Missile Toe Show Diary

Mantis Gallery-Kent Ohio, December 8, 2001. 

With The Strange Division, Kill the Hippies and two other bands.

Set list: (Incomplete and probably incorrect) Rubber City Rebels, Ballroom Blitz, Somebody to Love, Ballroom Blitz, 20^th Century Boy, Santa Claus is Coming Town, Rudolf, Merry Christmas, War is Over, Nuttin’ for Christmas, Frosty the Snowman, Gloria, Auld Lang Syne.

It is almost impossible to accurately describe the experience of playing a show at the venerable Mantis Gallery. It is simultaneously hideous and wonderful. The key to this kind of gig is mental preparation. You have to realize that this is the bottom of the rock and roll barrel and you have entered a world without rules, contracts, agreements, promises or even basic sanitation. The Mantis, operated by old friend Sam Ludwig, is something of an enigma. More junk-store/abandoned building than gallery, the venue has hosted a serious chunk of the Kent post-punk scene. A good portion of the Mantis history (as well the NE Ohio rock scene in general) has been documented and archived by historian in residence, Jimi Imij.

Jeff offers a lift and I accept. Inside I look for a clean, dry place to store my gear. With the lights low the Mantis resembles an abandoned flat that has been reoccupied by post-modern tribe of squatters. I imagine it to be similar to squat occupied by the Clash in their early days. The space is cold and dank and I wonder about the my last tetanus inoculation. It smells funny and although there are several couches I decide to remain standing. I mentally prepare myself for the all-out free-for all that will commence shortly.

Soon enough one of the other bands arrives. They stack their equipment on or around ours and I begin to worry about accessing the Canadian lager that I have brought in my “bleu” box. More bands enter and bring more stuff. I doubt if the Rolling Stones have this much gear when they tour. Of course the first item of business is at least a tentative order of acts for the evening. The band that got there soon after we did does not want to go one first. They carp something about their light show and they want to go on second and this whaa and that whaa. Normally we wouldn’t even be involved in discussions about who will be the first or even second out of five but Mike wants to clear out early so he and Lynn can catch the Evil Beaver set at the Spider. Being an older wiser veteran of this sort of thing I know in my heart of hearts that they will go on first.

Without any personal investment on my part the first band sets their gear onstage. The Mantis is full of boys and girls that all seem to have one thing in common. Everywhere I look people carry 12 packs of Carlings Black Label Beer. The first band begins and almost immediately they are ruffling the feathers of some of the audience members. Apparently the no-vocal slow sludgy sound of this band isn’t what these people call rock and roll. The throng hurls pejorative as well as more substantial missiles. I am somewhat surprised by their behavior. This group, bathed in dim blue light is producing a slow and groovy delay soaked two-chord sonic stew. I like them but I seem to be one of the few that do. Dale is a little worried that we may have trouble “reaching” this audience. No worries as I am pretty sure we speak the native lingo. I snake my way back to the equipment stash and begin to mentally engineer the extraction of my gear from the pile of amps, speakers and guitars in the corner. Next I decide to stand in line for the rest room. When it is my turn I find the sanitary facilities to be in such a state of disrepair that I am unable to use them. I exit and the woman waiting takes my place. Believe me when I tell you that I can not comprehend how or where anyone peed in that bathroom. This development may (or may not) have a significant effect on the amount of malted beverages I will be consuming for the remainder of the evening.

A quick band meeting to discus the first few songs. I lobby for the Christmas songs but am vetoed by Jeff. First band off –us on. I grab an A Major chord and let it hang. This is our no-sound-check trick to get the stage levels about right. The others do the same and we slam into “Rubber City Rebels”. What I saw next was a little hard to understand. The place looked like a bomb exploded in the room. There were arms and legs and heads and torsos everywhere. Guys were shaking beers and spraying foam into the air and the slamming the half full Carlings on the ground (oh the brewmanity). The people were jumping and moshing in a manner that appeared to defy gravity. For the most part the crowd stayed off of the stage, only occasionally spilling onto my space. Once the undulating mass unplugged my pedalboard. From stage-left Lynn gives me the international sign to turn up. I do so but just a little, as I am all ready cranking the Marshall. I don’t want to bury Jeff’s vocals and worry about the PA systems ability to deliver the Christmas cheer. The sound system is almost as decrepit as the Mantis itself but somehow manages to keep up nicely. Song after song the room intensity intensifies very intensely, ya-know-wha-im-sain’? For a brief moment my mind races to recount events earlier in the evening. Was this a the same room that was about 45 degrees Fahrenheit about an hour ago? Did the first band of shoe lookers really want to follow this animal act? Can people really spontaneously combust? Where am I going to pee after our set?

Someone shouts out a request for “Nuttin for Christmas” at the precise moment we were going to play it. Jeff has the room chanting the Joan Jet Yea-oh-Yea call and answer but we fail to sustain it as we start the song. We have the place rocking so hard I am beginning to fear for the crowd’s safety. Its Gloria and Auld Lang Syne and we are off. One very happy fan stops me to relate in a graphic sense the physical reaction he had experienced when we played Rubber City Rebels. We watch the Hippies and Strange division and head out. We gave it our all tonight and I think they understood.

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