Cage the Elephant; Rage on Display

"I don't watch TV cause it's just a box of lies.
It makes me want to stick a tooth pick in my mind.
While the world goes down the drain I eat my popcorn from the bag.
Some people say that I've gone mad."

-Cage the Elephant, Indie Kids




Things were shaping up nicely for a hump day. Fall starts the slow season at my job so my days off, Monday-Wednesday, were at their peak. The three-day weekends sound sweet but they aren't all they're cracked up to be. I already don't make shit for money and losing Wednesdays means even less hours on my anemic paychecks. Bartending at a golf course in Ohio is seasonal work at best. At worst you sell plasma to make ends meet (you also get drunker faster) but all that is besides the point. There was a Low Dough Show hosted by CD 101 and we had tickets. Even better, there were four bands for the price of one. Like I sad, shaping up nicely for mid week.

In unplanned cemetery, there were also four members to the evenings crew. My close friend Shea two of her friends (Sara and Melony) and your's truly. I can assure you there are far worse things to do on a week night then hang out with three attractive single women even if you're all just friends. Girls make the best wingmen and I'll tell you why. Women are always fascinated by a man surrounded by chicks ... if they don't think you're gay that is and I don't get that a whole lot. It's probably the fact my beard and shaggy bed-head make me look homeless. I also still wear cloths from five seasons ago. Why donate cargo shorts to Good Will when they'll be back in style three summers from now? If you wait long enough, everything comes back around.

With a fifth of Jamison split between the four of us, a couple beers and some pharms down the hatch on the cab ride over we got to the LC Indoors adequately buzzed. The pills were uppers but I forget what they were called. The names change so often I don't really see the point in keeping up; I just need to know what they are going to do to me. Some type of amphetamine salt judging by the level of teeth grinding as the night wore on. I've never been a big pharm guy but free drugs are always the best drugs. This much I knew for sure, the little white tablets had us all feeling mighty fine.

While waiting in line for the bar we watched the first act, Grouplove, on the jumbo-tron. The Los Angeles based alternative rockers had started to make it big thanks to their smash hit Colours. Lead singer Christian Zucconi was sporting his signature Kurt Cobain cardigan and hair style to match. I enjoyed their energy and the sappy pop hooks are just tolerable enough to enjoy them being stuck in ones head. We made it to the floor in time for the mentioned song everyone was waiting to hear. You have to give the people what they want.

After their set we made haste to the smokers area on the opposite side of the venue. In a logistic debacle, people have to fight through the bathroom lines to get outside. Pushing through, bladder bursting patrons gave us dirty looks until we held up cigs signaling our intent. As Ive mentioned before (see CWK post) I hate everything about the inside portion of that place and this was not helping the LC's cause. We decided to smoke two each in hopes the nicotine fix would last twice as long.

Once we came back in the next band on the docket (Sleeper Agent) had just begun. We found the best spot we could which was still a shitty view, especially for my friends who are a good five inches shorter than me. The songs were forgettable but very spunky and high energy. My thing is if you're going to have a female lead singer she better bring it. These days every girl standing in front of a mic wants to be Karen O (of Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs fame) but the problem is Karen is actually talented. Half-way through their set I was still quite unimpressed.

By now the place was really starting to fill up and I could actually believe it was sold out as advertised. They were packing us in tighter and tighter; like cows waiting to be slaughtered. Crowds don't bother me but I couldn't say the same for one of my compadres. Sara was starting to freak out. Apparently she is pron to panic attacks and she was showing signs of an onset. The tremors were mild at first but grew in intensity until she could take it no longer. Shaking more than Michale J. Fox in an ice box, she bolted for the door with Melony in tow. Shea and I weren't going to miss the headliners for anything so we wished them well and said good-bye.

Company of Thieves, a band I'd heard of who isn't a one hit wonder, was next and their female lead singer was everything Sleeper Agents wasn't. For starters she was incredibly attractive, clapping out the beat with her tambourine and wailing in tune to the crisp guitar riffs. A tight petite package squeezed into a short disco-ball dress that shimmered in the light. Her mess of short dirty blond ringlets shook violently side to side when the mood was right. Her ass and the band held my attention from open to the close. They played my favorite song, Oscar Wild, last.

"We are all our own devils," she sang. "And we make this world our hell."

Pretty prolific for an 'indie-pop' band. Pause to let the poignant meaning of those words soak in.

Six beam and cokes, a few smokes and a drag on a strangers joint later ... it was time for the main event. I'd been a big fan of Cage the Elephant since I'd caught the end of their set at Bonnaroo '09. The music is good but their incredible mojo live was something to behold. People say bands are better live all the time but these guys truly embody the cliche. They also hold a special place in my heart, hailing from Bowling Green Kentucky, home of my fathers alma mater (Western Kentucky University) and just a couple hours away from my old stomping grounds at the University of Kentucky.

They were all flailing arms and headbanging mane from the get go. 'Wow' was the only thing Shea or I could say to one another the whole show. Way more punk than the indie fair of Grouplove, Sleeper Agent and Company of Thieves, they had twice the stage presence of the other acts combined. I soon realized that their songs CD 101 played on the radio were not indicative of their true sound. I imagined this was as close as I ever wanted to get to a show like the Misfits or Bad Brains. People began stage diving/crowd surfing on the second song and didn't let up for the next two hours. During Ain't No Rest for the Wicked I sparked my spliff and tried not to catch a sneaker to the face.

Soon the mob mentality had taken over and I was fighting for my safety. We pushed to the far right side of the stage which turned out to be the best seats in the house. Directly on the outer rim of the now fully formed mosh pit, Shea almost got pulled in so I did my best to position myself between the maniacs and her. At several points I had to shove surly looking mother fuckers away before they could catch either of us with an incidental right hook. It was pure unadulterated rage on display ... but not necessarily in a bad way. The lyrics weren't hard core. There wasn't inaudible screaming (for the most part) just implausibly high energy. No one was angry, they'd just all gone mad. No fighting, rather blowing off mass steam to heavy tunes.

Happy, exuberant zeal masquerading as a pit. I had to admire everyone's stamina. By this point I was running on empty and all I could think about was chugging water to make my dehydration headache go away. They closed with a cover song by some punk band I'd never heard of. After a stage dive himself, lead singer Matthew Shultz did some crowd surfing as well, ridding the masses from the front of the stage all the way to the back in an impressive display of singer/fan corporation. Opting for belly down, several lucky revelers undoubtedly got a fist full of his junk.

It took everything we had to get out and to Woodlands Tavern for a pitcher of water and couple pieces of Late Night Slice. Spicy Ass Pepperoni was my savor and I managed a rally, drinking until the wee hours of the night. Just another Wednesday for a degenerate drunk and another 'must see' crossed off my list. The rage of Cage was something I'd never experienced before in the countless gigs I'd witnessed. When I woke up on Thursday I was so sore I felt like I'd played ten games of pick-up basketball. Next time I'll know to bring a mouth piece and some Gatorade. Maybe an ice pack. Cage the Elephant shows are most definitely a contact sport.


-J.R.