Short & Sweet Review
Cancerslug ruled at The Metro in SLC.
Setlist cut short to 45 min by the venue.
Attendance was very poor -- maybe 25 peeps by the stage.
Crowd was lame -- cept for a very few die-hards up front center.
Got my schwag + rare CS vinyl = Glad I went = \m/
Long & Brutal Review
I was so pumped up for Cancerslug to hit SLC, I networked the entire Horde throughout this pestilential withered up valley, figuring I could generate a solid turnout to a show that just smelled legendary, and who could fucking blame me really--it's CANCERSLUG. Well not only did every last one of my friends blow me off--nobody showed up, every single one had some lame excuse, well guess what. They didn't miss out on too much because THE METRO is clearly the sorriest excuse for a cancerslug venue that could possibly have been arranged. To all my friends: you may have saved yourselves 14 bucks and missed a wicked 45 min set on account of the ass wipe crowd who just stood there like protein deficient zombies drooling on their shoes. Fuck everyone who went to that show, you suck. I was so ready for this show. I wore my contacts so my glasses wouldn't get shattered. But if you were only there--you, too, would have stood by stupefied by the few brave souls that gathered in front of cancerslug only to disrespect them entirely. Well not really, they paid to get in but I was pretty bummed, I'm just venting here. Gimme a break. Otherwise the band kicked ass. They started off their set with a rousing rendition of Die On The Battlefield to some fist pumping from the crowd. More than once during the intro for the first few songs, Alex mentioned in his usual way "you can dance to it, you know what that is right, you move your body around, try it you might have some fun," and made some disparaging observations about what he only assumed to be a mormon crowd, so completely lifeless. Second song is my favorite off their latest, "Generation Behind." Me and a couple of others were the only ones who began dancing right then. I thought to myself surely someone will shove me and start the pit up, but it never came. If you're reading this you're probably wondering well then why didn't you start the pits--and all I have to say is, one look at these miserable fucksticks was enough to fill me with pity for them. Oh shit, triggerwarning. Granted there were several real fans front center headbanging and showing their support; but the rest of the crowd (maybe 25 people in all) were over the hill sad sacks in their denim jackets holding on to their lukewarm beers, or young kids too a-feared for having strayed that far from their local chapter's teats. I just didn't have the heart to shatter their forlorn world. Meanwhile, Alex is obviously getting just a tad disgustipated with the lack of slam dancing, and I knew then they weren't going to stick around much longer--and who the fuck could blame them. At one point, Wolfman made another derisive comment about where were the pitchers etc. Ironically enough, I was going to buy pitchers for any of my friends who showed up, but considering it was a Thursday night, I suppose I should cut them some slack for their excuses. Well fuck all that. They missed out on a cancerslug set, albeit aborted by the dumbfounded dipshits standing around like they've never been to this sort of a show before. And I can't stress enough that it's too bad none of my die hard friends showed up, on account of what a fucking lame evening it turned out to be--or should I hold them accountable for not showing up?-Ha, maybe- cuz if only six of them had done so, we would have had some real fun then--and awoken the primal beast inside cancerslug that was just waiting for the shit to explode. The only thing that's crystal clear to me is that the evening was absolutely not cancerslug's fault, who gave it their all only to be returned dead stares and the few obligatory shouts and fist pumps at the end of each song. Sure, it had something to do with it being a Thursday night, I get that, but fuck The Metro that night.
