King Kahn and BBQ are famous for their rowdy live shows; they wear costumes and generally freak out. But even for these guys, who donned a dress and a swami costume last night at Now That’s Class, Cleveland proved too out of control.
First there was the ubiquitous drunker-than-Mel-Gibson-and-loving-it guy who kept climbing on stage and screaming into the microphone. With the only security guard busy watching the door, there was nobody to yank him back down and give him a stern talking to.
A few times, King Kahn took it upon himself to shove the guy off the stage, where the crowd graciously made room so he could land gently on his spine. A couple of times, Stage Climber simply decided to climb back down himself, realizing that the show was more fun when viewed from the floor, where all the people were thrashing about and whatnot.
You got the feeling the band could work around their aspiring third member if he were the only hazard of the night. But then came the broken beer bottles, two or three of them, smashed on the ground and hurled at King Kahn for no immediately discernible reason. Kahn was professional enough to finish a song as he dodged the projectiles, but when he was done, he had seven choice words for his audience.
“Don’t fucking throw broken bottles at me,” he requested.
“We love your face!” yelled somebody in the crowd.
“So you throw broken fucking bottles at me?” he said, making a pretty good point.
“Welcome to Cleveland,” rebutted another audience member, making the best point of all.
The band wrapped up after a minimum amount of songs — six or so — and quickly packed up their shit, looking more befuddled than angry. Their next stop is Buffalo, where, it can be assumed, venues provide stage security, and fans don’t break their bottles before they hurl them at performers.
God bless this city. -- Gus Garcia-Roberts