Red Aunts

At The Middle East Cafe
by Chaz Thorndike

Too punk for their own good, the Red Aunts fuckin’ rocked! Nothing is sacred when they have mics at their mouths. They insulted everything and everyone without prejudice. Only a small portion of the Cambridge crowd had the nuts to say “Fuck you!” in response. (Actually, it was just the asshole next to me, and I think it was beer, not nuts, that inspired him to speak his mind.) The rest just smiled, nodded, shuffled their feet, and clapped at the end of songs like the educated pussies they are. Ladies, if I may use the term so loosely, take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. In a good way, of course.

The piranha bitches shredded through a set of songs from #1 Chicken (Epitaph) and earlier stuff I don’t know. (I’ve got some scouring to do to find this stuff.) The Red Aunts were just too cool to tune or stick to set lists. Their exclusive band banter kinda shut out the audience, but fuck ’em. The shy girl bassist (who politely told me to zark off after the show) wore shades the whole time. The two guitarists screeched and squealed like banshees getting fucked in the ass. Everyone sang, if I might abuse the word. The Asian drummer-girl looked like she was having a blast trying to keep a steady pounding rhythm within the chaos. At one point, they turned their backs on the audience for an entire instrumental. How poetic. How punk rock. Yup, a great show that proved punk PC is BS and rude rules. And fuck you.