Fun, Games, & Dayglo Abortions

This is the band you go to see if you're looking to see some angry young (and not so young) punks take out their frustrations in the pit. It's dictionary definition anarchy, with a loosely defined set of rules; you will obey the doorman's every word like law, and you don't piss off the bartender, because even the burly guy at the door works for Wendy Thirteen. Pretty much all else is up for grabs; well, with notable exception below the break...

I was a bit surprised to see only a couple massive head wounds on this night, but I did arrive too late to catch the opening band, who have a lead singer who has been known to cut himself like a professional wrestler might; strictly for effect.

There wasn't much in the way of fights or wanton violence when the Dayglos rolled into Vancouver on the 17th of December. The crowd that's frequented The Asbalt (and The Cobalt before it) know the rules, and they know that they'll seriously piss off the bartender if they so much as bring a weapon on the premises. You behave, and everything's just fine.

The old-timers who have frequented the Astoria's bar during the day can even attest to their often magical way of walking straight through a really hopping pit full of angry, mohawk-sporting youth. This crowd takes care of their own, and you mostly just have to show up and be somewhat civil in order to be counted among the membership.

The Dayglos are a big draw whenever they get together enough to cross the waters from Victoria and play a show here in Vancouver. The room will be full to capacity early, and will stay that way all night. I know better than to arrive late when they're on the bill; I also know better than to take any camera equipment that could be endangered by being submerged in a jug of beer, and so my only pictures of the event are of the crowd. Only those who have seen the band members before are likely to be able to pick any of them out of the crowd.

Saw one guy getting his ass handed to him by a comparatively tiny girl with green hair... wicked right hook. Stories after the fact suggest that she smacked him in the head with a beer bottle just before beating him on the pool table. This isn't so much a rule of the house; as it is a guideline; don't grope girls on the dance floor; they may bite.

Drinks can go flying, with or without their containers. This is something of a side effect of moshing with a pint of beer in your hand; after all, if you leave it with friends sitting at the tables, they're liable to drink it.

All in all, this was a musically agressive evening where nobody was shot at, killed, or delivered anything but swift justice; bingo could be riskier.

Want to hear them? Download a copy of PUNK SONG from their latest CD; Holy Shiite.