bad brains or just bad editing?

Watching Bad Brains last week was amazing. It was the review that I was required to do after that wasn’t. It took me most of Friday to finish it, and then when I asked my girlfriend (a journalism major) to look it over to see if it needed any editing, that’s when tensions rose. Her arguments were simple: say what you can in as few words as possible. What I couldn’t take was the reformation of my sentences. Little turns of phrase I was using were completely obliterated for want of a flowing paragraph. In the end, it made sense, and I thank her for her efforts. Numerous times though, we blew up in each other’s face, frustrated with the fact that it was leading to an argument, no doubt. Whatever it was, I sent the article off on Sunday afternoon a complete, concise bundle of joy. I have enclosed my finished product for your perusal, and I intend to post the finished product after the publication is done with it. The difference just might be monumental.
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To be published on Jambase.com at some point in the near future:

The vibe in Amsterdam’s Paradiso last night was something to reckon with. We were there for one reason and one reason alone: to witness the reforming of the original line up with Dr. Know, Earl Hudson, Darryl Jenifer and H.R., formally known as hardcore punk icons Bad Brains. When these legendary Rastafarians took stage to kick out their typical repertoire, which moves from sensuous dub reggae into blasting hardcore (as if the two were meant for each other,) eyes lit up.

Their set featured a mix of new and old songs, fast and slow, politically motivated and emotionally inspired. With H.R. at centre stage, his persona, once that of a no-nonsense and politically devoted Rasta, has mellowed considerably. This is a massive contrast to his overly animated and wildly aggressive stage performances of the late 70’s and early 80’s when the band first started playing shows. He donned white-rimmed sunglasses and a headscarf of sorts that closely resembled something that your grandmother would have draped over her coffee table. Displaying his trademark Cheshire Cat grin, H.R. stood at the microphone with little movement, switching between Nixon-esque peace signs and pressing his hands together like he was praying to his own private god.

“You’re such an energetic crowd!” H.R. told the crowd, in the sold out Paradiso. The band weaved through their varied songbook, including everyone’s favourite songs, starting with Sailin’ On and ending with Supertouch. Watching Dr. Know’s fingers rip across the frets like wildfire, I could see why Bad Brains are one of the most influential hardcore punk bands ever formed. But no matter what the song, whether it was backed by soft reggae beats of I Luv I Juh and I and I Survive or the heavy and screeching guitars of songs like Banned in D.C., Right Brigade and The Big Takeover, the crowd danced appropriately.

The only disappointment of the show was the length of the set: a paltry hour. For a cover charge of just over eighteen euros, one expects more than that. The punters knowingly agreed with me, filtering their disappointments into hundreds of plastic beer cups that were hurled on stage following the band’s exit from the stage.

As a fan of hardcore punk since I was a troublesome teenager, seeing Bad Brains live was, in a way, a relief. Growing up, bands like Bad Brains, Black Flag, Dead Kennedys and Minor Threat were the cornerstones of the hardcore punk scene. So, as you could imagine, this was a definitive moment for me as a fan of hardcore music.