Hello! In case you’re new here, there’s this band called Drug Church that I’ve been obsessed with for somewhere in the neighborhood of two years now. I’ve written about them quite a bit before, and I suspect I’ll continue to do so, because I assume they’ll continue to kick copious amounts of ass. What follows is something I started writing back in May, when I was on the eve of attending my first Drug Church headlining show. I took a break from writing to eat dinner, and before I got back to it, the show was cancelled.1 I didn’t bother to go back and edit the post at all because I was so bummed, and it sat abandoned ever since, lowering the neighborhood property values and scaring the neighborhood kids (“that old abandoned blog post gives me the creeps!”, they’d say), but no more!
My therapist wants me to set goals, and one of my goals is to write more, and to finish things, and that’s why I’m here right now. This old haunted house of a blog post has some good bones, and I didn’t want it to crumble to dust without at least givin it the old college try, whatever the fuck that means. They rescheduled the show a while back, and it’s coming up in a few days,2 so this seems like as good a time as any to HGTV that shit back into some kind of existence. Add some curb appeal, if you will.
Everything I said about the upcoming show in May holds true in December, and then some. The slow grind and boilin kettle of work is still bubblin away, and some shitty stuff has happened to some people I love, and I’ve really been leaning hard back into Drug Church lately. I never stopped listening to them, but I’d eased up a bit.3 I even went almost 36 hours without listening to them at one point back in October. My Spotify Wrapped 2025 informed me that only five other Spotify users on the entire planet listened to Drug Church more than I did this year.4
I listened to them a lot on CD and watched a lot of stuff on YouTube as well.
I’m listening to them right now, and there’s a good chance that I’ll listen to them a lot tomorrow, too.
I am actually quite surprised with the order here, but you can’t go wrong with any of em.
But I was talking about this old abandoned post from six-and-a-half months ago. The Penzeys Spices part isn’t relevant anymore, in that those spices are no longer new to me. In fact, I ran out of those Indian Special Blend Peppercorns months ago. The company still rules, and their spices are still great.
Anyway, here’s the original post, from May 22, 2025.
👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾👾
Real quick, full disclosure: the title of this piece is a line from a song by Drug Church. I often (usually) use lines from songs for the titles of my blog posts, but I’ve never before bothered with overt attribution. Lately I’ve been including a video from the band or artist I’m quoting in the title, but it occurs to me now that I should probably give credit where it’s due, lest anyone accuse me of being particularly clever.
I got my order from Penzeys today. I’m very excited. They consistently offer the best spices, herbs, dried chiles, spice mixes, and what have you that I’ve ever paid for. They were havin a “Get a $50 Gift Card for $35” sale, and when I received my card, they were havin a sale on everything that started with the letter “S” or the letter “B”, in honor of small businesses, and also in honor of Bruce Springsteen using his platform to speak truth to power. I took some pictures of my haul, because that seems to just be what we do these days, and because I’m excited about all the stuff I got for thirty-five bucks. Plus I wanna give them a shout-out.
Penzeys is a great company, and they offer a great selection of cooking ingredients, fairly priced. They always have something on sale, they always include at least one free sample, and they often include coffee mugs, magnets, stickers, buttons, and the like for free. If you or a loved one enjoys cooking, you should order some stuff from Penzeys! Unless you live near a storefront location, then you should go buy some stuff from Penzeys!
These pictures aren’t good, but I’m too tired to care.
I’m especially pumped about those India Special Extra Bold peppercorns. 😍
To clarify: I’m too tired to care enough to take better pictures. I definitely care about that horrendous reflection on the bags from the stove hood light that I didn’t notice until I’d already put the tea towel away, but I am way too tired to get the tea towel back out of the drawer and arrange everything again.
I’ve decided I’m gonna start using dried chiles more often. We’ll see how that goes.5
I’m also too tired to care that the Sunny Spain Seasoning and the Bavarian Seasoning aren’t turned slightly to the left (their right).
I’m stoked to try them all. I’ve had the Bavarian Seasoning before, and it’s great. According to the back label, it’s “excellent for all cuts of pork, veal, or lamb,” and if you like to eat those things, it’s almost certainly true, but I haven’t eaten meat in something like 8 years, so I use it on vegetables and whatnot, and it’s never let me down. Tonight I’m gonna use it in a mushroom stroganoff, and I am very much looking forward to eating some of it later. Maybe I’ll report back, but probably not.
I’m too pooped to care enough to take a less blurry picture of this, but I sure do hate how out of focus the letters are.
Speaking of looking forward to something, tomorrow night is the Drug Church show at Turntable up in Indianapolis (unofficial city motto: “If you don’t get lost at least once, were you really even here?”), and I’m fuckin stoked. The slow grind of work has been extra gritty lately, and my kettle is near to boilin, friends. For approximately 45 minutes tomorrow night, I’m gonna sing and dance and holler and sweat and smile and laugh, and I’m gonna forget I even have a job. I’ll definitely write about that at some point.
I’ve shared this video before, but that’s okay. Here it is again.
Here’s a live version, because we could all use it, whether we realize it or not.
This song doesn’t seem to be in their current setlist rotation, but it should be. Holy moly, what a corker!
For now, I’m gonna relax with a can of black cherry Waterloo and read some David Sedaris. I hope something beautiful happens to you today. Thanks for reading.
