For the last couple weeks, I’ve been obsessed with the band Future Generations. They stormed into my world with the song “Thunder in the City” through the amazing power of Spotify’s Discover Playlist and boy-oh-boy did it hook me, like Thom’s mom on the corner of Girard & Frankford (cue Family Guy cut scene).
By some stroke of luck they happened to be playing a show in Philly that same week. The show was only $10 (just like Thom’s mom) so I knew I’d be able to badger some of my friends into attending.
Girard & Frankford is an interesting segue because, I set that shit up on purpose. This busy street corner is the home of Johnny Brenda’s, which just so happens to be my favorite venue in the city. It’s relatively tiny (100-200 people) and therefore smaller indie bands come through regularly. This is great for an old fart like myself because fuck crowds. My demands are simple: a good view of the band and the ability to grab a good beer and take a piss without bumping grundles with every Radio 104.5 frat bro in attendance.
I’m lucky that I live pretty close to this venue. So when Friday night rolled around, I decided to stroll over to the venue right around the time doors opened at 8pm. As I walked up, I saw this group of hipsters with shit eating grins on their faces loitering out front. I casually strolled up and in my best Tom Brokaw voice asked, “What band are you guys in?”
Truthfully, I already knew the answer to the question due to some light cyberstalking. Apparently, the late night Facebook fondling sessions were mutual as they immediately recognized this goofy yet handsome wannabe groupie.
We chatted for a while before the show and our love began to blossom. As we sat at the bar sipping on the finest craft IPAs, they indulged my probing. They told me of their influences: such as the prototypical bands like Vampire Weekend and Foster the People as well as the slightly more unusual hip-hop influences. The majority of the band went to college together at Fordham in NYC and it’s clear in their “we lived in the same dorm and have probably heard each other having sex” kind of friendship that you can have.
Their self titled debut album had just dropped on July 29th and I, much to the chagrin of my girlfriend, had been constantly listening to it from start to finish. I knew all of the lyrics, the guitar parts, the backup vocals, and the midi hooks. The show was going to go down in the spank bank hall of fame.
I got my patented seat upstairs in the balcony which gives a perfect bird’s eye view of the show so you can really see the sweat trickle down their balls...awww skeet skeet mother fucker. The night started surprisingly good with an opening band called Aphra. This chick can sing, and she does amazing things with two microphones and I’m not going to make anymore jokes because I’m not a misogynist. If I’m being brutally honest they would have been a tad better if there was a full band, but this duo has potential.
After a quick set from Aphra, we were on to the band I came to see, Future Generations. They opened with their song “Black in Bleu” a favorite of mine as it reminds me of the Philly band (and now defunct) Cheers Elephant. Yet, something was off with the sound. The instruments were drowning out the vocals. I was upset.
Thankfully, by the second song “Thunder in the City” the sound guy had gotten his shit together and I knew we were in for a treat. By this point, I was wary to stand up. 1) Because I had imbibed a few too many due to my early arrival to the show and 2) because it was going to be hard to hide my raging hard on.
The highlight of the night was when they brought the mood down with their song “This Place We Go.” It’s an indie ballad for the ages. They then followed that up with my favorite song of theirs “You’ve Got Me Flush.” If I’m being honest at this point my memory got a bit fuzzy, but I was finally free of my bar stool jail cell as I had finished in my pants.
The band Illinois closed the evening, and although I didn’t love them from a few spotify listens, they were very good. You could tell that they had been playing together for several years as they were as tight as Joel’s asshole in an ice bath.
After the show, we left to go across the street for some German beers and Jenga. But our night was not over. Oh boy, was it not over. Because, we reunited and ended the night the only way that you can possibly end a show when you’re a young out of state band playing a show in Philadelphia.
Yeah you guessed it, it ended with a cheese whiz hand job inside a wawa while snorting tastykake crumbs off each other’s assholes.
Just kidding, we got cheesesteaks you sick fucks.