Here's how I remember it:

In 1982 I was 14 years old and a budding punk rocker. My dad was 41 and enjoyed looking at women's breasts.  I heard that The Plasmatics were going to be playing at a local dive bar and asked my dad if he'd take me. "Huh, is that the woman that only wears shaing cream and electrical tape?" he asked. I replied in the affirmative and he agreed.  I ran upstairs to my mom... "Mom, Mom," I shouted, "Dad said he will take me to see The Plasmatics!!!"  "No he's not!" was her reply.

It would be another 7 years before I was able to witness the spectacle that was The Plasmatics, and it was well worth the wait.  At this time, on tour supporting the album "Maggots: The Album" it was only Wendy O. and Wes Beech from the original line up, but still, it was THE PLASMATICS!!!  You can hear me shouting "Butcher Baby" during Wendy's intro to said song, and I got to actually touch her legs a few times. It was like touching the calf of God.  It was a sad sad day in the Stench household when I found out Wendy had given herself a lead lobotomy, but at least I got the chance to see her perform at least once.

Chicago, the closest photo I could find to Mpls

1. Intro
2. ???
3. A Pig is a Pig
4. ???
5. ???
6. Squirm
7. ???
8. Living Dead
9. Propagators
10. Sex Junkie
11. Butcher Baby
12. Masterplan
13. Party Tonight
14. No Class
15. Fuck That Booty
16. ???
17. Black Leather Monster
18. Going Wild

Link to a recording of this show wil follow soon

Dogs of Love

Here's how I remember it:

I was singing in a punk band called Iron Fist in 1989. After rehearsal one night Nikki, the guitarist told me that he and Erick, the bass player ran into some English glam guy at the record store earlier in the day. The guy had "Dogs D'Amour" spray painted in pink on the back of his leather jacket, and with promotion like that how could they pass up the show.

We all piled into Nik's Cadillac and trundled down to the 7th Street Entry (a side room to First Ave. in Minneapolis) to see the show by this unknown band. First song into the set and the 3 of us are hooked completely. However, our drummer Crash (a more die-hard punk you'll never meet) kept egging the band on, calling them a "bunch of Glam Fags" between songs. The Dogs didn't take too lightly to this abuse (and my band-mates and I didn't like it too much either) and started spitting beer on Crash. Crash tells them all to "fuck off" and proceeds to drink himself into a stupor.

After the gig we find Crash passed out drunk outside of the venue. Just as we stumble accross him who comes out but Tyla and Bam. I, in the interest of band unity, duly point out that Crash was the one hurling all the abuse to them during the show. Tyla, looking at the inebriated Crash, asks me if he can kick him a few times. I gladly give my consent, just requesting that Tyla not hurt Crash's arms or legs as we had a gig the next day. Tyla, the gentleman that he is then declined the physical abuse. Bam looked at me pleadingly and asked if they could spit on him. I said that wouldn't hurt anything, to which Tyla and Bam both let fly a few rounds into Crash's hair. They then thanked me for coming to the show and found their way to the van that was taking them back to their hotel.

From that moment on I knew I was a Dogs fan for life.