Meat Market

After indulging in shrimp ceviche, a slab of spicy steak, and finding myself at the bottom of a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon (I wasn't alone, I swear.) at the very American-yet-still-tasty-Peruvian eatery, Chimu, I moseyed next door to the bar also well-known for it's meat factor (or meet factor), Union Pool. Showcasing a photobooth, Union Pool, has always been a huge draw for me, as I'm a photobooth addict.
Union Pool is also the place to go in the neighborhood if you are just looking for one night of hot sweaty, skinny jeaned, flannel shirted, beardy passion. Not that I know from personal experience or anything. Cough.

That's neither here nor there though. Last night, as I was sitting in the smokestack that is the back patio of Union Pool swigging back the last of my $2.50 PBR (Shutup.), the high pitch of trumpets and the low blow of a trombone began attacking the air. Just as the baffled faces of my fellow imbibers seemed as if they may have been questioning that last shot of well tequila, a brass band marched through the back gate making a beeline to the special events room of the bar. Being the curious cat that I am, I had to see what the ruckus was about to find myself right smack in the middle of the official CD release party for Vice Records' newest recruit, Dark Meat (AKA Dark Meat Vomit Lasers Family Band.) What an amazing band.

Consisting of 2 drummers, a full brass orchestra, multiple guitars, vocalists, and I think I saw a violinist running around somewhere in the mix, Dark Meat are a band sure to be likened to the Polyphonic Spree on acid or maybe David Koresh's flock with instruments. They are sure to disagree with these comparisons, and I guess I do too, for the most part. This Athens, GA based band boasts 17 members (I only counted 12 onstage), some of which all live together in a communal "100 acre eco-village" called Orange Twin, which could lead to some cultish misconceptions. Cult or not, the product of their mass codependency is pretty magical. Heavy metal guitars are countered by male-female gospel vocals, while the aforementioned brass band plays between big band and free jazz. Eerie and haunting, as much as it was energetic and pumping with the life, this show was one of the best I've seen all year. Sometimes Vice does suck, but not this time, folks.

Strange coincidence of the night: I found out Jim McHugh (singer/guitarist) owned the shithole "music venue" The Onion Cellar in Greensboro, NC. I'm pretty sure he gave me a beer once, while blaring Thin Lizzy out of his van many moons ago. Small world.