Many More Reasons why Capitol Hill is a Horrible Place

Last night we played the Comet Tavern. We were psyched ’cause we were on the bill with three touring bands ranging from New York, Japan, San Francisco to Olympia. Not so psyched ’cause we were in Capitol Hill and we would be performing last (and on a four band bill at the Comet, this virtually guarantees a 12:45 a.m. to 1 a.m. start — which on a Thursday night, is not ideal). We (Wah Wah Exit Wound) were pretty burned out from our own various daily personal lives and ready to watch the bands and go on and go home. But of course, this is Capitol Hill.

Note please, that the pepper spray was not from the Comet crowd or the freaky rock folks and hipsters hanging about, but the ridiculous club Sugar next door where occasionally four man brawls would spill out into the streets.

Next door to the Comet is a club called “Seattle’s Club Sugar.” Anyone who starts a bar and names it “sugar” should be locked away for life. Must’ve been some reason to be at Sugar on a Thursday night, because the line outside of the bar (who the fuck waits in lines) was packed with boys in mens bodies (and by boys I do not mean it as a compliment — for “boy” also represents some sort of youthful eagerness, curiousity and adventure — the Huck Finn boy, but these boys were “boys” in the negative sense of the term — the kids who made fun of “nerds,” put all their faith into their Babe Ruth league baseball team, and probably buy penis extension pills) and girls dressed in what were truly “Fuck Me” outfits. Not even “fuck me” outfits. More like, “Fuck me now. Right here. I don’t care who you are. Fuck me now. I have nothing else going on. Fuck me Now” outfits. It was almost as though every girl from 17 to 25 who had got breast implants in the greater Seattle area was attempting to get into club Sugar. Odd — but whatever.

So the bands start playing: T.I.T.S. started it off. An all girl group from San Francisco who had incredible noise guitar capabilities and the incredible capability to get guys to buy them drinks while performing. A noisier harder edged Sonic Youth vibe with some of the circular repetitiveness of Mission of Burma thrown in. Next up was Nymph from New York/Japan — an hour of spaced out psych rock that may have worn out it’s welcome, but was still entertaining and energetic. Third band Nudity sets up and begins on their set when there’s a commotion outside and people running out into Pike Street, screaming, chaos in general and then the word gets around that some security guards or cops or something had sprayed pepper spray into the crowd. Quickly, the evil aerosol creeped it’s way into the Comet causing burning eyes, burning mouths, and coughing throughout the club. No one could really get in our out in until the remnants of the spray had left. People were walking in with bandanas over their mouths, looking like criminals and such, but just trying to avoid the spray.

Note please, that the pepper spray was not from the Comet crowd or the freaky rock folks and hipsters hanging about, but the ridiculous club Sugar next door where occasionally four man brawls would spill out into the streets.

Around the same time of the pepper spray racaous, just as Nudity began playing the power in the entirety of the Comet blew and it was about a 15 minute wait until they could start up again. People began wandering out, but not before another fight and pepper spray incident from the Sugar crowd occured outside. Around this time a friend of mine came running inside panicked with words of cops since he was around the corner catching a buzz with other friends. Turns out some plain clothes cops who were escorting a harem (quite literally) of the fine ladies of the Sugar away had approached them, simply said “This is the police,” grabbed their pipe, smashed it into the ground, took their booze & other substances and walked away. (Not exactly the kosher or legal conduct for law enforcement.)

When Nudity finally began playing again, they somehow managed to find a way to chew out the sound guy. He had asked them to turn down and the club owner declared all vocals must be shut off. As a reaction, instead of complying with the wishes of sound guy and bar owner on an already chaotic night, they proceeded to be rude and play a longer set (that started later) than they had promised of aimless psych-go-nowhereness long after the sound guy had asked them to quit playing.

We didn’t get to go on until very late. Nudity was not quick in taking down their gear so we simply sat up on the floor so we’d have the possibility at playing at all, starting around 1:00 a.m.

I found out later in the night that my friend, Kako, went to her car to get something and fell down on the walk back after tripping. Some of the boys who were at the Sugar crowd simply walked by her, looked, and demanded, “Get up bitch!” before walking off.

Thanks to all you kind folks who stuck around to check out Wah Wah’s set and to T.I.T.S. and Nymph for being cool folks. Fuck it all to Capitol Hill, the chaos, the cops, dance clubs, and scenes that condone, promote, and encourage violence, pepper spray, and assholeitis through promoting antediluvian ideals in man.

Mad props to Dave Abramson, who was working sound, for keeping the whole thing together, getting the power working again, and keeping his cool throughout the chaos.

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