Friday Night: OFF! At Warehouse Live
With skate-trash underpinnings and twin-guitar thrust and weave, they pressed the younger crowd into fervor but left some of the older crowd, well, unimpressed, rolling their eyes.
Together, like brothers of the broken-down van, the bands prove that punk is an idiom alive and well. Hell-bent on steering kids not towards fatalism but a future filled with their own passions, they ignited Houston's old Chinatown district with anarchic aplomb.
Personal Bias: I saw the Circle Jerks with hundreds of people at Engine Room ten years ago, and my first purchased punk shirt was a yellow Shawn Kerri-drawn Jerks skanker back in 1986, so Keith Morris can do no wrong, in my eyes.
The Crowd: Full and frenzied, but amazingly well-behaved. No one dropped to my feet pummeled and unconscious.
Overheard In the Crowd: "Dave, how can you stay so excited about this stuff?" said one old school fan after the opening band made drunk-punk look novel and noble again.
Random Notebook Dump: An inebriated fan shouted at my wife that she looks 15 years younger than her age. Damn, I agree.
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