Ruckus (Barely A)live: Maritime

Last night, Maritime played what can only be speculated upon as an amazing set at Chicago's number one hip-hop club, the Subterranean. In addition to people's faces getting melted off with sheer, bottled, indie pop beauty, last night marked a very interesting and shocking historical occasion. No, I'm not talking about the first time that more than fifteen white kids were inside of the Subterranean at the same time (although, it was.) Oh no my friends, last night marked the last time that I will EVER pre-drink for a wine tasting with a bottle of whiskey and then use said wine tasting as a pre-drinking venue for a concert. It's just never going to happen again. If I wasn't the chief editor, sole writer, and only employee of Ruckus Maximus, I probably would have fired myself today. In fact, I think I still may.

Sitting inside of the multi-floored Subterranean, I ordered a beer, drank three sips, and realized I was way too drunk for public, so I decided to go outside for some air. Anyways, one thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was semi-lost in a weird area of Southside Chicago. I say "semi-lost" only because I was too drunk to care/panic about it, and I say "weird area" only because I don't know the appropriate racist term. As I wandered around, my hood donned to mask my caucasianess, I started to sober up a little bit and came to the conclusion that I might be in somewhat of a bad situation.

Now, I'm not going to waste my time writing this big, suspenseful, post about my adventures in Ghettoland, because obviously you all know I made it out in one piece, or else I wouldn't have been able to type this up for you--durr. But, in case I've peaked your curiosity, basically, here's what happened. I befriended some black homeless dude, heard his life story, and walked the four miles back to civilization. I bought him a tall can of PBR in some shitty bar, we smoked a pack of Camels, and we pistol-whipped some frat-boys at pool. I then started thinking, "What the hell am I doing?" Maritime is still probably playing down the street! So, I smoke-bombed it the F out of there, walked back to the Sub-T, and discovered that they do not allow re-entry. Son of a bitch...

The only reason I really wrote all this is just to take a second to apologize to everyone who was eagerly awaiting some hot indie pictures today. Luckily, Maritime will be back in Chicago on November 10th, so I'm going to have to take a mulligan on this one.

In the mean time, here's some related readings to tide you over.

• The Trip Wire's review of Maritime playing SXSW this year.
• Chris Walker Versus' Four Track Friday. I wrote it last night, after my disappointing adventure in Maritimeland. It's kind of a fun read, because I had soused myself into retardation.

So, in conclusion, I'm sorry, but not really...
Figurines on Monday--awesome.
And yes, I am, in fact, aware that I may have a drinking problem... but thanks for the concern.