D-Day at the Brick

It was a D-Day of sorts. Of less historical importance than the one commemorated at Normandy on the same day, but significant nonetheless for the throngs of devoted Floater fans, some from as far away as Yreka, who lined up around the block waiting for the doors to open for the last Brick Works show ever for their favorite band. June 6, 2004 marked the end of the Brick Works as we have known it—an 18-and-over and all-ages club. Club owner Robert Mowry is planning to rename the Brick Works and turn it back into a DJ-music only 21-and-over club—a swanky one, complete with high-end drinks, a VIP area and a top-floor banquet room.

First in line on this last night was 19-year-old Chicoan Chris Moeller, who has been a die-hard fan of Portland, Ore. heavy rock band Floater for “six or seven years.” He had been in line since about 10 that morning for the 8 p.m. show (and had been in line at 6:30 a.m. the previous day for the previous night’s sold-out Floater show). With him were 40-something Don Woodcox of Paradise, who has been a Floater fan since he came to its ‘98 CD release party at the Brick Works, and 17-year-old Brendan McDonough of Chico, who had been in line since about 11:30 a.m. “We only come here for Floater…” “Get Floater or get out…” they said.

Also in line was a contingency of young adult males from Redding. Eric Swenson blurted, “It’s bullshit and it shouldn’t be stood for [that the Brick Works is turning into a 21-and-over nightclub]. There’s three bars around the corner [that people 21 and over] can dance at.”

Swenson’s fellow Reddingite Keith Anderson supported him, “It’s righteous anger. [The Brick Works] is selling out and turning into a club for yuppies.” Anderson’s brother John chimed in: “I second the motion. Now you have to drive to Sacramento or Portland to see rock bands. There’s nothing in Redding.” After some thought, he added, “You can’t drink on Halloween and they closed down the Brick Works…I’m not coming to Chico again!”

“They’re closing the heart of the town,” a female voice behind the Anderson brothers called out. “Floater is the heart of Chico.” The voice belonged to 20-year-old Varenia Barkus of Paradise, there with her mother Kathy Santos, “the Floater mom,” as the band calls her. “I attend all of them,” Santos said about Floater shows at the Brick Works. “The Brick Works has been the heart of the city.”

Santos praised the Brick Works’ handling of the all-ages shows they’ve had there. “The staff don’t put up with no shenanigans or you’re out. The staff is outstanding.”

“Eight years we’ve been coming here…” Barkus added. Mother and daughter have been to every Floater show the Brick Works has ever had, which, according to promoter Justin Maximov, is an amazing “50-plus shows.”

I think the guy leaning over the railing right in front of the stage summed it up well. The back of his black T-shirt read, in large white block letters: “PURE FUCKING METAL.” Floater’s spellbinding lead singer hit the stage with an unholy scream matched by many more to come, and a band that never backed away from balls-to-the-wall energy and volume. The drummer’s shirt was off in no time to reveal a body glistening in sweat from beating the holy hell out of his drum kit.

“This is the last night you guys are gonna be in here seein’ shows, so let’s just blow this place apart!” offered the wild-eyed front man. I trust he wasn’t kidding. The mosh pit was pretty wild when I was leaving, and I imagined a Tarantino sort of ending to the night: the wet-locked singer standing high on his platform, microphone clasped in what looked like praying hands, his eyes turned back in his head, possessed-like, as hundreds of Floater devotees screamed along with him, the whole place going down in a furious blaze of glory.

Check out Maximov’s future offerings over at the Senator (www.jmaxproductions.net). Floater will undoubtedly be popping up over there soon enough.