10 people you'll see at a Minneapolis basement show
|Artwork by Dave Watt|
It's a Tuesday night in South Minneapolis and kids are scattered across a glass-speckled lawn, smoking cigarettes and throwing back 40s of Olde English. A lone hippie wanders the perimeter, his dilated pupils aimed at nothing in particular. In the corner, an oogle sits alone, scratching at his scabies and scheming about how to get more money for dope. A crust punk runs his hand through a greasy mohawk, his dandruff floating lightly towards the dirt like snowflakes. In the basement, an angry bald guy shakes his head at the blatant alcoholic, yelling something about how he's 31 years old and doesn't have time for this shit.
Welcome to a basement show, where the flier says nine and the show starts at midnight. Before you get your boxers in a bunch over the stereotypes that follow, allow me to throw myself under the bus: I'm the sellout alt-weekly writer in the floral dress who throws a few too many elbows in the pit. Happy?
10. The Confused Hippie
The confused hippie was told there would be drugs here, but there's just really loud music and people who smell like her and don't smile. She can maybe get down with your basement show, since this music sort of sounds like Led Zeppelin, so long as you don't destroy her in the mosh pit. In the end, we're all just looking for, like, world peace, right? The confused hippie immediately regrets her decision to bring up Occupy Wall Street in front of a bunch of insurrectionist anarchists. Please stop yelling at the confused hippie. Your anger reminds her of violence which reminds her of war, and it's like seriously not jiving with her trip right now, maaan.
9. The Music Aficianado