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Thus endeth the old part of this entry. For the record:
the mushroom stroganoff was delicious,
the black cherry Waterloo was refreshing,
the David Sedaris was hilarious,
I still hope something beautiful happens to you today, and
I still thank you for reading.
PS: If you wanted to mash that like button and tell some friends about Clockwise Circle Pit, I wouldn’t be upset. 😘
The reason for the cancellation was 100% understandable, but it was still a fuckin bummer. ↩︎
I’m planning on writing about some of the things that pulled me away from Drug Church, but who knows when that’ll happen. ↩︎
I know Spotify sucks balls, but I don’t pay for it, and I also still purchase physical media and merchandise from bands. Also, it would be irresponsible of me to not tell you that WordPress suggested that I change “sucks balls” to “suckles.” ↩︎
Message from the future: I used one of those Sanaam India Chile Peppers for the first time yesterday, so I guess the answer to the question “how did that go?” is “it did not go well.” ↩︎
My friend Ryan gave me a book a couple of years ago called Several Short Sentences About Writing, by a dude named Verlyn Klinkenborg. I may’ve mentioned it on this blog before, but that was maybe on Facebook instead, or maybe it was just in my head. The book discusses the importance of the humble sentence. It aims to get the reader/writer to think about each sentence as almost an entity unto itself. No sentence is any more important than the other, because the sentence really is all there is. Without the sentence, there would be no paragraph. There would be no literature. It’s an interesting book, and it’s helped me become more confident in my writing. I remain a bit embarrassed about making it public, yet I persist in the practice.
Before I go on, I gotta get this outta the way: Verlyn Klinkenborg! Whatta name! I recommend shouting “Klinkenbooooooooorg!” as you shake your fist angrily at a cold, empty, uncaring sky. It’s fun.
So anyway, I was showering earlier, listening to Drug Church and shaving my head, as I often do after work, and I started thinking about the fact that I practically never sit down and write, even though I love to write, and even though I know that writing makes me feel better. Writing has always made me feel better, so why don’t I do it more often? Like for real?
When tired is the entire sum, that shit just makes you tiresome.
But I was talking about Several Short Sentences About Writing, by Verlyn Klinkenborg. I noticed the book on the shelf while I was getting dressed after my shower, and I was reminded of the humble sentence, and I crammed that memory together with my shower quandary and made a regular ol Frankenstein’s monster of a realization that I should sit down and write a few sentences, and see where it goes.
So far, right here.
I’ve been working in foodservice for almost 32 years now. (For the record, that’s 66.6% of my life so far spent preparing and/or delivering food to people. That’s both metal as fuck and a stone cold bummer.) For almost the entirety of my history as an employed human being, I’ve been keeping a journal in some form or another. I am in possession of dozens of my journals from as far back as late high school/early college. Sometimes I look through them. The reasons vary. One time I’ll be moved by nostalgia, one of my greatest enemies. The next, I’ll be in search of something hilarious I remember writing down, or the date of a concert. Maybe I can’t figure out what to write about, and I need some inspiration. It’s happened before.
Sometimes I’ll find a cool doodle I made, complete with song lyrics. I’m not sure what’s goin on here, other than a self-portrait of sorts, but I like it.
In this case, the song is “Disbelieve” by Drag the River.
Goddamn, whatta band!
A common subject in so very many of those journal entries is the fact that I don’t write often enough, and that I don’t wanna be working in foodservice when I’m 50. It’s recently come to my attention that I’m almost fifty years old. The way I figure it, in today’s economy, and going off the premise that we have at least two years left as a civilization, I’ve got maybe three options for not working in foodservice when I’m fifty goddamn years old. Here they are forthwith, in no particular order:
Become dead.
Become rich (preferably as fuck).
Get into management (likely still foodservice, less standing, more meetings).
Thing is, as much as I dislike the foodservice industry, I’ve disliked every other industry I’ve worked in more. Retail, construction…I guess that’s pretty much it. I did some screen printing work for about a month in my early twenties. I enjoyed it, and my boss was cool, but I quit, on account of I didn’t like having to drive 30 minutes each way to work a second part-time job when my primary part-time job was driving around delivering pizza all night. What I’m saying is that where employment is involved, my current situation could be worse. It has been worse, even in the last couple of years.
So the new life plan I came up with in the shower is to keep workin for The Man and payin the bills until I can figure out how to get rich as fuck, and meanwhile to stop thinkin and talkin about writing, and sit the fuck down and write as much as I can, every chance I get, whether I show it to anyone else or not, just like I used to do all the time. Because I’m a writer, goddamnit, and I always have been. At best, I’ll write something I can feel comfortable sharing. At worst, I’ll feel better afterward.
“Remember, a writer writes, always.” – Larry Donner
That’s all I got for now. Thanks for reading. Tell your friends. And listen to Drag the River. You’re welcome.
I’ve mentioned this many times over the past few months, both on this “esteemed” blog and out loud, with my mouth, but I am currently in the throes of a full-bodied, months-long obsession with a band called Drug Church. I’m gonna mention it again right now. As of this moment, I’m also planning to write a little bit about a TV show called Corner Gas, which I’ve also mentioned here and IRL before, but not nearly as much as I’ve mentioned Drug Church. I also wanna maybe talk about the bizarre nature of existence, but I might not be ready for that yet. Anyway, here’s a Drug Church song.
