Club scene shake-up has promoters moshing just like the fans. See page 22.
by Scott Mervis
New Jersey skacore band Catch 22 has drawn a big, enthusiastic crowd. And most of it is right up on stage with the band. In fact, by the end of the set, the young singer is eyeing the development of a precarious situation. There are more stage divers than people in the pit to catch them.
Obviously, this type of behavior wouldn't fly at, say, a folk-rock concert or anywhere rock stars are at work. If you even look at Steven Tyler the wrong way, you're going to get the bum's rush. But here in the all-ages punk world of Club Laga, the band --wearing the same oversized t-shirts and buzz cuts as the fans-- is busy with a lot more than just playing the songs. Singer Jeff Davidson is helping kids find their shoes, passing out water, maintaining sanity in the pit, protecting the guitar pedals and trying to keep this one overzealous, chubby kid named Jason from standing behind him the entire time.
When someone "tosses" right in the middle of the pit, Davidson throws down a towel for them to clean it up, which, to his dismay, comes flying back at him a minute later. Even he seems surprised when the moshing and stagediving -- three bodies at a time-- picks up again in the same spot.
"We've played a lot of shows on this tour," he says, "but you guys are the shhhhhh-- There's a reason we picked this place to finish the tour." Later he'll add with a slight touch of sarcasm, "Thank you very much for *participating* and enjoying yourselves *so much*."
This is the fun side -- and yes, the wild, youthful side -- of rock 'n' roll. Behind the scenes, there's a lot of wheeling & dealing to get to that point.
[Here, the article starts talking about the different clubs in Pittsburgh, but if no one minds, I'll just skip right to the parts about Catch 22]
A GOOD CATCH
So anyway, how many of you out there have even heard of Catch 22? Or how 'bout Edna's Goldfish, the band that received a similarly frenzied response in the opening slot at Laga last weekend? Don't feel bad if you don't. These aren't the bands hanging out with Carson Daly on "Total Request Live" or getting good play at the Wal-Mart.
But they drew 400 kids and when the mikes were passed down to the sweaty throng, the fans were singing every word. Some of the kids were there because they saw them open for the Suicide Machines the last time through, and that's how the subculture feeds itself.
And it's good to know that in this corporate age that a scene can thrive below the mainstream radar. "That's why you need a John Rinaldo or Mike Elko to take that kind of band," says Rinaldo, who could be found last Saturday at 8 o'clock watching a line twisting to the bottom of the stairs for a hardcore show that was the second half of the double header. "[The big promoters] don't know how to groom and grow that band and treat them with kid gloves, which is what those baby bands need. They're not going to buist their tails to get people out for this stuff. They'll say they do till they're blue in the face, but it's never been evident to me."
