The Queers

at The Elvis Room
by Mark Phinney

For anyone who’s never caught a show at the Elvis Room up in breezy Portsmouth, here’s what you do: Go into your bathroom, turn the radio up really loud, then invite about fifty strangers in. In other words, a typical Queers show. I was, however, in for a treat this night. Instead of the usual line-up of Joe, Hugh, and B-Face, there was the return of former lead screamer Wimpy. Now I know everything about the Queers before Joe took over vocals and led the band into a candy-coated teen hop (which is a good thing). The boys were loud, fast, and sweaty – the way punk should be. I mean, that’s what it’s there for, right? Even though I came out of this one with some war wounds, it was still a pleasure to be in the company of a bunch of confused all-agers bruising one another up.

I’m coming from the past three albums with Joe making me want to be a teenager, so witnessing the shirtless Wimpy perform near Satanic rituals set me back a bit, like to the far end of the room. Portsmouth’s favorite sons ripped through about 15 early demos and 7″s in Ramonesque style, in only 20 minutes on stage. The highlight of the night was Joe rippin’ out that ol’ 1-2-3-4, and kickin’ into “Rockaway Beach.” That’s when the kids lost all memory that they had parents waiting at home for them. It’s a beautiful thing to see a signed band for only five bucks, and The Queers deliver the goods. I’ve been a fan for a long time now, and The Queers are what punk is all about. Catchy, fast, and fun, leaving a sour taste in your mouth – but a good sour taste, like Sweet Tarts.