I have some things to say about a recent Bane show I attended, but I can’t even fathom beginning without telling this story first. I may have told it to you before and I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned it on PINM, but what the hell, when has repeating myself every stopped me before? (The answer is never)

Long ago, Bane played at the Red Raven (now the New Direction) in Fargo, ND. That, in and of itself, is pretty insane. I don’t know how many people that place holds, but you’d expect a band like Bane to play larger. Even more remarkably, The Black Dahlia Murder was playing the dive-iest of dive bars in town that same night. In Fargo. Two of my favorite bands within 10 blocks of each other.

An aside: Black Dahlia was playing the Nestor that night. When I was in Five Star Fracture, we went on one real tour. Our last show of said tour was at the Nestor. I probably played … 75 shows up to then? Maybe more? Anyway, we walk into this sketchy bar, load in, set up, sound check (as much as we did back then) and I did what I had done 75 prior times to out Nestor show: I took my shirt off. I am a sweaty, sweaty man and shirts are nothing but a hinderance to my beautiful, graceful rock moves. Then it happened. A lady came up to me and told me I would either have to put my shirt on or tape up my nips. Still the only show I have ever played with a shirt on, that I recall, at least. I bring this up because the drummer from Dahlia didn’t have his shirt on this night and I was not pleased.

We went to Black Dahlia with heavy hearts. I don’t recall how much time had passed between this night and John dying, but it was relatively close. Or at least the wound was still raw enough to feel close. I can’t tell you much about Black Dahlia’s set. I remember liking it. I remember being blown away that they were playing that shit hole. I remember looking at my phone a lot, thinking about how I had to go see Bane down the road.

Dahlia finished and we walked over to the Red Raven. I don’t think we bought tickets in advance, which seems like a gross miscalculation, but we got in. I don’t remember much about this show, either. I remember people slamming around, I remember staring at Aaron, trying to work up the courage to say something. I remember screaming along to “Swan Song” like my life depended on it.

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It’s funny. When I thought about this Bane show on the way to Minneapolis, I kept coming back to one thing: “The Blackhawks are a mile away and, yes, they’re playing like total shit right now, but I should be at that game!” (Spoiler alert: I am really glad I did not go to that game) I kept thinking the same thing though, that I would never be happy with myself for picking a meaningless Hawks game over Bane’s last Minnesota tour date.

*this next little bit has some very salty language. You’ve been warned*

We got to the show and I was glad I made the choice I made. We had some friends there and got to see some okay bands. Nothing great, in my opinion, but nothing horrendous. But then, as whatever band it was, was doing their breakdowny breakdowns, some jack ass, skinny, rail thin pussy ran into a crowd and throw his elbows in on them. I will never, ever understand this and if you do this to people, we should not be friends. Just leave me alone forever if you think that shit is reasonable.

Anyway, ol Fuckshit Mc Bean Pole cracked a girl right in the nose and busted it. She was pouring blood and tears as she ran for the exit. I’m not an overly tough guy, but I sincerely thought about beating someone’s ass for the first time in years. I’ve never been more ashamed to be a part of a “scene”. That girl paid her 15 dollars to see whoever she paid to see and she definitely did not deserve to have her night ruined by some cunt in a plain black tee and chick jeans and a beanie even though it was fucking 50 degrees out and 75 in the venue.

So that pretty much ruined my night. I couldn't stop staring at this kid as he showed off whatever wound he had from this poor girl's face running so cruelly into his toothpick arm. I couldn't stop watching how awkwardly he stood for the best of that band's set, not jumping around, not acting the fool because, I hope at least, he had a tinge of regret into how stupid his bullshit really was.

When Bane hit the stage, I was reasonably excited, but not as much as I could have been / should have been. Here's the thing about hardcore that I don't want to say, but I will, just this once. Some bands in hardcore, Bane being one of them, are sloppy joe, man. They were loose, pretty off, Aaron barely sings his parts on a good day and just, honestly, kind of bad. So I started thinking about that kid again. I watched him awkwardly stand, awkwardly jump and awkwardly pretend he knew the words to Bane's biggest hits. Then, justice.

No, not the best kind of justice. There was no blood, no body damage, no carnage. No 300 pound man ending this schmuck’s evening. But during a break, my man Aaron dropped the hammer. I would be doing him a tremendous disservice in trying to quote him directly, but he essentially told that kid to go fuck himself. And, on his way to going to fuck himself, to apologize to that poor girl. Of course, he was way more eloquent than I, but you're stuck with me. He talked about how that kid just totally missed the point of Bane and hardcore in general. He said if that girl's friends were still around, to find him after their set. He had a shirt for her. Maybe more. It was the least he could do.

I've known Aaron was a great guy for a long time. I didn't need last night to confirm it. I already have a story for that.

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I don't remember what Bane closed with that night at the Red Raven. I don't remember what they opened with. I remember them seeming a little sloppy. Most importantly, I remember Aaron walking out through the Red Raven crowd and I remember walking up to him. I turned him around with a tap on the shoulder and looked him straight in the eye and said, “That was a really wonderful set, man, but that's not what I want to tell you”. My eyes were starting to water, but when was I going to get this chance again? “Very recently, my best friend died and I just wanted to thank you because The Note helped me get through that. Not through that, I'm not over it by any means, but your music is helping a great deal”. He looked me in my goofy, teary eyes and didn't say a fucking word. He grabbed me, threw his arms around me and hugged me like he cared. He pulled away and said, “Man, I am so sorry to hear that, but thank you so much for telling me this”. I started to cry a little more, so I nodded and walked away.

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Last night, I was watching Bane and, again, during a break in the action, Aaron started talking about a record that he waited for and waited for and waited for. He talked about how him and his boys finally got their hands on that record and how much that record still means to him this day. But then he said something that really struck me. He said, again, i'm paraphrasing 'I don't even like that record. I've probably listened to [the main track] off that record 20 times, but those days still mean the world to me'. He was talked about how he'll always remember that record because of what it meant to him, in that moment, in that place.

I was thinking about this as he said they had 2 songs left. I was thinking about how bad Bane can be live if you're standing still, not running around, NOT PUNCHING PEOPLE IN THE FACE, of course, but running around and being free. I was thinking about how much Bane means to me, even though I wouldn't put any of their records in my top 5. Maybe not even in my top 10. I thought about all these things as I took off through the crowd and I thought about it as I jumped on some kid's back to scream along with Count Me Out. I thought about it as the circle pit opened up and I took off, one million miles an hour and I saw that bean pole, that twig, that mother fucker who ruined that chick's night.

I ran past him. I got back in the crowd and got up to the mic. That's what hardcore is about. Bane is one of the best shows you can see, when you're running around. I'm sad to see it come to an end, but I'll always hold them in my heart. Someday, I'll tell my daughter about seeing Bane on their final tour. I'll tell her about how they could get a little sloppy from time to time, but how hardcore means so much more than that. I tell her about her mom and I driving back to Fargo that night, going to sleep at 1:30, just to get up at 6:45 to get to work.

I'll tell her it was all worth it. But, perhaps most importantly, I'll tell her to watch out for elbows.