Best Live Sets I've Seen This Year So Far
I go to a lot of shows
In the first half of 2024, I saw over 200 sets across 72 concerts. I attended the big (a sold-out Kraftwerk show) and small (a great Never Come Down show with me and three others in the crowd). Here are a few that have stuck with me.
Caravan 222 @ Alex's Bar, 1/14/2024
While the sound is hit or miss, Alex's Bar always coaxes killer performances out of whatever it books. Case in point, Caravan 222's performance was so killer that a member of another band rushed to the stage after the first song and yelled, "Save some for the rest of us." Caravan 222 did not. The psych-dappled country rockers sounded like a jet plane landing on the roof of a honky tonk but with shafts of instrumental dexterity shining through like sunlight piercing a sockdolager of a thunderstorm. I don't mean this to read as backhanded, but I don't think Caravan 222 has quite cracked the code on record. Granted, translating live energy to a recording booth that prioritizes fidelity over fury is a tough task. However, at Alex's, Caravan 222 was in its element and took all it was offered and a whole lot more.
Headbed @ dba256, 1/27/2024
These are the kind of sets I love. After watching Twin Tribes at the big theater, I strolled downtown to sate my urban wanderlust. I ended up at dba256, a half-bar, half-art gallery wrapping up a free show. The first band I caught was one of those indie twinkle shred mutations by which I am continually mystified. Not bad, but in the practiced parlance of people my age, I am too old for that shit. I decided to stick around for the closer on a whim, mainly because what's a bout of sleep deprivation between me and the multitude of imaginary friends I'll manifest the next day? After all, someone in the crowd said they were made up of music school kids and were "my favorite band right now." Intriguing. That someone turned out to be the drummer (great PR), and the band was Headbed, a crack group of musicians playing modern jazz that fell somewhere between neo-soul and smooth rock in the all-session-player-killers sense. There's a particular charge when you get on the ground floor for something. It's even more of a zap when the music is good.
Jenny Don't & the Spurs @ Resident, 1/29/2024
Despite closing in on notching 1,000 shows on its concert belt, Jenny Don't & the Spurs always has that spark of playing for the first time. That's how I felt catching them for a second time in a month. Despite knowing the setlist front to back, each song still felt fresher than fish straight from the sea. Of course, it didn't hurt that the Resident soundperson was on point, knowing how to dial in the country punk perfectly. Also, shout out to Kelly Halliburton, who rides the hell out of basslines in a live setting. Country and folk are how I commune with my pops, and that night provided a direct line.
Jeremy Cunningham Quartet @ 2220 Arts, 2/10/2024
The 2020 album The Weather Up There is drummer Jeremy Cunningham grappling with the loss of his brother, Andrew, who was killed in a home invasion robbery. The pandemic delayed a true record release show for eons until we finally got it in 2024. The Weather Up There is heavy stuff, and understandably, Cunningham said some of the material was still too emotionally raw to play live. Still, the quartet, which included the fantastic Josh Johnson on sax, unspooled a stunning version of "He Pushes Up," the album's bleakly beautiful closer. The crowd held its breath for five minutes as Cunningham and company broadcasted this aural transmission toward the stars. When the drummer left the stage, he looked like he just ran a marathon. Drained. We all were.
Dylan LeBlanc @ Moroccan Lounge, 2/20/2024
Dylan LeBlanc's charisma, creativity, and capability overcome and transcend genre. On paper, I don't think LeBlanc's material would do much for me: a mix of soft rock, southern rock, and light country, like if The Doobie Brothers cut a few sides with The Marshall Tucker Band. (Tellingly, 2021's covers EP Pastimes features nods to The Rolling Stones and Glen Campbell, among others — exactly that.) But LeBlanc, particularly on his last album Coyote, thoroughly crushes the necessary adult rock elements, generating an immersive atmosphere thanks to keen songwriting. It's no surprise that LeBlanc is even better live, locking in with his band to unfurl these songs' potential with extended jam sessions, turning the fan favorite "Renegade" into a long-form ripper that's the definitive version of that song. It felt like LeBlanc turned back the clock for a brief moment, showcasing the talent that old rock writers fondly remember, those unexpected supernovas before up-and-comers become superstars.
