Tonight the blood flowed and cigarettes scorched at the Brighton Bar in Long Branch, NJ when the Sniperz opened for Tilt A Whirl and the Millionaire Reverends. Jacko, the intrepid promoter for The Bridghton Bar in Long Branch, had the balls to put the Sniperz onstage again, after their raunchy January debut, and the ensuing madness set the stage for another night of truly gritty musical entertainment. With a stomache full of rum and veins full of...um...adrenaline (sure, sounds good), I entered the CB's by the Sea of Brigton Bar and proceeded to pay about five bucks for quality entertainment, yet again.
I remember seeing The Dickies here during my youth at this place, which ranks among the high points of my post-high school existence, but tonight's entertainment showcased some of the most wild punk rock madness that could take the sleepy Jersey Shore city to Hell.
As an opening band, the Sniperz fucked everything up. They showed up late, the lead singer seemed more wasted than Iggy Pop circa 1973, and the drummer was apparently their lead guitarist sitting in for erstwhile drummer Johnny Larkin (of The Golden Dawn). Going White Stripes' style (one guitarist/vocalist and one drummer/vocalist), the audio-terrorists blared through ten or eleven disgusting songs about AIDS, abortion, heroin, Ronald Reagan and sundry other terrifying topics with gleeful abandon and skilless hatred for their audience. Not since the days of Dead Boys and GG Allin has a band cared less about caring and more about offending.
Lead Vocalist/guitarist Patrick Splat fucked up his own songs, lost his pants mid-set, feigned (?) masturbation, broke at least two strings, and spewed all manner of anti-social lyrics and thoroughly demeaning stage patter before vomiting into a bag from dopesickness. Drummer Jay D smashed away at the kit like a lion on a hyena. His background vocals provided a healthy support to Splat's snotty ramblings in a way that evoked some of the most exemplary germs gigs.
Tilt a Whirl mercifully took the stage from the Ocean County kooks to provide a breezy, punkish sonic fest of soaring melodies until the Millionaire Reverends worked their primal, gospel-cum-stooges rhythms out over the crowd. In all, I wound up having to hang out with the biggest assholes that played that evening- the local boys Snipers (never knew hell was local). Never see this band. Never unless you want to get fucked till your're sore in the parking lot afterward, like I did. Check out the Millionaire Reverends and Tilt A Whirl, though. They won't puke or bleed on you.
The Snipers Puke and Burn In Long Branch 03/09/05