One of those hot nights when ice cream drips on shoe tips and never crusts along the corners of your mouth, hours later. Staying out past curfew, passing plenty of cops, and thinking invisibility exists and is possessable. Going to the park and hanging upside-down on the money bars: drinking games; the gentleman at the station who bought the beer didn’t even accept the change “tip.” Coinage rattling as it falls upon the wood chips. Show setting up in the roundhouse. Bandanas and booze soaked clothes. Only walking around with boxers on; backpack filled with clothes, cans, and tampons.
Run just tapped out the older crowd, and moisture is giving an antsy vibe for a bit of them dancy Char-Man jams. Feeling their cute just hard enough to smash around an audience of 80 in a 50-person shelter. Liquid splashing the air. Sparks pop off the bass amp, but there’s no real stop to collective effervescence. Tampons soaking in puddles on the floor. Fists beat the wet and dry space just above the rotation of the dance circle. Someone hands you Char-Man’s The Found Tape on CD and says, “I bought this for eight bucks right over there,” [someone] points to an empty corner. “Let’s jam this later while crashing the Troy Square.”
Find Char-Man’s The Found Tape on CD here, and stream a moment or two below:
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• Char-Man: http://char-man.bandcamp.com
• Weird Cry Records: http://weirdcry.com