Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Close to Home — What it’s like on the street where you live
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Gonzo Report: Ready Set Survive thrives at The Holding Company
Buzzy bass and plaintive punk not enough to kill good Friday the 13th vibe
“See?” says my wife Shelley, “you can pee here too!” She’s not talking to me; she's talking to her friend Chrissy’s Shih Tzu puppy, while watching a large yellow dog pause his stroll along Newport Avenue in Ocean Beach to empty its bladder on the sidewalk. The puppy, overwhelmed with all the olfactory information he’s getting on this outing, looks on in awe at his canine cousin, marveling at the boldness.
Why mention this? Because up until recently, I would have preferred to spend my time watching dogs piss over going to a show at The Holding Company across the street. I once saw a T.S.O.L. performance there ruined by the shit sound, and I’ve held a grudge against the venue ever since. But it seems that bands love playing there, and I’ve been told that the sound isn’t actually that bad. So we’ll see: I’m open-minded enough to give the venue another try.
Besides, it’s a Friday in OB — the 13th, no less — and even the entrance into the club provides interest, as I find myself privy to a new song being written by Jacob Stella of Kng Mkr. Stella is working as the doorman at Kustom Kulture, next to the bar. The song is about THC’s doorman Brad being “a very bad guy” because he wouldn’t introduce Stella to “one of the most gorgeous women in the world” before she got off shift. Brad the doorman is unfazed, and says he’s heard worse than that six inches from the mirror.
Later, when I venture outside for my nicotine, I will engage Stella in a conversation about our shared passion for KISS. But now, it’s time to head inside for a Diet Coke. There, I ask a man where and asking he got his A-Ha T-shirt, which features stills from their big video, the one where the band is in a comic book and pulls a willing fan into the art. I don’t care about the band, I’m just amazed that anyone sports the shirt. “Take On Me” is an annoying song with a great video that’s even better with the volume turned down and replaced with something by Samhain.
Hardly Human opens the show, and the sound is good — until the bass begins that annoying buzz that defined my last experience here. It’s brief, but noted. My beverage and the A-Ha shirt are more provocative to me than the music. It’s emo punk, replete with the requisite cloying whine vocals and buzzsaw guitars. The next band, Ready Set Survive is the exception to a night generally characterized by whinging.
Guitarist/vocalist Troy Cook says to the crowd, “Don’t tell me my wife has to start this shit." — and it really is hard to tell who started the pit, until the moshers spread out to reveal Tiffany Cook in the middle. She's a ball of energy sporting her husband’s band shirt, almost obscured by all the whirling bodies because of her diminutive height. More shirts get tossed out, along with goalie masks. Shirts because, as Cook says, “We don’t sell ‘em; we gave up on making money 20 years ago.” Masks in honor of Jason Voorhees, Friday the 13th’s official spokesman.
The sea of masked moshers gets properly stormy when the band launches into a cover of Nirvana’s “Breed,” with bassist Sean Drake on vocals, but the headbanging doesn't start until an interlude in Metallica’s “One.” These additions to the band's original songs about boogeymen and parties ramp up the vibe. They form a natural part of the set, without the ironic affectation of many covers. Then The Gravities’ Riston Diggs gets on stage, firing off funky spoken words at breakneck speed to bring the show to a charged end. Even the growing frequency of that annoying bass buzz can’t break the mood, though it does obscure Drake’s punchy lines and unlocks his pocket with drummer Morgan Guest. Given their sparse playing history, Ready Set Survive may not be available to experience again anytime soon. In fact, guitarist Scott Szikla is plane bound back to Philly.
The Montell Jordans follow, and the standard pop punk is back. Outside, Stella is telling a woman and her boyfriend that they can’t come into Kustom Kulture, because he just saw them get kicked out of a bar and they don’t want that shit here. She protests, and the boyfriend stands in the background before they accept their rejection and move a few doors down, where no one knows that they’re assholes. Yet.
I’m ready to leave, but Shelley, Chrissy, and the puppy are next door at Ace Tattoo Company getting some ink. Shelley gets a rose with 13, Taylor Swift’s lucky number. I get another hour of emo punk courtesy of Lake Elsinore band No Hard Feelings, peppered with more covers. The bass buzz is pervasive now, but I’ve accepted it, and even made peace with The Holding Company, because the people inside and out make it a cool place. But please: fix that fucking bass issue!
Here's something you might be interested in.
