Remember when getting up off the floor and going to a rock show felt like a fun thing to do (it totally still is, but keep reading, ok?)? One where the potential for an exciting, possibly dangerous experience that could leave you with scars, the kind where you could eat the bar and lose your shirt and wet yourself and still go home with the chick (or dude) with the shaved head (or...)? Those memorable instances of pure, vacant joy are always aided and abetted... (read more)

Artists in this story: Monotonix