Knoll @ Midnight Records, 2/28/2024
Knoll doesn't need the Portal-esque theater-kid window dressing. Antique lamps, Victorian opera house set design, etc. Leave that stuff to Sleepytime Gorilla Museum. Knoll rips hard enough to forgo the scene setting. But hey, who am I? Y'all do you. And when Knoll does its thing, all the extraneous stuff fades away. You wouldn't think Knoll would be able to replicate its records. As Spoken, its newest, is almost this impenetrable monolith of distortion, taking grind, death metal, and lightly charred extremes and layering it like a harsh noise wall. And yet, this quintet so expertly harnesses that fury while maintaining an in-the-flesh looseness that only ups the extremity. Whatever effects James Eubanks is putting on the vocals made my hair stand on end, reminding me of December's Mark Moots, which is pretty high praise. And when Eubanks started twiddling the knobs on the noise-making pedal board, it scratched an itch I've been missing in a live setting for a long time.
Les Lullies @ Alex's Bar, 3/3/2024
Les Lullies was the first band I decided to follow around on tour this year, catching the French power punkers three times during their West Coast swing. Each set provided its own pleasures: Zebulon with the introductory energy, Transplants with the improvisational 'why is nothing working' scrambling. But at Alex's Bar, it felt like Les Lullies turned it up a notch. They were faster, rawer, louder, giving their hooky songs a punk frisson. (I don't know, maybe when you open for a past-it Dickies, you're compelled to show older fans what they’re missing.) It made me appreciate the already good Mauvaise Foi more, which is all you can ask from a live show, really.
Acero Letal @ 1st Street Pool & Billiard Parlor, 3/17/2024
Welcome to the USA, Acero Letal. I bet you didn’t think your first stop would be setting a pool hall alight. The Chilean speed metallers ripped it up for a rabid set of fans dying to hear some true steel sung in Spanish. With borrowed equipment, Acero Letal took off with a speed metal peel out and never looked back, which was probably for the best because what it left in its wake was unhinged audience participation, what Scott Vogel would proudly call positive aggression. Whew, this crowd was wild. I was showered with many beers despite being nowhere near the pit. I saw many crowdsurfers get dropped at angles that would scramble the brains of most babies. Heavy metal Event Horizon stuff. Chaos reigned.
Nite @ The Wayfarer, 3/28/2024
Nite was the second band I followed around on tour, catching three sets during its strange path through the southwestern states. Like Les Lullies, every Nite show was good, but I especially liked the energy and atmosphere at The Wayfarer, a place that, as far as I know, is the only thing to do in Costa Mesa besides going to Ralphs. Indeed, that venue has become something of a comfort spot despite my antipathy towards the OC. I think it's because The Wayfarer is the platonic ideal of venues I like: small cap, high stage, and generally good sound. It's not a dive — and lord, do I know my way around a dive — but it's as divey as any local watering hole should be. Anyway, despite the chronically under-attended show, a Wayfarer specialty, Nite brought it, shooting off heavy metal leads that glowed like flares in the black metal blizzard. Also, it's always good seeing buds. What up, Avinash. Nite, Night Demon, Demon Bitch tour when?
Agriculture @ Zebulon, 3/30/2024
Agriculture opened its set playing songs from its new EP, Living is Easy, and during that first flare-up of ecstatic tremolo-lifted reverie, the crowd connected with each other. It's a hard feeling to describe. When an audience is collectively jostled out of its myriad non-show preoccupations and focuses on what's in front of them, it produces this ineffable contagious energy, an underlying buzz that elevates the music. It's the whole reason we go to these things despite the many obstacles and annoyances shows can produce: to feel something human alongside others.
Hurray for the Riff Raff @ Pappy and Harriet's, 4/7/2024
After freezing through a Gary Numan set that checked the box on me hearing "Down in the Park" live, I headed inside Pappy's to thaw out and catch a double. While I knew Numan's early work like the back of my hand, the band I saw that night was different.
Hurray for the Riff Raff was always one of those projects I should have liked but never found the time for. Sure, I had a passing familiarity with lead singer/songwriter Alynda Segarra and was able to ID them in, like, Treme without knowing any of their music. So, when I picked up tickets on a whim, I had a superficial understanding of what might be in store and nothing more.
One of the great things about live music out here is I tend to go to shows to see if I should give artists more time and buy their albums. Granted, this is an anachronistic way of experiencing music. In the streaming era, when everything is available, that approach is completely backward. Like, I know how annoying I sound to people in concert deserts whenever I mention it. But then I get sets like this one that absolutely knock me on my ass and turn me into a diehard precisely because I didn't have much prior experience.
