My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult (with Ethyl Meatplow) - The Limelight, Reno, Nevada - September 1, 1993

This was a very bizarre evening on a number of different levels. I believe it was the first show I ever saw at the Limelight, one of the many failed dance club ventures that have come and gone in Reno over the years.

It started out pretty much as just a dance club without a lot of shows, with the main attraction being free beer for the first couple of opening hours. I guess the idea was to attract more people to show up before 11 p.m., which is the time that most folks decide they are sufficiently sloshed enough to be seen in public dancing. So, if you got there early, very often you could get in without paying a cover, or for a nominal cover, you could chug all the cheap beer you could stand in a short period of time. For dancing, PCH and I would often show up early. He didn’t drink, so he would keep bringing me extra beers so I could maximize my intake. Then when the binging was over, we would dance. Ugh, just the thought of drinking all of that bud light makes me want to chirp. Life is too short to drink nasty beer.

Another fixture at the Limelight (as well as the Rodeo Rock Café, which had a regular Tuesday night dancing thing sponsored by the alternative radio station) – was a guy we named the Lollapaloser. I think one of my friends actually knew him – and I seem to remember he was a coroner or something like that – but that may just be my overactive imagination. Anyway, this guy always wore his Lollapalooza shirt and always showed up at every alt-rock event in the greater Reno area. He danced pretty wildly and for some reason, was always staring at me like I was food. But he never really talked to me or anything and I could never figure out what his deal was. Of course, I was normally surrounded by guys (pretty much all my friends were guys) and I generally tried to get away from him whenever possible when I saw him on the dancefloor. I seem to remember once he came over to our table, surreptitiously to talk to DA, but still just kind of stood there and stared at me without saying anything. It was very odd.

My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult had a new album out at this point, with a catchy song, “Sex on Wheels.” I had seen them before, my first bar show in Las Vegas, and while the new album wasn’t my favorite, I figured they would be worth seeing, and they were.

I had no idea what we were getting into with Ethyl Meatplow though. I imagine we felt the same kind of uncomfortable sensation you may feel when you caught your parents having sex, or when you’re watching Naked Lunch with your great Aunt. I can’t remember all the details – PCH may fill them in – but there was a man/boy/girl who just came on the stage to be used as a sex prop, and the visuals were rather disturbing.

After the show, we were all kind of stunned. But not as stunned as when PCH had the band sign his ass. Well, not directly. I think he put a sticker on his clothed butt and had them sign that. I wonder if he still has the autograph?