Let me see those hands
Chicago Powerfest 2006 rocked ass - definitely the best one yet. They moved the show to a larger venue this time, from the cramped, awful-sounding Lansing sweatbox that is J.J. Kelley's to the cavernous, awful-sounding Chicago Heights sweatbox that is Mr. Kelley's Music Box. Yes, these are owned by the same dude. This was my first time at this semi-new joint, which is distressingly close to the shady, shuttered venue Oasis 160. During my only trip to that now-defunct craphole, Enforsaken almost got their gear stolen by some loathesome unsigned local Coal Chamber wannabes for whom they were insultingly forced to open. Needless to say, I hid my jacket in the trunk when we went inside. Fucking Southside heshers.
The big downside? Travel took me through the horrible hamlet of Hillside a whopping eight times in two days. For those unfamiliar with the area, there's a stretch of I-290 where it merges with I-88 which is derisively nicknamed the "Hillside Strangler". It creates a backup which happens at the worst point at which you should be forced to linger. In addition to harboring the most uncharmingly sleazy drinking establishment in which I've ever been unfortunate enough to have dodged several physical altercations, Hillside boasts a landfill whch permeates the town with a brain-melting stench, leaving a gloomy funk on everything it touches. But it was worth the discomfort, and here's why.
Mirror Black - With a name like that, I expected these Madison natives to be Nevermore clones. That wasn't the case, although it's obvious the best metal band in America has a great deal of influence on Mirror Black. Their version of heavy prog-thrash with dramatic clean vocals wasn't spectacular, reminding me of amiable locals Eden's Fall, but decent enough, and their bassist was humorously animated. There's another story to tell here, though. On Friday night, I almost spit out my Heineken when I noticed a hilarious presence in front of the stage. Shaking his mane and thrusting his begloved fist skyward was none other than the emcee from the Heathen Crusade. I couldn't fucking believe it. Furthermore, I was not prepared for him to reclaim his role as toastmaster on day two. I mean, when are you ever prepared for life's most surreal and fucked-up moments to return like cackling specters in the night? Like too many times over the past year, I got the gnawing feeling that history was repeating itself as this Rikki Rachtman/game show host (appropriately known as The SwordLord) sauntered onstage, eyed the mic, picked it up and began to ply his patented "This is awesome! Woo! Where are you guys from?" style of inanity. More on this clown later. Mirror Black was OK.
Twelfth Gate - I thought Ion Vein was going to play next, but was surprised with Twelfth Gate instead. More startling than their stage time, however, was the guy they had on the mic, who the band said in pre-show statements would be a guest stand-in for regular singer Scott Huffman. Whereas the veteran Huffman is a Bruce Dickinson type of leather-lunged wailer, this guy was all Pantera-style: gruff bellowing, deep singing, shaved head, "tribal" tattoos, headbanging from the waist... you know the type. When combining that approach with the band's downtuned prog-thrash, Twelfth Gate came off almost like a diverse, tech-y metalcore act. It was better than I would have expected having known this ahead of time, although the older songs with which I was familiar did seem a little lacking without the melodic angle (he said he'd blown his voice out the day before, so he stuck to rasping over singing). I think it really pissed a few people off, the sort of people who are just as conservative in their tastes as radio rock fans yet have the audacity to call their favored cult genre "progressive." There have been many, many different types of metal purveyed around the world over the past 40 or so years, and most kinds are agreeable in some way to me, so I tend to think of people who only like one type as ignorant schmoes. My sole complaint with genre-specific fests like this one is that they (perhaps unintentionally) cater to those who would prefer to segregate those styles. Is that some sort of reverse elitism? If so, I have no problem with that. Twelfth Gate's aggro performance added variety, and the band was absolutely lethal as always, although suffering a muddy mix. The bigger issue is that it turns out the Anselmo-ish guy was not really a "guest" but, as Twelfth Gate bassist and Powerfest co-organizer Rob Such told me afterward, he is their new vocalist. They just released their second album (their debut for Season of Mist) a few weeks ago. I picked it up at the fest. It's a quality disc with a way better mix than their solid debut, but to anyone who hears it and likes it, the material does sound significantly different with the new vocal style. So this may create a new type of uphill slog for the perpetually undervalued Twelfth Gate, just when they have a respected European label behind them... I will be anxious to see what happens.