"I've got a new album," Segarra said, "and we're going to play the whole fucking thing." That was my initial experience with The Past Is Still Alive, going in blind and having the artist themselves lead me out of the dark. I wouldn't trade it for anything. By the time the band got to "Ogallala," opener Sen Morimoto came out to add some sax on an extended outro that sent chills throughout the room. The crowd reached a fever pitch. I didn't want the night to end. It didn't. The rightfully earned encore culminated in a fiery version of "Pa'lante" that left me buzzing on the long drive home. Sometimes, it's better to make first impressions in the flesh.
Wild Up plays Arthur Russel @ 2220 Arts, 4/10/2024
I'm allergic to carny techniques intended to spur crowd interaction. Ask me to throw the horns, I won't. Ask me to sing along if I know the words, I will refrain from doing so, thanks. I know, I know. I'm a stick in the mud. But my contrarianism runs that deep. So, I was a little irritated that this was going to be *that* kind of show when Wild Up, during the collective's cute introductory composition that introduced the show and was titled “Introductions,” asked the crowd to scream at the walls. Yeahhh, nah. I'm good. I just worked eight hours. My commitment to art is being here and staying present. I don't want to be the art. I have a horrible discography that I left behind in my 20s that bears that out.
Despite my initial misgivings, the show turned out great. Jokes on me. I mean, when will I ever see Arthur Russel's 24→24 played by an enthusiastic, talented ensemble again? Hearing that undulating, repeated motif slithering its way through the reverb of the 2220 theater was another data point in my lifelong thesis that live music is better than hearing it on record. As the music pushed and pulled, waxed and waned, the dance floor filled up, turning into Dionysian disco, a mass of bodies living life in the moment, or at least until the next crescendo. I may not scream at the walls, but I'll definitely dance within them.
meth. @ Genghis Cohen, 4/18/2024
Even in LA, Genghis Cohen is a strange place. Surrounded by the hipper spots on Melrose, the Chinese restaurant has a distinctly '70s NYC vibe, complete with a room dedicated to underground music acts. (Parking is a nightmare. Either take a Lyft in or fight for space on Stanley. Attempting a closer spot is a real test of your sanity.) Chicago's meth. was the first band I saw there, which was fitting given the apocalyptically noisy no-wave of its new album, SHAME. For 30 minutes, time stopped as the quintet ground the audience into dust with threateningly strident sludge that sounded like early Swans played through Grief's amps. But, as this music often does, it had the opposite effect of true chaos. As the distortion swelled, it provided a buffer against reality, allowing you to nestle inside the riff. It was you and this powerful noise and nothing else, a wormhole that spat you out into a near future, cloaked in a halo of catharsis.
Amenra @ El Rey Theatre, 5/4/2024
I haven't cared about Amenra on record since its four-way split with Gantz, Vuur, and Gameness, back when the Belgium band sounded more like metalcore instead of post-metal. (Long story short, I was eying Gantz for a discography release for a screamo label that, thankfully, for my career prospects and bank account, never got off the ground.) But the quintet can put on a show, and often, that's enough. There's something so primal about hearing loud noises rebound off your sternum, triggering that lizard brain fight or flight response that is the great equalizer when you don't care about the tunes much. And considering Amenra's dynamism and evident passion for the material, it's hard not to get swept up by the experience. I still think Skunk is a snoozer, though.
Oxygen Destroyer @ Jerry's Pizza, 5/6/2024
Flay me alive. As soon as Oxygen Destroyer took off, I was all the way in. The band's new stuff reminds me of Angelcorpse cut with Demolition Hammer, and that unrestrained thrashin’ power came through during its set in the sweltering humidity of the Jerry's Pizza basement. Say what you will about the damp venue with load-bearing beams that obscure sightlines, but the vibe is perfect for a metal show. Dark, dank, demonic. And Oxygen Destroyer more than played its part, ripping through thrash riffs with the same giddy, gas-stomping zeal as someone who just installed a supercharger on their car.
