Ripping up down by Ocean Beach

San Francisco has a wide variety of neighborhoods that possess their own individual character. These characteristics help distinguish each one of the small communities that blanket this seven by seven mile urban peninsula. There is no determining which neighborhood is most appealing, except for the Sunset District. It's the only San Francisco neighborhood that doesn't possess a unique and lively attitude. In it's own way the Sunset does standout because it is so dull.

The Sunset District is a miniature suburbia on the west edge of city. It's located just south of Golden Gate Park and just north of San Francisco State University. The dull family-oriented atmosphere in the Sunset is pleasant but cold. Enduring the frequent fog, Sunset San Franciscans (Sunseters) primarily keep to themselves. Sunset Residents have no reason to talk to someone they don't know; so they usually don't.

On the night of March 15th 2008, the Golden Gator Rockers brought the rock to the sunset. At the invitation of our dear friend Nikki Lapage, the Rockers got down in the name of an unearthly demon that was summoned by the horde's collective surge to inspire the residents of The Sunset District. At the corner of 47th Avenue and Irving Street in what San Franciscans call the "outer sunset", the fun began. At 8pm the bands began to turn the heat up with an unrelenting thrill to give the Golden Gator rock hordes the sound they desired.

The first band to play was Scurvy and the Pox, an up and coming band that put the crowd in its place. Like the blue flames heating up on a gas stove top, there was an unspoken anticipation warming up as the next band took the stage. Street Justice played hard, fast and balls out. In a refusal to fade into the soul-less limits of the Sunset District, they created harmonic ruckus. After one song they were done and the hordes were left stupefied.
The next band Black America pleased the garage gods and brought a long awaited east bay influence to the occasion.
As the nighttime fog began to roll in from the Pacific Ocean, Tony Fantano raised his tomahawk high into the air and welcomed low looming clouds. Tatanka Iyotake had played that night for one reason to inspire the Sunset District. In an effort to set the entire Sunset District ablaze in rock n' roll frenzy, Tatanka Iyotake played hard and true. Even though there were not any sudden flames, the souls of everyone in attendance that night burned brightly like a light tower in the lifeless streets of The Sunset District.
As the party ended and the Golden Gator rock hordes dispersed, the thick fog encompassed the night. The soul-powered fire was extinguished by the silence of the Sunset District. Long live Rock n Roll!

If you have the spring break doldrums, check out this choose your own awesome adventure quest in rocker hell.

Enjoy your life.

Fort Faxon Lives

What a world; what a world. The band rocked so hard last night. At 395 Faxon Avenue, along Holloway Avenue, we stuffed at least 30 people in the Fort Faxon garage and got down hard. We hollered at the heavens and cried out to the rebel ghosts of our past. We summoned the spirit of past royal rockers of our age and got wild with them. Mini Muses, The 68’s,Tatanka Iyotake, Swank, and Chronic Narcosis all showed up and threw down audibly. Each band ripped hard. Kevin and Greg rocked with a precision that corresponded to exact geometric angles.
Involuntarily, Swank struck a uniform stance with their guitars aligned parallel to each other. It looked epic. Swank’s string section struck the pose and, like two ancient warriors from the med-evil ages, they swung their weapons with pride and purpose. The two wielded their guitars as if they were swords. There was an overwhelming presence of pride in Swank’s stride. As they dominated the forefront of the Faxon garage, people could not help but to scream and chant. Swank's bad-ass performance was legendary. It will forever serve as a lesson in rocking for those in attendance that night.
For all those that were in attendance, you deserve a pat on the back. The people who stuffed into what open space was left after we crammed all the instruments inside were the foundation for this momentous party.
The current Fort Faxon inhabitants -- Robert Serviss, Josh, and yours truly, Tony Fantano all threw $10 on four 12-pack cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon. We were giving out the beer for free. The music was also free. The people gathered, and we were successful.
The real question is what is, the measure of success? We all had fun and the best part: the cops didn't even show up until 10:45 pm, almost thirty minutes after the headlining band finished playing. The headliner, Chronic Narcosis, represented the Bay Area Metal scene.
There was a mystical presence at the corner Faxon Avenue once Chronic Narcosis arrived from South City. As they rolled in, so did the fog, along with an undeniable aura that encompassed the band. They carried an unspeakable power on their shoulders and shrugged it off as Yohan (the band's guitarist) ripped into his first note. The head banging started and the audience followed suit. With a beer can in hand, I dove into the midst of the pit and started pushing to the rhythm of the metal. Yohan later stated on the "Powerfade" (a radio show on KSFS radio) "Fort Faxon is like a bunch of ignited fireworks thrown in a shoe box." Everyone went crazy. They rocked all their pent up fury out and put it all on the table for the occasion. The evening at Fort Faxon was glorious because every one embraced the night and partied hard no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Let me know if you want to come out to one of these Golden Gator Rocker extravaganzas.