I'm Terrified of Seeing Trash Talk at Club Dada Tonight

Trash Talk, the hardcore punk band from Sacramento, California, has a reputation. Like, a walk around, always screaming reputation. A leave a fan bloodied reputation. A start a mosh pit, rad reputation. Since their inception in 2005, they've been putting on shows that ought to require fans to sign a waiver like the contracts the lab rats on The Real World have to sign: We're not exactly responsible for things of minor consequence like loss of limbs, mental illness or, you know, death. Okay, maybe I'm being a bit hyperbolic here, but you get the gist. If that sounds like music to your ears, then Club Dada is the place to be tonight.

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Trash Talk was signed to the label full of youthful miscreants, Odd Future, back in 2012. The leader of this gang of misfits, Tyler, the Creator, has been known to be a bit of a wild guy himself. This is a video of him jumping from the balcony on the second floor of a venue into a crowd of human people like he's some super rich kid yelling "I am a golden God" and catapulting himself from a roof into a pool.

In similar fashion, the embedded video above casually features people hanging and crawling on wooden supports above the crowd and jumping into the fray. While I am not a willful participant in any sort of moshing that is light with casual shoves and mostly jumping up and down, I understand the appeal. There's some beauty to an unmitigated release of aggression, through shoving, flying fists, and ramming your body into another person.

There's a connection felt between the people deep, deep inside the eye of a storm and it's felt merely through music and it's ability to act as a red herring from the day to day woes and headaches. Music bringing people together for a hot and sweaty time, no matter if they're gay, straight, black, white, Muslim, or Jewish. And even remarkably, if they're Republican or a Democrat. Of course, some people just enjoy getting their asses kicked too, which is cool I guess.

For my own, self-protective tastes, I am excited to go see Ratking open. They're a rap group from Harlem that's equal parts Wu Tang, Big Pun, and Bad Brains, and they capture the grime and grit of the folklore us millennials only get to hear about a pre-Guliani New York City. But for fans of hardcore, I implore you to go see Trash Talk and get a little wild and weird. This could be one of the most memorable shows you ever see in your lifetime. It could be a story you tell your kids about your missing tooth or your permanently crooked nose.

And I may even manage to not wuss out myself. While I most certainty have no earthly desire to be within a Shaquille Rashaun O'Neal's arm's reach of any sort of authentic mosh pit, not the rap ones with a bunch of hypebeasts in $100 sweat pants jumping up and down, I'm super curious about how these Trash Talk guys throw down live.

But if someone winds up drinking his own urine in the middle of the room, I'm definitely getting the hell out. Fair warning.


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H. Drew Blackburn