Dolphin Hyperspace @ Moroccan Lounge, 5/16/2024
Like Amenra, Dolphin Hyperspace hasn't done much for me on record. The quirky duo is like the dayglo cousin of LA's weird jazz scene, something that should be my bag but has thus far left me cold. (It doesn’t help that it’s new album is titled, groan, What is my Porpoise?, which even as anti-humor, is tough to swallow.) However, a killer audience can bridge a lot of gaps, and that audience was ready to party with Dolphin Hyperspace. Filled out with the one and only Louis Cole on drums, the bass/sax duo launched into a bunch of sprightly jams that found the middle ground between soft, R&B-inflected jazz and those bizarro music school environs where kids speak of Steely Dan in hushed tones while tripping their balls off. But the highlight of this set was the crowd going bananas, batting balloons and inflatable pool animals around and generally having the time of their lives. It was like Dolphin Hyperspace were playing in front of 200 friends, and it was hard not wanting to be one of them.
Facet @ Genghis Cohen, 5/20/2024
The set that made me vow to catch Facet whenever it's in town. The Oakland trio plays a propulsive strain of noise rock that I tend to like more than the third- and fourth-wave lurch merchants. 2023's self-titled LP is closer to Tar than most things, maybe not in sound, but definitely in spirit. And Facet has a sense of humor, too. While tuning and sound-checking, the band played a special sound-check song that sounded like Hannibal Buress's take on early hip hop. "Check. Check one, check two." Anyway, Facet rips and has a good sense of what makes a fun live show, triggering a light show in time with its wall-toppling riffs. The fact that a trio can kick up this kind of din is always a marvel. All hail the duck.
Asha Puthli @ Zebulon, 5/30/2024
Asha Puthli live in 2024 is like finding out your sweet 79-year-old aunt had an unexpected career making horny disco tracks. The Indian singer, best known for the oft-sampled "Space Talk" and two guest spots on Ornette Coleman's Science Fiction, broke a live show hiatus with a fun set pulling primarily from her disco discography, notably plucking tracks from the sumptuously sensual The Devil is Loose. The session band was killer, Puthli was in playful spirits (“I'm spiritually 6,000 years old, I'm mentally 98, and emotionally five,” the singer has said), and the crowd ate it up, dancing while screaming their devotion. It was one of those sets where I felt completely out of place — a metalhead in King Arthur’s hipster court — but also right at home.
Severe Torture @ 1720, 6/1/2024
On a stacked bill that included Primordial and Bloodbath, Severe Torture slayed them all. The Dutch death metallers have always been solid on record but rarely wow. That's a blessing and a curse. You won't complain when it's on but there’s not much incentive to put it on. However, in a live setting, this stuff goes hard. Banger after banger after banger. Heavy chugs and fleet blasts, all the ingredients to get you to make the quintessential 'sick death metal alert' face, like smelling a gas leak but the sicko version. Anyway, that went double for selections from the quintet's new album, Torn from the Jaws of Death, a stealthy ripper that may make me revisit a band I dipped on circa Fall of the Despised.
Artillery @ The Doll Hut, 6/8/2024
What a shitshow. Artillery's 40th-anniversary tour of the US was doomed from the start. The booking was abysmal, sending the legit legends on a brutal trek that landed them at places such as The Doll Hut, a literal hut in Anaheim's industrial district. I like the venue because of course I do, but it would make a crust punk take an STD test. It's no place for a band that recorded one of the best thrash albums of all time. And that wasn't the only indignity this Dutch band endured, as Artillery's gear got lost on the flight over, requiring an assist from tour buddies War Curse. Think it can’t get worse? Well, how about this for the touring equivalent of Final Destination: A power surge at The Doll Hut fried one of War Curse's amps. And that was just foreshadowing. After what felt like a never-ending rotation of local openers, Artillery finally took the stage. They got through three-quarters of the first song, and then, zzzzzzzzt, the power shut off. A generator went caput. Following an interminable 30 minutes of fiddling, game on. And guess what? Artillery not only rebounded but ripped. Watching a young crowd of inchoate heshers lose their shit to "Khomaniac" was all worth it. Now, did I get accidentally crowdkilled and pushed on stage? Sure. But I wore that bruise like a badge and proof of Artillery's impact.
The Jesus Lizard @ Garden Grove Amp, 6/9/2024
After the No Values festival, The Jesus Lizard played an OC amphitheater that usually books cover bands. There was also a noise curfew. Not, uh, the most expected destination for *the* noise rock band. But then David Yow came out, threw his body into a writhing mass of fans, and all was right. We got the staples: "Seasick" still goes off. We got the new song: the live rendition of "Hide & Seek" allayed any fears that the next album might be a stinker. And we got some deeper cuts during an encore: "Blue Shot," "7 vs. 8." While I've been trying to check a lot of legendary band boxes this year before either I or they die, few of those shows have been great. This one was goddamn fantastic.
