Faith Regained – Tomahawk with Retox

Tomahawk with Retox
February 16, 2013
Great American Music Hall
San Francisco, CA

 Faith Regained

My bones were weary, but my psyche sure as shit wasn’t. In the proceeding twenty-four hours, I’d skated three skate parks and a backyard ramp, driven to my hometown, had insomnia, driven back and eaten two Animal Style double doubles. Despite all that, I had a god-forsaken Tomahawk show to see with Candice and I was overflowing with turds of happy glitter as I made my way back across the Bay Bridge, into the city. I met Candice at her place and we hoofed it on down to The Great American Music Hall. Our engines were surely revving for the brand of odd awesomeness that only Mike Patton and company can deliver.

We started to wade the sea of sold out show-goers just as the opening band Retox was taking the stage. We weaseled our way up close to said stage as the show was quickly and suddenly taking flame. Retox started their first song and my original thoughts were in the vein of, ‘Dang, bro.’ They were like the adopted bastardy child of punk-to-the-rock and Norwegian death metal. I wasn’t convinced that the singer was orating actual words, but it sounded good nonetheless. So, the first song finished. Then, their second song naturally began. ‘Wait a minute,’ I thought. ‘Didn’t they already…? Oh wait, no this is a different song.’ Then their third song started and I was all, ‘I’m pretty sure this CDs on repeat.’ They were still a kick-ass band; and anyone can appreciate the sort of relationship with a band or a human in which they know what to expect, am I right? I began to understand the Re in Retox.

Retox

We saw our friend Shrewgy sitting in the side-stage VIP zone and after a couple winks and nods were able to watch the second half of Retox’s set back there in the Special People Club. Shrewgy’s one of the honcho’s over at Ace Trucks (which are skateboard trucks, to the layperson and/or “square”), and despite, or possibly because of, this variety of his profession, Candice and I tend to spot him at a lot of the radder shows we go to in the city. It’s always good shit yukkin it up with Shrewgy. I see him as sort of a wiseman. The kind of character who, although I had no previous knowledge of his connection to Tomahawk, it didn’t surprise me in the least to see him sitting VIP status. Retox finished their set with their singer having lost his voice to the mists of rage in the air and Shrewgy headed backstage to connect with Tomahawk.  Candice and I, having lost our golden ticket to the Sweet Zone, were forced back among the commoners. We staked out a spot close to the stage, just on the other side of where we’d been sitting with Shrewgy. Twasn’t tragic at all. The place was definitely starting to pack it in though, and the buzz of anticipation was deafening. Suddenly, and with little warning, the lights dimmed and Tomahawk took the stage. The crowd overflowed with magma.

Tomahawk is a pretty magnificent compilation of dude-men. There’s Mike Patton who you surely remember from the likes of Faith No More (one of the best bands ever) and Mr. Bungle, singing and playing keyboard, The Jesus Lizard’s Duane Denison on guitar, Trevor Dunn (who worked Patton on Fantomas and Mr. Bungle) on bass, and John Stanier of Helmet drumming it up. These are all ample reasons for any self-respecting crowd to diarrhea in their pants with glee. And yes, as is to be expected, Tomahawk ruled. I feel a tiny bit weird saying they sound like Faith No More since every single album of theirs stands alone stylistically but yeah, I gladly heard hints of such a thing, all accented with lots of good shit that sounded completely new and stunning. Nothing can front on Mike Patton’s vocals either, that s.o.b. can sing, moan, bellow, what have you like an ancient Greek tragedy after futuristic metal heads have raided The Acropolis of Athens. We looked over where we’d previously been hanging tough with Shrewgy and saw Jello Biafra. He seemed to sense our inner pumping fists at his presence and looked over at us. He and Candice exchanged a nod of understanding. That ruled.

This is the beginning of the set!

Mr. Patton was relatively forgiving to us that night as we heard he’d be a bit unruly to his audience the night before. He even told us he wasn’t going to talk shit to us tonight…until he saw someone up front who had an iPad and decided to make an exception. “Put that fucking thing away and enjoy the show!” was his general opinion of that dude. Everyone else laughed their agreement. Then stuck their g.d. iPhones in the air to take eighteen more Instagrams. C’est la hash tag.

Tomahawk

So Tomahawk finished, and when they came back on for their obligatory encore shit got even Gene wilder. Patton was wearing a San Jose Sharks hockey mask and they pounded into an amazing rendition of a Bad Brains song. The eruption occurred and it was futile to try and contain it. Especially when Mr. Patton did a front flip onto the crowd. Candice and I were pushed forward becoming a part of the wave on which he surfed, but before long he was pulled back on stage by security, along with a few barnacles who were quickly swept away and lead back to the swells. Happily though, the notion had been struck and soon people were grasping and clawing to get up on stage while security tried to keep them at bay. Finally the song ended, people cheered, security wrestled one guy down who had managed to climb atop one of the PAs on stage, and the show was over. There is nothing like a stint of anarchy to remind us that we’re still human and the good old days are going on, right fucking now. If I wasn’t already bald I’d let Tomahawk scalp me anytime.

Sean and Candice outside GAMH

The Obligatory Sign Photo