Ion Vein - A major transformation has taken Ion Vein from a band that could handily be summed up as "early Queensrÿche meets Dream Theater" to something considerably heavier. Back in the '90s, Ion Vein was the only "power metal" band I knew of from the area, and I met guitarist Chris Lotesto a number of years back when Scarecrow and I went to check out a gig Ion Vein was doing at a bar in the burbs. They didn't actually play, as one of the members had a death in the family that day, but I was shocked to meet another person who really liked Angra and Gamma Ray, and we've stayed in touch over the years. The setbacks his band has suffered rival that of The Chasm's, and if anyone in this country has doggedly worked his ass off to rally an audience for this decidedly European subset of metal, it's Chris. Hell of a guitarist, too. Perhaps it was the result of that true metal spirit of perseverance in the face of frustration, or maybe just further signs of the mighty Nevermore nudging the genre toward a thicker, thrashier ideal, but Ion Vein's set of entirely unreleased songs showed a band that was ready to battle. Russ Klimczak, once one of the best Geoff Tate stylists I've ever heard, now sings in a gruffer manner which befits his voice, and in general the blast coming from that stage was something I've never witnessed from this band. They closed with a cover of... "Painkiller," the Judas Priest comeback hit that Biomechanical had torn the hell out of the night before. (Boy, I bet they were pissed when they heard the Brits plow into that drum intro!) Still, a real eye-opener of a set. If they can punch up those choruses in a catchier manner, they could have a truly bad-ass album on the way.
Nocturnal Rites - Five years ago, I would have been going absolutely apeshit for Nocturnal Rites' American debut. Their last couple of records haven't been as great to me as their earlier stuff was, especially Afterlife, which was very cutting edge when it came out. But as one of the few newer power metal acts I still respect, theirs was the weekend's most galvanizing set, projected as if the Swedes were playing to the vast mudfields of Wacken rather than a club in a depressingly dilapidated Chicago suburb. One thing I always enjoy about seeing genuine European power metal live is that it's one of the few corners of metal where the band is allowed to have fun on stage, rather than just stand there and look imposing or pissed or in concentration or whatever. These guys never stopped mugging or beaming at the crowd's fanatic reception. At one point, someone tossed un ugly pink bra on stage and singer Jonny Lindkvist made as if he were going to slip it on. He didn't, but it was a more engaging reaction than the bra-tosser would have gotten if her target was, say, Glen Benton. As for the actual music, I was a bit disappointed that some of the clunkier new ones made it into the set, but "Shadowland," "Never Trust" and especially "When Fire Comes To Ice" crackled like pure Scandinavian lightning. Fists and beers held aloft, a bunch of aging metal nerds banging their short-haired heads, no major guitar problems, an encore of "Wake Up Dead" and "Afterlife": Nocturnal Rites performed as good a fit for the term "power metal" as I've ever seen.
Morgana Lefay - Last year during Chicago Powerfest, I was going through some rough shit on the romantic tip. I had really hoped the girl I was dating would have come with me, since I had secured an extra free ticket for her and none of the bands were that extreme, but she was busy working, and coincidentally deep into the process of blowing me off, as ladies I like are wont to do. I drove out to the first night by myself, and as good as the bands were, I of course spent a lot of time zoning out and stewing about the situation. But by the end of the evening, a combination of good imported beer and the intensity of Sweden's Morgana Lefay effectively blew the girl troubles from my mind for a couple of hours. So bad-ass was that set, they were asked to return as the fest closers for 2006. However, this was a different year, with different girl troubles, at a different venue. I was much more tired this time, but we managed to stay for a good chunk of their set. Sound troubles aside, their array of chunky, thrashy riffs lent an appropriately dank and gothic (not in the black lipstick sense) tone to Powerfest's denouement. Vocalist Charles Rytkonen's stage antics were as endearingly goofy as before, all the more surreal since he's a real dour Klaus Kinski-looking bastard. Yet his voice - similar to Savatage's Jon Oliva's combination of howl, screech, croon, drama, pathos and hatred - is really something worth witnessing. I only have one of the band's many albums, and it's from the brief period where they were forced to shorten their name to Lefay due to some legal bullshit with their once and future label. Scarecrow and I headed home, but I believe we both made a mental note to buy some Morgana Lefay as soon as possible.
