Don't mean a thing if you don't take a swing

Did I ever mention the time I almost got crushed at a big-band swing concert?

I, for one, was a huge fan of the neo-swing revival that took place a few years ago. I'd always been a fan of '40s swing, and newer bands like Roomful of Blues, and then I started to find bands like Big Rude Jake, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, Cherry Poppin' Daddies, Lavay Smith and the Red-Hot Skillet Lickers, Royal Crown Revue, the Atomic Fireballs...and cool daddy Brian Setzer brought a whole fuckin' orchestra on the scene!

Brian Setzer has always been ultra cool, and anyone who doesn't think so needs to meet me out behind the gymnasium for a good, old-fashioned rumble. Look at the hair, the tattoos, the Gretsch guitars painted to match his hot-rod cars. Then listen to what he does with the Gretsch. So when rockabilly cat Setzer decided to add a 17-piece orchestra to the mix, how could it not blow my little mind? The Brian Setzer Orchestra (BSO) delivered, baby, and wildly exceeded my expectations.

We had the chance to see the the BSO at the State Theatre in Detroit, and we bought tickets for the floor so we'd have a better chance at some up-close viewing. Yes, it meant we would have to stand all during the show, but we were prepared to tough it out for the love of all that is swingy. One of the fun things about swing shows was that a lot of folks would come decked out in '40s and '50s regalia, I mean, these folks would really do it up. The hairstyles, the vintage clothes, the accessories, the attention to detail...it gave a rockin' visual accompaniment to the music. Sure, I might have to endure some close-quarters Lindy Hoppin' action, but the crowds at these shows were generally all on the same page, and there to enjoy the band, the dancin', the cash bar, and the general ambience.

By the time BSO came on, with giant tikis on the stage and Setzer's sparkly silver Gretsch cranked up, the floor was so packed in that there was little real hope for the Lindy Hoppers. Jim and I were each one person back from the stage, and just as squished and wedged as two people can possibly be, provided those two people wish to continue breathing. It wasn't an uncomfortable, awkward wedgedness, though; everybody was so in love with the music that there was a feeling of camaraderie among those of us crammed against the front of the stage. There was a young couple directly in front of us, and the girl was so tiny that I was extra careful not to crush her; it seemed like the neighborly thing to do.

It was one big swingin' love fest...until The Tough Cunts showed up.

The Tough Cunts were two girls, and I use the term loosely, who looked like softball bitches on steroids. Normally, I wouldn't hold that against someone, and I wouldn't have held it against The Tough Cunts until they shoved the fuck out of me to get to the stage. I was mindin' my own business, havin' a tiny dance in my little, no-arm-movement space, and enjoyin' the fuck out of Hey Louis Prima! when I was suddenly and rudely cast aside like half of the Red Sea. The Tough Cunts wanted to be against the stage, and only the tiny girl in front of me was in their path. Tiny girl held onto the stage fiercely, though, and The Tough Cunts had to resort to their secret weapon: Moshing.

Yes, The Tough Cunts moshed at a swing concert. More particularly, they moshed in the direction of tiny girl, and slammed into the poor little thing so many time I knew she'd look like a California raisin the next morning. Finally, tiny girl snapped and started to shove back. It was a valiant effort, I'll give her that, but it was like a canoe battlin' two freighters. Physics just wasn't on the side of tiny girl. She was clearly going to be smashed into even tinier bits by The Tough Cunts if someone didn't intervene.

I don't know if it was his sense of chivalry, or just the fact that a good concert was bein' fucked up for him, but at that point, Jim bellowed in a voice that can best be described as the voice of and angry, vengeful, Old-Testament God with a bullhorn:

"KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF!"

Tiny girl and The Tough Cunts froze; The Tough Cunts looked almost sheepish and melted back into the crowd, totally un-Cuntlike. Setzer didn't miss a beat, but he clearly heard it and looked down at Jim with a mixture of surprise and amusement. After the show, two other guys who'd been near the stage came up to Jim and commenced with the back patting and the "Way to stick up for yourself!"

The moral of this story? Make sure at least one of your friends can sound really authoritative and annoyed, like God with a hangover and paper cuts.