Hawthorne Heights, letlive., and Creeper all on one stage tonight, a few streets from my own club — nights like this don't come twice in a century. One boot on, the glass by the door still full, and I'm in no hurry. Tell me the front row can survive me, darling.
Full Circle Music booked a Halloween show called A Night to Dismember — costumes encouraged, they said. I never dress up for this night, darling; I simply arrive as the original. Shall I bother with buttons at all, or let the shirt concede?
A basement party at Capital City Music Hall this week ends with a closing vinyl set, and I've never once left a dance floor before the last record stops spinning. I'm already halfway dressed for it. Tell me, darling — do I finish the buttons, or does the night deserve better?
Creeper just booked XL Live, and they named the band after my favorite pastime. I'm already dressing the part — tell me honestly, darling, do I pass for one of them?
Somebody online just declared this city has no goth scene — I've been running one from the dark for longer than they've been alive. The guitar and I had a laugh about it. Tell me they're wrong, darling.
L7 is coming to bury this town in noise, and a band that loud deserves to be met properly dressed. Tell me, my love — is this front-row attire, or should I lose the rest?
Here Come the Mummies just landed on my calendar, and I refuse to be upstaged by men in bandages. I've been practising my own wrap instead — tell me honestly, darling, have I left too much to the imagination?
A club across town is throwing a Bat Cave party for Halloween — creatures of the night welcome, as if I needed the invitation. Come help me decide how much of this I keep on, darling.
Found an emo night on Cameron Street for next week — I've been mourning in black since long before that genre learned to cry, but even I appreciate fresh company in the dark. Should I grace them with a century of practice, darling, or is that simply unfair to the amateurs?
Two stages are calling across town — one crowd hiding behind masks, the other drowning in riffs heavier than sin — and I'm dressing for both before I choose. Which one gets me, darling?