The big downside? Travel took me through the horrible hamlet of Hillside a whopping eight times in two days. For those unfamiliar with the area, there's a stretch of I-290 where it merges with I-88 which is derisively nicknamed the "Hillside Strangler". It creates a backup which happens at the worst point at which you should be forced to linger. In addition to harboring the most uncharmingly sleazy drinking establishment in which I've ever been unfortunate enough to have dodged several physical altercations, Hillside boasts a landfill whch permeates the town with a brain-melting stench, leaving a gloomy funk on everything it touches. But it was worth the discomfort, and here's why.
DAY ONE: APRIL 7
Gracepoint - We missed Withering Soul, a local keyboardy black metal band I saw on a date last year and who honestly didn't impress me much then. But knowing nothing about Minneapolis' Gracepoint, I was awed like I have not been by an American prog metal band since I first saw Zero Hour at ProgPower I. Plying a fussy sort of thrash, their musicianship was impeccable and unexpectedly heavy, a mix which suitably set the stage for the rest of the fest. Gracepoint's sort of metal is inherently not very catchy - just when you get into a groove, the rhythm shifts, and while the vocals are clean (not growling), they don't place much stock in sing-along choruses. The real attraction is in the complexity of playing, and, at such a loud volume, the dizzying sensation of having all those different parts barreling at you in quick succession. That was the case here. They claimed it was their first live appearance in four years. Shocking, considering how tight it was, especially since they apparently lost their drummer shortly before the show and had their ex-drummer filling in. Gracepoint were also the fest's only band "indie" enough to toss out copies of their demo from the stage, which is how I got the CD I'm listening to right now.
Agent Steel - In the mid-'90s, I got back into metal after some time away. I read a lot of zines to find out about what was out there, and I bought one called Sentinel Steel because it covered Gamma Ray and Blind Guardian. This dense, info-packed issue became a little Bible to me, giving me dozens of bands to check out which make up what is now known as the power/prog metal subgenre. While featuring then-breaking acts like Angra, Labyrinth and Stratovarius, there was a lot of stuff on then-forgotten old bands such as Helstar, Angel Dust, Scanner and particularly Agent Steel. All the writers seemed to revere them, and I vividly remember in the staff pictures, there was a sketch of a girl with a hot indie-chick bob and cat glasses wearing a tight Agent Steel T-shirt. I somehow knew that if that girl liked them, they had to be good. Agent Steel's old stuff is as '80s as it gets: super hyper speed metal with ridiculously high-pitched vocals. They re-formed in the late '90s with a new singer, a guy named Bruce Hall who reminded me of Jag Panzer's Harry "The Tyrant" Conklin, in that he looked like a suburban dad who just got off work at the office and slipped into leather jacket mode. The dude can hit the dog whistle shrieks, though. (Friday was his birthday.) This was my first time seeing them, and it was pretty rad. Their newer music is calmer, as befitting the turn-of-the-millennium times in which it was written, so I have to say I preferred the early material. Songs like "Unstoppable Force," "Agents of Steel" and "Mad Locust Rising" flailed away in a denim-swathed flurry that sent coke dust flying from every skullet in the room, vintage alcoholocaust blitz metal of the sort you just don't hear today.
Biomechanical - This is the band Scarecrow was most looking forward to, and the big draw of the first night for me as well. I was pretty surprised when I saw that Chris, Rob and John had booked these Brits, since they are pretty much unknown and a fairly young band to boot. They put out a stupefying assault of an album last year through Elitist Records, right before the progressive Earache sub-label unfortunately folded (Earache was smart enough to keep Biomechanical, along with the great Ephel Duath). These dudes are a rare high point in the largely undistinguished history of British thrash, creating a highly jacked-up racket with shiny cybertones and occasional Halford wails, a trad-friendly mix of Theory in Practice showmanship and Strapping Young Lad vitriol. Live, this was made somehow even more intense due to the raw din of the cubelike performance hall. The only flaw in the riveting performance was frontman John K's song introductions - he'd say "This is [name of song], come on!" and then the drums would start counting in, so he'd have to go "Come on!" again in a very awkward manner. I don't know why they chose to do two covers, but Priest's "Painkiller" and Slayer's "Raining Blood" always go over well. I hope this band really catches on in the States somehow, as they would not only fit on something like Ozzfest but also outclass the majority of acts they would appear with in such a setting.
