I rang in the New Year in a smelly sweaty mosh pit in New Orleans at a Leftöver Crack show. Screaming punk faces abounded, including a friend of mine who stuck out the whole show in the middle of the mosh pit in his wheelchair. The singer of Leftöver Crack asked him how he was doing, and then repeated his request for even more people to land on his head. The singer also kept giving their new guitar player (from the Riverboat Gamblers) shit for getting him really high on mushrooms right before their set. At one point, there was an argument with a proud Louisianan in the crowd about which state had more vowels, Louisiana or New York.
Local band CrackBox played before Leftöver Crack. They are fucking good, and even better at a hometown show full of rabid fans. Someone said they are "crust-pop." I don't know if they would agree, but it's not too terribly far from the mark. Both bands had a solid portion of the crowd that seemed to know every word to their songs. "Crazy Train" Corina (CrackBox's singer) was a wave of thrashing red hair moving around the stage, standing still just long enough for the New Year's countdown at midnight.
3, 2, 1, Happy New Year! Now get your dreadlocks out of my face.
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