It was actually a Texas Flag, but yes I was wearing it as a cape along with a bejeweled flight suit with “Captain Commando” spelled in glitter on the back, and an American flag sweatband. In my defense, it was the fourth of July. What the hell else was I going to wear — a star-spangled vest? Please. I didn’t want to look like a freak.

“You talked to us at the bar,” Amy said. “You told us about your Huffy.”

“My Huffy?”

“Yeah. Then you asked if we wanted to take a ride on your bike.”

“Did y’all say yes?”


The memory was starting to come back to me through the brine of drunken memories. I had overdosed on America the day before at the expense of my cognitive abilities. Maybe I needed to stop drinking and dressing up in public. Then again, maybe I needed to drink more and buy more capes if it meant I got to meet women like this, twice.

Although it was July 5th, Creative Loafing’s Independence Fest kicked off with a bang. The two members of The Future Process emitted a factory worth of industrial music. The thud of electronic drums and keyboard effects produced a dark, machine heart beat chopped up by metallic guitar riffs.

Military Junior followed with a sound termed Indie-math-rock for people like me struggling to come up with descriptions to capture this new rock sound.

Although it was Have Gun, Will Travel’s first time playing The State Theatre, their fans had no trouble finding the place. It also wasn’t difficult for new listeners to get into the swing of the fiddle and the slide guitar adding a lonesome twang to the lead acoustic’s trotting rhythm.

Mouse Fire provided more fuel for the fire of new mod-rock that will surely be the coming-of-age music for the generation to be. The bearded men in tight clothes hammered out songs from their debut album, Wooden Teeth, that were smart enough for older indie fans, while catchy enough for teens whose parents dropped them off at the show.

Car Bomb Driver closed the night with a tutorial on old-school punk. Lead singer Dave Reeder was dressed in a sport coat, slacks and Converse All-Stars (does he dress this nice for his day job?) and wielded the mic as if demonstrating how to slay a mythic beast. Although the band was older than the other acts, they had far more energy, as did their audience. A mosh pit took over the floor, instigated by a blonde bombshell enticing sweaty guys to ram into her. It’s easy to be a punk when you have nothing to lose but your youth, but you have to respect an aging band that still dresses up in suits to deliver simple, fast punk with choruses like “I drink beer” and other songs you can follow while drunk and consumed in a mosh pit. In fact, I dare say there is something patriotic about dressing up, getting drunk, and howling at the top of your lungs in a bar on any given Saturday night.

E-mail Alfie at [email protected]

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“Do you have no pride?” asked Natalie Saturday at the State Theatre, questioning my choice of cheap American beer over her Guinness.

“I drink Bud Light as a matter of pride,” I said.  “It tastes like America.”

Obviously she was in need of a serious history refresher.  America was founded on cheap beer. What do you think George Washington was talking about when he penned the lyrics, “amber waves of grain” — the malt and barley used to make delicious golden beer!  Or why do you think the Sons of Liberty dressed up like Indians and dumped ship tons of tea in the harbor during the Boston Tea Party. This wasn’t something sober people would do. These patriots were a bunch of drunken smugglers with a lust for drinking cheap beer, dressing up and destroying shit. And who do you think led these hooligans? The patron saint of all cheap beer drinking Americans: Samuel Adams.

“Alfie!?” called a voice behind me, drawing me away from my lecture on the finer points of American history. I was confronted by two ladies named Hanna and Amy who I wished I had recognized. “We met you last night. You were wearing a cape?”

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