Sunday, 14 September 2008

Re-evaluating Henry Rollins

In my younger days, I was quite partial to a bit of Henry Rollins, as seen here.

(The sound is terrible, but it gives a good idea of his musical style). Probably not the kind of thing that people over 40 would appreciate much. I saw him at Selina's (Coogee Bay Hotel) once at back in the mid 1990's. I think my eardrums melted that night. It was after that show that I started wearing earplugs to gigs, since I was still yelling at people in the office three days later on Tuesday.

Henry was true to form - loud, well inked, well toned and pumped. I think he sweated on me when I was in the mosh, which was a silly place to be. Spending time in a Henry Rollins inspired moshpit could easily lead to a trip to the dentist the following day to have all your teeth replaced.

I am pretty sure this was the gig where Damien spent the night on my porch, wrapped in washing. We had become separated, and as I was very drunk, I fell out of the pub, grabbed a kebab and staggered straight into a waiting cab. Once home, I stumbled straight onto the couch and fell asleep with a half eaten kebab on my chest and Rage on the TV. I was also completely deaf as well.

Damien was going to crash the night at my place, since he lived out in the western boonies, but when he arrived about an hour later, I was too far gone to hear him banging on the door. He walked down the side of the house and banged on my flatmate's window, which only completely freaked her out, as she thought he was a rapist and/or axe-murderer, and since I was snoring on the couch, she did the only sensible thing and hid under the bed for the entire night with her cat.

Unable to find an open window that he could crawl through, Damien grabbed our washing off the line, made himself a nest and slept on our front doorstep. I'm not sure who looked worse when the sun came up - me, with half a kebab smeared all over my body; Couchy, who was covered in cat scratches and fluffballs from under her bed, or Damien, who had spent the night on a concrete slab with just a few shirts and a sock to keep him warm.

Years later, I saw Henry when he did a spoken word tour. I think we went to the Enmore to see him talk. It was a great talk - funny as hell and really entertaining, but I didn't like his politics. He got quite political towards the end, and I would have walked out, only I had seen him with his shirt off and figured that he'd rip my head off before I made it to the exit.

So it was nice to find this clip on youtube. Just be aware that he says "fuck" about 80 times in 10 minutes. If you can put up with that, it's very good.

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