Pink Gun did play last night. First time without a drummer. It was still Pink Gun because Brian was there, willing and ready to play drums. Since no one was kind enough to let us use their skins, Brian stood next to Charlie and I, drinking and laughing.
The set was about 15-minutes. It felt like an hour. Charlie and I started off with a song called, "I Wish I Knew My Dad." With droning feedback and a simple chord progression, we sounded like My Bloody Valentine meets the Velvet Underground. At least the music sounded like this. I sang/screamed like a survivor of a natural disaster. The song went on for about 5-minutes. Some topics I covered were: studded belts, tight jeans, Converse shoes, bands that won't share equipment, how I rule, how everyone should lick my balls and Hot Topic. The song was superb.
After our first song, we got our bearings. Unfortunately, the party hosts did not think we should progress with our unique style of music. Since we did not see eye to eye, I proceeded to make a host cry.
Song 2 is an untitled ditty that was sung by a random girl. Playing a simple punk rock riff for the verse, I gave the female ample opportunity to express herself in a well-known music fashion. My chorus was a bright, psychedelic orchestra of song. Once again, the girl had more than enough music to work with. Since no one can sing like me, I had to take the mic back from her. She did not live up to expectations. Then again, I am the only one who can sing in Pink Gun.
By this time, the party was divided. About 75% of the people there wanted us to stop, but the tight jeans they were wearing was not good for blood flow, therefore, they were not able to move. The other 25% of the crowd were frantically screaming for us to continue the gospel of Pink Gun. So Charlie and I faced adversity, guarded out amps (the hosts were trying to unplug us) and charged forward.
"Since U Been Gone." We performed a life-changing version of "Since U Been Gone." Out of key, slower, sexier and, obviously, life-altering, those who hated us were frozen yet again. How could two men, two musicians, two preachers of rock and roll, do so much with so little? I will answer that for you. Depression and desperation. That's all it takes. Pink Gun has enough of both to change multiple worlds.
Three songs into our set, the guitars were done for. After 5-minutes of getting unplugged and plugging back in, I decided to take the band in a new direction and just sing. Use the only instrument I was born with and belt out the most poetic lyrics uttered since e.e. cummings. Some topics that I covered were: rock and roll, Kelly Clarkson, how everyone should suck my balls again, how sexy I looked in my dress, how awesome Charlie is at guitar, how awesome I am at guitar, the state of economics, why the bands before and after us should die and that the hosts should call the cops because I'm over 21 and don't have to worry. Then they did call the cops.
For the first time in the history of Pink Gun, we've lived up to everything I knew we could be. We made a girl cry, froze wanna-be hipsters (we played in Lakeview, not Wicker Park), destroyed a room (at least the hard-wood floors, Micah and I spilled at least 3 beers each), pissed off all the other bands and, most importantly, had the police called on us.
Pink Gun is available for your next shin-dig.
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