Gonzo Report: Ready Set Survive thrives at The Holding Company
Buzzy bass and plaintive punk not enough to kill good Friday the 13th vibe
Gonzo Report: Ready Set Survive thrives at The Holding Company
Buzzy bass and plaintive punk not enough to kill good Friday the 13th vibe
“See?” says my wife Shelley, “you can pee here too!” She’s not talking to me; she's talking to her friend Chrissy’s Shih Tzu puppy, while watching a large yellow dog pause his stroll along Newport Avenue in Ocean Beach to empty its bladder on the sidewalk. The puppy, overwhelmed with all the olfactory information he’s getting on this outing, looks on in awe at his canine cousin, marveling at the boldness.
Why mention this? Because up until recently, I would have preferred to spend my time watching dogs piss over going to a show at The Holding Company across the street. I once saw a T.S.O.L. performance there ruined by the shit sound, and I’ve held a grudge against the venue ever since. But it seems that bands love playing there, and I’ve been told that the sound isn’t actually that bad. So we’ll see: I’m open-minded enough to give the venue another try.
Besides, it’s a Friday in OB — the 13th, no less — and even the entrance into the club provides interest, as I find myself privy to a new song being written by Jacob Stella of Kng Mkr. Stella is working as the doorman at Kustom Kulture, next to the bar. The song is about THC’s doorman Brad being “a very bad guy” because he wouldn’t introduce Stella to “one of the most gorgeous women in the world” before she got off shift. Brad the doorman is unfazed, and says he’s heard worse than that six inches from the mirror.
Later, when I venture outside for my nicotine, I will engage Stella in a conversation about our shared passion for KISS. But now, it’s time to head inside for a Diet Coke. There, I ask a man where and asking he got his A-Ha T-shirt, which features stills from their big video, the one where the band is in a comic book and pulls a willing fan into the art. I don’t care about the band, I’m just amazed that anyone sports the shirt. “Take On Me” is an annoying song with a great video that’s even better with the volume turned down and replaced with something by Samhain.
Hardly Human opens the show, and the sound is good — until the bass begins that annoying buzz that defined my last experience here. It’s brief, but noted. My beverage and the A-Ha shirt are more provocative to me than the music. It’s emo punk, replete with the requisite cloying whine vocals and buzzsaw guitars. The next band, Ready Set Survive is the exception to a night generally characterized by whinging.
Guitarist/vocalist Troy Cook says to the crowd, “Don’t tell me my wife has to start this shit." — and it really is hard to tell who started the pit, until the moshers spread out to reveal Tiffany Cook in the middle. She's a ball of energy sporting her husband’s band shirt, almost obscured by all the whirling bodies because of her diminutive height. More shirts get tossed out, along with goalie masks. Shirts because, as Cook says, “We don’t sell ‘em; we gave up on making money 20 years ago.” Masks in honor of Jason Voorhees, Friday the 13th’s official spokesman.
The sea of masked moshers gets properly stormy when the band launches into a cover of Nirvana’s “Breed,” with bassist Sean Drake on vocals, but the headbanging doesn't start until an interlude in Metallica’s “One.” These additions to the band's original songs about boogeymen and parties ramp up the vibe. They form a natural part of the set, without the ironic affectation of many covers. Then The Gravities’ Riston Diggs gets on stage, firing off funky spoken words at breakneck speed to bring the show to a charged end. Even the growing frequency of that annoying bass buzz can’t break the mood, though it does obscure Drake’s punchy lines and unlocks his pocket with drummer Morgan Guest. Given their sparse playing history, Ready Set Survive may not be available to experience again anytime soon. In fact, guitarist Scott Szikla is plane bound back to Philly.
The Montell Jordans follow, and the standard pop punk is back. Outside, Stella is telling a woman and her boyfriend that they can’t come into Kustom Kulture, because he just saw them get kicked out of a bar and they don’t want that shit here. She protests, and the boyfriend stands in the background before they accept their rejection and move a few doors down, where no one knows that they’re assholes. Yet.
I’m ready to leave, but Shelley, Chrissy, and the puppy are next door at Ace Tattoo Company getting some ink. Shelley gets a rose with 13, Taylor Swift’s lucky number. I get another hour of emo punk courtesy of Lake Elsinore band No Hard Feelings, peppered with more covers. The bass buzz is pervasive now, but I’ve accepted it, and even made peace with The Holding Company, because the people inside and out make it a cool place. But please: fix that fucking bass issue!
Comments