los Barrachos, Bleego & NOGOODNIX

This one started as most punk shows do — very, very late. An obnoxious amount of beer showed up right on time, though, courtesy of several Sierra Nevada-employed band members who saved up their free keg points. Thus, when the NOGOODNIX took the stage two-and-a-half hours later, the crowd was very much in the mood.
If you’re ever at a party and want to start some hostile guerilla moshing, just invite the NOGOODNIX, because that’s what will happen. With one extremely motivated guitarist to his left, frontman Jimmy Lo went crazy in front of a crowd of about 40, freaking out during songs and ranting about the nation’s law enforcement between them, while the bassist played sitting down, one of at least four bruised-up bike-wreck victims in attendance. Meanwhile the mosh pit resembled an anarchist pinball machine, with punks pummeling punks, punks picking up punks, and punks generally punking each other. The final staple, the Chico PD, arrived to issue a noise warning right about the time the second band was getting ready.
Just as the porter keg was being tapped, Bleego took the stage. A relatively new addition to the Chico music scene, Bleego combines an electronic mix board, a keyboard and three guitars, with pedal setups roughly the size of a small city block. With a sound unanimously dubbed “Nintendo rock,” they began bludgeoning the crowd with a mix of rave-esque dance beats and Nine Inch Nails-style power riffage, sans vocals. And if the previous band’s guitarist was rocking out, Bleego’s left-hand guitarist was straight-up wired, pulling out contortions that any hopeful air-guitarist should really study.
By now the heat had taken its toll, leaving the yard smelling more like a hippie-fest than a punk show, as unwashed bodies bumbled around in a beer and sweat-soaked fog. It was the perfect atmosphere for Los Barrachos, who, for those who speak Spanish, are the most aptly named band in Chico. Gently put, the first few songs fell victim to the beer and the effect it has on one’s ability to tune and play an instrument. But after the band got warmed up, they provided by far the most raucous, unbelievable set of the night. Lead singer and event organizer Bar-B Rader transformed from a small, friendly punk girl to a thundering ball of wrath, screaming lyrics with as much rage as she screamed at newcomers who refused to contribute to the benefit. The bassist thrashed around the mosh pit while guitarist Johnny Meehen came apart at the seams, convulsing in the dirt and screaming incoherently. He finished the set by throwing his guitar, moving to the other end of the stage and puking. The police arrived once again, and the show ended with two bands still in the firing chamber, $632 raised for the victims of the 330 Flume St. fire, and a legion of punks badly in need of a shower.

– Words and photo by Peter Kimmich

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