Alkaline Trio/The Lawrence Arms/The Draft
Avalon Theatre Los Angeles, CA. June 3rd, 2006
Dear Mr. Skiba,
I recently attended your June 3rd, 2006 concert that included performances by the Draft and the Lawrence Arms. I had a couple complaints:
When the doors open at 7:00PM, it’s not unreasonable to assume that the first band would start at or around 7:30PM.
It is not unreasonable to arrive at the venue at 7:35PM due to this assumption.
It is unreasonable to arrive at the aforementioned time to discover that the Draft had not only completed their performance, but that the Lawrence Arms were well into their set.
It is also unreasonable to assume that by 8:15PM, both opening bands would have completed their sets.
It is reasonable to assume that should anything else be going on during the course of the evening, one would be made aware of it beforehand.
It is also reasonable to ask that should an event be a fundraiser, that one would be made aware of the cause so that they would b able to support the cause or not, providing that they have all the pertinent information.
So, what was it that caused reason and logic to give me the finger on the night of the third? Oh, right, a propaganda film on three people who maybe possibly didn’t kill three kids: The West Memphis Three. While the Lawrence Arms set was short, it was oh so sweet. Rocking through such sweet ass tracks like On With The Show and Jumping the Shark (which also happen to be my two favorite LA songs), Brenden, Neil and Chris rocked the Avalon like an Au Pair: hard and fast. As the boys from Chicago (the ones not sticking stupid videos down my throat) got right into the swing of things, time was up. I can only imagine how rad the Draft were, but your choices that night robbed me of that knowledge.
What came next was the left wing liberal nut job version of a right wing conservative nut job’s propaganda film. Four douches I could care less about came out and informed me that three metalheads from Arkansas got a bad rap a while back and they were going to show am “edited down” version of this film, Paradise Lost. For the next forty five minutes or so, I watched this video about the death of three second graders do everything that Michael Moore is hated for, but with much more energy than a man the size of Moore can muster. From showing the step-father of one of the victims of a horrible crime look like the most ignorant man (which, by the way, has not one thing to do with the innocence or guilt of the aforementioned WM3) to showing some random chick smoking a cigarette in a football field – again, guilt or innocence doesn’t matter, the town’s full of rednecks and therefore they’re innocent. Whatever. I don’t care.
Something seemed to be missing from the video that was meant to sway my opinion that these guys didn’t commit the crime, What was that? Yup, an alibi. Not once did any member of this exclusive club say “I did not do it, I was somewhere else, no possible way it was me. The most glaring evidence of a prosecutor’s witness being torn apart wasn’t nearly as impressionable to the audience as the redneck step-father’s American Flag shirt and thick drawl as he said “homosexual orgies.” Whatever, it was stupid.
After the movie went away, I sat and bitched about it with the other members of my party until I heard sounds so goth, it must have been Bauhaus’ astral self playing through the sound system. Nope. It was your intro music. What, are you wrestlers for the WWE now? Intro music? Wow. About halfway through Cop, I realized something. There are three instruments and vocals that comprise your music. Of these, I could make out the drums and the guitar. Missing was solid vocals and the bass, which somehow managed to come through the speakers sounding like an extra kick drum. You admitted to be in the process of losing your voice. And while you made a pledge to play the entire album of Gaddammit, saving me the trouble of killing myself when anything from Crimson came on, you have other good albums. If I want to listen to the CD, I’d go and put the CD in my stereo and enjoy. I left at some point, wandered around Hollywood while I tried to calm down, and then proceeded to Red Robin for some Fish and Chips and the sweet sweet relaxing qualities of the largest alcoholic drink I could find.
As much as I applaud those who stand up for their beliefs and causes that they support, your replacement of up to one hour’s worth of quality rock music with this annoyance is on par with every Baptist preacher who is trying to get a constitutional ban on gay marriage. Sticking it down the throats of those who don’t want it, or don’t care is annoying. We paid for a goddamned rock show. You owe us each $25, and that includes the Ticketmaster “Rape You In The Ass Fee” of $5.50.
– Jonathan Yost (With approving nods of fellow concert-goer/Racketeer Brandon Kelley.)