Water and Cigarette Butts (Cursive at Bernie's)

I recently travelled to Bernie's Distillery in order to accomplish two things:
1. pass out flyers
2. see cursive play & see what the deal is with el jesus de magico.

So I accomplished 3/5's of these things. It's been a few days so I think a lot of details will be glossed over. Here goes an attempt to portray the events that happened. Names will be changed because I don't remember them. I don't even remember if there are names to make reference to in the first place.

Here begins my life as a journalist. Pretension: commence!

I had only been to Bernie's once and a halth before. Once to pass out flyers outside of it and to briefly venture down the stairs, only to fear what sorts of things I may have seen had I gone all the way down. I chose not to venture further. The second, I went in a little deeper only to be surprised by what appeared to be a deli. I knew Bernie's had a deli. I just didn't expect to discover it.

So I showed up, flyers in hand, ID ready, prepared to descend into a cloud of girl jeans, lip rings, and ironic T-shirts and boy did I ever! I was takling to a kid about what kind of music he liked. "The kind that makes your heart explode!" he exclaimed. Nice kid.

Opening band, whom I have since identified as "Ladyfinger" or something of the sort, was an unremarkable hardcore band. I am unable to pass an accurate judgement on the band and actually appear to be focusing on the experience of the night since I don't really remember the music. I watched them an was touched several times by a large bearded man.

El Jesus began their set and basically provided me with what I really expected.

Let me take this time to mention that the sound at Bernie's is horrible. I think that's part of the experience. Here's another thing: unless you are in the very front row, you can't see. This is because all the bands line their amps basically anywhere where they have room. The choices are:
1. inside the wall
2. surrounding the stage

This is pretty normal, except the stage isn't really a stage at all. It's just a designated spot. Surrounded by wooden columns that support the roof.

While I couldn't really see or hear, El Jesus appeared to have a lot of charisma until it seemed that their bass head burned out. At this point the crowd was really beginning to amass in order to see "Cursifix".

Now for anyone who A is reading this and B. expects to hear about the Cursive concert, you will be horribly disapointed. After being touched by the bearded man again I decided that I needed some air. In addition to being small and dirty, Bernie's is also extremely poorly venilated. Maybe I'm not punk enough. I don't think I ever was. I think being punk and socially uncomfortable are contradictory. I went outside.

Here is where I met the real story of the night. The kids who couldn't get in. A girl who I had seen riding a skateboard about only an hour before was now dejectedly crumbled on the sidewalk outside the entrance. This is no small feat considering the number of people who have certainly vomited on this very spot. I couldn't help but consider the type of dangers she was going through in order to rest her face. I didn't talk to her.

There was another couple of kids who couldn't get in because Bernie's had reached their limit of people less than 21 they were going to let in at this time. Another couple of guys got out because they couldn't get close, either. I stood and made conversation with some random people as long as social convention would allow.

After I heard the show start up again, I tried to re-enter, only to not be able to get anywhere near the non-deli half of Bernie's. I was finally able to fight my way back to the bathroom. However, I can assume that unless I was in the front row, I couldn't have seen anything anyways. I wasn't really in the mood to listen to Cursive from the deli. I could hear them just as well from the sidewalk. And there weren't 60 people past capacity outside.

So in conclusion, this was a rather fruitless concert. Be wary of national acts playing in a basement, except THE Basement, unless you like guys with beards. Punk charm gets lost in crowds of emo kids.