So, I'm laying in bed after leaving work early because I puked during a staff meeting, reading the latest print edition of the Current, when I see in Jeremy Martin's The Sound and the Fury that he's directing you readers to this blog to hear my first person account of an odd non-show I attended at Pedicab on Friday night. A blog that should have been posted yesterday. My bad, y'all.
As Jeremy promised fisticuffs, power outages and general weirdness, so I shall deliver. If any of you readers have better 411 on what went down or similar situations involving either the band or the venue, please let us know via comments.
My partner and crime and I headed out to Pedicab at about 10:30 p.m., hoping to catch Ill Prospekt. Here I want to clear something up, because we only heard 1.5 songs and the band didn't get time to introduce themselves, we mistakenly thought it was the Rafiki Project, but, upon further research it was DEFINITELY Ill Prospekt. Rafiki Project had nothing to do with this.
After waiting for an hour for the band to set-up and sound check, they started playing to a large (maybe larger than normal due to the just-wrapped Spurs game) crowd. Just as the first song was wrapping up, boom, the power goes out, lights, sound and all. A few minutes later, amid some hollering from one particularly concerned patron that the band should play another song, the lights were back up and running, and that's when things really took a dive. Now, I've seen shows where the band has had to overcome particularly adverse situations, much of them due to the ad hoc nature of whatever venue they are playing, but in general, you get through your set and bitch about it later. Whatever was going on with Pedicab must have been particularly painful, or maybe Ill Prospekt is particularly sensitive, because as soon as the mic came back on the lead singer (I use that term loosely), apologized to the audience saying something to the effect of "next time we'll play a real venue," and, sealing his fate, "and fuck these bartenders."
We were sitting next to the bar and saw the reaction shot to this last directive up close. It was not good. The incredulous female bartender told her male co-worker who charged in front of the stage and stood on a table, arms akimbo, and looked like he was staring down the band as they attempted to play their next song. Note to self: do not insult Pedicab bartenders. What happened next was something that, in all my years in the company of punk shows, bad venues and snotty bands, I have never seen. The power gets shut down (this time, I think by management) and the bartender jumps onto the stage, toppling equipment. The patron who earlier wanted the band to play another song charged the stage and started throwing punches. Throwing punches! At the band whose songs he wanted to hear! During this, the band members start yelling at the bartender about broken equipment and a lawsuit is threatened. It seemed like almost everyone in the bar rushed the stage, and fighting like the scene in the redneck bar from the Blues Brother movie was imminent. Then the house lights get switched on
and everyone is ushered outside, and yet another punch gets thrown at Ill Prospekt's leader, Dr. Grey. The cops show up and take down the rowdy patron, who is now claiming that 20 people tried to beat him up. The band members are complaining to the police about a stolen cell phone (suspect: rowdy patron) and confiscated video camera containing footage of the melee (suspect: Pedicab management). We grabbed one of the kids from Ill Prospekt's entourage and gave him our number if he wanted to explain what happened, but he never called. We left shortly thereafter.
So, that's that. We only have two more things to add: 1) at least we didn't have to pay a cover and 2) we really wish we had that video footage.