So, I’m kinda stupid for an allegedly smart guy, and I’ve murdered probably like hundreds of millions of my own brain cells over the years, and so I got the dates wrong with my brother from another mother Branden’s deathiversary. He chose to exit stage left in June 2005, and I’ve spent I don’t know how long thinking it happened in 2004, so this year makes 19 years since I lost my dawg, not 20 like I said in a previous post. Still, he’s been on my mind a lot more than usual, and I’m gonna keep telling stories as my feeble brain recalls them. Y’all can keep ignoring them, it’s more for me, but I like to share about the people and things I love anyways, so 🤷♂️
Besides his friend Mary Jane and our occupations as kitchen gremlins, one of the things Branden and I immediately bonded over was punk and metal and other heavy music. I know everybody loves to shit on Pantera because Phil’s frequently a jackass and because the social climate has changed a lot over two plus decades, and I know people love to shit on Tool because they’re hella pretentious, but this tale is going to involve the both of them and other shit you probably hate, so…
Anyways, I had mentioned our routine was often to procure a bottle of vodka by some nepharious means or another – this being before we could legally drink – and then slam that shit back glass after glass until we’d drain it between the two of us in under ten minutes, and then we’d be ready to head out into the dusty streets of Albuquerque and get our real party on. One such night we headed out to some bar where some friends of ours were playing, I believe the band was called The Ground Beneath. We get to the spot and just breeze right past the door guy, not even giving a first thought to the fact that we were walking into an actual bar, not even considering there was a disgruntled fellow posted up at the entrance for a reason. We walk in right as the band was launching into a cover of Nirvana’s “You Know You’re Right,” which was still fairly newly released at the time. They KILLED it. And as soon as the song was done we had the door guy in our faces telling us to show some ID or show our asses out the fucking door. I’m surprised he even let us get through the song. Oh, wait, what, we have to be of AGE for this BAR??!
Anyways, we were sent on our way and left to our own devices for the remainder of the evening, because exactly what you want is two shithoused teenagers in a tricked out Eurotrash sports car unleashed upon the streets. We spent the night cruising around, Branden driving while I swapped through one of those huge briefcases of CDs we used to fuck with before things went all digital and snooty. At some point Branden asks me to put on The Great Southern Trendkill, which I do for a few songs before asking if he also digs Superjoint Ritual. He had never heard of them. Well, my friend, do I have a treat for you!
I plugged Lethal Dose into the CD player and watched this huge, excited grin of bright-eyed kid-like wonder spread across Branden’s face as those first bouncing, groovy, filthy notes came oozing out of the speaker. And then when the song really kicked in my dude just start laughing maniacally and pounding the steering wheel. “How the fuck did I not know about this?!”
On some other night after the vodka ritual and in the midst of us speeding around town looking for trouble and hooking up with whatever was happening with various other friends, we came upon the surprise that Tool was playing at Tingley that night, and a buddy just happened to have two extra tickets from some people who had bailed. Score!
Now, prior to this, I had seen Tool once before, a few years prior, when a couple other friends and I drove to Phoenix and ate mushrooms and watched a trippy set from Tricky and then a trippier set from Tool. And still this show Branden and I were about to hit would end up being the more memorable of the two, based solely on the first few seconds of Tool’s set.
We got to the venue and walked onto the floor of the massive arena for the last few songs of Meshuggah’s set. Who I think are another band you elitists love to hate on. Haha. Anyways, they were cool, but a footnote for what I was about to experience. We worked our way up to within ten or so feet of the barrier by the time Meshuggah finished, and waited excitedly for the changeover. They did everything with a massive curtain blocking the stage, keeping all of Tool’s little secrets, I guess. Twenty, maybe thirty minutes passed…
All of a sudden, without any kind of warning, every light in the building went out, plunging the entire arena into a heavy darkness. A split second later, all at once and together, you hear those first few bass notes of “Sober” hit, the curtain drops, the stage lights kick on, and the entire floor fucking ERUPTS into a massive, churning, rolling pit. I catch Branden’s eyes and see that same look he had on his face when I played Superjoint for him, magnified times a thousand. It was fucking GLORIOUS. The whole set was amazing, but that opening. That fucking OPENING. Still one of the absolute best show memories I have.
Anyways, I’m typing this on the fly while Beezy herds me out the door for some hippy shit. That’s the story. I’ll proofread later.
I miss my brother… 🥹
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