New Photos: In The Tree rock Manette & The Them lay waste to Winterland.

Partying with friends, In The Tree…

The night started off with a couch stop at the Manette tavern to see In The Tree. 25% of the band is composed entirely of my friend Rob, who I learned likes Stevie Ray Vaughn as much as I do. But he can actually play it, and a lot more. My first impression of the band is somewhere between Stevie and… Fishbone? Maybe. Leon brought a funky bass groove to Rob’s texas blues licks, and it totally worked. Leon III’s vocals were totally energetic, and I admired his commitment to drinking at the mic. The crowd eventually warmed up and hit the floor, and everybody had a great time, and another drink. I took a break from photos and went back to the couch for some serious booze. I didn’t know it yet, but the liver abuse this night had only just begun.

After Rob and Co.’s set was over, some of the crowd dispersed with me to Winterland in east Bremerton. We had no idea what was going on there, but Eric likes the place, so we go. I initially left my flash in the car, being mostly intent on finding nothing beyond strong drink, but something in the scene seemed sinister from the moment we leave that car.


…there they were. THE THEM

We stumble through a wall of acrid, choking fog, to the nearly unhinged front door. Pushing our way in, our minds are immediately assaulted by grim echoes coming from the adjoining room. Something violent was happening in there. Something savage. I skip the bar initially (but I’ll be back) and venture into the gloom to see what horrible fate awaited my brave but doomed friends.

And there they were. The Them.

At first they’re a little hard to make out in the morbid green glow of the stage lights, but their effect cannot be ignored. The mind imagines ravenous carnivores circling the fresh corpse of some poor unfortunate animal that wandered too close. Christmas lights hang mockingly over the stage, a futile reminder of an innocence you are about to lose. Instruments of doom flail wildly, sweat and God knows what else spatter the walls. The room is being Punished. My first instinct is to flee, but after a moment of weakness I collect my wits just long enough to frantically gather my equipment and try to Tell The Story.

I bravely re-enter the brutal din, camera in hand this time, stopping for a moment to consider how it might be used as a weapon. But there will be no hope against these brutes with martial force. They’re in complete control here, all I can hope to do is try to avoid provoking them.

The spectacle comes to a crashing end as suffering guitars collide in a screeching avalanche of jagged decibels. The room is overcome and bodies fall lifelessly to the floor. To this day, no one knows exactly what took place. Just that something… some evil, has happened here. Through the waves of fear and dark memories, hazy images float just out of reach. Only the thundering roar in my ears remains mercilessly clear.

Authorities have surely been alerted to this nightmarish scene by now, they can’t be far away. Nothing this depraved and atavistic can go undetected for long. At least not in this town.

After the carnage, I had drinks with the survivors until the fear subsided. I also got a sticker.




~ by ChrissyOne on March 8, 2010.

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