A history of insurgence

If I played an instrument, or knew the lyrics, I could have been a member of the band. The guys from (of?) Conflict looked my age. They dressed like me, or, I like them. Jeans and t-shirts. T-shirts without slogans. Just plain t-shirts. Well, one did say "Save CBGB" on the front. That's OK though. No spiked mohawks. No bizarre piercings. No visible tattoos. Just peers with a message. A message that was undoubtedly lost on the kids who were there, clad in their Punk Costumes. Wait a second. That supposes that they had ever found a message. Nevermind. Their slam dancing, or mosh pit, or whatever you want to call it Dear Reader, resembled a conga line. They were cute. I wondered what Colin thought about all of it. Never give up. I was watching the set-up for Scarred for Life, the band that preceded Conflict when some guy, clad in a studded leather jacket, with multiple facial piercings and facial tattoos, and a queue hairstyle, sat down beside me. The thought "F***ing poser" scampered through my mind. That and a desire to not make eye contact. Then he leaned in toward me, reeking of alcohol and other vile scents, and asked if I knew what "these guys sounded like." Me: "I have no idea." Him: "They look like they're loud." Then the band members took to the stage, and he joined them. Turns out, he was the lead vocalist. I was right though. F***ing poser. Conflict blew all the opening acts out of the water. Breaks between songs were so brief as to be unnoticeable. Ninety-plus minutes. Invigorating. Rejuvenating. A trip down memory lane, with relevance. Before the encore I passed by the entrance. That guy looked familiar. "I am Oleg of the Red Elvises." They had finished a show a few blocks away a bit earlier, and he wanted to step in to check out the remains of the Conflict show. Simply surreal. The Red Elvises come through Eugene about once a year. I have seen them a few times, and will see them again, I'm sure. It was a great evening Dear Reader. I bought a t-shirt.