Patch Blog: Drunk and Disorderly Bowling at All Star Lanes

I was bored. My plans to go out to Little Cave or The Brewery fell through, but a friend of mine—I wrote a review for her wedding—invited me out to this event at All Star Lanes. She’s been pretty reliable at recommending new music to me; I still listen to that Skylab CD every once in a while. I decided to check it out.

Apparently all the bands that used to gig at Mr. T’s Bowl come here now. At least has functional bowling alleys. I had been here for one show before they remodeled years ago. It’s a good space for music. Who wouldn’t want to play some air hockey while they wait for a band to set up? They don’t have that at Satellite; they don’t even have Galaga there anymore.

The event was such a great value. Ten bucks for five bands, plus all the bowling you want. DJs spinning great punk tracks while you aim at the pins. It almost makes bowing sound halfway interesting. I didn’t end up bowling a single frame, but it’s nice to have the option.

Great Value—But Fails the 'Bar Exam'

The only thing in the way of me giving All Star Lanes a firm recommendation is the poor service at the main bar where the bands played. I’m not looking for special treatment—I leave that privilege to the regulars who inhabit that bar—but when a bartender skips me over time and time again it upsets me.

The first two times I was able to wander to the bar in the restaurant proper and find a competent bartender who served me promptly. I tipped him well for that service. I watched a pair of bartenders fumble around getting in each other’s way like a pair of slapstick comedians.

It would have been entertaining, except I was already passed over three times, forced to watch three other patrons just wander over and be served before me. I ordered my last round for the night and suffered a bartender asking me to take out the straw in my drink while she poured me my club soda.

That’s absurd! I didn’t think I was drinking at Starbucks. I suppose I can suffer such horrid service to enjoy the great value of this event or I can do the punk rock thing and drink in my car—as I did when I was in my twenties.

The Booze Hounds

I arrived at All Star Lanes just as The Booze Hounds had begun. I stood there and listened to about one and half songs before I just had to leave to smoke a cigarette. I can’t stand them. They play a grinding and repetitive kind of punk rock that I simply don’t have the stomach for. I give them another shot when I finish smoking, but it’s like they’re still playing the same song. I wait outside for them to finish their set.

The funny thing is I know this band. These guys used to come into the Capri when I used to bartend there. They were a good bunch of kids at the time. I liked them enough to put them on the jukebox. They eventually ended up playing a couple of gigs there, too. I don’t know what happened. Later, I dig around my CD collection and find their 2007 EP, “No Sympathy.” I listen to it and they sound so much different. The only thing I can think of is that JC Chan (guitar and back vocals) was in the band then and is not in the band now.

Majorelle

Now, this band I like a lot more. They play a rough sort of punk, with relatively complex compositions. They play with variety and skill, and they don’t just stand there and pose for the audience. They’ve got a decent sense of showmanship and I don’t get bored watching them play their set. It’s upbeat punk music that reminds me of Rancid or maybe Green Day.

The only problem is their soft vocals. Initially, I think that this is a flaw, but as the night progresses, I realize that the vocals for all the bands are too low. I’m not sure who’s in charge of that—the band or the venue—but that’s something worth looking into before the next Drunk & Disorderly rolls around. My friend tries to convince to buy their CD, but I demur and tell her that I’ll have to catch them again before I buy it. And I do intend to catch them again when I get the chance. They’re good enough for that much at least.

Dirty Filthy Mugs

I mentioned showmanship before, but this band is Showmanship. They put on a flat out foot to the floor Rock & Roll show. They’re all excellent musicians, with the classic English punk rock attitude. It’s the kind of music I would want to mosh to if I were the kind of person who wanted to mosh. Others in the audience were so inclined—and they did. They had the whole room entranced by their stage antics. Some guy made a wrong move and stood in front of me for some reason—I had to stare and glare him out of my way. You don’t mess with me when I’m rocking to good music and watching a good show.

The Plexikill

I first met Alfredo through my friend back in the day when he was still in Madcap. He doesn’t recognize me, but that’s not much of a big deal. I’ve seen him perform with his other ensembles on a couple of occasions since Madcap, but none of them have impressed me much. This is no exception. Plexikill is generic pop punk. I recognize how sensible it is and catchy, but it’s just sort of boring to me. The band’s performance on stage paled in comparison with the previous two acts. I give them a chance and listen to the first two songs. Then I go out for a smoke. I come back and listen some more, then head outside to wait them out.

Ramonas

I’m not a super fan of tribute acts. They serve a purpose in the local music community. It’s the nostalgia factor that brings people out to shows who wouldn’t otherwise come out for shows. I try to listen to them but the low vocals is a severe problem. I can’t quite hear them sing, so it’s like I’m watching old Ramones footage with the sound turned way down or something. It’s sort of surreal.

The night is winding down and I’m getting tired. I tell my friend I’m heading out. Before I do, she introduces me to Garry of Majorelle. I tell him how much I enjoyed his set before I drive home to sleep.