On Friday, May 6th Cincinnati Irregulars THE BUFFALO KILLERS celebrated their 10th Anniversary with help frm Alive Records by offering up a limited edition version of The Buffalo Killers debut LP (on colored vinyl) accompanied by handy-dandy 'Buffalo Killers' brand TOBACCO rolling-papers. With many Cincinnati citizens, puddles, crims, limbs and products (aka 'people) in attendance, The 'Killers provided a free show at one of Cincinnati's most venerable continuous venues located in the Northern Northsides' 'Lil' Gatlinburg District' known as THE COMET.
Having the pleasure and honor to accompany Zach Gabbard on the journey from the outlands and utilizing evasive maneuvers when confronting shiny black trucks in Starbucks parking lots, we 'hit the haunts' and in turn logged in some much welcomed 'leisure miles' cruising around the olden spots sharing olden-tyme stories amongst the newen, as Swamp Dogg would put it: "Synthetic Bullshit" zones of Short Vine St., McMillan Ave, Calhoun Ave., Ludlow Ave... Those streets feel like driving through a mall these days... Restaurants, Cell-Phone stores, gimmicks as storefronts selling shit no one can afford without a credit-card.
Dragging the overwhelming feelings from The Butler County, Ohio 'dooming-brand drag' of Suburbiastate southward, its in my humble opinion that those particular feelings of isolation, loneness and anxiety of futile gloom aren't just mine brought from my community. In fact, by end of the night Id find out that anxiety is pretty common... In Cincinnati, what once was a close-knit community of artist and creatives, has faltered with the influx of a 'toxic urban industry' type of commercialism. Everything is a gimmick these days. Motherfuckers wearing flip-flops afraid to smoke their smoke or sneak beers in bars anymore (because they cant afford bar bought beer) have forgotten the dirt in alley ways... Carrying around fancy fucking water bottles. Aint it great to hydrate–FUCK the Fuck Off! Stay thirsty fuckers! Stingy, good smelling people, EVERY WHERE THERES PEOPLE (not a drop to drink) with hands that smell like their jobs that wont talk to bums anymore... We, as a creative community, in the most basic sense of the word (CREATIVE), cant get above–nor should we EVER–our raising. We can still laugh, sing-aloud and LAUGH as these new shaven legged young men with kept beards roll their eyes and take pictures of us to later shame in memes to their 'bras... Fuck those guys and 'their scene' ya know? Theres 'REAL' out there that needs to be kept. The leisure miles show me, and reiterate, that we creatives need to recommit ourselves to building a better ourselves and better each others... Create, again, a foundation and positive place, section, refuge for ourselves and each other in the process making the public safe again from all our mind-demon anxieties. We gotta rebuild our circles, our community, our mission. Those leisure miles, occupied with memories and many laughs, left me feeling glad that I put some pants on, lathered myself in deodorant... Itd been easy to stay home sitting in my underwear eating $1 snacks from The Dollar Tree. Im glad I slipped my 'gunslinger' shirt on... Drove to the middle of Butler County, blasting LOVE at loud volumes... Went outta my way to get away. Found myself once more with Z-Dub and further more with the entire shows attending zeros: Tenders, Detective Backie, Aug, Jason Snell, Adrian.. We all gotta help each other get thru whatever you wanna call this 'modern war on creatives' because we cant do it alone... We tried and all its gotten us is feeling alone and abandoned and scared. Fuck that shit.
CRAIG FOX opened the night with his neo roots river blues, filling the room with voice and guitar as bar tabs climbed ever higher to accompany and accent the rock and roll just as the Comet 'burrito smell' off sets everyones own personal 'public smellings' chemicals. It was pleasant to see Craig smile and feel good about playing (I assume) but looking through the room and seeing several local stalwarts from many great bands, it wouldn't be far fetched for him to assemble a band that could rival anything he has had before with those watching as a spectator. Either way, Its good to see Craig play and greater to hear him.
Its bands like The Buffalo Killers that others should pay attention to as examples of how to be in a band and be successful. Even though they dont keep their methods secret, others can watch how its done but will more-or-less still fuck it all up. Ten years ago I went to see The Buffalo Killers play... They let me invade their space and take pictures and were great people enough to allow my photography to bepart of their album. The Buffalo Killers kept it real mother-fucking real. The realist of the real.
Their set exemplified the fact that these guys have played countless shows and not only sounded perfect at The Comet but made it look easy. Their set was a great mix of old and new spanning their entire 10 year history and even some newer stuff yet to be released. "Path Before Me" took on a spine-chilling, nipple-erecting air about itself making the hair stand on back of my own neck. The most beautiful part of the night was when they ended and people thought they were going to get an encore... Because thats what happens right? You clap and carry on, you take a minute to ease a burrito-fart out knowing that you can get away with it in a crowd now which is better then later when you and your beauty are smashing privates with your sexual interest... Well, what you dont realize is that they just played a whole set for you, at you and WITH you. Choosing not to subscribe to the third greatest lie of rock and roll: This is our last song... The Buffalo Killers chose to tell you the truth, splaying it all out there. They announced their last song, played their last song and reiterated after the juke box began playing again after being asked if they were going to play a few more, answering "No." Abercrombie & Fitch, McDonalds, Starbucks and K-Mart may lie to you, but The Buffalo Killers dont.
MY SHIRT PLAYED THIS SONG
"What stain are you wearing?" He ask, as he takes a long pull of ice water thru a straw, un-snaps his shirt to reveal a half-dollar sized coffee stain near the color of his white T-shirt. With the Desmond Dekkar classic "A It Mek" blasting through The Comets juke-box that many people claim to be populated with beautiful, rock-bringing stagnate cuts providing soundtracks for endless high & low moments to everyone within earshot, my companions dont seem to understand the question until they look hard enough through the soft neon fed light revealing the coffee stain–my fourth favorite shade of a color.
"Oh! Uh... A cheese coney." was ne answer. "Semen stains, maybe some skid marks on my underwear..." was another.
"Those are excellent and appropriate answers gentlemen" I replied before easing out a hot burrito fart that blended right into the surroundings. Better here, than later.
"Thee Path Before Mee" With Thee Shams, Buffalo Killers, Greenhorns, Desmond Dekkar, Swamp Dogg. http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzxrMeAN06xV0wDKyjloRWdAHkQS_8iPl