Heavy Metal Parking Lot (promo)
Heavy Metal Parking Lot documents heavy metal music fans tailgating in the parking lot outside the Capital (since demolished) in Landover, Maryland on May 31, 1986 before a Judas Priest concert (with opening act Dokken).
There’s just too much to say. Too much.
For the outsiders, let me just say that not a whole lot has changed in Landover and Glen Burnie.
Rod Stewart // Young Turks // Tonight I’m Yours
“What up lil’ mama? It’s your boy youngin’. G5 dippin’, Louis Vutton luggage.”
Maybe I’m showing too much of my inner stats nerd here, but some interesting things to note from this survey: Republicans gravitate to a single news source by a pretty fair margin. Democrats enjoy yelling at their televisions more than Republicans. And 10% of Americans don’t know their party affiliation.
CABLE NEWS BABY!
After the Fire // Der Kommissar // Der Kommissar
Synth Pop Thursday Dawg! That’s a thing right?
Ramones // Judy is a Punk // Ramones
They both went down to Berlin, joined the Ice Capades!
GPOYW wondering how many times I have to tap this pen against my face before ideas start flowing out of my head. Or I get a pimple. Or both.
Sunset Rubdown // The Mending of the Gown // Random Spirit Lover
Classic Water
I remember Kitty saying we shared a deep longing for
the consolation prize, laughing as we rinsed the stagecoach.
I remember the night we camped out
and I heard her whisper
“think of me as a place” from her sleeping bag
with the centaur print.
I remember being in her father’s basement workshop
when we picked up an unknown man sobbing
over the shortwave radio
and the night we got so high we convinced ourselves
that the road was a hologram projected by the headlight beams.
I remember how she would always get everyone to vote
on what we should do next and the time she said
“all water is classic water” and shyly turned her face away.
At volleyball games her parents sat in the bleachers
like ambassadors from Indiana in all their midwestern schmaltz.
She was destroyed when they were busted for operating
a private judicial system within U.S. borders.
Sometimes I’m awakened in the middle of the night
by the clatter of a room service cart and I think back on Kitty.
Those summer evenings by the government lake,
talking about the paradox of multiple Santas
or how it felt to have your heart broken.
I still get a hollow feeling on Labor Day when the summer ends
and I remember how I would always refer to her boyfriends
as what’s-his-face, which was wrong of me and I’d like
to apologize to those guys right now, wherever they are:
No one deserves to be called what’s-his-face.
- David Berman of Silver Jews fame.
