Noise shows with a dozen bands are always boring for hours at a time, a bunch of scumbag macho nerds trying to outdo one another in competitions that tap into the National Geographic sequences of their DNA. And then you see that one act who played for five minutes and it was totally worth it. Being tortured is part of the process, watching a hundred new kids who're still wearing their weed weight and college logo hats discover all the amazing sounds available to a severely chipped cymbal when placed on the ground. It's just how it is, the end, and the only better way to listen to noise is on a CD inside a tanning bed while simultaneously hearing your skin crackle beneath a black light that is literally killing you. Anyway, I went to Todd Pendu's Black Mass last night and stuck it out seven hours for a few very special moments. Here's what it was like…
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