The first time I came to SO36 I was a fresh faced 19 year old on my first trip to Europe. My band at the time had abandoned me at the Polish border because no one had bother to sort out a visa for the only Canadian onboard. I was on my first trip over an ocean ever, and just off my 2nd flight ever, and packed myself into a train from Frankfurt (the other Frankfurt) to Berlin to meet up with some strangers who were going to put me up for 3 or 4 days while the band made their way through Poland and maybe like Lithuania on their way back to Germany. I walked around by myself through Kruezberg with no money eating bread and oranges from the supermarket, afraid to leave Orianenstrause because I thought i would become perilously lost (this was before I knew anything about cell phones or laptops or GPS machines). One fun thing I was able to do was see the Buzzcocks at SO36, which at the time I thought maybe was the best club on earth. It was rammed and the show blew my mind. 10 years later, Fucked Up played the same club, something I didn't realize until I walked in the door. To my great surprise and amusement, not only is the main floor rife with German punks and good memories, but the backstage room is chock full of years worth of penis graffiti.
Ok cool.
Sticker dicks count.
Happy dick.
Hidden dick.
BORING.
Censored.
Dick talk.
Racist dick.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
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