Checked out the new and improved Life Against Death last night at The Astoria Hotel. The opening bands were Open Fire and Kersey; Open Fire was the better of the two openers.

Life Against Death have gone through a surprising number of changes in their first year of life. They started out as a five piece band; take the standard four piece band (drum, guitar, bass and vocals) and add another dedicated vocalist. At the start, there were two male vocalists; Aaron Shute and Scott Inniss. I’m not sure if the drummer is still Mark Castle, though.

Mya “Mayhem” Wollf took over for Scott in March 2005, and then the Tour That Nearly Killed The Band happened in the summer of 2005. Aaron and Jason Clift (bass)left the band mid-tour, taking the van with them. The band was now vanless, and missing a vocalist and a bass player, but reinforcing my theory on how expendable bass players are, they carried on with the tour.

Performing as a three-piece last night, they were still amazing; if anything, they were tighter as a three piece with Mya and Brett sounding. Mya said that they’re planning on adding a bass player, but I can’t imagine anyone would notice if they did…

The only real disappointment was the CD that the band offered; in that it was the original band; pre-Mya. I like the DIY label with the sharpie, and the lowtech CD case, and the sound quality is decent enough; it’s just that I expected Mya’s vocals to be on there with Aaron’s, and the dual male vocals weren’t as interesting.

Outside on the street, while waiting out the middle band, and trying to cool down a bit, we saw quite a bit of near violence. This isn’t something that we’ve witnessed down here that frequently, though historically it has involved people who weren’t frequenting the bar.

It started out simply enough; an over-muscled guy in a car (we’ll call him Steroid Bob) listening to crappy music with the bass cranked. He was waiting for his buddy who was in the cold beer store, or upstairs in the hotel, and he thought that one of the guys from Open Fire had said something derogatory. Steroid Bob opens the door, and puffs out the chest like a Bantam rooster, holding his arms forward, ending in fists.

“You say sumpin’?”

The kids assure Bob that they didn’t, and they look absolutely terrified. Bob isn’t sure if they’re telling the truth or not, but appears to give them the benefit of the doubt, and turns around to get back in the car. One of the guys lets loose with a nervous laugh, or says something that Bob doesn’t hear; Bob’s sure that someone definitely said something. He gets talked down again, and his beer-buying friend arrive, ready to go. As they’re pulling out, I’m sure that one of the kids is going to do or say something; flip the hoods the finger, or yell something, but they keep their eyes down, and studiously avoid looking at the car as it leaves.

Not ten minutes later, a bar patron notices a bunch of drunks leaning on his car; “Hey, guys, could I ask you to not lean on my car? I mean, I just had it painted. It’s a classic car, and if you could just not lean on it”

Two of the girls and the guy respond “Well, anyone here own that car?” and the three of them head off to lean on a minivan owned by one of the bands. Everyone laughs it off, and the slackers were happy on their new vehicle. Well, except for one loud obnoxious woman; the fourth in the group of slackers, who doesn’t feel at all like moving.

“This is a PINTO!” she screams. It isn’t a Pinto, but even if it were, he asked nicely that she not lean on it.

Somehow, another cluster of bar patrons get involved from a bit further down the street, asking the girl to get off the car, though they’re not as nice about it as the owner was, and one of the angry little guys walks up on the Pinto Yeller like he’s going to hit her, and at a number of points, he’s pulled away by his friends just in time. Those friends get louder, and the girls in the group start yelling more and more at the slackers, who are all rather upset by the situation, and they choose to leave, dragging the Pinto Girl along. More yelling, more threats, and then suddeny Pinto Girl is alongside the “Pinto” and she keys the length of the car, flaking away big chunks of paint down to the primer. She doesn’t stop there, and also keys the car of someone who wasn’t even involved in the whole deal; she just happened to be in the wrong lane at the right time.

Nobody can really believe it, and the slackers move off, only to be caught by police two blocks away, undoubtedly leaning on someone else’s car.

Why is it that I never take my camera on the interesting nights?