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Hell on High Heels

Kids, it's time for a concert review. We're not talking about your run of the mill, average joe, this was a great concert, great band sort of review. No, we're talking about a down and dirty no holds bar look at the human condition set to music.

So we shall begin.

Heather, a co-conspirator in bringing back glam and I made our way to Sudsy Malone's in Cincinnati. It's a dive of a venue complete with a laundromat where none of the machines really work. There's also six seats at the bar and two random tables. Great. There is one lit exit sign, and random power cords hanging from the ceiling. In short, all the markings of a club that could be the spot where new rock is born. Or the next nightclub tragedy, depending on your luck.

Heather and I went in search of glam, excited to see Vains of Jenna, our best hope in the resurrection of sleaze glam. When we purchased our tickets at the door we noticed their name wasn't included in the roster of five bands scheduled for the night so we assumed VOJ would play first. We were wrong. Oh so, so wrong.

First up was the God-awful excuse for a band, Only Flesh. The Columbus based band is a mix of goth, sleaze and techno. The lead singer wore a spiked codpiece and acted like he was high on coke. That's hot. They started 45 minutes late, complaining the sound wasn't loud enough. I noticed they were using off-brand equipment, perhaps that was the issue. After waiting for what seemed like days, we suffered through six of their "songs." It was during their set we noticed a soccer mom who came in with her two teenage sons. We were proud of this woman for her bravery. She sat quietly in back, drinking a Coke and looking at her cell phone. She never took off her coat despite the fact that it was 900 degrees in the club. A salute to moms everywhere!

As we waited for the next band, who must be Vains of Jenna, we were once again disappointed when The Vladimirs took the stage. I had a postmodern moment with the Vladimirs, so I have to rewind to explain.

Heather and I got downtown early because we wanted to eat dinner. We dined at an Italian sports bar next  to Sudsy Malone's and looked over at a big group of people all wearing black. We assumed they were going to the show. We figured out a few minutes later they were part of the show. The band members left their wives to load in their equipment, blowing them kisses. One of these wives was about a million months pregnant and her husband (who turned out to be the bass player) seemed more than a little concerned about her.

Why is this postmodern? Let me fast forward back to the concert. The Vladimirs take the stage, and the lead singer apologizes for their music and they start on some god forsaken sojourn into the depths of hell. They were trying to be thrash metal, but succeeded at neither thrash or metal. To make matters worse, some loony tune thought it would be fun to start a mosh pit in a club the size of my living room. Heather and I got the hell out of there  faster than you can say pussycat.

So, the next band was Vains of Jenna. Oh, wait. I lied. By this time it's 11 and we're only on band three of five.

Tomorrow, part two of the review, starting with the band Drugstore Valentine and my reaction to finally seeing and meeting Vains of Jenna, plus pictures of the show to boot!








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