Don't Bring Me Flowers

Godflesh
Pure

Oops, the metal side of me gets out and gets a chance to play. I'll admit it, unironically, that I get a charge out of some of the heavy stuff. A lot of it has been jettisoned over the years, but half of my Godflesh collection stays intact.

Godflesh was a two person, one machine act in the studio. Live, they'd take along a real life drummer who was good enough to be a machine. When I saw them, it was in a sweaty, cramped club in Columbia, SC. Rockafella's was better known locally for the owner's penchant to spend the club's profit on cocaine than for anything else. Still, over the years, I saw some great bands come through there.

The crowd on the night I saw Godflesh was a weird one. Instead of the local metalheads coming out, it was the burnout section of the indie crowd that made an appearance. It turns out that Streetcleaner had been a relative hit on the local college station a few years prior, and that these were the people left in the area. Christbait Rising and Like Rats got them all hot and bothered, while the better (I think) tunes off of Pure were ignored.

The highlight, for me, of the show was that I spied the setlist only during the last track. I saw that they had no planned encore (after 2 or so hours, why should they?), and told my friend that we should leave since we had a 2 hour drive and work awaiting us. Rockafella's had no backstage, as the stage was at the front of the building. Bigger bands, the ones with the tour buses would park the bus right at the front of the building. When we left, we passed Justin Broadrick coming out of the club and jumping into the bus, a distance of about 10 feet. Unusually for me, I spoke up. "Great show", I said. "Cheers, mate", he replied, with a big, sweaty guy smile. That made my night.

Gah. Remembering this story makes me lament missing the Jesu/Isis tour. I bet that was a kickass show. Oh well. Getting older and having responsibility sucks sometimes. But not as much as you young'uns are thinking right now.