The Supersuckers in S.F.

Nebula, Zen Guerrilla and the Supersuckers gave San Francisco's head-banging rock 'n' rollers serious neck cramps at different clubs across town a couple of Fridays ago, and the next night, Saturday, Scared of Chaka and the Supersuckers (again) battled for the title of the Bay Area's most hedonistic punks. After watching Nebula bring down the house?giant gong aflame?on Friday, I was ready for the Supersuckers to bring on round two. Unfortunately, though, their Saturday set was a letdown.

It was only when I got to Slim's that I realized it was going to cost $15 to get in, and I had already missed the opening band. I took my shots of Jager?a broke drunk's best friend?and headed straight for the front, where a row of very dedicated Supersuckers fans had already elbowed out their space for the night. They were not to be messed with, these longhaired Steve Perry lookalikes?though short and sprouting a mixture of baby mustaches and light-up devil horns, these fanatics were intoxicated and feisty, throwing the goat signs from the minute Eddie Spaghetti took the stage, so I took a place in the second row for once.

Spaghetti was in top form for the gig, flashing pearly smiles behind his mirrored cop sunglasses. The signature Hustler shirt that was glued to his body in sweat all last year had been replaced by a fresher-looking black button-up, but the pants were just as tight?not too tight for the girls to grab when he got too close to the edge of the stage. He milked the superstar act for all it was worth, turning his ass to the crowd at the beginning of practically every song, cupping his hands to his ears like he couldn't hear the hollerers going hoarse with ecstasy throughout the night. Dan Bolton on guitar jammed like he was scrubbing out the entire history of rock with every new riff.

All of this would've been heaven except that the band must've given up all the good songs the night before, because they were sure sticking us with some cold leftovers. Instead of "Santa Rita High," we got "My Kick Ass Life." Instead of "Hell City, Hell," we got "Coattail Rider" and instead of "I Want the Drugs," we got a country song about heroin, cocaine and marijuana from that one hillbilly album that only the hardcore fans in the front owned. The drug song wasn't that bad, but you only go to a Supersuckers show to hear the hits. The band always plays well, but they haven't put out an album in like two years, so there's nothing new to hear?you want to hear the good songs from the old albums. Even the covers, good ones like Thin Lizzy's "Cowboy Song," stay the same from show to show. I love the Supersuckers?I see 'em play every time they hit San Francisco?but I learned a good lesson about the band that night: go the first night or don't go at all. They did redeem themselves a bit at the end, though, with their standard cover of the Turbonegro classic "Get It On" and the one song they've gotta play no matter what, "Born with a Tail."

But that was the end of anyone's getting almost their money's worth, because the Supersuckers were opening for M.I.R.V. The minute M.I.R.V. took the stage, it was like hearing a Primus cover band that forgot to learn the good songs and warbled off on their own progressive rock/metal tangents. Two songs and I was gone. Primus never really did it for me the first time, and sometimes it's just better to cut your losses and drink it off somewhere that doesn't charge $4 for a lukewarm cup of Budweiser.