SNFU

at The Middle East
by Austin Nash

It’s been one of those lies. Like going to a funeral for someone I only sort of knew, chiming in on old tales of conquest with now friends who weren’t really then friends, pretending to like bagels because they’re hip and French or something. The truth is that a bagel is just a bad fuckin’ doughnut, and I never really liked SNFU.

I’ve lived with a handful of SNFU albums over the years, owned by a person who never really got them out either. I think, in retrospect, that this person was probably trapped in a similar state of delusion over the actual prowess and quality of the outfit. I think he knew somebody who thought they liked SNFU when he was young.

SNFU is never comfortable around the house. It’s loud, it’s monotonous, and it just plain old rocks too much. I know this sounds odd, but it’s just too fast all the time. I’m left looking for some flexibility, something rich, some curve in the timbre patterns that I can grasp and hold on to, some dignity, a good handful of Earth, a little more ass, something… But it never comes.

I finally have the strength to say it. I never really liked SNFU. There were about 35 people at the all-ages show on a Tuesday night downstairs at the Middle East, which used to be a small bowling alley. With 35 people in it, it still looks like a bowling alley. G-Pig was remarkably unimpressive as a frontman for this legendary gang, and managed to insult the crowd for lack of…well…size? Forgetting, of course, that he was speaking to those of us who did show up.

So there I stood, uninvolved, as I watched SNFU go through the motions of retching up a sorry-Johnny-one-note performance and feeling comfortable with the fact that I don’t like them in a club either. I don’t feel lied to or raped over my recent settlement, for I chose this. I am not a victim. I am going to stop before I wear out this groove, like this band I used to say I liked.