Eldritch - Old prog metal goombahs from Italy, these guys were among the hot new acts that were in that Sentinel Steel I mentioned. I heard some mp3s a long time ago, and I remember them being one of the lighter, fluffier European outfits that didn't give me any goosebumps upon sonic investigation. But Chris from Ion Vein told me right before Eldritch played that they are "probably much thrashier" than I remember. I did remember reading that they had heavied up some along the way, so I was game. At any rate, we stuck around if for no other reason than this was their first show in America. I'm all about being at such inaugural performances to try and give those guys good impressions of the States, even if it's a band I don't particularly love. This way, they might go back and tell their friends in better bands, "Hey, Giuseppe, that's a nice-a time to play in USA! We bang-a da heads, drink-a da beers and make-a da love! There's-a no cats in America, and the streets are paved with-a da cheese!" Despite the relative distortion on the guitars, the music was basically the expected Royal Hunt/Fates Warning type of hard pomp rock. It wasn't terrible, but not really my favorite thing, and seemed somewhat lacking for energy after the formidable bludgeoning of Biomechanical. We left early, after they played a so-so song that at least seemed willing to submit to a standard peppy power metal format. Still, I give them respect for their longevity and for playing their hearts out to a room that was perpetually emptying its drunk, aged audience.
Agent Steel - In the mid-'90s, I got back into metal after some time away. I read a lot of zines to find out about what was out there, and I bought one called Sentinel Steel because it covered Gamma Ray and Blind Guardian. This dense, info-packed issue became a little Bible to me, giving me dozens of bands to check out which make up what is now known as the power/prog metal subgenre. While featuring then-breaking acts like Angra, Labyrinth and Stratovarius, there was a lot of stuff on then-forgotten old bands such as Helstar, Angel Dust, Scanner and particularly Agent Steel. All the writers seemed to revere them, and I vividly remember in the staff pictures, there was a sketch of a girl with a hot indie-chick bob and cat glasses wearing a tight Agent Steel T-shirt. I somehow knew that if that girl liked them, they had to be good. Agent Steel's old stuff is as '80s as it gets: super hyper speed metal with ridiculously high-pitched vocals. They re-formed in the late '90s with a new singer, a guy named Bruce Hall who reminded me of Jag Panzer's Harry "The Tyrant" Conklin, in that he looked like a suburban dad who just got off work at the office and slipped into leather jacket mode. The dude can hit the dog whistle shrieks, though. (Friday was his birthday.) This was my first time seeing them, and it was pretty rad. Their newer music is calmer, as befitting the turn-of-the-millennium times in which it was written, so I have to say I preferred the early material. Songs like "Unstoppable Force," "Agents of Steel" and "Mad Locust Rising" flailed away in a denim-swathed flurry that sent coke dust flying from every skullet in the room, vintage alcoholocaust blitz metal of the sort you just don't hear today.
Biomechanical - This is the band Scarecrow was most looking forward to, and the big draw of the first night for me as well. I was pretty surprised when I saw that Chris, Rob and John had booked these Brits, since they are pretty much unknown and a fairly young band to boot. They put out a stupefying assault of an album last year through Elitist Records, right before the progressive Earache sub-label unfortunately folded (Earache was smart enough to keep Biomechanical, along with the great Ephel Duath). These dudes are a rare high point in the largely undistinguished history of British thrash, creating a highly jacked-up racket with shiny cybertones and occasional Halford wails, a trad-friendly mix of Theory in Practice showmanship and Strapping Young Lad vitriol. Live, this was made somehow even more intense due to the raw din of the cubelike performance hall. The only flaw in the riveting performance was frontman John K's song introductions - he'd say "This is [name of song], come on!" and then the drums would start counting in, so he'd have to go "Come on!" again in a very awkward manner. I don't know why they chose to do two covers, but Priest's "Painkiller" and Slayer's "Raining Blood" always go over well. I hope this band really catches on in the States somehow, as they would not only fit on something like Ozzfest but also outclass the majority of acts they would appear with in such a setting.
