(Ear)plugged in: Mission of Burma at the Paradise

My ears are still ringing after Mission of Burma’s triumphant, sold-out-as-hell release gig for The Obliterati last night at the Paradise (ironically enough, a venue Burma was barred from back in the day for not having a big enough draw — look who’s laughing now). Roger Miller’s guitar sounded so wildly amazing — his Marshall combo on eleven and at the very front of the stage, spewing body-rattling blasts of beyond-overdriven power chords, feedback, scrapes, and skronk — that I tried my darndest to avoid putting anything in my ear holes to muffle the sound. (Interestingly, Miller, who suffers from tinnitus, forwent his usual earmuff-looking things for normal earplugs.) Ultimately the volume became unbearable, and I scampered to the lavatory to retrieve a couple of wads of toilet paper sometime in the middle of the first set. Yeah, they did two sets — a pretty brilliant idea, despite one heckler’s accusation of geezer syndrome. That’s an asinine accusation if I’ve ever heard one: the loud-and-nasty-as-fuck ferocity of last night’s show completely belied their age. Let’s hope the kids were taking notes.

— Will Spitz