Take advice from a pro: nothing works.
I’m gonna start here: the way I make a living is, I help run a pretty large operation in my field of expertise. It is far from the worst job I’ve ever had. The benefits are practically unmatched in my industry, and the pay, while absolutely not as much as it should be, is decent for this town. Several days a year, I don’t have to work very hard at all, and I get a shitload of PTO. I work with several friends (including two of my best ones), and many of my workplace proximity associates are fun and/or pleasant to be around for 4-10 hours a day, 4-5 days a week. Jobwise, it’s about the best I can hope for at this point in my life.
The Problem is this: several of my workplace proximity associates are significantly less fun and/or more unpleasant to be around for even 4-10 minutes a day, yet I continue to find myself having to be around them for 4-10 hours a day, 4-5 days a week. I’m talking fuckwits of the highest order. Complete baked potatoes when it comes to personality and/or work ethic and/or basic intelligence and/or the ability to carry on a conversation without complaining about some goddamn thing or another.
No offense to baked potatoes. If I am one thing, it’s a man who loves baked potatoes. About once a week we’ll have baked potatoes (aka Big Ol Taters) for dinner, and they’re fuckin delicious. What you do, see, is you get one Big Ol Tater per person (approximately 1 pound each)(to be clear, the potatoes should be approximately 1 pound each, not the people). Scrub em up real nice and either pat em dry or let em air dry for a bit. Approximately one hour before dinner time, preheat your oven to 425°, then rub each potato with some cooking oil, then rub some kosher salt and cracked black pepper on each one. Pop em directly on the middle rack of your very hot oven and bake for 1 hour. I put a small baking pan lined with parchment paper and aluminum foil directly under the potatoes to catch the dripping oil. After an hour, check for doneness by jabbing a toothpick into the fattest part of each potato. If the toothpick goes all the way in with minimal resistance, your delicious baked potato is ready to spruce up. I like to top mine with butter, more cracked black pepper, shredded cheddar cheese, steamed broccoli, more shredded cheddar cheese, sour cream, and salsa, but really your imagination is the only limit when it comes to toppings. You could plop some chili on there, or some cheese sauce, or pretty much anything you can think of. It’s a hearty, satisfying, super-easy meal, and it’s cheap as hell to boot.
But I was talking about my shitty co-workers. I know that shitty co-workers aren’t a new thing. If I am one thing, other than a man who loves baked potatoes, it’s a man who has had his fair share of jobs.1 As such, I’ve also had had my fair share of un-fun/unpleasant co-workers, but here’s the thing about my current “un-” situation (situat-un?): this is by far the largest place I’ve ever worked, both in terms of size of the company, and in terms of sheer number of coworkers. I’m no mathematician, and I admittedly have always had difficulty understanding fractions and decimals, but I know enough to know that that’s gonna result in the largest percentage of coworkers being absolute chucklefucks that I’ve ever experienced before, and friends, I’m here to tell you that it is dumb.
The company being as big as it is means, among other things, that getting rid of incompetent and/or inept and/or entitled and/or lazy and/or combative dickheads can be a months-to-years long process which requires an endless stream of “Conversations” and “Coaching Sessions” and written documentation, even when every single person around them can see that those incompetent and/or inept and/or entitled and/or lazy and/or combative dickheads should never have even made it past their probationary employment, let alone still be employed some 5, 10, 15, or more years later, constantly crying victim when their incompetence and/or ineptitude and/or entitlement and/or laziness and/or combativeness is called to task.
Just some all-around contemptible people.
I also work with the largest quantity of Loud Talkers per capita to be found in the entirety of my employment history. And if I am one thing, other than a man who loves baked potatoes and has had his fair share of jobs, it’s a man with sensory issues who has a real hard time with loud talking, especially when it involves more than two people at a time, which it almost always does when I’m at work.
The lazy asshole thing combined with the loud talking thing means that, among other things, I lose a little bit more of my already fragile mind every single day I work. I don’t like losing my mind. It’s the second healthiest thing about me, after my beard.
Here’s what I’m getting at: Drug Church helps me deal with all that shit. I listen to them on the way to work, and I listen to them in my mind while I’m at work, and I listen to them on the way home from work, and most days I listen to them at home after work, too, except when I’m watching Corner Gas, but sometimes during commercials, and so very many of their songs speak to the way I feel 90% of the time.
They are one of five things keeping me sane right now, the other four being my amazing wife, my amazing friends, Corner Gas, and Ginger, the groundhog who hangs out in our backyard and eats clover. Here’s another one of their songs.
I hear your story, those bitter thoughts invading.
Corner Gas is a Canadian sitcom that originally aired from 2004-2009 on CTV. It takes place in the fictional town of Dog River, Saskatchewan, where Brent (played by comedian Brent Butt2, who also created the series) is the proprietor of Corner Gas, which sits at the intersection of two roads in the middle of the prairie. Lacey runs The Ruby, a cafe/diner that shares a wall with Corner Gas. Hilarity ensues. All the people in town are either kinda dumb in an endearing way, or too smart for their own good (also in an endearing way). It’s very cleverly written, the cast is great, and the show is just hilarious. You can watch the whole series for free with ads on YouTube. You might be able to stream the whole thing without commercials somewhere as well, but not on any of my services.
