In this episode of Houston Music Fight Club, we yet again pit some of Houston's skuzziest and rocking local musicians and personalities together for a fight to the death. Or at least to the sore hand, bloody lip, and maybe a few tears. Some dudes fight when they cry; we've seen it firsthand. We don't know what causes it, because we have never seen those UFC cats blubber when they simulate homoerotic foreplay every few weeks. What gives?
We once saw two burly hosses scrapping outside some toolbox in Corpus Christi and -honest to God - the bigger of the brosephs had tears in his eyes as he was wailing on the other guy. Personally, if we were in a fight we would pull the old "I'm a hemophiliac" card and punch the other guy in the wang. It worked on our Dad.
Stephen Walker vs. Shelby Hohl
We hate pitting sweet and chill guys in hideous death matches a la Bloodsport
, but it pays our bills. And we will do anything for money, including forcing our friends to fight to get our literary rocks off. Get it? Like the name of our blog? Is this thing on?
Walker is currently the bassist in American Sharks, who are fronted by reigning HMFC champion Michael Hardin. Walker is a wiry and witty sumbitch, the kind of guy you would want to be in a foxhole with. He loves pizza more than life itself, and would probably slit a stranger's throat to get a pie. We once heard him talk about pizza the way some men talk about golf or pornography.
Hohl is the in-house artist for Free Press Houston
and works the door most nights at Mango's on Westheimer. He was a kingpin mother-effer during Summer Fest, keeping the festival in line for nearly 18 hours a day. He recently left the band American Fangs to concentrate on other musical projects and his own artwork, which is some next-level shit that gives us acid flashbacks, even though we have never dropped it in our lives. He's quite the cyclist, and has a Mega Man tattoo on his arm.
The advantage here goes to Hohl, who could pull up to fight on his bike with two pizzas for Walker and ride off before Walker even knew what was up.
Five Dollar Pizza Guy vs. Boondocks' Beef Jerky Dude
We know these guys aren't exactly musicians, but if you've ever spent any time in or around Boondocks or any major Midtown club you have seen these two hawking their greasy wares. Both are as constant to the Houston nightlife scene as Camel street-team folks and the bum sitting outside Catbird's who always seems to be holding a beer.
According to scene lore, the 5 Dollar Pizza Guy hails from out near Sugar Land and comes into town right when the drunkies hit the parking lots ready to pounce. The paunchy man has a slight accent which sounds kind of like a Texas-bred Mario brother.
We've seen him near most of the nicer bars in Midtown, and have even had a slice or two before, sadly, the rest was devoured by our sloshed company. It tastes like prison pizza.
Not that we've ever been in prison - yet. If they made pizza in Huntsville, this is more than likely what you would be served in between the hourly light rapings in your cell.
The Beef Jerky Guy is a hard seller. He's about six-foot something with long dreads, and built like a muscular Little Joe Washington. You can be dancing your hipster ass off at Boons and he will cut in between you and your hetero life-mate to try to sell you his slivers of dried-out beef.
Sadly, we have also had a piece or two of the jerky. We had our birthday at Boons last year, and promptly passed out cold like a Clear Brook prom queen at a beach house after three Smirnoff Ices. We aren't saying there are roofies in it or anything, but we wonder sometimes.
In the battle between the drunken food vendors, we give the fight to the Jerky Guy. Not only have we seen him dance, he doesn't have a shit-ton of inventory to lug around like 5 Dollar Pizza Guy. Also, the little jerky slices can be used as whips in a pinch and, contrary to what we learned from that old Nintendo Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
game, pizzas do not double as effective weapons.
10th Grade Cutie vs. Houston
The Cuties have been high on Rocks Off's list since we accompanied them to a Hot Topic location out in the 'burbs to watch them try to stop an in-store performance by Christian death-metal act Hematidrosis. We were subsequently asked to leave the mall, along with the Imperial Stormtrooper the band brought along for interstellar backup.
Anytime the leaders of the band, Rex and Blaine, come into Houston, their eyes light up with hedonistic excitement like children on Christmas morning. We have seen their graffiti all over Montrose, including Disco Kroger and the Mango's bathroom. When they walk into a venue they are met with equal parts disgust and awe, which to us is what true rock and roll is about.
10th Grade Cutie, because most of Houston isn't ready to comprehend what these kids are selling, or giving away for free, for that matter. Their new album. Exploding Plastic Martyr, was just posted for free right here.
This band is a flying fist into the solar plexus of everyone who doesn't have a sense of humor, or remember the first few Butthole Surfers records.