An eventful Saturday: having walked by the side of buildings and drains in the blistering noon heat, led by only one given landmark from a last-minute query that I had made to the organizer and memorization of the address and despite passing establishments with 'Pengkalan Quay' instead of 'Weld Quay' in their addresses; (wondering if 'Pengkalan' was 'Weld' in local tongue and if I was lost)--I found the venue of the gig on the sixth floor of some Kongsi half an hour before it was supposed to start.
True to Malaysian fashion for gigs; it didn't start on time. It started almost two hours later than what was stated in the flyer. Fortunately for me, time was whiled away talking to some people who enlightened me about the north's Indie side of things. Screamo. Emo Violence. Trashcore. There I was feeling a bit out of place when asked if I listened to Slayer: {waving a hand sheepishly in response} "Oh, terlalu ganas..." (translated: "Too heavy for my liking...").When we were waiting outside of the building (as the organizers had to arrange a small station outside the entrance for collection of admission fees), an aunty from the next door auto-repair shop asked me what all the commotion was about and I explained that we were there to watch some bands play on the sixth floor. She looked interested and said, "Oh, how nice!" I waved to her and she waved back smiling as I shuffled along with the others, when we were allowed to enter.
Snatched up three CDs as the first band was playing (Dove Yellow Swans' 'Live During War Crimes', Curve's 'Disarm + 1' Ep and the 'This Is Not A Break Up' Compilation). Kept checking if my right hand was turning blue from the plastic band which was secured too tightly around my wrist (I did this periodically throughout the event).
Atoms spinning in each of their axes, constantly in motion--that's the only thing I can think of when describing the motley collective of those present. One person starts pushing, even nudging when a band is playing and suddenly I find myself amidst the outer boundary of what I've termed (amusingly) as the 'Circle of Death'; a space opens up in the center, and everyone knows what they're supposed to do, be, then. People are hurling themselves from one place to another, at each other, anyone. Those who choose the dance; each becomes a projectile--they think not of inertia, momentum nor pain (inflicted or received)--the bloom lasts only minutes, the expanse of each song. The flurry of crashing fists and limbs into my own frame happened in under a minute; I was alive in the sea of bodies never drowning.
I never stayed till the end. When Union of Slaves were setting up their equipment for their set (they were the last band), I was busy embarrassing myself getting autographs from the band Curve ("Yusei-san, Takeshi-san, sorry for ruining your cigarette break but could you sign your CD for me?") with a pen borrowed from one of the organizers. It was an eye-opener for most of us there I believe; for a two-piece band to sound like they did when they performed--everyone gathered round close, but it wasn't for moshing--it was more for observing, learning. They blew everyone away with how tightly coordinated they were as a unit.
I thanked the organizer, shook his hand and made my way out through the bustle. Away from the cigarette smoke, chatter and tremble of loud music as I descended the stairwell. Once I met the streets I ran. Towards the ferry port where the busses to my area would wait. Ran past closed shops, families making their way to dinner. Ran with my fingers crossed; that I would make it before the last bus leaves. And made it I did, though discomforted by the amount of perspiration. Patiently I waited in my seat, the first one there. Checking still to see if my hand had turned septic.
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*Note: Band list - Samurai Champloo, Fujicolor , Hui Se Di Dai, Kias Fansuri, Curve, and Union of Slaves.
Pictures used - from Fujicolor's and D Yellow Swans' sites, respectively.
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