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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Monday, August 2   >>

BETWEEN THE ICYHOT AND ME

If you've never seen prog-rockers Between the Buried and Me, you haven't grown a pair of balls. They're a very loud group whose blend of calculus-rock and prog-metal attracts a very passionate/violent fanbase, young men 15-25.

They're also the shows most fun to write about because they are all so SPECIFIC and so ALIKE.

And by that I mean HILARIOUS.

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I think I had a mini-panic attack the last time I saw BTBAM. It was some two or three years back and I was pretty inebriated -- combine that with the sensation of seeing a favorite group for the first time live and that "Oh shit, what violence did I get myself into" feeling and, well, that'll be a night for the books.

Last Saturday at The Palladium was no different, save for the fact that I was pretty sober and had to suffer some pretty awful acts to stick around for just this one. The only "cool" part about this bill were BTBAM.

By the end of BTBAM's set, I had an "I'm gettting too old for this shit" moment. The last hour of the night I submitted to taking a five in the balcony.

BRING ON THE CENTRUM, MOTHERFUCKERS!

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Notable moments from said show:

- Getting thrown into the circle pit, then getting elbowed in the chest by a guy with a tree-trunk arm and seeing said guy come full circle to say, "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

- Getting thrown into the circle pit again and, in the heat of the moment, threw a long-haired kid on the floor ...only to find out it was a 15-year-old girl.

- Getting thrown into the circle pit again and tripping over three guys just to see what it'd feel like.

- Seeing this guy I'd never met until that night named Frankie (who came with) who went into a wall of death with delight, then come out in complete horror as he saw his left arm completely covered in blood. He thinks he broke someone's nose.

- Boobs

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Overheard at the bar:

Douchey 35-year-old with bleached tips in line sees an old friend.
DOUCHE: BRO! FUCKING LEWIS, MAN! WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS UP?!

LEWIS: NOT MUCH MAN, JUST FUCKING STOKED, BEEN HERE SINCE 4 O'CLOCK! IT'S FUCKING INSANITY MAN.

DOUCHE: BRO, NO, MAN, THAT LAST SET, THE BURIED OR WHATEVER, FUCKING LEGIT MUSICIANS, MAN. LE. GIT.

LEWIS: REALLY? I WAS OUT FOR A SMOKE, I MISSED IT... THEY WERE GOOD?

DOUCHE: YEAH. FUCKING. LE. GIT. THEY WERE JUST LIKE, "DIDDLYDIDDLYDIDDLYBRRRRR!!!"

LEWIS: NO WAY MAN, REALLY?

DOUCHE: REALLY, MAN. REA-FUCKING-LLY.

LEWIS: LET'S GET FUCKED UP MAN.

They hug each other very hard.

DOUCHE: LET'S GET FUCKED UP.

LEWIS: LET'S GET FUCKED UP.
Something tells me they were fucked up that night.

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World, did you set this up or something? Everyone and their mother was at this show. I saw fucking FAMILY there. Family, college friends, high school friends, work-related people.

Oh my god maybe we were in a shared dream.

Oh my god maybe it didn't even happen at all.

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THE GIRLFRIEND: How'd your night go?

ME: My neck hurts and my elbows are numb.

THE GIRLFRIEND: Aw that's nice.
ME: Heads up for that Norah Jones/Corinne Bailey Rae show we're going to in a few weeks. You've been warned.
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DID YOU LOL?