Maniacal Ventures

1988 is ‘Cleveland’s Tribute to 80’s Hard Ro…’ holy shit, is that a chainsaw penis?

I was cleaning out the memory of my phone, erasing my ‘Leonard Nimoy Sings Bilbo Baggins’ and ‘My Buddy Commercial’ ring tones, and also offloading all of the low grade and silly pictures I’d snapped over the last few months. The first one to catch my eye was a snap of a poster I took at a local burgers-and-trivia place that Stretch and I visit called Scorchers (always said with great flair and a slight lisp). This was a poster for an upcoming band night featuring self-styled ‘Cleveland’s Tribute to 80’s Hard Rock’, 1988.

1988

I don’t even know where to begin.

Lets start with the fact that the vocalist is holding a chainsaw as if it were a two-stroke (ha ha!), gas powered, tree hewing extension of his cock. And this isn’t your everyday, STIHL chainsaw – no, this is a Farm Tough brand chainsaw, a brand which returned only a few articles online, mostly about product recalls and chicken porn. This chainsaw, though, must be well built and rather heavy as it’s causing the singer’s muscles to bulge slightly, accentuating his Star of David bicep tattoo. I really, really hope that this cat is Jewish and not just someone who wanted an evil pentagram tattoo and is horrible at math.

Chainsaw aside, we zoom back to find four men who’s hairlines seem to be the only thing that has escaped the late 80’s. The Jack Daniel’s shirt, while bad, isn’t nearly as out of touch as the Lube-Stop-esque workman shirt with name patches. We used to get these from thrift stores back in the 80’s; I’ll wager this came from his day job. Another thing this poster is missing, besides class, is sleeves. Not a sleeve in the joint! I don’t remember a lot of my misspent youth, but I do vaguely remember that we did, in fact, have sleeves in the 80’s. There are two ball caps, one of which is backwards, which may, using some obscure formula of the secretive and complex Mathematics of Fashion, make up for the missing sleeves, but I’d not put any money on that.

They advertise their style as ‘Preforming the hits of Bon Jovi, Poison, Skid Row, Motley Crüe’ and their ilk. This should be enough to scare away all but the most fervent of hair band aficionados, but coupled with the long, thin hair, pouts, grimaces and dazed expressions, or what looks like the bass player pointing at the photographer and confusedly asking the bass player “Is that a camera?”, these guys are so typically Cleveland that it’s a surprise they actually aren’t opening for some weird, Finnish Nü-Metal band at a Rock Hall induction Ceremony for The Hostile Amish. How many people still listen to Motley Crüe and Twisted Sister anymore? Enough that these guys are still gigging, apparently!

Finally, one must mention the circular info-nuggets ala Pop-Up Video adorning each band members beer gut. Here, then, is the actual text as well as a translation of what it actually means:

Dave Belanger – Bass Slappin’ -n- Makin’ it Happen!
Drug dealer.

Al Paris – Vocalizing’ -n- Socializin’
Gigolo in training.

Robin Steele – Axe Grindin’ -n- Pile Drivin’
Amateur Porn Actor.

J. Crypt – Drum Bashin’ -n- Cymbal Thrashin’
He’s the drummer. Never fuck with the drummer, man.

I have no idea if these guys suck or rock out but damn – this is the most entertaining poster I’ve seen in a long time. I’d actually go see these guys if it wasn’t for my unnatural fear of being sodomized by forestry equipment.

6 thoughts on “1988 is ‘Cleveland’s Tribute to 80’s Hard Ro…’ holy shit, is that a chainsaw penis?

  1. Hey Jay-Oh… while you may find it easy to pick on something that you have not seen, let’s try and remember that there’s more of those that have seen us, then haven’t. Why don’t you come on out to a show, we promise, no sodomizing with the chainsaw. Maybe upon arrival, Dave B can hook you up with some drugs, AP can get you a hooker, or I can lend you one of my fluffers. Whatever it takes to make you more comfortable. Once settled in, we can show you the Sheriff’s Badge tattoo on the singers shoulder… and while APOD may not be a mathematical genius (I mean really, all he needs to do is to be able to count the number of crack whores in his posse, right?), I’m sure our resident drummer boy can give you a lesson or two in numbers… that boy can talk! In return, maybe you can give him some pointers on proper 80’s attire… he sure doesn’t listen to me when I bitch about that gas station ‘tendent shirt he insists on wearing.

    I am rather confused with the sleeves comment (and a little concerned to be asking for clothing advice from you) … what bands wore long sleeves on stage? I for one, know that playing under the lights, it gets a little warm and long sleeves would just make it uncomfortable. Maybe if we sweat enough we could get rid of those beer guts and stop using the circular info-nuggets, eh? Or maybe that’s why we stopped wearing sleeves, cause they already served their purpose, and we wouldn’t want to waste away into nothing. Well, me… I’m a different story. All that heroin I do keeps me rail thin… something else lil’ drummer boy can entertain you on.

    Now considering we’re a tribute act to the 80’s, how could we NOT play Motley Crue, Bon Jovi, Poison and Skid Row along with the other hair bands we cover? Isn’t that point… to appease the “fervent hair band aficionados”? Considering we’re going nine plus years strong with this band and we stay booked almost a year in advance, we may be on to something.