Oscar is a strong contender for my favorite character. He reminds me of my dear, departed dad, if my dear, departed dad had been an idiot.
I got tickets yesterday to see Drug Church live in May. It’s a headlining show, and I’m not sure I could possibly be more excited. Well, if they were playing here so I wouldn’t have to drive to Indianapolis, I would be more excited, but I’m still so fucking pumped. It’s a newer venue called Turntable in the Broad Ripple neighborhood, located in the space where Cracker’s Comedy Club used to be. My friend Lori saw a show there a while back and said it was a cool space, and I trust her judgement.
This is gonna be one for the history books.
Here’s another one of their songs.
One man per crucifix, form a line, your turn is coming, just give it time.
I gotta wrap this up for now. Don’t worry, I still have plenty more to write about Drug Church. Probably about Corner Gas, too. Heck, I have almost three full seasons to go still, plus there’s a feature-length follow-up film (Corner Gas: The Movie) and an animated series (Corner Gas Animated)! I still wanna talk about the bizarre nature of existence at some point too, but I guess I’m not quite ready for that, other than to say that the nature of existence is completely fucking bizarre.
Here’s one final Drug Church song for this outing. It’s the first one I ever heard, and it’s still one of my very favorites. There’s a 92% chance that the opening guitar lick is in my head at any given moment.
Ever been to a county fair Where all the games are scams Now apply what you know To all the things you don’t Politics and business Most love many friendships Throw until your tendons tear But those bottles stay weighted
Goodwill then hard stops Slow learner gets taught My teachers tried, my teachers lost (There were principals involved)
Mishandled, and robbed They rubbed my feelings raw But now I’ve put my glasses on
Brings it all into focus Slow to hear, late to notice But now I’m on a constant watch Cynical not bitterness Love my girl and friendships I forgive all of life’s hassles Flat tires to thieving bosses Overdrafts to cheating exes
But don’t make me remember If I don’t have to
Goodwill then hard stops Slow learner gets taught My teachers tried, my teachers lost (There were principles involved)
Mishandled, and robbed They rubbed my feelings raw But now I’ve put my glasses on
Apologies Are a wedding night fling Sometimes it’s best to exit quietly
Apologies Doesn’t quite wash it clean Sorry is a sad and sorry thing
Thanks for reading. It means a lot.
A quick count indicates I’m currently on my 21st job, with a strong possibility that I’m forgetting at least one. In addition to Drug Church and Corner Gas, I’ve also talked a lot hither and thither about my absolute disdain for the entire concept “working for a living”, especially when the purpose of that work is to make more money for someone who already has more money than me. That’s a topic for another post(s), though. ↩︎
If that’s not a name destined for a life in comedy, then I don’t even know what’s real. ↩︎
Coffee poured, water refreshed, bladder emptied, I was seconds away from putting on my Drug Church playlist and opening up my laptop to see what came out of me. Business as usual many a solo day off. And then I noticed the birds. And I don’t mean in a “look at those fat ol’ mourning doves!” kind of way, I notice birds all the time, I fucking love birds. To use the parlance of our times, I fw birds hard.
Frfr.
When I say I noticed the birds, what I mean is I noticed the birds, like in a profound way. I was absolutely enraptured by the tweets and twits and coos and chirps. I even started picking out specific conversations between some birds. I can’t understand exactly what they’re saying, of course, but I assure you, they’re all very horny right now.
What I’m saying is that for the first time in a while, I am fully listening to the sounds coming from outside my windows. Also, I can’t remember the last time I wrote without music.
The thing is that most days when I open the house up, I’ve already got music playing, so I don’t notice the sounds from outside as much. And up until recently, I haven’t much felt like getting outside. I like what cold weather does for my allergies, but I don’t care so much for the seasonal depression. I might choose both over summer, though. If I am one thing, I am a sweaty man. I come from a long line of sweaters, and I’ve come to accept it, but I refuse to like it. Going outside during the dog days is a waking nightmare for me.
I digress. For now, I’m sitting and writing, as I often do on my solo day off, and as usual, I’m not sure where this is gonna end up. The possibility of me not finishing it will persist until I’ve finished it. Who knows whether I’ll share it.
As I said, my writing routine was broken because I noticed nature for the first time in a while, which in turn was brought about by me not playing music, which is a rarity for me. I wasn’t playing music because I’d just finished an episode of Corner Gas, which is a very funny Canadian sitcom that you can watch for free with extremely loud commercials on YouTube.
Seriously, I remain anxious throughout every episode, because the commercials are jarringly loud. The show is totally worth it though.
That’s like 7,000 metric.
Anyway, I was opening the windows, and was starting to consider what I might write about. I figured I’d probably watch another episode of Corner Gas before I got down to the actual writing, but then I got a text from a friend, asking if I had time to talk, which meant talking on the phone, which is even more of a rarity for me than not playing music in the house, but…
When a friend asks for help, you help em.
We talked about grief and depression and anger and fear and anxiety, and we laughed, and we cried, I needed it just as much as she did. When we finished talking was just before I started my writing ritual, which you may recall from the beginning of this thing is when I noticed the sexy avian drama going on outside my house, which led to my decision to sit down and write without music for the first time in over 20 years. Because the sounds of nature are the music, man!
