| DEPARTING SCREAMERS AND
EMERGING X AT THE WHISKEY-A-NO-GO Part 1: see what bigotry gets me Absolutely the first time I've ever seen band X and it won't be the last. After all the good press they've received from both the Objective Press (Slash) and the trash tabloids (LA Times), I will admit I was sure they couldn't be any- thing I'd be interested in. 'Nothing acceptable is acceptable' is my motto. Now I must make an x-ception for an x-ceptionally x-ceptable combo. The band with the variable name is one of the most powerful bands I've seen this summer and I'm sure they're more than that. At first I was unconvinced by Exene, until it dawned on me that she wasn't there to convince anybody in any way. She don't give a hoot in hell if I like her, or my mom, or if the whole fucking audience gets up and goes to dinner. She knows its their loss, after all, and she't used to having fun alone.- Da goil's a real doll - one of those plasticene troll dolls with the bruise- purple hair that everybody's sister had and Oave, away a long time ago. No fancy softshoe or hard-nippled jello for this urchin - no trendy patter or phoney smiles are needed. Tragic girl singing the black 'n blues to a deaf and disgust- ing world ... no romance there, just truth. I didn't like her voice or moves but who cares? She's got the Attitude and that's what's needed, now. Her ugly indifference is perfectly balanced by Billy Zoom's oral hygiene. If the 'lil imp werent a Damned good guitarist, he could be selling Skippy peanut butter to the grandmas of America. How could such a nice boy produce such a multichord thunderstorm? Don't quote me, but I think it could be 'talent.' I wouldn't be surprised if he dabbles in Wayne Perkins or Bach. The reason I liked X as much as I did is their battering rhythm section. My first impression is that is the best currently keeping beat in LA. Wringing the bass, voicebox and stage area for all they're worth, John Doe is the musical and visual eye of this cyclone - and he never blinks. Sledgehammers in wave-patterns were run-skip- jumping out of his bass like diarrhea out of a paraplegic - painfully yet effortlessly. An over- achiever who won't quit, he didn't even use a set list. But the star of the show was Don the Drummer. Long, long time ago I gave a shy guy with an inverted Mohawk a ride home from a Germs re- hearsal and I wondered what he was doing there in the first place. Now I know, out of Eyes, now in X, my shy Don sits back in the shadows humbly beating the hell out of any other 'power' drummer around. Awesome. No cop-out trills or tired rolls, just KA-BLAM. BLAM! BLAM! How his muscles keep from turning into throbbing cement blocks must be a trade secret. The sleeper of the year. For the next two months my favorite drummer. Notable songs in X's set are all songs in X's set. Part 2: The Screamers Farewell Cash-a-Thon. What more needs to be said? We thought it couldn't happen but we knew it must. The Screamers have escaped us at last, over the wall (to bigger and better things) to greener pastures, no doubt - Ohio, Montreal, New York City. Back from whence they came, motoring the medicine show from the City of Los Angeles to the Rotten Apple, they will return to us as heroes or maybe not at all. Don't expect many letters, they've got quite a mission ahead. The innocent must be touched, the guilty must pay. There are full pickets and empty heads strung from shore to shore and it's there that the Screamers must go. Our pockets are empty, our heads are full - why be selfish? There's gonna be bigger vacuums that our heads to fill while they're gone. What more needs to be said? Oh, oh yes ... the concert. Well, my mom came and she liked it. I'd say they're ready for the road. L'Amato
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