Club Lingerie, Hollywood. Last Wednesday evening.

By 9:30 the line wrapped around the block, by 10 a roomful of people shuffled their feet, snuck looks at the crowd around them and sipped their beer. Around 10:30 Keith Morris — founder of Black Flag, Circle Jerks, and now OFF! — got up and announced, “We need to get this started, I'm parked in the that lot over by Olive Garden or whatever… if we keep waiting I might be walking home.”

He warned the crowd they were being filmed, and the word around the room was that it was for a Carson Daly show. Really? The same guy who had Jada Pinkett Smith's band on his show? After looking around there was no Carson in sight, though we're pretty sure Bilbo Bagshot was there (but no Tim Bisley).

After introducing the astonishing group of musicians and dedicating the set to Brendan Mullen who died just over a year ago, OFF! proceeded to blow up the stage.

Thinking we were in for yet another set of once great musicians joined as a mediocre “supergroup” project, we weren't expecting it to be so, well, good.

Credit: Diamond Bodine-Fischer

Credit: Diamond Bodine-Fischer

Morris was better than ever, explosive and raw without falling into the, so sloppy it hurts to watch zone. Steven Shane McDonald and Dimitri Coats were rock star incarnate and Mario Rubalcaba was popping and on it. 

Even the stories between songs, which usually bring the energy down were funny and entertaining.Morris recounted stories of burning Christmas trees in busy Sunset intersections and devastating the lining of his nose with piles of pretty white powder.

The highlight of the night was when Redd Kross took the stage and played just a couple songs. They stuck to their early stuff and the crowd loved it. It seemed that everyone was singing along to every word.

The night wrapped up with DC's Scream (in their original incarnation). Though the attendance definitely thinned through their set, there were still more than a few folks and the pit was bigger and more aggressive than it had been all night.

Remember those nights when you first got your license and you drive your mom's car to the city for a show in a (dangerously) old building that drips something from the ceiling even though it's not raining and there's no AC? You'd leave bruised, missing a shoe, dripping in other people's sweat and smiling. It was like that.

Set List:

LA Weekly