Fat Lady Sang @ Zebulon, 6/12/2024
Fat Lady Sang only had a few shows under its belt when I spied them, but I knew I would champion it as soon as it launched into its first song. Look, the name sucks. We're, like, a year away from them choosing a new moniker and being formally known as Fat Lady Sang. (Here’s the pitch: Gristle, still available.) But the music was a blast, this bristling version of snotty noise rock that was, like, an amalgamation of the 1985's grittier moments and the stinging aggression of Colossamite. Fat Lady Sang all wore suits like it was 1998. They played with noisy abandon that was like 1998. I'm in.
Guck @ Knucklehead, 6/20/2024
Speaking of new bands I'm all in on, Guck is my favorite group in LA right now. Think if Arab on Radar picked up the electronic element of The Locust and added it to the math rock rhythmic layering. The drummer in this band absolutely smokes, playing fills with the kinetic energy of a fistfight. And Knucklehead felt like the right place to see them, a venue that requires you to walk across the stage to get to the bathroom. The next time we do this type of post at the end of the year, I'll have much more to say about Guck because I caught its best set in Q3. But, if you're in the area, I suggest checking it out and getting your fan club badge now. Guck is going places.
Fórn @ Jerry's Pizza, 6/21/2024
I caught Fórn the night before at Knucklehead, so I thought I had a pretty good grasp on what the doom band might do at the Midstate Metal Fest. Nope. In the goddamn sauna of Jerry's Pizza on one of the hottest and muggiest days of the year, Fórn was absolutely rapturous, winning the day despite killer sets from Abyssal, Civerous, and Hell. Now with otay:onii as a second singer, the funeral doom sextet is all the more texturally effective, weaving a melancholy tapestry of heart-wrecking misery. The screams, the 20-ton riffs, the cocoon of cacophonous sounds. I haven't been put in a concert trance like that in a long time, probably not since I legit lost my mind during Chrome Ghost. And Fórn was so successful because it teetered on the brink of the surreal, pushing the limits of its music and spilling into a liminal space where reality faded away. What else could one say when, lost entirely in the amplifier hymns, you'd look down and see otay:onii at your feet, snaking through the audience.
Sulfuric Cautery @ Zebulon, 6/28/2024
Of the three times I saw Sulfuric Cautery, this was its tightest set, steamrolling through many lightning-quick LDOH-style grind-’em-ups in front of an audience mostly there to see Sumac. Yeah, weird opener. The per capita population within Zebulon that night who had heard, like, Foetopsy before was minuscule; maybe me and the three other people enjoying the turbo-ping brutalization next to me. But, while others may have suffered the slings of gurgles and goo, I wasn't complaining. The duo's bestial blasts were the best thing I saw that night by a mile, even beating a great Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean set that made me reappraise that band. It's spellbinding watching Isaac Horne batter his drumkit, the same 'how are they doing that' appeal of witnessing the primes of generational athletes.
Remember that time when...
Egyptian Lover was technically the first set I saw this year, and played Prince right after the calendar changed from 2023 to 2024. How it always should be.
I got punched in the face so hard at Poison the Well that I spit gum into my hair.
I talked with a fellow show-going loner at Fu Manchu, a commercial diver who day-jobbed swimming around nuclear reactors and told me the wildest story about a manta ray that I am still dining out on months later. DM me for it.
I made small talk with Destroy Judas and we nerded out about Clifford Dinsmore bands.
A weightlifter took the stage and deadlifted Hit Bargain's singer during the final song. We took a pic together afterward, flexing, naturally.
I was wearing a Succumb shirt at 2220 Arts, and a drunk person came up to me and said, "I...can only see 'cum' on your shirt." Are you flirting with me?
Two people passed out within minutes of each other during a Mary Lattimore set, and my new show friend and I spent the rest of that night reporting out the details. It was like The Hardy Boys in The Fentanyl Flare-Up.
I amused myself by photobombing everyone taking selfies in the cheap seats at Twin Tribes.
A bemused Squirrel Flower played gentle ballads while ABBA was blasted from the next-door dance club.