    Long story short, your article was great entertainment and we all laughed at the non-sensicle drivelings of someone without a clue, but we want to educate you. Help you through your crisis of Pearl Jam not at the top of the charts anymore. So if you can manage to remove your nose from that poetry book, put down the Starbucks $5 a cup latte and come to a show. Introduce yourself, hang out with the boys, have a beer or five and then go home wondering how in the hell you have gone this long without a dose of good old chainsaw… err… cock rock.

    See you at a show,
    Robin Steele
    Axe Grinder & Pile Driver

  2. My god, the last time I witnessed an idividual so infatuated with the specs of a chain saw, I was pulling my drunk father from the aisles of a Sears department. ….So let me ask you something Siskel, or actually since you are most likely a Snickers poundin, Pepsi chuggin, zit infested, fat-assed virgin who occupies his free time looking to score hand-jobs from 15 year old boys on ‘my-space’…let me just call you Ebert. While you obviously possess the ability to paint a vivid picture with your ‘Steinbeckian’ overuse of adjectives, I am less than impressed with your rather cliche generalizations straight from the ‘lets bash 80’s bands’ handbook. Once again, the chainsaw refernce was A+ material, and you had me laughing at your obscene knowledge of the inner-workings of this fine piece of equipment; however, from there you kind of faded into a plethora of poor 80’s bashing rhetoric….I’m surmising that this was caused by a sudden case of hypoglycemia or you became startled when Chris Hansen walked out from behind your (or your parents) closet doors and asked if you were ‘mrlottalove69′. Either way, you faded. …….Next point, the drummers’ day job? Yeah, he doesn’t need one…..is that frustrating for you? After all, I’m sure that following your little ceremony, you know the one of which I speak. Your mom rented the big circus tent to celebrate your assosciates degree from ‘The Writer’s Technical College’ or whatever the fuck you called it. She was telling all of her friends about how her little boy, at 29 was finally gonna move out of her basement and get a job at a major publication…..you remember, right? Unfortunately that dream fell short of the mark. Way short. I can only hope that you included her on your mailing list so that she too can be part of your little dissappointment. If not, just print them out and take ’em upstairs. I’m sure you’ll see her sitting at the kitchen table, unfiltered ‘Camel’ in one hand, Gin and Tonic in the other, listlessly gazing out the window of her 700 square foot shack. …’Judge Judy’ the only thing drowning out her labored wheezing and sporatic fits of depression induced sobbing. Go ahead, take ’em upstairs, mom needs a good laugh now and then…god knows, I’m sure your daddy bailed out the day he saw you prancing around the house in ‘mommies special panties’.

    I was taught in some English course that you are never supposed start you conclusionary paragraph by saying: In conclusion……however, in conclusion: your funny, nobody cares. …..Hope to see you at a show, I’ll be the guy without a job, glistening 6 pack, and a handfull of big bills at the end of the evening. …..don’t forget your notebookl and go ahead and bring mom, it will be the first time she saw daylight since ’94.

  3. I’m surprised I got any response to this for several reasons: first, I’m surprised anyone reads my crap and second; I expected any response to this post to be a knock on my door followed by a swift beating with an aluminum bat. Thankfully, it appears you guys have a sense of humor, which I can appreciate.

    I thought the poster was hilarious and that’s why I originally posted. I haven’t seen you guys play, so I can’t actually comment on you personally, but the poster was such the epitome of the 80’s it was an actual orange fondue pot filled with nothing but the best 80’s cheese. This is a good thing for an 80’s cover band. It’s also a good thing for a cynical, ranting asshole who occasionally writes in a blog.

    Since you responded to my baseless insults with a little description of yourselves, I’ll tell you that I hate Starbucks coffee almost as much as I hate poetry. When my balls were dropping I was Def Leppard’s biggest fan. Oh, and Pearl Jam sucks ass.

    Meanwhile, I actually put some thought into why I’m so angry about the 80’s (and by proxy you guys) and I think it was because I was such an absolute goober during the 80’s that I stopped wearing the color blue for over a decade because, back then, it was the color of most of my horrible clothes. In the early 90’s I was so fed up with the 80’s that I switched over to a wearing a huge Mohawk, combat boots and put an enormous duct tape DK on the hood of my 78’ Impala wagon. So, while you guys obviously had a better time of the 80’s and are still doing it twenty years later, you’re also peeling back the scabs on the psyche of those of us who want to forget that decade. Remember, the decade that brought us some of the best albums by Ministry, Skinny Puppy and My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult also spewed the evil noise pollution of Michael Jackson, Wham, UB-40, New Kids on the Block and Bobby Brown.

    Maybe I’m also a little jealous since I’ve always wanted to be a drummer.

    So, I would love to see you guys play, and maybe then I can write something with a little less venom. I just hope that your invite isn’t a ruse so you can all take turns sodomizing me with a chainsaw. I’ll to buy a round if you guys promise not to bring a bat.

    Also, I freaking hate Pearl Jam. Eddie Vetter is a douche.

  4. You know, I saw them soon after I wrote this. The girl and I went to the Willoughby Brewing Company for a bite one night. Young girls in 80’s gear kept walking in, like a parade of cute, gaudily-dressed backup dancers in a Cindy Lauper video.

    Found out 1988 was playing.

    They sounded good. They attracted hotties like I attract bill collectors. And yes, they had hair, too.

    Fun show, although I didn’t go up and introduce myself as “that asshat that wrote a blog about them”.

Leave a Reply

LIVE NOW! CLICK TO VIEW.
CURRENTLY OFFLINE