Clutch is a band neither of us like, but it was free for both of us. She, my edge/hardcore vixen roommate, the webmaster for the site you now partake of, and I, the more indie-inclined of the two, patron of the hardcore scene by proxy. This show can be summed up in any of the monosyllabic following: gay. as. shit. Well, I said I'd write an article for her site, and this would be my first concert review. Look out.
Allow me to set the scene: a sparse crowd gathers in a semi-circle before the stage, staring closed-mouthed at the opening band. I feel their torment. It's as if they're hoping, through sheer boredom, to precipitate the "real band's" appearance. I count one set of devil's horns ˜they come
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