/ The God*amn Gallows / American Werewolves / Scoliosis Jones
Monday, Jun 03, 2013 8:30 PM EDT
(7:30 PM Doors)
Grog Shop, Cleveland Heights, OH
Man, these days everyone with a chipped tooth and a bad haircut says they’re street punk. It’s almost gotten to the point where it just seems like gimmickry, like being bi-polar or good looking. But once in a while, a dude who works in a warehouse gets together with a truck driver and makes shit kickin’ punk rock songs so ball-smashingly radical that they end up getting the guys from Me First and the Gimme Gimmes and One Man Army to help ‘em sing, and the end result is everybody’s favorite San Francisco institution that isn’t completely riddled with glory holes, the Swingin’ Utters. I know what you’re saying: what the fuck am I doing reading a Swingin’ Utters bio in 2013? Sure, they’re pretty much the trailblaizenist band that ever decided to put grandpa’s banjo and spittoon next to the marshall full stacks and the booze, but what have they done lately? Well, I’ll tell you, you impudent young whippersnapper. They’ve recorded Here, Under Protest, the single best album of their already award winning career (handsomest ballsack on a punk, 2001-02 [Darius]) and that’s saying something. It’s, as Ron Burgundy would attest, a pretty big deal.
It’s a big deal because the Utters have been kicking ass since even before 1995’s The Streets Of San Francisco, which was so good that it got them signed to Fat Wreck Chords (back when that was a hard thing to do [Heyo!]), got them the attention of pretty much everyone that listens to good, aggressive music, got them on the Warped Tour and even won them a Bay Area Music award or two. Now, I know what you’re thinking, and sure, awards shows can be a self congratulatory blow-a-thon, but when a bunch of vagabonds like the Utters stroll in drunk wearing Dickies and tee shirts and stagger out with some awards, to the chagrin of all the dipshits, well, that’s pretty cool, right? Of course.