Last week, a neighbor came over to alert me that she and her roommates were having a Saturday night house party. With live bands.
"What kind of music?" I asked.
"Punk rock," she replied.
Now, that brought back some memories of house parties back in my early twenties. Back when this punk thing was just getting started, and oh, was that music loud and angry. And, if you consider running into other people to be a form of dance, it was dance-able.
"Can I come? And bring my camera?"
"Sure!"
Three bands played, including one with an 11-year-old drummer who really set the place on fire. I mean, this kid can play.
He got the slam-dancers fired up, and I had to yield my photo-spot in a hurry. Mind you, I like punk rock as much as any other 50-year-old, but when bodies start flying, I’m fleeing. I took refuge in the kitchen and watched the rest of the concert from there.
This band was preceded by two others, both of which played in very dim light. As a photographer, I found this to be a challenge and an opportunity to stretch some creative muscles…