Sounds like somebody’s livin for his car!
I don’t know what I’m hoping to accomplish here, but I do know I’ve also heard two light rain showers start and stop since I started writing, and that’s been pretty cool. The light of the overcast day is perfect in my house right now, and even the gigantic roll-off dumpster parked across the cul-de-sac in front of the Trash Neighbors’ yard can’t ruin my day. At least it’s blocking the view of their shitty wooden fence. God I hope this means they’re moving out. I’m meandering all over the place here. Focus!
After the phone call, I sat down with the intention of writing a thing about grief and depression and anger and fear and anxiety (which would hopefully make you laugh, and maybe even cry), and then I was gonna use some kind of as-yet discovered writerly skill to deftly weave that together with a thing I’ve had brewing for awhile about a band called Drug Church, but I’ve clearly let the whole thing get away from me, and I haven’t even started talking about Drug Church yet. I’ve gone off the rails on my crazy train of thought, if you will, and as a result, I plumb forgot every single remotely humorous thing I’ve ever had to say about grief, depression, anger, fear, and anxiety. Whatever it was, I like to think it was profound. I’m certain it would’ve been long-winded as hell.
I guess I’ll talk about Drug Church, then. I’ve mentioned them on this blog before, and I’m not gonna get into the band’s backstory today, because this chair is starting to become uncomfortable, and I’ve already spent a pretty stupid amount of time not saying anything, but here are some facts about Drug Church:
They’ve been a band for approximately 15 years now, and they’ve released 5 full-length albums, three EPs, a demo, some singles, and a really fun cover of “Someday I Suppose” by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones.
They have a shitload of live performances available on YouTube, and they range from amazing to incredible.
Their live set from Louder Than Life 2024 was an all-timer for me. I’ve seen hundreds and hundreds of bands live over the past 30-odd years, and I’ve forgotten way more bands than I remember, but that Drug Church set was one of the very best.
There is plenty of precedent for me becoming completely enamored with a band, album, and/or song to the point of annoyance. A less polite person might call it an obsession. I certainly would. Drug Church has grabbed me and held on like few others before them. The sounds they make are so unique, the lyrics are really excellent, and I simply cannot get enough of it. Every member of the band is doing what they do perfectly.
With most of my prior obsessions, I managed to start balancing my listening out with other bands, albums, and songs after a month or so, but I’ve been listening to Drug Church almost exclusively for like nine or ten months now. I try to listen to other things, and I have succeeded for up to two days in a couple of instances, but those other bands, albums, and songs are just visitors. Drug Church is currently the sole occupant of my musical bandwidth. To quote the t-shirt I wish someone would make for me…
Looks like a Gildan.
I’ve said it before (even somewhere on this blog once, I think), but they’re the very best nineties hardcore/post-hardcore band that never existed in the nineties, and if I am one thing (other than a sweaty man), I am a man who loves nineties hardcore and post-hardcore bands. “Unlicensed Guidance Counselor”, from their superlative 2018 album Cheer, is an excellent example of why Drug Church, to paraphrase a t-shirt that currently exists, is already number one, and why you shouldn’t bother to try harder:
A petty grievance pushed you to violence Tough break and now you’re facing some charges
If you live long enough you’ll do something wrong enough that you feel shame enough to say enough’s enough
Push your sister’s boyfriend down the stairs Steal forty dollars from the till There’s a learning process here
Something often lost: life is process not product Gotta break some bones to have them set proper Small money fight so you set a fire Space was occupied so man dies there
If you live long enough you’ll do something wrong enough that you feel shame enough to say enough’s enough
Push yourself down the stairs Steal tens of thousands from your band God he’s indifferent and nobody cares
Here’s your life advice
The shirt makes an excellent point.
Here’s a live performance of the song, so you can get an idea how entertaining their live shows are. Don’t worry, I queued the video up so you don’t have to. You really should just watch the whole thing, though, and you undoubtedly should catch them live in person if you get the chance.
Everybody looks fuckin stupid doin a stupid thing.
I gotta wrap this up. Sheila just pulled in the garage, which made me realize I forgot to take a shower. I’ll write more about Drug Church again soon. I might even share it here. Thanks for reading.
Note: this is Part Five of a multi-part series about Louder Than Life 2024. This will be the final installment of the series, technically speaking. I’ll be writing a lot more about Louder Than Life, still, in case you’re worried about that for some reason. Tickets for 2025 are on sale, and we locked our 4-day passes in on Wednesday. Here are the links for Day Zero, Day One, Day Two, and Day Three. There are supplementalpartsalso. Thank you for being a friend.
By the time we woke up on Sunday, the chance of rain was down to 20%. I watched a couple of videos on Instagram of a bunch of the DWP crew (with the help of the Bellarmine University wrestling team) out laying mulch on the grounds in an attempt to alleviate some of the mud, and that alleviated some of my mud-related anxiety. I wouldn’t call Operation: Mud Control a total success, but things certainly could’ve been much worse. Look at me – barely one paragraph in, and I’m already getting ahead of myself.
