A couple of weeks ago I scored 2 spots for an all girl bill via Twitter with a quick post of my fave GnR lyric. Thanks to the Parish, I was privy to a free Paradise Titty/Misstallica on Friday the 13th. I wasn’t ecstatic about seeing Paradise Titty again (more on that later) but welcomed the road band, Mistallica, and the chance to pound it out on the dance floor.

Armed with my trusty sidekick, Kitty, we hit the Parish just in time to grab a double whiskey and catch the opening of Paradise Titty. I saw Paradise earlier in the year but was less than impressed. This is not to say they weren’t a rambunctious good time, but they just weren’t quite tight enough for me yet. Between this and the combined lackluster vocals for that evening, I found myself only sipping my drink in the back until the the rousing namesake Paradise City. Friday the 13th’s show found me hoisting my drink in the air and itching to get closer. With a few shows under their belt and several months worth of practice, Paradise Titty was shaping up nicely.

Once wrapped, we weaved our way closer for the nights headliner, running into an old mate from the days when I used to listening to GnR and Metallica nonstop. Loaded like a freight train, we waited for Misstallica to take stage. The moment they did, I was blown away. These kids, which I say with absolute seriousness, tore. it. up. Lead singer Gigi brought the rain on a white Jackson, focusing on pre Black album era material, truly sparing no guitar lick expense. I cheered them on and banged my tired little head for the entire set. I braced myself for drunken rowdiness but found I was just as moved, shouting along with balding middle aged men, reliving their youth. At the end of the show, I was glowing, hoarse and dead on my feet.

Perhaps I’m a bit too romantic, imagining the hours upon hours spent alone in a bedroom, armed only with a guitar and a sheet of tab, like so long haired, black shirt boys who came before them. What gives in a music scene where a group of young girls are covering metal from more than two decades earlier? Have the guitar gods of yesteryear become our golden standard? Jimmy Page our Rachmaninoff, Hammet our Beethoven, Slash our Bach? I can only imagine recitals in the next few decades, kids proving they’re chops by a moving, rousing piano rendition of Symphony for Destruction.

I can only dream..or plan to send my kid to School of Rock

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