Per the request of Mr. Kenneth Eugene Cox, I’m gonna try to do “This Week in RAGE!” well, weekly. Lucky for you I’m ready to hand out more verbal ass-whoopin’s today. So without further ado, it’s time for This Week in RAGE!: Music Edition.

Number 3: Preteen girls at concerts

I attended a show at the Hawthorne Theater last night with my buddy Ross Uthoff. Hellogoodbye was headlining, with PlayRadioPlay, Ace Enders and Never Shout Never opening. While these acts were all quite entertaining, I only got to see the last two songs of the first act, Never Shout Never, because of these stupid preteen girls. Know why? Well, being in, naturally, the Hawthorne District, everyone had to get searched before they went into the show. The doors opened at 6, show started at 7. The inherent problem is that every single fucking one of these ‘tweens had an unnecessarily large purse which had to be dug through by security before they could enter. The result? I didn’t get inside until 7:45.

The couple behind us in line didn’t get tickets ahead of time, and was just hoping there’d be a few left for them to snatch up. This was not the case. As we neared the front, they found this out and, having chatted with us for the hour-plus we’d been in line, they told us to “have fun with the 12-year-olds,” to which two of these ‘tween-queens said “Hey! 12-year-olds are fun!”

…really? Are you fucking serious? You really think that the people who are old enough to drive, smoke and drink legally are going to think you’re fun? Fuck off.

And then the screaming—sweet baby Jesus, the screaming. Just shut the fuck up, kids. Enjoy the show, bob your head, jump up and down, and don’t make my god damn eardrums rupture every time they play a song you like. Luckily for me, they were serving AMF’s in the 21+ section of the venue, so after two of those, a vodka-tonic and a few Bud Lights, it didn’t bother me as much as it had earlier.

Number 2: Shitty covers of songs you shouldn’t be covering

The second-to-last act last night, Ace Enders, opened with a cover of The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony.” When I first heard the drums I knew immediately what it was, and my excitement lasted approximately 0.001 seconds. Know why? Because they had NO, I repeat, NO strings. They had a recording of the violin/viola from that song, and that’s it. You know why you shouldn’t have covered that song, Ace Enders? Because you don’t have anyone playing the goddamned fiddle. You mean to tell me that out of the 20-ish people who were playing there that night, not one of them has ever screwed around with the violin enough to pull off the same five notes over and over again? Get the fuck off the stage. More importantly, do you think there were any more than 10 people in the crowd old enough to know “Bittersweet Symphony”? Absolutely not. Ross and I were belting it out, and we were the only people I saw doing so, because most of the people there were either two years old when that song came out, or too busy changing those kids’ diapers to have heard it when it came out.

And as good as Hellogoodbye was, they too did a shitty cover that seemingly no one but Ross and I knew—Reel Big Fish’s “Beer” on the ukulele. Though entertaining, you think any little 12 year old shithead even knows what ska is, let alone Reel Big Fish? Hell no they don’t. In my head, I could hear conversation I would have had if I had a daughter there:

“Daddy, what’s that weird music they’re playing?”

“Something you’ll never appreciate, dear. Now pipe down, Daddy’s been reminded of something very important by this song.”

<<commence boozing to help forget the musical inadequacies of my child>>.

Number 1: That guy at the show

You know exactly about whom I’m speaking. That guy who wears the shirt of the band he’s going to see, or buys some merch and then puts it on immediately. Really? We’re seeing Hellogoodbye and Ace Enders? No shit! I thought this was fucking SLAYER shredding some “Reign Blood” on us. Get the fuck out of the theatre, you’re an embarrassment to us all.

Don’t be mistaken, I bought merch while I was there, but I did what you’re supposed to do: ball that shirt up, jam it in your pocket, and wear it the next day.