Day Four was set to be a real corker. We intended to watch Gozu on the Loudmouth Stage at noon, as well as Project MishraM on the Decibel Stage at 1:00, but we definitely needed a little extra time to get going, so we missed both. Who knew that drinking whiskey in the rain and mud could be so exhausting? Instead, we started our day with Oxymorrons on Main Stage 1 at 1:30.
This footage isn’t mine. None of the footage is mine, unless otherwise indicated.
We saw Oxymorrons in 2022 on one of the second stages, and they were fuckin fun. They play a super high-energy hip-hop/punk hybrid, and their personal energy absolutely matches that of the songs. They were on the main stage for the first time this year, and fuckin good for them. They definitely deserve it. We weren’t quite ready to get all up in the mud and the crowd yet, so we watched them from the elevated viewing area in Top Shelf instead. That certainly had an effect on my enjoyment of them, and I regret the decision. They sounded great, and the energy level was the same as it was 2 years ago, but they’re a band that needs to be experienced from up close to really appreciate them.
We went into the tent while Saliva played on Main Stage 2. You might know them from the song “Click Click Boom”, from their platinum-selling debut album Every Six Seconds. That’s how I know em, anyway. They played that one, and some others, and they were fine – far from the worst thing I’ve heard at Louder Than Life.
While searching for a clip to post here, I was reminded that a chant of “USA! USA! USA!” broke out during their set for some reason, and that was pretty goofy.
Eagles of Death Metal followed on Main Stage 1, and neither of us were/are terribly familiar with them, but we like the way they sound, and we decided to go up to the Skybox (a.k.a. the Upper Decker) to watch their set.
The red circle shows our location during Judas Priest’s set later that evening. To quote a buddy of mine from New Orleans, just a little FYI for you, there.
Like Oxymorrons, I would’ve definitely enjoyed them more if I’d been closer, but there was still a lot of rockin ahead of us, and as I’ve mentioned before, we are not particularly young.
They came to make a bang.
Toward the end of EoDM’s set, we made our way back to the Decibel Stage to watch Winona Fighter. If Winona Fighter had been around when I was in my early twenties, they would’ve been one of my favorite bands. It was a super-tight, super-fun set, and I will absolutely catch them live again when I get the chance.
In addition to giving you a taste of Winona Fighter, this video provides a good example of the mud and filth we were dealing with on those side stages. The amount of people I saw sliding, splashing, and wrestling in it was truly horrifying. More on that later.
I got a few pictures of Winona Fighter, but as you might imagine by now, they aren’t very good, so I’m only gonna share the two “best” ones.
Here’s an action shot of sorts.
Here’s Coco signing “that giant fuckin hog” (aka inflatable cock ‘n’ balls), which ended up right next to me a short time later.
Narrow Head were up next over on the Revolver Stage, and I wanted to be closer for them, but I didn’t wanna lose my spot on the rail in front of the Decibel Stage, because Drug Church was up after them, so I just slid closer to the stage and watched Narrow Head on the big screens. They were great, and I look forward to seeing them properly at some point in the hopefully not-to-distant future. Like Winona Fighter before them, they would’ve been an absolute jam if they’d existed in a different time.
The 20% chance of rain turned into a 100% steady drizzle just as Narrow Head started to play. Sheila took that opportunity to use the restroom and get a drink (and get out of the rain), arriving back during their last song, just in time to experience Drug Church with me.
Their music sounded perfect in the rain.
I first heard DrugChurch a little over a year ago, when I was listening to a lot of Turnstile in the run-up to Louder Than Life 2023. The Algorithm brought them to my attention on the same day as Militarie Gun, and I loved them both immediately, and even though I watched dozens of shows from both bands on the YouTube, I somehow didn’t realize they shared a guitar player (the incomparable Nick Cogan) until about a month before he left Militarie Gun to focus on Drug Church. I can be a bit of a doofus at times. But I’m talking about Drug Church.
Drug Church pretty quickly went from “I’m really digging this band I just found out about” to “I don’t ever wanna stop listening to this band and I wanna see them live so bad I can fucking taste it”. I damn near shit my britches when the LTL2K24 lineup dropped and I saw them and Touché Amoré on there. I mentioned this in one of my last posts before this year’s fest, but while Touché Amoré was helping me process and deal with grief, Drug Church was helping me process the absurdities of modern life and deal with the absolute baked potatoes one encounters on a near-daily basis at work, at the store, and in traffic (with apologies to baked potatoes, which are fucking delicious).
Sheila took pictures of Drug Church for me, because her camera is better than mine, and because I am incapable of remaining still when they’re playing.
The rain stopped in the five minutes between the Narrow Head and Drug Church sets, and the sun came out just as Drug Church took the stage. The feedback began, frontman Pat Kindlon said “Sun came out just for us, huh?! Inflatable penis came out just for us, huh?! Mud Man came out just for us, huh?! Pack it in, let’s have a good time! We’re fuckin Drug Church!” and then they kicked into “Fun’s Over”, and I blissed out for the next 30 minutes, and when they were finished, I was so happy and so exhausted and was so, so glad we started out the day slowly, because we still had a minimum of 4 1/2 hours to go, and there was no rest for the weary or the wicked.
Nick Cogan (r) is such a fuckin stud. He makes it all look completely effortless.
