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| Queen of the Stone Age by Andres Cortes |
Spending weeks meditating on shaking booty to wicked guitar riffs, the potential awesomeness of hearing one of the best rock albums ever recorded and the million different kinds of hot Josh Homme was going to be, it all came down to one great night at Terminal 5 hosted by Queens of the Stone Age celebrating the re-release of their classic self-titled debut.
In hopes of getting a choice spot near the stage and nowhere near the ultra-violence of the pit, I braved the cold for 2 hours prior to doors in the line. While waiting for Snail a nice mutton-chopped young man named Joe engaged in conversation to fight the anxiety brought on by time's slow toll and the bitter freeze. In our short time together I learned he had never heard Queens of the Stone Age with the exception of "Mexicola" and came hoping to discover the rest of the album was as great. By door time, unfortunately we lost him to the masses and never saw him again, bummer.
Instead of hanging with a cool dude all night, we were by a few jerks meaning the stretch of time between coming inside and Queens of the Stone Age was going to feel like an eternity if we weren't into the opening band. And so we suffered. Not in the mood for the croak of the Dough Rollers' 50s blues rock revival, we stood there trying not to stare at the piercing red glow of the digital clock on the stage but failed miserably.
The clock crawled its way to 9pm, the band hit the stage donned in signature black to crank out the whole of Queens of the Stone Age. Watching these guys play you can't help but think requirements for being in QOTSA include the ability to make Joshua Homme and the audience horny as shit and light the stage on fire when you play because that's exactly what they did they were so tight.
Beautiful bastard Homme hammered through the set powered by his favorite endurance cocktail: vodka and cigarettes. When he wasn't killing us playing sweet riffs and gyrating that Elvis pelvis, he served some drunken comic relief at random intervals of the set: poking a bit of fun at the QOTSA newbs, telling dick jokes, heckling assholes, hitting on everyone and giving sage advice on the essence of cool. The always sharp Troy Van Leeuwen's fancy footwork overheated us, that man is way too classy. We geeked out for the win, happy our air-guitar skills matched -- however vaguely -- the way Homme and Troy played.
To our wonderful surprise, the guys didn't quit after the 45-minute or so length of their debut we got not one but two encore sets. The first included "Turnin' on the Screw," "Long Slow Goodbye," and "Little Sister." The second "Burn the Witch," "Make It Wit Chu," and "No One Knows." I've never been a huge fan of "No One Knows" but it made me really nostalgic for ever-shirtless low-end wonder Nick Oliveri :( All in all, however, the set was of epic epicness.
The only thing that matched it's greatness was Josh's gray guitar pick landing on Snail's cowl neck sweater. One sly move into her bra later, it was saved from the clueless, salivating front-row fanboys who looked down at the floor with sheer desperation wondering where it had gone. It's now safely stored until we open up our dream office. Pow!
Needless to say, our souls were rocked and p-control littered the floor. We danced and scared the jerks behind us with our hypersexual movements, as usual. In our rock show afterglow, we ran into a cast of characters -- some cool dudes who cracked us up mock-singing Justin Bieber's "Baby" and many a drunk person, including one man literally so bent out of shape we thought he had a disability and one poor dude who couldn't get a break almost losing his mandal and later narrowly escaping a slip on a banana peel -- and reveled in the hotness and happy accident that made our night.
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