Ed. Note: Charles was supposed to go to a Philadelphia last Friday. He was supposed to see friends he hadn’t seen in AGES. He was even supposed to roller skate. But he didn’t. No sir nor ma’ams. Last Friday night, rather than cozying up between a Lager and his lady in a whirlwind of love and bicoastal adoration, he dragged his finger-lickin’ ass to Williamsburg to catch the crucial mood double billing of Marriages and Creepoid at the Music Hall of Williamsburg and though he didn’t deign provide us with a formal summation of the bands at hand (he blames an early train the next morning) he did provide us with a slew of shady pictures and a thumbs up on the whole thing, briefly opining:
“Marriages are potent as all fuck: more slink than sulk and crush than croon. Way better and bigger than on record. Total James Spader makeout jams. Creepoid are fucking adorable little rippers who don’t much seem to fall in for the grunge rap they get except maybe they drink cheap and get stoned and sometimes their songs are slow. I don’t know. Mostly, they rage on grumbling pop hangovers.”
Now please dig, if you will, his pictures.