I will absolutely be writing more about Drug Church in the near future, but for now, if you enjoy fun, watch this:
This band is seriously so fucking incredible. Also, that’s “Mud Man” on the giant screen above.↑
As soon as Drug Church finished, the lady standing immediately to my right started yelling “SETLIST! SETLIST!” toward the stage, and I was angry with myself for not thinking to do that. Nick handed a setlist to one of the security dudes and pointed to that lady, and the security dude handed it to her, and I asked her if I could take a picture of it, and she said “this is yours”, and I said “say what?”, and she said “this is yours”, and I said “are you fucking serious?” and she said “I got this for you; you knew every word”, and the dude with her said “this is obviously your band”, and that was very fuckin cool of her.
Thank you, anonymous strangers. I hope y’all are having an absolutely kick-ass day, wherever you are.
Gojira was set to start less than five minutes after I got the setlist in my hands, and we were planning to try and meet up with our pal Stevo and his daughter Carmel, who were coming for the evening to see Gojira, Judas Priest and Korn, so we started the trek over toward the regular VIP section, which is closer to Main Stage 1, where Gojira was already playing. We went inside VIP and got a bourbon, then went back out into General Admission to look for our friends. We found them about halfway through Gojira’s set, and what a gloriously heavy set it was.
So many flames shot out of that stage, and if that band was any tighter, I think my butthole might’ve permanently closed up. We all banged our heads and screamed and hollered, and as soon as it was over, I became consumed by an awareness of how sweaty and heavy my shirt was. Luckily, I’d picked up a brand new shirt earlier in the day with one of our merchandise vouchers and stashed it in our locker. We all walked toward Top Shelf so I could change shirts and we could re-up our drinks, and then we were all gonna head back to the Loudmouth Stage to watch Detroit, Michigan alternative rock legends Sponge.
As we were walking, Staind started playing on Main Stage 2, and we suddenly remembered not only that Staind exists, but also that they were scheduled to play right after Gojira. We commiserated about what a shame it is that Aaron Lewis is such a miserable pile of shit, especially considering how good the band sounds, and we got ourselves out of earshot as quickly as possible. We arrived at the Loudmouth Stage with a few minutes to spare before Sponge started, and Sheila and I were pretty stoked. Sponge has never been a favorite of mine, per se, but I like them well enough, and they got a couple of certified bangers that I was looking forward to singing along with.
If you think for a second that Sheila and I didn’t dance like a couple of idiots while they played this song, then what are we even doing here?
If you thought for an instant that I might not’ve screamed myself hoarse singing along with this song, then I suppose we might never really know one another.
Here’s a picture we took shortly before Sponge took the stage:
That’s a beautiful group of human beings right there.
Toward the end of Sponge’s set, Stevo showed me an alert on his phone that singer/songwriter/actor/activist/badass Kris Kristofferson had passed away. I said “thanks for ruining my fuckin weekend, bud”, and I didn’t really mean that, because Stevo could never ruin my weekend, but it did bum me out quite a bit, especially coming, as it did, one day after the passing of Drake Hogestyn, best known as John Black from the long-running soap opera Days of our Lives.
That’s a fact.
I digress.
We parted ways so they could get a good spot for Judas Priest on Main Stage 2, and so I could get a spot for motherfucking Biohazard. Seriously, fifteen-year-old me is absolutely seething with jealousy that I not only got to see Biohazard live, but that I got to have that experience with an awesome woman who also happens to be my wife. And goddamn, were they on (figurative) fire.
Up yours, fifteen-year-old me!
They played all the “hits” and I was livin it up inside the teenage bedroom of my mind, but Sheila departed soon after they started, because Judas Priest was scheduled to start 25 minutes after Biohazard, and she was never a fifteen-year-old boy.
She did get a couple of pictures for me before she left though, because she’s the best.
The pictures aren’t great, but they’re miles better than what I would’ve gotten.
I stayed through “Punishment”, and when they started their last song, “Hold My Own”, I began my final journey (of 2024) across the entirety of the festival grounds to try and catch as much of Judas Priest as I possibly could. A very large crowd had been gathering in front of the Decibel Stage in anticipation of second-stage headliner Jinjer, and Sheila and I would’ve been among them if not for the Gods of Metal.
The mud had caused people to crowd together on the gravel and straw pathways, making it impossible to walk anywhere on that end of the grounds without stomping through what everyone was politely calling “mud”, but was by then absolutely a mixture of mud, blood, feces, urine, vomit, beer, whiskey, spit, sweat, tears, semen, hair, and probably chili dogs. What would have taken 5-8 minutes under normal festival circumstances became a 10-minute-plus trip, and I finally entered the home stretch just as Judas Priest kicked off a flawless rendition of “Devil’s Child”.
A quick side note: this was Judas Priest’s first appearance in Louisville since 2021, when guitarist Richie Faulkner almost died from an aortic aneurysm while ripping out the “Painkiller” solo. I’ve had plenty of time to process that, but it’s still hard to believe that happened, and that he survived it. Metal Gods, indeed.
Fucking legend.
Anyway, I found Sheila on the rail in the Top Shelf area in the last couple minutes of “Sinner”, and much to the seeming displeasure of the cranky old butthole behind us, we fuckin rocked our asses off while they tore through “Turbo Lover”, “Invincible Sheild”, “Hell Bent for Leather” (complete with Halford riding his Harley onstage), and “Painkiller”, then an encore of “Electric Eye” followed by “Livin After Midnight”, and it was incredible.
