Trans Am builds time machine in La Sala Rossa

May 1st 2007
Sala Rossa

Sydney S. Pistol

It happened so fast. I was just there to see a show. I only came to stand in the back, bury some beers, and check out some hot rods. But suddenly there I was, I was nine years old…riding my bicycle through the forest. My clothes were covered in fish guts. My worst fears materialized as a panther stepped onto the path where I was riding, he pursued me hotly. As it neared and prepared to pounce, sure to devour my frail body and lick clean my 199 remaining bones, the front tire of my bike popped off, throwing me over the handlebars. When my teeth smashed into the brittle tree root sticking out from the ground the sound of shattering teeth and Sebastian Thomas’ ripping effing snare resonating in the forest startled the panther and he quickly darted off. I was bloodied. I was muddy. It was Trans Am.

It was frantic. I could hear robots. It was an obvious concussion.

I realized then, in my concussive state that the boys from Trans Am had clearly built a time machine out of patch cords, fridge magnets, roller skates, and a galvanic skin response meter. Trans Am could easily call itself GSR, since fear, anger, shock, and intense sexual feeling are all emotions that trigger galvanic skin responses and these seem to be what Trans Am is after: raising a few hairs on the back of your neck by essentially transplanting the moments of highest intensity in rock n roll songs and constructing entire songs out of them. Though this can become a bit much for someone as boring as me standing in the back of a room, bone sober, once these boys laid down their filthy bass lines, and raunchy keyboard riffs, I was back in the time machine, being beaten by my own mother for walking across her new white carpet with muddy boots and a bloody mouth.

Final Score

Gasoline $1.25 - Cigarettes $8