Well I'll be damned. My head feels like Don Decker dropkicked me, while wearing a pair of nicotine-laced boots, natch. Missed High on FIre because we high asses were sitting in the bar at Pizza Luce waiting for some friends. That really pissed me off. Tix (spelled w/the 'x' in homage to my true favorite band,(and cereal-Kid tested, Mother approved) Kix) were $18 large dollars. This too, pissed me off, because now instead of $6 per band, I was paying $9 per, canceling any benefits of the $2 PBR (16oz.) at Luce. I have never been to a show at the Quest, mostly, or rather entirely, since it is a Clear Channel club. I did once see that 'Atomic Dog,' George Clinton, in this club, back in 1990 when it was known as Glam Slam, and was owned by a certain royal purple midget who briefly changed his name to a symbol in the 90's, but that is neither here nor there, and I can now officially say that the sound in this venue sucks. Poor acoustics and very bludgeoned sound, and not necessarily due to the bands respective styles. Fu Manchu started off with California Crossing, from the album of the same name. They were energetic and played a good set, but my repeated requests for "Egor" went unheeded. Scott Hill reminded the crowd several times that "we have a new album out called 'Start the Machine." Make them believe, indeed. But goddamn his plan went awry, and he merely had to squash that fly. A Clutch show is like what I imagine an old-time religious revival meeting would be like. Frontman Neil Fallon comes across as a true blue collar man, resembling a young Harvey Pekar crossed with Judd Hirsch, and his delivery is all fire and brimstone, with contortions and unwieldy phrases and a piercing gaze that seems to bore right through you. Clutch has a portly guitar player who can really shred, and in stature reminds me of the great Connor bros. of Screaming Trees. I really enjoy Clutch and their sardonic lyrics and I like to envision myself driving a Dodge Swinger, 1973, with Jesus on the dashboard. I also really enjoy Jim Beam and sometime after midnight we pulled the plug and rode our fixed gears into the night, ears ringing, livers stinging.