City Paper is not for tourists
Andrew W.K. may talk about partying, but someone was clearly sober when they polished up his slick pop-metal debut. Not so with Paint Fumes. The debauched southern punks want you to party ’til you puke—as evidenced by the vomit in band’s press photo—and there’s no tongue-in-cheek bro-rock to pollute the experience. Paint Fumes’ hamfisted garage assault is not frat-friendly in the slightest; it’s just loud, stupid, and fun. The band’s loose guitarwork and sloppy solos careen through three-chord punk like the best of ’em. There are a few ways to enjoy a show like this, but I recommend the following: Microwave a 7-Eleven burrito, pick up a Steel Reserve (or two), leave the refrigerator door open, and forget your medication. Don’t take your girlfriend. Just tell her you’ll be back late—really late. Deal with the consequences later. Paint Fumes perform with Priests and Teen Liver at 10 p.m. at Comet Ping Pong, 5037 Connecticut Ave. NW. $10. facebook.com/pages/Sasha-Lord-Presents.