Tag: beth ditto
The Growlers Six: Abuse, Healing, Feeling Shards Of Shattering Glass Ceilings
Jonathan Reyes
November 20, 2017
I felt it all again Sunday night, just like I did 8 years ago. When I was a younger I popped my cherry with Coachella. Like every other old fuck, the one I went to was the last good one “before it got too big” but in my case, it was. Way before the holograms and second week cash grab. In my years, I got to see Gossip, Crystal Castles, and Girl Talk. Not all three played the same year but I can’t recall which is which and googling is for fucking posers. Sunday, October 28th, I got to see them all again. related content: The Secret Journal Of A Pizza Spy At Coachella 2017 I was late to catch all of Beth Ditto’s set. I heard it in the distance and was trying to rush but let out an annoyed “fuck” because I knew I still needed to be searched by security. To my delight and horror, security didn’t check me at all. In fact, his exact quote was, “I don’t give a fuck about this.” Let that sink in. My short term, instant gratification has given way to waking up in a cold sweat every night since those words were uttered- but
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The Growlers Lose The Beach Goth Battle But Won The War This Weekend
Dave Unbuckled
November 7, 2017
We had already survived a dead car battery in record breaking heat, when our ride dropped us off at Bolsa Chica State Beach for Punk in Drublic, in Huntington Beach. This was a fitting location to pre-game for Growlers Six, happening twenty miles up the coast, as it was the show I had intended to cover, but the promoters seemed less interested in our intention of reviewing the fest, than assisting with late promotion through our social media. For this reason alone, we felt it necessary to stop by and “sample” some of the 100 local craft beers being distributed amongst the festival goers, then ditch the divorced-dad-fest, as we cruelly nicknamed it, and go straight to Beach Goth. related content: Beach Goth 4: The Party Of The Year We attempted to count and review each beer, but by the time we arrived at the mid-twenties, I was already tripping over my shoelaces and bumping into patient patrons, hiding their disgust at our unruly entitlement, and surly demeanors. It also didn’t help that the more I drank, the more negatively critical I became with each beer, while my partner and photographer became more friendly and outspoken with the pourers and
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