Kick Out the Jams: The Briefs and the Bouncing Souls at House of Blues, Feb. 19

Last Saturday's lousy weather (we'll see what I say when it's 145 degrees out) did what it could to keep the Vegas punks away, but no dice. They came, the all-ages show sold out, drummer Chris Brief barked a frantic count ("Juan-toe-thay-foe!") and those of us compressed safely inside began sharing the accidental intimacy of bumped drinks and cigarette burns.

The Briefs: four skinny gentlemen, snazzy and sunglassed--not the Ramones-style aviator shades, but round, colored plastic frames that made these bleached boys look like jerky-limbed spawn of Billy Idol and Elton John. One two-minute blast followed the next. Lance Romance's exact words were a mystery to me, but I did catch a repeated chorus of "Kill Bob Seger right now!" It thrashed, but I dunno. I thought it was kind of funny 15 years ago when Mojo Nixon issued his fatwa against Don Henley, but this is a new challenge we face; we've been attacked by lunatic corporate fundamentalists, not a sovereign of old-time rock 'n roll, brutal though he may be.

When the Bouncing Souls took stage, so did a kind of punk-veteran confidence. Their sound sustained all the energy thrown down by the Briefs while expanding into something a little more breathable. Singer Greg Attonito loped around limberly in his indie slacks and button-down, descending several times into the crowd for jostles and handclasps. Someone crowned him with a poorboy cap that he wore a few minutes and politely returned, and I realized a couple of things: 1) a slight countermeasure of sobriety can go a long way toward giving a punk band real presence, and 2) I still can't dance.

As for the Gimme Gimmes, I couldn't tell you, because my Souls-lovin' friend was sniffed out for underage drinking and ejected from the venue (it seems that the rights to live independently, vote, and go to war had gone straight to her head). House of Blues did what it had to do, and just like that we went from throbbing anarchy to fluorescent lights, badges and finger-wagging on a cold loading dock. Bollocks! Oh well. Who could live up to a name as good as Me First and the Gimme Gimmes anyway?--Dave Surratt