Not too long ago I attended a pretty rad Oakland houseparty. I thought I was having a good time when all of a sudden a bunch of my friends left, and I noticed that the party was inundated with Burning Man ravers, most of whom seem to have stayed sartorially stuck in 1997. Predictably, I became annoyed. Hey burners, do you really have to wear your furry pants to a punk rock house party?
The “burners” self segregated themselves in the kitchen, totally missing out on the band action in the living room, which included San Francisco’s most charming punk rock combo as well as their glamorous LA counterparts.That’s what I love about “burners” though — they’re the most solipsistic group of individuals. They try and re-create BM wherever they go, and for all their professed open-mindedness, God forbid they should step outside of their cozy fake fur cocoon, drop the ketamine bumps and the spandex body suits, and actually expose themselves to something a little bit different.
On another note, I heard that a super-underground rock band called the Foo Fighters played a show down the road at the Oakland Coliseum that same night, and word on the street is that their drummer is pretty awesome.

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