So much fuckin fun.
We intended to try and meet back up with our friends for Korn’s headlining set, but the odds were not good of us livin after midnight if we stayed much longer, so we popped back into the tent for a couple of bottles of water, got all of our stuff out of our locker, and headed for the gate while Korn played “Dead Bodies Everywhere”.
I should mention that I haven’t been a Korn fan in any sense of the word since sometime before their third album came out, but I was still looking forward to watching their set, as I hadn’t seen them since they opened for Megadeth in 1996. And while I was a little bummed about leaving early, history indicates that there’ll be another Korn headlining set at Louder Than Life sooner rather than later.
And with that, Louder Than Life 2024 came to an end. I’m gonna write a follow-up post soon to discuss a few festival-related elements that didn’t really fit in the narrative I’ve been spinning here, and I’m also planning on writing a comprehensive list of tips and tricks for newer festival attendees, to hopefully help other people maximize their enjoyment and minimize their chances of heat exhaustion, dehydration, and trench foot, among other things. Keep an eye out for those things, if you’re interested.
Thanks for reading, and if you liked what you read, why not tell a friend? If you didn’t like what you read, I suppose you could still tell a friend, and then y’all can talk shit about it together.
My vacation is nigh, and I am Honkin on Bobo with excitement, friends. Only one more clock-in until I’m off for 8 days in a row. Only 4 days until we are southbound to Louisville, and only 5 days until Louder Than Life 2024 begins. We went from “I don’t think we I can do this again” to “this is our annual vacation” in less than three years, and brothers and sisters, I’m here to tell you that we have earned this particular annual vacation.
I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to approach writing about this year’s Louder Than Life, because as you can see from the flyer below, it’s a pretty dang big event, and on a personal level, it’s very intertwined with previous years. I think I’ve begun to figure it out, but I don’t have time to get started on it at the moment, as I have a lot to do in preparation for our trip, plus I’m very caught up in Season Two of Veronica Mars, and that show requires my full attention. I did want to write a li’l sumn sumn, though, just to hold myself accountable, and because I haven’t posted anything up on these “esteemed” pages in almost 6 months, and what’s the point of paying for the domain name if I’m not even gonna use the damn thing?
Anyway, this year’s Louder Than Life has, in my opinion, one of the strongest overall lineups in the history of the fest. The headliners get all the attention on the posters and the social media, and there are a couple of real duds on there (I’m looking at you in particular, Falling in Reverse), but this lineup is fuggin incredible, and it’s not just the bands with the prominent logos that are getting me stoked. Several of the bands I’m most excited about seeing are listed in generic white ALL CAPS.
One of the beautiful things about a festival like this is that it’s pretty easy to avoid a band if you don’t wanna see them. For example, when Falling in Reverse is playing on Saturday, we’ll be on the far end of the festival grounds, watching HEALTH, followed by Body Count, so we’ll clearly be the big winners on that day. On the other hand, one of the ugly realities about a festival like this is that you often have to make tough decisions about which band to miss because two bands you wanna see are playing at exactly the same time, or have overlapping start/stop times. I’m currently dealing with this in some capacity on all four days, and I’m sure I’ll write more about it eventually.
As I said earlier, I don’t have a lot of time to really get into this right now, but I wanted to get the ball rolling, which I figure will make it easier for me to keep it rolling after the fest. I have so much to say (about this festival and about my life in general over the past couple years), and I need to stop being a lazy turd and just say it, already, and I’m gonna keep it going this time. You’ll see!
I had to dig way too deep to find this image, and that’s just silly.
I’m gonna close with a song each from a few of the undercard bands that I’m extra pumped about seeing.
Touché Amoré has helped me work through some shit over the last year-and-a-half, y’all. They also tie into some of the things I have to say about this festival and about my life in general over the past couple of years, so you’ll definitely be hearing more about them soon. I will be a blubbering, emotional wreck when they take the stage at 2:15 on Thursday, and there’s a decent chance I will destroy my vocal chords singing along with them. This is their latest single, from their upcoming album Spiral in a Straight Line, which is coming out October 10, and about which I am very excited. The song and video both rule.
Drug Church has been helping me deal with day-to-day stuff and nonsense for most of this year, and if I have any voice left by the time they hit the stage Sunday at 4:45, it will surely be gone by the time their 30 minutes are up. Drug Church would be one of the very best bands to come from the mid-90’s if they hadn’t actually come from 2011, so instead they’re just the best band to come from 2011. This is one of their latest singles, from their upcoming album Prude, which is coming out October 4, and about which I am very excited. The song and video both rule.
KNEECAP is a hip-hop trio from West Belfast, Northern Ireland. I don’t know much about them yet, but I know that this song has not left my head since the first time I heard it, even if I can’t understand half the lyrics. I’m not 100% sure, but I think the beat might’ve gotten me pregnant. I have a feeling their live show is gonna off the hook, as the kids say.
Anyway, I really do need to get back to chorin, so that’s all for now. Stay tuned for more, though. My brain-dam is close to being breached, I can feel it. Check back in after next weekend and let yourself get swept away with my gibberish.
Clockwise Circle Pit 