This dude made a local crappy lo-budget movie about lesbian vampires. A friend of mine was involved in the production, and Trim was originally going to contribute to the soundtrack. We didn't. Don't bother trying to hunt up a copy from Netflix--ain't there. Or anywhere. Sue broke a bone and couldn't play the show, but we did it anyway . . . without a bass. It was a disaster. All around. James' best memory is that immediately after our set some girl came up to him and declared, "You all sucked!" There was no disputing that. My only real memory of the night was that it took forever to take the stage because the band before us pulled the prima donna thing. But they weren't a band. It was a guy doing tape loops while the "star" stood front center chanting over the noise. There was a "song" that went on for so long that I fled the building for the remainder of the set. The guy exhorted the meager audience--ad nauseum and as the sole lyric--to "Dance motherfucker dance motherfucker dance motherfucker dance." He thought he was pretty important. Performance art in a sleepy little river city, yawn. This was one of the last shows Trim played before disintegration set in. A couple of lackluster and incoherent shows at the Toy Tiger later, and the band was history.