RGRS

Last Saturday, I decided to attend a concert. This concert was of the informal variety and was held to honor a band they call Fishboy. Yes, Fishboy: the band, the myth, the legend, dare I say....the legendary myth-band? This legendary band's informal concert (which might also be called a "jam session" or "rocksteady hoedown") was held in the somewhat less legendary and somewhat more informal Rubber Gloves Recording Studio in Denton, TX. This place is bad ass, be forewarned. However, the band, who I had actually never heard of, will remain unheard of and unheard, because I was exhausted early in the night by the absolute awesomeness that is: The Skin Trade. Maybe this is the Heineken talking but when they walked out on stage (or "bunch of 2 by 4's" as it is also known) I was thinking, "This band will not be awesome" and I was proved utterly wrong. Later that night, standing corrected, I instead thought, "That band was totally awesome." Again, this may be the beer, but I've known few beers to be so eloquent.
Their first song started out with some light guitar plucking (visualize: pluck,pluck,pluck) and some subtle cymbal tickling (shishsihsihsihsihishishishishi) and the vocal guy (or "singing vocals guy" as the position is also referred to) starting singing about flowers and sunsets or some shit. But then (oh just wait) the bassist guy who looked about 9 starting fully reminding us all of our respective genders by smashing music out on that thing as though the sweet lord himself willed it. Then the drummer, who was maybe 4 and a half, started drumming those drums like they were....fucking DRUMS, man. And the vocal guy, who hadn't even been born yet, did a 180 and started wailing as though the Man was oppressing him right there in the Rubber Gloves and he had to tell him to shove it at triple the allowable zygotic volume. My cronies and I were like, "Fishboy rocks," but then, it turned out that these gods of rockage were the local band and their name was truly terrible: The Skin Trade. We figured if the local band could move our loins in this manner, Fishboy is going to be off the charts. But then the next band redefined "sucking", so we just left. Our pride was scarred, our logic thrown. We were afraid we would start sucking by association and we just really wanted to continue to think of Fishboy as some elusive, mutant, semi-aquatic band. I think that was achieved. Anyway, the Main Idea: go to RGRS. it's the hipster/fundaddy/cement/ax-bearing/Vans-wearing/gimme-another-32ozCoorsLight swingers club that you've been looking for with a fire in your belly. Supporting Idea: Keep your eye on the Skin Trade. They are sure to moisturize your retinas, if you know what I'm saying. Thesis Statement: Fishboy. Live the Legend.