Eldritch - Old prog metal goombahs from Italy, these guys were among the hot new acts that were in that Sentinel Steel I mentioned. I heard some mp3s a long time ago, and I remember them being one of the lighter, fluffier European outfits that didn't give me any goosebumps upon sonic investigation. But Chris from Ion Vein told me right before Eldritch played that they are "probably much thrashier" than I remember. I did remember reading that they had heavied up some along the way, so I was game. At any rate, we stuck around if for no other reason than this was their first show in America. I'm all about being at such inaugural performances to try and give those guys good impressions of the States, even if it's a band I don't particularly love. This way, they might go back and tell their friends in better bands, "Hey, Giuseppe, that's a nice-a time to play in USA! We bang-a da heads, drink-a da beers and make-a da love! There's-a no cats in America, and the streets are paved with-a da cheese!" Despite the relative distortion on the guitars, the music was basically the expected Royal Hunt/Fates Warning type of hard pomp rock. It wasn't terrible, but not really my favorite thing, and seemed somewhat lacking for energy after the formidable bludgeoning of Biomechanical. We left early, after they played a so-so song that at least seemed willing to submit to a standard peppy power metal format. Still, I give them respect for their longevity and for playing their hearts out to a room that was perpetually emptying its drunk, aged audience.
DAY TWO: APRIL 8
Mirror Black - With a name like that, I expected these Madison natives to be Nevermore clones. That wasn't the case, although it's obvious the best metal band in America has a great deal of influence on Mirror Black. Their version of heavy prog-thrash with dramatic clean vocals wasn't spectacular, reminding me of amiable locals Eden's Fall, but decent enough, and their bassist was humorously animated. There's another story to tell here, though. On Friday night, I almost spit out my Heineken when I noticed a hilarious presence in front of the stage. Shaking his mane and thrusting his begloved fist skyward was none other than the emcee from the Heathen Crusade. I couldn't fucking believe it. Furthermore, I was not prepared for him to reclaim his role as toastmaster on day two. I mean, when are you ever prepared for life's most surreal and fucked-up moments to return like cackling specters in the night? Like too many times over the past year, I got the gnawing feeling that history was repeating itself as this Rikki Rachtman/game show host (appropriately known as The SwordLord) sauntered onstage, eyed the mic, picked it up and began to ply his patented "This is awesome! Woo! Where are you guys from?" style of inanity. More on this clown later. Mirror Black was OK.
Twelfth Gate - I thought Ion Vein was going to play next, but was surprised with Twelfth Gate instead. More startling than their stage time, however, was the guy they had on the mic, who the band said in pre-show statements would be a guest stand-in for regular singer Scott Huffman. Whereas the veteran Huffman is a Bruce Dickinson type of leather-lunged wailer, this guy was all Pantera-style: gruff bellowing, deep singing, shaved head, "tribal" tattoos, headbanging from the waist... you know the type. When combining that approach with the band's downtuned prog-thrash, Twelfth Gate came off almost like a diverse, tech-y metalcore act. It was better than I would have expected having known this ahead of time, although the older songs with which I was familiar did seem a little lacking without the melodic angle (he said he'd blown his voice out the day before, so he stuck to rasping over singing). I think it really pissed a few people off, the sort of people who are just as conservative in their tastes as radio rock fans yet have the audacity to call their favored cult genre "progressive." There have been many, many different types of metal purveyed around the world over the past 40 or so years, and most kinds are agreeable in some way to me, so I tend to think of people who only like one type as ignorant schmoes. My sole complaint with genre-specific fests like this one is that they (perhaps unintentionally) cater to those who would prefer to segregate those styles. Is that some sort of reverse elitism? If so, I have no problem with that. Twelfth Gate's aggro performance added variety, and the band was absolutely lethal as always, although suffering a muddy mix. The bigger issue is that it turns out the Anselmo-ish guy was not really a "guest" but, as Twelfth Gate bassist and Powerfest co-organizer Rob Such told me afterward, he is their new vocalist. They just released their second album (their debut for Season of Mist) a few weeks ago. I picked it up at the fest. It's a quality disc with a way better mix than their solid debut, but to anyone who hears it and likes it, the material does sound significantly different with the new vocal style. So this may create a new type of uphill slog for the perpetually undervalued Twelfth Gate, just when they have a respected European label behind them... I will be anxious to see what happens.
