Past Weekend Roundup

Well, over this past weekend Polar Bear Club played a couple shows locally. Specifically, we visited urban powerhouses Oneonta, Oswego and Rochester, New York. Like everyone, I enjoy getting away from home and playing out/tagging along for shows. However, weekends like these also are a bit of a tease and a bummer. All the shows were within an hour or two of home. This means that either PBC dudes are either going to go back to their own homes, their girlfriend's home or back to Emmett's in Syracuse. So, all the fun parts of tour or long distance traveling pretty much are thrown out the window. There's no real group hang, no meeting of new people, no real camaraderie. It's pretty much play a show, head home separately and show up again the next day. Kind of like actual work but with more drunk. So clearly the motivation behind these shows was to bleed kids dry of their parent's hard earned money before we go to Europe. Once in Europe, we will use the monies for cocaine made out of gold and prostitutes forged from the softest of silks. I have no idea what that even means but I do know it's a lie. I'm sure the money will be put towards mounting Bridge 9 debt but personally I'd like some fucking health insurance.

Well, that's another entry for another time. For now let's discuss the last couple of days, ok? I remember the last time Polar Bear Club played Oneonta, it was about a year and a half ago, possibly more. This show, like the last one, was on the actual campus. I'm always weary about college shows because I'm usually older than most of the professors on campus. To calm my nerves I took it upon myself to pound beers on the way there. Why? Because I'm an irresponsible man/child alcoholic who refuses to grow up or accept responsibility. THAT'S WHY. (Save me.)

The drive from Syracuse to Oneonta is over two hours so there was plenty of time to get wild and too much time between pee breaks. We were already running late so stopping at a restroom wasn't really high on the priority list. Steve Baby from Forfeit, who defines the term amateur hour, tagged along and at one point relieved himself into a coffee cup. Not having a top, Mr. Baby attempted to dump the cup of piss outside one of the side van windows refusing to take into account the other dudes in the possible line of fire. Needless to say, myself and my main man Wildcat Steve caught Steve's liquid waste in the face. Sometimes I share to much with you people. Ah, who knew adult hood would be so rewarding?

As far as the show went, I'd reckon there were at least 80 or so kids in attendance. Pretty good turnout considering Oneonta is in the middle of nowhere and the town's mayor is actually a cow. (The joke here being is that it's a really, really small town! Get it?! A cow! Hilarious. Fuck you, they can't all be winners.) I was looking forward to seeing The Knockdown again because as I've mentioned before, I'm a big fan of their music and them as people. I hope we head out on some east coast dates in the near future. Kids stuck around for Polar Bear Club and were definitely into the performance but I couldn't help but notice that PBC looked pretty tired up there which was probably due to this being their first show in over a month. Who am I to judge? I get exhausted when I sneeze. Someday I'll tell you all about the drive back to Syracuse, the mail fraud I committed, and the horrible acts I performed against my fellow man. For now let's just say that our friend Wildcat Steve gets the MVP award of the weekend for driving us home through a pretty bad snow storm.

The next day, Saturday, was the Oswego show. Oswego is about forty five minutes away from where we stayed in Syracuse. Oswego is also where I went to college for like eight years, you know, to become a doctor. For those too many years, I was the self proclaimed king of Oswego. Sure, no one else probably ever agreed with that assessment but I was looking forward to reclaiming my title - THE RETURN OF THE KING. Arriving in town tipsy, I soon realized that I didn't really have any friends left in Oswego, the town that Winter prefers and time forgets. There would be no coronation for me, the king was dead. For now on, the only loyal subjects I serve are my Sex And The City dvd's. There were some positive aspects of the night though, so no sweat. Forfeit and Like Wolves also played. Both great bands and good friends. I'm told their sets went over well. I have to be honest, I don't think I watched either band. Instead I chose to drink 40's in the van and listen to new PBC demos. While I'm a little disappointed that PBC didn't decide to delve into the fantasy metal genre like promised, I was still impressed with what I heard. Given the fact that college kids only returned to Oswego that very weekend, the turnout of over 100 kids was pretty impressive that night. After the show we split up again with Jimmy and myself returning to Emmett's in Syracuse and the others heading out with their significant others. While nothing too remarkable happened on the night I returned to my alma mater, I didn't catch any piss in the face and hey, I don't get to say that very often.

The final destination of the weekend was Rochester, New York the city that spawned myself, Jimmy, Nate, and Chris Browne. Chris of PBC was actually the promoter of the show so any type of failure or miscue could be squarely placed upon his shoulders, a twist that added to the excitement of the day. The venue was a bar called The Bug Jar, a space that hasn't actually housed an independent, punk or hardcore show on a Sunday in at least five years. I mean, the last time I saw a show at the Bug Jar, Marathon and Bad Business were still together (I'm older than you). It's funny, whenever we show up to a venue we're scheduled to play, the first thing I look for is the flyer for that particular show. It's usually a good sign of things to come when you see promotion of your show. When I don't see a flyer or poster of the show we're supposed to play, the first thing I think is "bad promotion, not gonna be a good turnout". Well, I didn't see any signs of life as far as poster art was concerned when it came to our show at the Bug Jar. Therefore, it was open season on the promoter aka the guitarist of Polar Bear Club, Chris Browne.

Polar Bear Club played Rochester sometime in 2008 with Gaslight Anthem and American Steel at a bigger venue called the Water Street Music Hall. The hometown crowd's response towards PBC could best be described as anemic. Due to this and the Bug Jar's lack of shows within the last five years led me to think that this PBC show could fail. Once again, Like Wolves and Forfeit were scheduled to play. Quickly, my anxiety and doubts about the Rochester show were put to rest when a half an hour before doors were to open, a line formed. Obviously, these aren't the things that determine whether a show is going to be a success or not. A large turnout doesn't always equal a great show. One of the most memorable shows I ever experienced was when The Killing Tree played in front of me and about twenty other people. But watching more and more kids stream in for what were all essentially local bands gave me goose bumps. Well, it was either goosebumps or the return of a pesky simplex virus. So thank you Rochester and thank you Chris, one of those things I'll never say again.

Things got a little tense however when the venue owner tried to cap the amount of people inside at 125 but after some coercing the owner relented and allowed everyone in. At the end of the day, there were over 200 people in attendance. The one part of the night I would love to forget is when I felt the need to stage dive. Well, it was more of a stage fall. I somehow forged my way up to the front, got on the stage and just fell over into a group of unsuspecting and terrified teenagers. At first the kids unionized, said "no, sir!" and actually pushed me back on the stage. While I'm used to rejection, this time I didn't take no for an answer and instead of jumping or diving , I just toppled over. So if you're reading this and if you were at the Rochester show, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I fell on you or I'm sorry you had to witness a geriatric embarrass himself. It won't be the last time.

So there it is, three days out with Polar Bear Club. Nothing exciting or mind blowing happened and yet I still managed to churn out at least eight paragraphs on the subject. This time next week I'll be in Europe. Good things happen to bad people.