“Lindsey, I’m probably going to die tonight at this show. I’m giving you my DVDs.”
“Oh, c’mon. It’s only Girl Talk!”
It’s only Girl Talk, she tells me. What she doesn’t know is, Girl Talk is aware of the fact that you don’t have 26 orifices to be raped in. Do you really think it’s going to let a thing like that stop it?
Lindsey telling me that it was “only Girl Talk” was the harbinger of doom for the both of us, an hour or so before we arrived at the sold out Girl Talk show. I should have known when she told me not to worry because it was “only Girl Talk” that I would end up much, much more messed up than I could possibly imagine.
The first band up was called Monkey Trick. They are… get this: a Jesus Lizard cover band. Now, if you are familiar with Girl Talk, you know that the only band weirder for this show is maybe Iron & Wine. The frontman clearly diluted the heroin he shot up before the show with Pabst Blue Ribbon, and then drank a 12 pack in five minutes for good measure. He seemed acutely aware of the fact that 99.9% of the crowd was literally telling him to get off the stage, and he didn’t care, going as far as to get into the crowd, mic and all, start a mosh pit, and get back on stage, corralling people with the mic cord. “I can really feel the love here tonight!” the frontman quipped during the set.
Next up was Panther. Playing like an edgier, more lo-fi version of YACHT, their frontman danced around the stage singing loudly while his drummer played on. A couple songs in, he picked up his Fender Telecaster, which, I noticed, had a broken e-string, and was dreadfully out of tune. That’s the point, mind you. They seemed to be a bridge between the Pissed Jeans-esque howl of Money Trick, and the beat of Girl Talk.
Then… Girl Talk. The brainchild of Gregg Gillis, the titan of mash-up artists, who famously caused a stage to collapse when his fans got too rowdy when they were partying with him ON STAGE. I knew this story beforehand, but I didn’t remember it until after I was on stage with him, and I wondered: could it happen again? After we were sent off stage, I was poured back into the crowd, where I was smashed around, thrown around, molested, and attacked by a young woman who was clearly on drugs (picture below, story upon request).
There is no accurate way to describe just what Girl Talk does to you, so I will impart what Lindsey said, when I shared with a friend that the only thing worse would be maybe Slayer: “I’ve seen Slayer. This was way worse.” After spending an hour-and-some-change being ruined by the crowd and the music, I have to say the following: I went to Ozzfest. Compared to this, Ozzfest is for children. Tread lightly when contemplating a Girl Talk show, friends. This is not a show for the faint of heart. This is a show for those who want something more from their shows, at any cost. But hey, if you want to ignore my warning, that’s okay. After all, it’s only Girl Talk.
A few decent photos (there weren’t many):