Charlotte County Memorial Auditorium, 4.15.98
Still shaky from my near-death accidental slamming of Zappa-children Bogus Pomp in the last issue, I embarked on a journey to find out what Sarasota Drum-God Pat McDonald has been doing since he recorded with *cough* and disappeared to Nashville. I arrived at the “venue” a half-hour late. This is because I decided to drive through some nice neighborhood in Punta Gorda until it came to a very dead end, expecting to find a country music concert. Next time, I’ll let Devin drive. Turns out he knew where it was all along; dumbass. We finally get there and park after finally asking for directions. Devin decides to throw the passenger door open really hard against a Cadillac. This type of thing is slowly eating away at my moral perfection. The parking lot was full of pickup trucks with “BEEF” license plates. Another latecomer in front of us with a really messed up face fell down on the steps. Two really tan “chicks” with tight leather bras were selling T-shirts at the door. We went and bought tickets. I really should have told Ian to get me on that very elusive “guest list” that supposedly exists at concerts. So we go in. Twenty dollars each gets us back row seats. Pat is approximately 1-inch tall from where we are sitting. I have a hard time telling if it’s even him, aside from his Billy Corgan hairdo. We watch. Good songs. Good singers. Real relaxed and professional. There’s one other guy in our section. He yells “WOOO!” a lot. Tanya has her stage moves down, and the band is smooth. Yep, it’s Pat. Gained some weight, though. He’d probably be embarrassed to know I was there. Doesn’t get to do his usual insane drum solos. Looked like he was having fun, though. The audience is great; they actually sit in seats and clap along with the music. I didn’t even smell beer. HEAVEN! We watch approximately 5 songs. I then realize we have 30 minutes to make it back to Venice to pick up my mother at her workplace. I need to buy a car someday. So we leave. Country music is OK.