Bim Skala Bim

with Spring Heeled Jack at Pearl Street

Seeing as how the reviewers spent more time puking than either skanking the night away or, gasp! jotting down notes, I’ll summarize their review in a few brief and meaningless lines:

First we hit the liquor store. Then we drank. Then we drove to the show. Then we began passing out and/or vomiting in phone booths, bathrooms, and backseats. Then somebody drove us all home. The end.

Question: How many alcoholic skaheads does an overstressed Editor have to put on a guest list to get something that resembles a review?