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.
