It was a miserable existence and the absence of Chicago in me was almost greater than its presence when I’d lived there. With my first year of art school coming to a close I saw myself returning home to Peoria, where my dad had already secured me a summertime job working the cash register at some dismal little drug store. It wasn’t until a few months later that I actually opened and read my stolen find. I casually slipped the zine into my back pocket and walked away, rejoining the crowd to watch the rest of the show. Surveying the room I noted everyone else’s interest was being funneled toward the stage opposite me. I knew I had to have it, but I’d already spent the last of my money at the door. The dog-eared pages were already starting to let go of the staples binding them together, giving off a wafting history of many good reads. The yellow cover had been softened from use and held the blanket texture of long circulated dollar bills or paper having been run through the washing machine. It was the eighth issue, particularly thick, with a nice weight to it. I dug through to the bottom for something good, but the only thing to hold my attention was a tattered copy of something called Burn Collector by someone named Al Burian. There was no way any band could have competed with the experience.Īfter spending some time checking the place out I came across an abandoned box of zines at a merch table in the back. Walking into the Fireside Bowl that night was the urban equivalent of repelling down into some long lost geodesic cave. Still young to the city I was a fresh receptor to its varied stimuli, its mysteries shedding themselves to me daily and by the minute. I was, however, thrilled by the building itself. It was my first time and really I was pretty disinterested in the bands on stage, most of which I had probably never heard of at the time. I’d been living in Chicago for about a year before my friend Jared took me with him to a Fireside show. R.I.P.Īpril 6th, originally uploaded by rebecca ann rakstad.
Thanks for all the wonderful memories mister Fireside Bowl. That will be shut down probably by the time you’re reading this. But that’s a whole other band and a whole different all ages venue. After all these years of going to show I can honestly say that I have only seen one better show than that. The band did an encore and I knew that I had just seen the best show in my life. I didn’t even think that was possible and too this day I haven’t experience that again. My friend yelled out to me “it’s so hot in here my eye lids are sweating.” I realized that mine were too. I don’t know how my body was surviving all the heat. The guitar player ripped down a tile from the ceiling with his pointy guitar head. The band just kept tearing through song after song.
He turned to me and said, “this is the best night of my life!” wow, it felt so good to be alive. The guitar player was swinging his guitar around so much that he sliced a kids face open. They put danger back into Rock n’ Roll that night (which is missing a lot these days but to me is a main part of rock). The kids went fucking crazy! I had never seen anything like it. They hit the stage and opened with Panasonic Youth, a new song. They finished and I made my way up to the front to see who I came to see, The Dillinger Escape Plan. Fucking awesome! The rest of the set was totally amazing. He wondered “what the fuck are you doing in the dirty ass Fireside Bowl bathroom when there are hundreds of bbq’s going down outside.” He then dedicated the next song to the fly. After one of the songs the singer talked about taking a piss and seeing a fly in the bathroom. The kids went wild! Everyone was dancing and going nuts. The next band was The Bronx, who totally fucking slayed everyone’s faces off. It was sold out and everywhere I looked someone was smoking a cigarette.
It had to have been 100 degrees in there. What a fucking dickhead! By then the heat was starting to get to me. A kid right behind me was waving a big piece around until a bouncer came and kicked him out. They threw the broken pieces into the audience, who started smashing them even more. At the end of their set they picked up two laptops, smashed them and talked about how technology was destroying music. Next up was Decahedron, who was so much better. Great name but what a shitty band! A pit had already started. SWEET! We got in and soon Planes Mistaken For Stars hit the stage. My friends’ mom let us borrow her credit card to get tickets online so we didn’t have to worry about it selling out. We arrived to the show and there was already a huge line.
No booze or dope for the night but I didn’t even care, I was just happy to get the hell out of work. My two best friends picked me up and we headed straight for the Fireside. It was a long day of picking up dog and cat shit at the shelter. April 15th, originally uploaded by rebecca ann rakstad.
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