Swingin' Utters Review

Upon entering Downtown Brew, the aroma of perfume and fruity cocktails grabbed me by the nose as if these surprisingly odd scents were a fisherman's hook pulling me into a brick dungeon. I say these scents are odd because coming to a punk show, most would expect to smell the raw stench of vomit and sweat from the groins of blue collar workers blowing off some steam. This was not the case, but the Swingin' Utters were in town providing the aggressive soundtrack for the punks and workers in the tornado of swinging fists, dancing on the floor below those unusual smells and big bouncing beach balls.

A couple of times, those big balls would hit lead singer, Johnny Bonnel, in the face. These minor distractions didn't faze him. He was a man possessed. He looked as if he was the striker who threw the bomb at the Chicago Police Department, the one that started the Haymarket Square Riot back in 1886. Over a century later, this bay area punk band is still fighting for the workers of America and do it in their own no nonsense way. I am not too sure if Johnny making jerking motions to the microphone has anything to do with that, but his voice, reminiscent of Mike Ness’ from Social Distortion, was getting everyone in the crowd amped up. His rebellious voice was ringing all throughout the dungeon and blasting throughout the amplifiers. His performance was contagious. Everyone could not help, but join him on his rampage.

The rest of the band was on point. The guitars and especially, the bass playing by Spike Slawson, were shaking my bowels loose, but it was their drummer that really dropped the load. Greg McEntee played the drums with the strength of Superman on steroids. It was hard to believe that he didn't put his drumsticks right through his snare down into the stage floor. This monster wouldn't let up. He was pounding the hell out of the skins all through the Swingin' Utters classics and into the two encores they performed.

The Swingin' Utters have been around for over 20 years and with their unrelenting, highly energetic performance, it's a damn shame more don't know about these punk legends. Next time they bring their show into town, there better be more concert goers joining their diehard fans and more vomit and more drunks pumping their fists into the ceiling of the brick dungeon, scaring the yuppies upstairs. Cheers to the Utters for a kick ass show and to all of the punks in the mosh pit, especially to the bold ladies that weren't afraid of smashing their heads into that damned pole in the middle of Downtown Brew.