Pennywise, Madcap & Western Waste

I should have been able to predict that my night would end up this way. No, not the usual way it does when I see shows at The Brick: alone, disoriented and throwing up in a dank alley on my own shoes. No, I should have been able to foresee that I would find myself at Safeway at two in the morning, piling USDA Choice rib eye steaks into a motorized shopping cart driven by Pennywise’s guitarist, and then hopping into a cab to drive to Wal-Mart so the aforementioned guitarist could buy a BBQ so we could grill said meat under the auspices of an impromptu Iron Chef cook-off that would soon take place next to the tour bus at the Holiday Inn parking lot. The logical progression of events began when I showed up at The Brick Works in time to see Western Waste hammer through a bunch of cuts from their album Breakaway. They had a South Bay hardcore vibe going that complemented the NorCal drunken asshole vibe I was working on, then three double Bushmills-on-the-rocks deep into the evening. The Waste played nice and fast, which is good when you want to see the headliners because they only got like, 15 songs, and at a minute-and-a-half each, they were done in no time and Madcap was onstage.
Those guys, it turned out, had changed their lineup since last I caught them and had a new singer named Johnny who filled in nicely for the guy they used to have (whose name I can’t recall). The rest of the band was intact and played with as much heart as an opener could when the crowd kept yelling “Penn-y-wise!” in between all the songs. There was a high dude quotient in the audience, and all they wanted was two heaping ears full of the Pennywise so they could get their sweaty mosh on.
After a brief respite of fresh air during the set change, the audience was finally witness to the barrage of aural fury they’d been looking forward to from Pennywise. The floor erupted into the counterclockwise march of flying elbows and pumping fists, shirtless men careening off each other like some kind of punk rock homoerotic opera. What can I say? I think mosh pits are gay, but hey, the kids love ‘em. To each his own.
There was much rejoicing during “Fuck Authority” and “The World” and a bunch of hooligans made it up onstage to sing “Bro Hymn,” a tribute to fallen former bassist Jason Thirsk. His brother Justin was in attendance to sing that one verse you might remember from the live version of the song off Full Circle, which was rad. If you were smart enough to stick around after the house lights came on you saw Pennywise finish off the night with an encore, and if you didn’t, go fuck yourself.
- M. Cameron Newell
- Photo by Alyssa Starkey

Bookmark:

Comments down for maintenance.