So, Tuesday night the Architect and I were in Philly at the Fillmore (formerly the TLA on South Street). We were fourth (and fifth) in line. Despite the fact they had sold VIP passes and a huge amount of people were let in before us, we were still able to get front and center on the floor. The metal growler band Meshuggah opened. Some ingenious headbanger tried to deliver me from my financial woes by offering me ten bucks for my spot in the front row. When I refused his generous offer, he proceeded to elbow the shit out of me for Meshuggah’s entire set. Thankfully, it was only eight songs long. Then, Ministry took the stage. The metalhead went away, but no one else did. The crowd swarmed, and I was pinned to the barrier for the remaining two hours. I was kicked in the head by crowd surfers twice, and hit in the shoulders by combat boots numerous times. I quickly learned to duck whenever the bouncer in front of me pointed at the crowd; it meant another surfer was coming. My ribs are now bruised from the barrier, and my shoulders and back are a colorful mix of bruise and broken blood vessels. Yep, my old ass got handed to me by the swarm of crazed youth. But, even as my feet were screaming at me to get off of them and my spine was aching mercilessly from the constant gouge of elbows, the last set came to a close. And, at the end of the show that marked Ministry’s last tour, Al Jorgensen reached down and handed me his guitar pick.
I’m one happy, battered girl.
Oh, and did I mention I’m still deaf? Crank this up to eleven and you’ll see why: