I know I know I know. The Bronx probably mean a lot more to me than they do to you. For a LA punk band with five albums under their belts and nothing close to a hit single their presence on SteveForTheDeaf seems disproportionate.
Anyway. I went to see The Bronx again last night (not actually last night, you know what with the backlog and SteveForTheDeaf time being different to your Earth time) and they played that magnificent back catalogue of harmonious punk fury to a packed Camden Town venue who went about creating the most bonkers of mosh pits.
The opening salvo of five or so furious fast shouty numbers had the whole place going nuts. As Matt addressed the audience for the first time he gave a shout out to ‘the fans who’d been down with the band for the last fifteen years’. Then they literally saved me from the imminent coronary a man of my age and build would have suffered if they hadn’t changed the pace.
White Guilt was a chance to dance. That slinky groove got Camden bopping right when I couldn’t have taken another three minutes of marshalling that mosh pit. I’d been trying to help the Lad who had his glasses slapped off his face like four times in a row (Mate! Contacts?) and there were crowd surfers who seemed to burst into the air like they were spat up there by a geyser.
It got me in a party mood. From their album Bronx II this under appreciated gem saved my life. I don’t rush the pit often now my years are advancing as quickly as they be. There are a handful of bands who I make an exception for.
This is after all “The Beat That Kills”