I’ve been a Harm’s Way fan since I first discovered the Chicago-based heavy hitters on the Bridge 9 boards four years ago. I’d heard that the singer, a mountain of a man who abstains from drugs and alcohol (but clearly not the gym), frightens and intimidates with a commanding stage presence. As a scrawny music journalist who’s never been in a fight, I was looking forward to witnessing that intensity live, until the frontman stopped the entire show, pulled me out of the crowd, and made me do 20 push-ups.
I’d heard rumors and read speculative forum posts about his past as a drill sergeant or warden of the toughest jail in Chicago, but didn’t know what to believe. It wasn’t until last night when he spat obscenities in my face while I struggled to get past 5 pushups infront of 300 or so hardcore fans that I knew the truth: I will never be the man I want to be.
As this unfortunate truth related to my manliness began to set in, the band stopped berating me infront of the crowd to return to their set with a few newer songs that seemed to derive inspiration from Godflesh. But after all the feedback cleared and I began to really think about who I am, the life I lead, and the dozens of times I’ve been passed up in the dating field for men who look like the singer of Harm’s Way, I felt a deep, almost-primal desire to open up the pit.
Now, I don’t usually mosh. A tiny guy like me? No thanks! I know entering a pit as brutal as a Harm’s Way pit would spell disaster for me… Except last night was different. Last night I realized it was time for me to become the man I know I can be. The man my father wanted me to become. The man my ex-girlfriend told me she wanted me to be — or closer to the man she left me for.
There was this truly beautiful young woman at the show — I had my eye on her the whole show. My buddy said he thought she was still in high school, but who gives a shit about that anymore? I decided to bust out a few of my choice moves and try my luck in the pit knowing nothing impresses women more than crowd-killing yourself into a sweaty mess.
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And that’s when it happened: I just went for it. Maybe I don’t have the muscles. Maybe I don’t have the hops. But with the vicious, profanity-filled tirades of Harm’s Way’s singer fresh on my mind, and knowing that my dream girl was watching, I went into that pit with everything I had. I threw caution to the wind.
I had never felt more alive.
So with that in mind, please take a second to donate whaetver you can to my GoFundMe. Or even a share would mean the world to me. I will be having jaw, cheekbone, and spiral reconstruction surgery tomorrow, and I can’t afford to pay the bills.
Article by Rick Homuth @rjhomuth. Photo by Matt Gill