review 1:

I have to say that I’ve been a Minutemen/Watt fan for a while now, but this was my first time actually seeing him live. W/o exaggeration, it re-ignited my love for music (live and recorded) and TRUE punk rock. These guys were so in the moment that it swelled my heart to the breaking point. Energy galore, boundless passion, and a refusal to play what others might define as punk were inspiring and honest. Incredible to see Mike Watt (trim and lean!) pounding on his SG bass, replete w/ Boon and Coltrane stickers, which embodied the dichotomy of the experience for me—stuck somewhere between free jazz blowing with a gospel passion for life and an aggressive, angry yet joyous outpouring of punk rock. Awesome, awesome, awesome.

Anyway, the show started off a bit shaky, as Watt was apparently having problems with the monitors (the Orpheum is a tiny club in the middle of shithole Ybor City…but I digress). You could hear him yelling at the sound guy and flashing him the evil eye through the first two tunes. Add that to the fact that Jerry seemed a bit nervous on the drums (at least to Watt—I didn’t really notice anything wrong, but I was stunned, so whatever), and Watt was like a forest fire. Definitely tinges of the “authoritative father” Watt-vibe that Nels Cline talked about as Watt kept yelling at Jerry to “calm down”—meanwhile Watt was already so into it he was bashing the cymbals with his fists. Pete seemed with it on the organ just fine. As the show progressed, Watt seemed to lighten up and they hit a good stride, all three of them sweating bullets, smiling, and ribbing the crowd for chatting during the quiet parts (which was really annoying, BTW). We got a few Stooges covers, and a ton of other wonderful music that mixed like a milkshake inside my noggin making it hard to remember specific songs. By the end/encore, Watt was actually APOLOGIZING for making fun of everyone who was talking through the set earlier. He whipped out the trash bag of merch and made sure to let everyone know that it wasn’t necessary to buy any of it—he was just happy that everyone came out to see what he was doing. I talked to him a little afterward, and he kept bowing graciously w/ his hands folded, like a beautiful, sweaty, funky monk. I talked to Pete as well, and told him he played like a cross between Ornette Coleman and Booker T. He laughed and was just as gracious. All in all, a completely inspiring show that demonstrated why punk is an attitude and not a dogma, why music is a vital lifeblood, and why a man who has been playing music for over two decades still climbs into a van, throws on the flannel in 90 degree weather, and jets down to FL for a few lucky fans to show them why life is delicious. I love this man and his music!

Conor