Ion Vein - A major transformation has taken Ion Vein from a band that could handily be summed up as "early Queensrÿche meets Dream Theater" to something considerably heavier. Back in the '90s, Ion Vein was the only "power metal" band I knew of from the area, and I met guitarist Chris Lotesto a number of years back when Scarecrow and I went to check out a gig Ion Vein was doing at a bar in the burbs. They didn't actually play, as one of the members had a death in the family that day, but I was shocked to meet another person who really liked Angra and Gamma Ray, and we've stayed in touch over the years. The setbacks his band has suffered rival that of The Chasm's, and if anyone in this country has doggedly worked his ass off to rally an audience for this decidedly European subset of metal, it's Chris. Hell of a guitarist, too. Perhaps it was the result of that true metal spirit of perseverance in the face of frustration, or maybe just further signs of the mighty Nevermore nudging the genre toward a thicker, thrashier ideal, but Ion Vein's set of entirely unreleased songs showed a band that was ready to battle. Russ Klimczak, once one of the best Geoff Tate stylists I've ever heard, now sings in a gruffer manner which befits his voice, and in general the blast coming from that stage was something I've never witnessed from this band. They closed with a cover of... "Painkiller," the Judas Priest comeback hit that Biomechanical had torn the hell out of the night before. (Boy, I bet they were pissed when they heard the Brits plow into that drum intro!) Still, a real eye-opener of a set. If they can punch up those choruses in a catchier manner, they could have a truly bad-ass album on the way.
Nocturnal Rites - Five years ago, I would have been going absolutely apeshit for Nocturnal Rites' American debut. Their last couple of records haven't been as great to me as their earlier stuff was, especially Afterlife, which was very cutting edge when it came out. But as one of the few newer power metal acts I still respect, theirs was the weekend's most galvanizing set, projected as if the Swedes were playing to the vast mudfields of Wacken rather than a club in a depressingly dilapidated Chicago suburb. One thing I always enjoy about seeing genuine European power metal live is that it's one of the few corners of metal where the band is allowed to have fun on stage, rather than just stand there and look imposing or pissed or in concentration or whatever. These guys never stopped mugging or beaming at the crowd's fanatic reception. At one point, someone tossed un ugly pink bra on stage and singer Jonny Lindkvist made as if he were going to slip it on. He didn't, but it was a more engaging reaction than the bra-tosser would have gotten if her target was, say, Glen Benton. As for the actual music, I was a bit disappointed that some of the clunkier new ones made it into the set, but "Shadowland," "Never Trust" and especially "When Fire Comes To Ice" crackled like pure Scandinavian lightning. Fists and beers held aloft, a bunch of aging metal nerds banging their short-haired heads, no major guitar problems, an encore of "Wake Up Dead" and "Afterlife": Nocturnal Rites performed as good a fit for the term "power metal" as I've ever seen.
Morgana Lefay - Last year during Chicago Powerfest, I was going through some rough shit on the romantic tip. I had really hoped the girl I was dating would have come with me, since I had secured an extra free ticket for her and none of the bands were that extreme, but she was busy working, and coincidentally deep into the process of blowing me off, as ladies I like are wont to do. I drove out to the first night by myself, and as good as the bands were, I of course spent a lot of time zoning out and stewing about the situation. But by the end of the evening, a combination of good imported beer and the intensity of Sweden's Morgana Lefay effectively blew the girl troubles from my mind for a couple of hours. So bad-ass was that set, they were asked to return as the fest closers for 2006. However, this was a different year, with different girl troubles, at a different venue. I was much more tired this time, but we managed to stay for a good chunk of their set. Sound troubles aside, their array of chunky, thrashy riffs lent an appropriately dank and gothic (not in the black lipstick sense) tone to Powerfest's denouement. Vocalist Charles Rytkonen's stage antics were as endearingly goofy as before, all the more surreal since he's a real dour Klaus Kinski-looking bastard. Yet his voice - similar to Savatage's Jon Oliva's combination of howl, screech, croon, drama, pathos and hatred - is really something worth witnessing. I only have one of the band's many albums, and it's from the brief period where they were forced to shorten their name to Lefay due to some legal bullshit with their once and future label. Scarecrow and I headed home, but I believe we both made a mental note to buy some Morgana Lefay as soon as possible.
Oh, yes, the SwordLord. As it turns out, he's the individual responsible for setting up the single midwest date for Gamma Ray next month, as he correctly felt it was unfair that the coasts should get their only shows when the biggest American power metal fanbase is here in the middle states. I don't know how to feel now. The karma police have nabbed me again.
posted by SoulReaper at 1:45 AM
1 Comments:
Heh, my first KJ gig was at JJ Kelley's.
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