St. Paul's Teen Coffee House, Newport, RI

Last night, my godson Nate took me to see his friends' band, Sideshow. We had a little trouble finding the venue, which turned out to be a church basement on Teen Coffee House night. I pretty much don't care where I am at any given time, but I was pleased that Nate didn't seem to mind being seen with his middle aged godmother in such a setting.

There is something great about seeing a loud band in a basement. In the late 70s, Iggy played the Smart Bar, which is basically the basement of Metro, for five nights straight. It was lovely. I liked being at eye level and only a few feet away from the musicians, and the same was the case with Sideshow. I think Nate wanted me to see a more polished performance, on stage, with proper mikes, etc., but thrash-noise makes me happy any time.

Although evidently not properly miked, I thought the drummer sounded good. The guitarist did some really great death-style screaming. The bass player's uninhibited flailing about provoked more head-combs than an Argentinian tennis player. And the singer called to mind a cross between Tom Verlaine and Richard Hell, only more wholesome. I hope I will get a chance to see them again.

After the show, Nate and I went out for pizza, and on the way some girl shouted, "Butt sex" at us out of the window of a passing car. So much for a teen evening in Newport!

www.myspace.com/sideshowcranston