my KODACHROME capturing THE last days of e.j.’S (portland, Oregon) circa ’99 or ’00…Where the stage was lower than the dance floor.  At least that’s how I remember it.  If it wasn’t, it shoulda been.  Some people are nostalgic about the days of E.J.’s, the glory days of portland, but that’s nonsense, girls talked like valley girls back then, it was always just a bunch of white people playing crappy music, kicking out the jams, charge forward like there’s no tomorrow, rockin’ and rollin’ like a freight train on a tight schedule…portland’s always had a few places to see some fun shows, they come and go, like E.J.’s.  They had signage SAYING “screw art, let’s dance!”  AND “please don’t eat out of dumpster (garbage is not food).”    maybe someone can identify this band but really I don’t give a rats ass.

Davila 666

                 Davila 666  (puerto rico) 
Davila came all the way from puerto rico, a garage band from the west indies, can’t miss that, make my way to the front.  The stage is crowded for a three-piece band, but these guys brought along twice that, crowd together so close I can reach out and pat them on the backs.  I don’t think they speak english but they get my drift, launch into the jams.  This woman links her arm with mine, and we push the boring people to the back.  Pretty soon, I’m sardined with about a devil dozen dancing dames, having ourselves the times of our lives, my disease just making me feel dizzy and happy, sweating it out on the floor, the place baking with summer heat, the band cooking with gas.

      davila 666      

When it’s done, I thank the band for coming all that way, make my way out down the sidewalk, find myself sleeping in my car the next morning.

Agent Orange (Show)

I just came across photo and notes from a few years back…the mean jeans did it up again with the 25 minute blast, and then agent orange, who still had it, and kept it going into the A.m. hours.  I grabbed a few girls to protect me, covered the holes in my skull with my hand and dived into the madness…

@ Plan B.  JUNE 2011
four bands: 10 bucks
if you find your shirt splattered with blood and beer in the morning, you know you probably had a good time the night before.
— winch