I first saw Red Fang a long time ago, just after they released their first album. A friend of mine (h/t Scott Becker) won two tickets to see them on the Portland Spirit, a sight-seeing boat that took party cruises down and up the Willamette River.
This was an odd show for the Spirit—which normally hosted corporate events and weddings—not just because Red Fang put on a thoroughly chaotic show, but because the event was hosted by a local radio station, they’d been paired to play with two other bands who hailed from genres far-flung from Red Fang’s brand of rock and roll. One band was almost a boy band trying to make it big. They played a cringy set of smooth R&B for caucasians. The other musician was a solo act, a yarling folk ripoff of Jason Mraz. Weird show.
The openers: Help and Stygian Bough @ Amsterdam Bar and Hall, Saint Paul
Red Fang comes not only from Portland, my former hometown but from my former neighborhood. Well, close. I lived in Arbor Lodge and the members of Red Fang either live or practice in the neighborhood to the north, Kenton. Kentonites will eagerly interrupt anyone confusing their neighborhood with Arbor Lodge by pointing out Lombard Street is a clear demarcation line separating the two communities. This is an argument that might hold water inside Portland, to locals with skin in the game. But here in Saint Paul, pretty much all of Northwest Oregon is where we’re from.
So it was a heavy dose of nostalgia to see Red Fang here in Saint Paul—a rush from my old neighborhood right here in my backyard—sating, at least temporarily, any pangs of homesickness I may have had. Now I can put off visiting PDX for another couple of years.
I guess there’s some barefoot dude at every show.