During the rainiest day of the year, the security guard at Crushed asked me if I had seen the rushing rapids in the local river and followed up with, "I've got a boogie board. Do you want to go viral?"
The guitarist from Otoboke Beaver scaled the Pappy and Harriet's rafters and landed in a pool inflatable held aloft by the crowd.
That drunk guy mansplained to me for 30 excruciating minutes during a malfunction-full soundcheck where one should stand for the best sonic experience at a show. “You seem like you’re a soundophile.” What did you call me?
I got crowdkilled at a Voivod gig. I’d normally say I’m too old for that shit, but we were all too old for that shit. It was a Voivod gig!
That kid was passing out his “technical thrash” demo, took one look at me, and went to the next person. I’m the only one here who could help you!
I listened to a DJ spin a bunch of obscure junkshop glam tracks that I couldn't ID despite listening to a lot of that stuff. Humbling in a good way.
Following the opener featuring a shorter singer, Persekutor took the stage and said, "Hullo, can we get mic stand for adults, please? Thank you."
Persekutor kept the running bit going of every song being about "Freezing...to death."
The couple kept grinding Next - "Too Close" style in front of me at a black metal show.
Kevin Drumm hit me with a multitude of bass waves that hit different spots of my body. True noise sorcery.
The nimble, shredful fingers of Russ Tippins took a photo of me and my friends.
After a Nite show, I went bar-hopping in Quartz Hill and witnessed a Road House-style bar fight. When the security guard started cleaning up the glass-strewn remains, he said, "Welcome to Happy Hours."
Haunt had a terrible time with acid reflux and technical issues and said, Never mind, let's get out of here, and sped toward the set's conclusion.
After Gary Numan, I asked my country acquaintance at his first rock show if he "liked seeing Chris Gaines."
I got lightly hit on by a singer at a country show, and I thought, I just listened to you sing 10 songs about ripping the hearts out of people's chests. I don't think so.
Someone approached us after Messa and wanted to trade "taboo knowledge." I offered the story I had just heard about a perianal fistula, aka farting into one's own balls, and then they launched into an hour-long, highly discursive discussion on the psychotropic properties of radioactive salt.
Ascended Dead played Jerry's Pizza and said in a death metal voice, "What is this place called? Domino’s?" and then followed that up with, "What's up, Pizza Hut?"
I got lightheaded as someone spray-painted a mural on the wall at a DIY warehouse grind show.
Mick Barr pointed at the other guitarist as I shot video during BSCBR. Look, man, you're Mick Barr. I'm sorry.
The highly concentrated OC crowd absolutely lost its hivemind during Meatbodies. Easily the smallest crowd I've seen someone crowdsurf.
The crowd knowingly tittered as Kraftwerk started playing the song from Tour de France.
A bunch of people were huddled around something on the patio of 1720. I thought it might've been an injured person until I walked over and saw that they were watching a UFC fight on a phone. I've been to some of the most hellish places on Earth. Death Valley, the back patio at a metal show, Mount Washington,
Diesel Dudes threw a football into the crowd that hit me square in the nuts a la Football in the Groin in The Simpsons.
A younger kid two-stepped in the pit during Hell.
I hugged the singer from Cnts as he screamed in my face.
I met a new friend at Monty because we were wearing the same KEN Mode shirt.
I fell asleep during DIIV, which might be a compliment considering the band's gentle nu-gaze.
Juana Molina told a story about how her equipment got smashed by a jealous opener. When she mentioned it happened in Costa Mesa, the crowd booed and started chanting, "Costa Mesa sucks."
I had a number of great conversations with innumerable Lyft drivers, including
The person who drove someone to San Francisco for $850 and demanded to not know what was in the passenger's bag to maintain plausible deniability.
The person who picked up a drunk couple, pulled up to the drop off point, witnessed one drunkard trying to drag the much bigger one out of the car, saw both tumble to the concrete, scraped faces and all, and got a call from Lyft the next day asking if the driver "was in a car accident,” as claimed by the prior passengers because one half of the couple was so embarrassed that they couldn’t carry the other, they made up a car wreck tall tale.
The person who relayed his cousin broke their back playing football and successfully pulled themselves back from the brink of death by taking sea moss, something they've parlayed into a successful side gig as one of the premier sea moss sellers in LA.
And the person who answered why they looked younger than their 78 years with "I'm good in bed."
I had a blast with all of you. Thanks for the five stars.
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