We March: The Dirty Curty Selections (LP)
Free MP3 download & GTRNR sticker
Nobody ever wanted to go on after We March. Minds and ears toasted, it would be like playing to a lobotomy ward. I always came out the other side of a We March show drenched in sweat and bruised below the knees, where the stage at The Union would cap me as I headbanged so hard I probably gave myself CTE. After moving to the city, I remember eavesdropping on a local band that was playing a show with them. They were arguing about the lineup order. One of them wanted to play last, and in an instant someone jumped in to save themselves the embarrassment: “You don’t wanna play after We March.” Even the big bad city kids were afraid to go on after Athens’ crown jewel. And really, how could you expect to outdo them? We March had a mean, misanthropic sound that combined LA punk and DC hardcore with what I swear was a vein of Lynyrd Skynyrd running through the middle. Their wildman lead singer spent as much time in the crowd and hanging from the ceiling (or that weird vertical support beam in the middle of The Union) as he was on stage. I’ve seen a lot of confrontational fake-Iggys in my life, but this man was different — maybe because it didn’t feel put-on or pretentious, but joyful. Even as a small guy, he was intimidating, but also funny: I saw the band play at a record shop and while it ripped through its set, he sang and shopped, purchasing a couple of LPs by the end of the song.
The rest of the band was scarier: a guitarist with IDIOT burned into his arm and scabbed over. A bass player sneaking away from his pizza job to make the set, looking like a demented butcher in his dirty apron and probably returning to flip dough with some blood mixed in with the sauce. A charismatic drummer just murdering his silver kit. That’s my classic lineup, but there were many and they all had their charms.
One of my favorite We March legends, which unfortunately I was not around to experience firsthand so it could very well be apocryphal, came from a show they played to a rough and rowdy crowd at Skatopia. With skaters running riot all around them, the boys flew through their set with appropriate abandon. After their last song, the crowd pleaded for an encore. Well, “pleaded” might not be the right word — demanded is probably more accurate. But We March didn’t have any other songs, and the mood in the crowd was curdling. This would get ugly sooner than later. So they improvised, and simply played their set again. The band so nice you had to hear ‘em twice.
I’ve been kicked, pushed, punched, spit on, and other piss-related shit I won’t go into at We March shows. I’ve probably even cried. Their albums were on repeat in my car for years. I still love them — the tunes and the dudes. I found bliss in the energy bomb released during We March sets. Listening to this album, I know it won’t be long before you find yourself dangling upside down from the ceiling too, screaming with glee and not quite sure how you got there...
- Mark Karges