Saturday Night: House Of Pain At Warehouse Live

House of Pain, Big B Warehouse Live March 26, 2011

See more jumping around from Warehouse Live Saturday in our slideshow.

Walking up to Warehouse live Saturday night, Aftermath wasn't sure what to expect of House of Pain's Houston reunion stop.

We heard through the grapevine, "it had been moved to the smaller room because they had only sold 100 tickets," and were a bit heartbroken. "House of Pain deserves better than that," we thought.

We really had nothing to worry about.

So as we approach the door to Warehouse Live, and see what looks like a really late St Patrick's day party on the porch. We see green clover stamped T-shirts abound and one lady who is wearing a leather-type vest with the Soviet Union stamp on it and what looks like a blinking red bicycle light on top of it. Really, what the hell? We're celebrating the Irish, can't you see?

Then we remember DJ Lethal of the original House of Pain is of Latvian decent and Latvia, as you well know from your studies, was once part of the Soviet Union. So there. The joke's on us. It all makes sense.

Anyway, we walk in just in time to catch Big B, a California-born, Nevada-raised rapper, who blends rap and rock together to create a really diverse live experience.

Here's what you need to know about Big B: He looks like a big teddy bear, but like bears, they look cute, but they'll claw you to death. No pun intended, but Big B is a big presence on stage. His cross of hip-hop and easy, feel-good alternative background tunes makes his work easy to digest and just really enjoyable, so his being part of this tour made real sense.

There were instances where he came across as a really capable lyricist but his tracks are real anthemic, meant for hooligans tattooed head to toe . He also sells T-shirts that say "tattooed white trash mother fucker" and yells "fuck the police" to his audience. Although we had never heard of him before, you better believe we are paying attention now. Big B. Get with it.

So as we make ourselves to the bar, we notice the crowd has to be three times the rumored 100 people, and wonder whether House of Pain would put on a good show. Just then, a guy who had way too much to drink begins to vomit violently at the bar and has the courtesy and incredible wherewithal to steal plastic cups from the bartender as he's letting out his internal organs, filling each one to the rim and politely placing them side by side on the bar, like shots.

Of course there's massive spillover and pissed-off bartenders but it was a real sign that, yes, this would be a fantastic show. Grandma talked to us about good omens, and only at a House of Pain concert would a man vomiting be a good sign. Thanks be to God.