This punk-enchantment of an evening started at about six with a dozen kids and no band. This proved to be an extremely stressful event for JD. We passed the time by starring at the weirdo bastard in the blue shirt and backpack, who was starring right back at us. Eventually, the band showed up, the weirdo went away, and the show began.

Dischotomy began, and despite my dumbass and my uncontrollable feedback, played a great set. Luckily, they were patient with me and didn't freak out and strike me. For one reason or another, the pounding drums and thumping, melodic bass fills really caught my attention, more so than ever before. The vocals weren't as present as usual, but that's only my fault and my trials and tribulations with the P.A. That's ok, I suppose, because sometimes I feel almost like I get too caught up in the vocals and lyrics that I forget the entire root of what we all love; the music. All in all, though, great set. I hope to see Dischotomy put out an LP, or perhaps even an EP sometime soon, I know I'd buy.

Then The Imports set up and played. I must commend the 25 or so brave souls who showed up to discover this great band. As you may or may not know, this was a free show with donations gladly accepted. This meager turnout actually turned some pretty good dough. Everybody donated some, save about four dicks that claimed to be supporting the scene by not giving money, nor support for that matter. (Side note for the dip shit: that doesn't support anyone, jackass) Despite these mentally inferior, the donations came to about $65, not bad. It was good to see a band play for more than just a few nickels, a breath mint, and an un-lubed condom.

I felt extremely privileged to be in attendance for this one. I believe those who stuck around got a sneak peek into the future of rock n' roll in America. With powerful drumming, rockin' bass, crunchy guitar riffs, sweet and tasty melodies, and emotional, poppy vocals, they played their way into our hearts, well, at least mine. Speaking of which, they're not bad on the eyes. So come on out, ladies, and hit on 'um a bit next time, huh? Watch out for Kevin, though, he's a heart-stealer. They rocked what they could within the limited confines of the dungeon, and still amazed us all. Afterwards, we feasted and chatted over stories of the road. I really got the impression that they love what they're doing and love music. Occasionally during the after-show festivities, one or two of them would disappear, only to be found back in the basement playing and writing, either by themselves or in pairs. These guys are really paying their dues and, in my estimation, will become a hot punk-rock item in the very near future.