![]() Still don’t.) The songs and performance showed requisite awareness to the greater, unreachable things in the world, not only an exposure to the forbidden but access to things I could only dream of, a detached boy in a provincial sun-drenched cowboy town sealed off by the Sonoran Desert. It’s where beauty and ugliness simultaneously collided singsong melody and sonic muscle, art and chaos, and lip-curl satire (were they skewing high-art pretenses, New York and London, and punk rock? I didn’t know. The alcoholic cowboys and street-urchin regulars hung back, laughing.įor 40 minutes, the Weirdos blasted a tense threshold and nobody could look away. Half of the 50 or so people there crammed to the stage, me and my brother front and center, a few feet from the band. They kind of hobbled to stage in an air of otherworldliness, the blend of spiky-haired glam, old Barrymore Hollywood and A Clockwork Orange. When you’re a kid you assign sights, sounds and tastes to polar positions, usually great or shit, often based on your first impressions in the world. I owned the Weirdos’ Dangerhouse singles, played ’em to death, and the Who? What? When? Where? Why? EP on Bomp, which had just come out that year, and I was stoked. My 12-year-old brother got in too, but he scaled the back-patio wall. I got in to see the Weirdos in a shit-kicker cowboy bar in Tucson called Tumbleweeds, where teens could roam freely and drink beer. ![]() (High school didn’t last, I soon bailed sophomore year.) It was a different world. I’d get threatened and punched at school for ever admitting such a thing. As far as I could tell me and my little brother were the only kids in Tucson, Arizona into punk rock in the late ’70s. I’d order Simpletones, Weirdos and Bags and 45s from Zed Record’s in Long Beach, money nicked from my big brother’s secret busboy tips. The records we’d hide under the sofa so our father wouldn’t see them Sex Pistols, Stranglers, Dead Boys, Ramones, X-Ray Spex, Generation X, the Saints etc. His book, The Bitchy Waiter, was published in 2016, and his years as a professional actor eventually led to the creation of his one-man show, The Bitchy Waiter Show, which tours around the country.A Beat Angel Recalls a Weirdo Night: Brian Smith, frontman with rockers the Beat Angels, told us about his Weirdos experience.īrian Smith: I was a boy. Darron has been seen on NBC's the Today show and CBS Sunday Morning discussing the service industry. ![]() He has written for Food & Wine, Plate, the Washington Post, and others. Over the last 15 years, he has written more than 1,500 articles and blog posts, each and every one about the food service industry. He has waited tables in diners, pubs, chain restaurants, neighborhood bistros, clubs, and had a short stint in a celebrity-owned restaurant before he was fired for blogging about his experience. He says out loud what other servers wish they could say.Įxpertise: food service, restaurant industry, waiting tables.Įxperience: Darron Cardosa is a food service professional with over 30 years of restaurant experience. His decades-long career in the restaurant industry and his very active social media presence have made him an expert on all things service related. Darron Cardosa, also known as the Bitchy Waiter, is the voice of restaurant servers. ![]()
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