Thursday night is Club Denim at the Juke Joint in Anaheim. The weekly shindig throws in a pinch of rock, a splash of punk and a handful of booze for a fairly debacherous night.
And what's more debacherous than motorcycles and power chords? Nuthin'. So when the Heathens (a band I played bass in many moons ago) hit the stage, fathers everywhere will be keeping a tight grip over their daughters.
Or something like that. I'm not that good at rock 'n' roll hyperbole.
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DJs Rowdy and Ren will be spinning tunes as well. If I didn't have a prior engagement that night, I'd so be there. Not on stage, but in the crowd. Since bailing on the Heathens a few years back, I've realized I'm better off stage than on. The ladies, I've heard, heartily disagree.