Norwegian faux-queer death punk saved me

A spell was cast on me in June, I had the perfect rock show experience with epiphany-ous elements. I've seen about 60 bands since them, but none have really-really-really moved me. I apologize if anyone in any of the other bands saw me looking incredibly bored in the audience. Some of them were really great, like Stars and Eric's Trip! They just didn't get me in the zone. But Turbonegro broke the spell last night! The campy theatrics, the slutty, kitschy aggression and absolute love of the hard rock:



I have a soft spot for scrawny lead guitar players, this one with the added bonuses of being Scandinavian and wearing lipstick:




"Who shall receive this holy shroud of Turbonegro?" The guys had an endless supply of fresh white towels, and threw them to the audience when they were done sopping the sweat off their faces. Hank wiped his butt-crack and crotch with one one them, he's like that. Some of the towels had more makeup on them than others:


Retox is their new album, the opposite of "detox." I don't encourage or admire substance abuse, violence. military clothing or mean-spirited lyrics, but somehow I can dig it in the Turbonegro context. Can't explain it, what's gotten into me? (I still don't dig that they use animals on set for some of their videos though, tsk tsk.) It's like in You've Got Mail when Kathleen teases Frank for falling for a Republican, he says "I can't help myself."


Hey sailor. The fanboys were out in various hats, helmets and makeup, and especially sailor caps.