*[Note: I found out after the show, from one of the slug cult members, that the real reason their setlist got cut short, was The Metro schedules their dance DJ for 10:15--forcing cancerslug to leave by then. So that's where the total and complete bullshit came from. Only after the band packed their equipment away did kids start to dance--to the DJ music. It's pretty pathetic on a level I can scarcely comprehend.] I feel like never stepping foot in that gawdawful club again, I don't care who plays. Don't ever book yourselves at this lame ass disco wannabe sorry excuse for a sad clown pancake makeup crusty goth dance club. Anyhow, cancerslug wrapped up their set but quick, seemingly disgusted with the SLC crowd, but there's always more to a story lurking beneath the surface. I was fucking mortified and ashamed by the turnout. A total embarrassment for Salt Lake. I went to the bar and bought a pitcher for the band after just a few songs--the bartender gave me 3 plastic cups to go with it--informing me that the guitarist didn't drink. So I purchase an additional pint of the amber beer for myself, and head over to the front of the stage, and place the full pitcher up there, with the glasses, so the band can clearly see I bought them the beer that Alex had derided us about. Turns out they never ended up drinking any of it. I didn't even get a chance to drink any of it--I was going to share with them, ya know--but to give them credit, they were exhausted from driving miles through the mountain, "pneumonia brought us to you" explained Dick Solid, and they were hell bent on driving the hell out of Dodge. And who wouldn't respect that. The slug cult knows they're also "Dick Solid & the Ratchettes...now that we're not cancerslug;" it's an in joke. I don't hold any of this lame Thursday night against them, I could see how pissed off Cassie (their awesome bass player) was. So I helped the band lug their equipment off the stage to facilitate their escape from this boring pit stop of jerk offs. Then outside, Cassie showed me their merch, and I bought one of the few remaining die hard vinyls (dark green) of their very first LP on vinyl release seasons of sickness... They wanted $35 for it which really rubbed me the wrong way at first, but I relented on account of the fact I just wanted to help support the band, help them on their way across this desolate western landscape so they could hopefully have a better time in the next city (Idaho Falls). I intended to get two T-shirts because I was bound and determined to hook up my friend Vince Daemon, who turned me on to this fucking killer band. Cassie did not seem happy with me at all--she just wanted to get the fuck out of that place--and I don't blame her! I probably came off like a dick myself, because no matter what I said, it was met with turned heads or ignored. Just one of those nights. The band was mostly super nice to me. Mike their drummer was so cool, and I got to hang with Alex Story out in the parking lot, he was extremely cool to me. Like I said I don't blame Cassie--I would've been fuming myself had I been in their place. Here's to hoping I catch up with cancerslug another time in another venue--so we can have some real fun together slam dancing as the Devil intended, heh. Here's to you Cassie *raises beer* and everyone in the band, and all their fans. I apologized to every member of the band on account of the super lame crowd that night. When their set finally ended, cut short after the 45 minutes--the pathetic excuse of a crowd applauded as if they were at some tea party instead. I shouted out loud, "I APOLOGIZE ON ACCOUNT OF MY HOSE HEAD BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN SALT LAKE" which was uber nerdy and came across all wrong. Even my best friends who were no shows, lucked out on missing me I guess. They would have wasted their time and money on account of the dead crowd literally aborting the cancerslug show. I had to empty my pockets at their van of all the cash I had left on me--$68--after having bought the band a pitcher they never even got to drink. It just wasn't in the stars that night. But I ended up with a cool patch and a shirt and the killer vinyl, which was supposed to end up being a total of $70--so we cashed out and they left. Can't blame 'em one bit for wanting to just move on down the road to (hopefully) a better venue and crowd. It was an ugly experience befitting the spirit of wretched, rotten nihilism permeating the cult. I had an ugly time with a small crowd of dead beats, but we got to listen to a killer sounding set. That's what matters. I can't repeat enough that it wasn't the bands fault. Their set albeit cut short was stellar rock and roll fury. I'm so fucking stoked I decided to give em all my money to end up with this vinyl LP because it is fucking killer! There is no doubt I made the right choice. I'm listening to it now--gotta flip it over to side 2 in fact, for some lessons in death. I had half a mind to let Alex carve the crescent moon crossed by a lightning bolt that signifies CS right between my shoulder blades with his knife, as a sort of penance--haha/deadpan kidding. I sure hope they fare better in Idaho Falls, because The Metro crowd was an embarrassment I'll never live down. And hey, Vinnie: no, I didn't snap any pics, because my cellphone is a sorry piece of shit. Neither did I have em sign my vinyl, just meeting them was enough for me. I'm damn lucky to end up with this flagship die hard vinyl first edition for the band. A legendary underground item if there ever was one for this sick and jaded age. Nothing again will be alright for you and I are on this road to hell relax and let it burn. Your fear and pain now are setting like the sun. Fuck all of you, I'm done.