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5

FRIDAY

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Whenever I manage to make it out to a rock show, it becomes clear that I am starting to approach Andy Rooney levels of old-man whininess. It’s always too crowded, and my J. Crew jeans smell like smoke for days afterward. But once upon a time, I actually relished getting splashed by blood, spit, and the lesser humors. Punk bands used to puke into crowds and throw beer bottles. They used to pay homage to Gallagher (the suspenders-wearing, Sledge-o-matic-wielding one, not Liam). The Candy Snatchers, Virginia Beach’s kings of sloppy testosterock, have been fighting the good fight for years—slinging beer, juicing for the crowd, and passing out during Kids covers. It’s been a while since the Snatchers played D.C., but legends of their transgressive live shows still persist. I can’t wait to drag my old carcass out to see them, of course sporting my new Dockers Stain Defenders. The Candy Snatchers play with the Dynamite Brothers at 8 p.m. at the Velvet Lounge, 915 U St. NW. $8. (202) 462-3213. (David Dunlap Jr.)