Showbox SODO Hosts Punks Extraordinaire Rancid for a Night Of Punk Rock, by Holly Homan

IMGP3413[1]Rancid came on stage and played almost all their “greatest hits” one after another, barely coming up for air. Tim Armstrong, wearing his traditional ski hat, barely stayed in one place as he moved about the stage, stood on a monitor, stood on the drum riser and moved about some more.

Songs like Fall Back Down, I Wanta Riot, Olympia, Ruby Soho and Blood Clot to name but a meager few. Although most the vocals were performed by Tim in his gravely, snarling voice, Lars Fredricksen often traded off as did bassist Matt Freeman.

Meanwhile, not only did everyone scream out the lyrics to every song, they slammed about and crowd surfed constantly. I was slammed against others so often I was sure my limbs would be crushed. My head was landed on so many times by the crowd surfers I have whiplash and my feet were stomped on so many times I had to make sure I still had all my toes when I got home. I also had to change out of my now clammy, soggy clothes that got drenched with sweat right through to my undies.

When Rancid returned for an encore Lars introduced the first song as an obscure one that “some of you might know.” They then tore into the opening chords of “Time Bomb” which incidentally is the first Rancid song I ever heard back in 1997 and the song that catapulted me into Rancid fandom.

The first time I saw Rancid was at a festival up in the snow at Snoqualmie Summit. The year was 1998.

This concert was also a “family event” with people bringing their kids. One young man who couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven not only sported a cool mohawk, he was a regular crowd surfer. I love how punk is being enjoyed by a next generation of youth. When they’re forced fed garbage like Train and Katie Perry for music and lyrics like Bootie Butt Cheeks repeated over and over, it’s heartening to know their parents are introducing them to the cool stuff. I did with my kids too.

On stage just prior to Rancid was a Rancid side project called The Transplants. The Transplants were initially the creation of Tim Armstrong and Bob Aston (AKA Skinhead Rob) but is now a super band of sorts that includes members of Rancid (Lars Fredricksen and Matt Freeman) along with Travis Barker of Blink 182 fame on drums.

With Skinhead Rob belting out lead vocals and Armstrong often trading back and forth, this band had similarities to Rancid, but only because of Tim Armstrong’s very distinctive growling vocals.

Armstrong wore his customary dark knit ski cap (which often slipped down hiding his eyes) along with a ripped off sleeved t-shirt with the words Strummer 77. The fact that his cap kept slipping over his eyes created no barriers to his musical abilities as he ground out power chord after power chord in accompaniment to Skinhead Rob’s barking and growling vocals. Barker, never upstaged by anyone, thrashed the skins with such punishing rage, that the entire drum riser heaved with each thrashing. He drummed shirtless revealing his completely covered in intricate tattoos body.

Some guy calling himself Elvis Cortez was on rhythm guitar and sported a huge mohawk spanning the length of his head like a giant pinwheel. Though the band claims they play punk with hip hop, I heard mostly hardcore punk. But this was hardcore punk the way it should sound. The screamo wasn’t over done and you could actually understand some of the lyrics. They played a very high energy show. Bass guitarist and piano player extraordinaire, Kevin Bivona rounded out the sound perfectly and barely looked over 18 years old. The band joked that he was only eight years old, but I suspect he was a tad older than that.

The Interrupters opened the entire night. These guys may look like someone you work with or simply pass on the street, but their raw punk sound belied their every day unassuming appearance. The moshing began with The Interruptors and only intensified through the night. I kept getting slammed into a girl in front of me, who in turn would push me back into the mosh pit. I felt like a pinball getting hit with the paddles with rapid succession. Then when I reached between her and some dude to try and hang onto the barricade to keep my balance, she kept trying to pry my hand loose. I think she was trying to kill me. I was sure I’d suffer serious whiplash from being jostled about so violently, but I’m just exhausted after a night of fun.

Holly Homan