Excess and debauchery had been kicked to the wayside for what society called progress. They dumped flannels on us, said it was OKAY to be emotional. Grunge is about angst and emotion, man, just let it loose. Then we were told to spray tan and spike our hair, ladies will LOVE it. They’re a boy band, man, even if none of them play instruments. The years produced one bad trend after another until we hit a rut. We became a lost generation that clenched onto the past, where the warm soft hum of vinyl and the faded roll of a cassette made our hearts race in anticipation for songs we’ve heard 1000 times.
Enter The High Five.
I stood outside Voltage Lounge with Skinny Pete staring at the massive crowd. It was my favorite scene before a rock show; clouds of cigarette smoke and a sea of black shirts. You could hear the rock rumbles pouring from their jittery souls, just waiting for a fix.
I took a large swig of Jack Daniels from my bottle and handed it to Pete. “Kill this thing, it’s time,” I said with stern determination. Pete nodded and pounded back the rest, throwing the empty bottle to the curb. Tonight we would return to the glory of rock and roll, glam, and excess.
As people moved inside and crowded around the stage, Pete and I made our way to the back. Faces were full of anticipation and delight, as a mysterious sexual tension slithered through the air. Loud voices became timid with the wailing of the first note. Johnny jumped on stage in pants so tight the 1980s collectively choked; shouts and cheers filled the venue. The High Five were in full force.
Heads bobbed back and forth as a powerful rock glam groove grabbed hold of the room. Eric’s unrelenting smashing of the drums was matched only by the rhythmic strumming of Ali, Rory and JMick. This was the invisible force that had been missing from our generation. The kind that caused crowds to get cranked up, fall out of place, and make them uncomfortable with their everyday lives. One that made us throw caution to the wind, grab the girl next to you, and jam your tongue down her throat. It was the wasted slam dance of debauchery that flowed through our veins as we pounded back beers and shouted at the devil with our brethren rockers.
The High Five were a perfect break away from the endless work safe radio station music where Nickelback passed as ‘good’. They made the sly grin you gave the Shot Girl, make you feel like a Rock Star and had you realize that the crowd you were about to dive head first into would be your saving embrace. Rock was the best and worst drug in history, and The High Five just gave you your fix.
The bottom line:
The High Five Band kick major ass. It’s a throw back to the excess glam/punk/rock ATTITUDE that the ’80s were famous for. (We don’t mean their sound!)The entire night was like an infinite line that broke down walls, made its way to The Liberty Bell and bitch slapped Ben Franklin’s smug ghost face while yelling, “SEE WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED!?” Check these guys out, you will NOT be disappointed.