"We loved you in Young Guns," the adoring audience cries. After much begging, he finally breaks down and plays "La Bamba". "I'll just put all my hair in my face so I don't have to watch that poor drunk chick snogging that little weaselly guy..."

Even if you only go to a few shows a year, you know that there's nothing worse than standing around for hours in an extremely smoky, unbearably hot and muggy club, waiting for a band to go on -- which, unfortunately, is par for the course at most shows. But every so often you get lucky and waltz into an almost perfect performance situation, which is exactly what happened to the Splendid crew as we ventured out to into the steamy night to catch a relatively low-key Friday night set from Money Mark.

When you attend shows as frequently as we do, you soon learn that "running late" isn’t always a bad thing. Sure, once in a while you miss a really great opening band that went on first, but the majority of the time the only thing you're missing is a crappy opening DJ or some half-assed local act that sent the club's booking agent a gift. We were running slightly behind schedule this evening due to the vagaries of work and traffic, and as such missed -- you guessed it -- a DJ set from Buffalo Daughter frontwoman Sugar. While we Splendid writers are certainly fans of Buffalo Daughter (I am, anyway), the prospect of Sugar spinning J-pop and lounge for the better part of an hour, eventually driving us to buy costly drinks to combat our boredom, was less than enthralling. So we were happy to walk in just as she ended her set.

Crisis One: averted.

Actually, our timing couldn’t have been better. Just minutes after we entered the club, everyone’s favorite Beastie Boys cohort Money Mark and his band of lovable miscreants climbed carefully onto the crowded stage. Or was it actor Lou Diamond Phillips fronting Money Mark's band? Last time we saw Money Mark -- admittedly a long time ago -- he was clean-shaven. This time, sporting shoulder-length hair and a pair of Blu-Blockers, he looked a lot less reputable. We may never know.

On this particular evening, Money Mark's already stellar backing unit was augmented by turntable terrorist Kid Koala, fresh from the Radiohead tour, dropping samples and scratches into the already heady brew. One in their places, the band wasted no time, immediately ripping into a heavy, Latin percussion laced funk number (the name of which I cannot recall) that was absolutely bang-on. Soon after, Mark & Co. unleashed a punchy version of "Insects are all Around Us", as well as a demonically re-vamped version of his GAP endorsed pseudo-hit "Push the Button". Other highlights of Mark’s all-too-brief set included a raucous, rocked-up rendition of his ubiquitous modern funk anthem "Hand in Your Head" (retitled "Hamburger Head") as well his Barry White-esque take on Push the Button’s "All the People".

The only thing that could tear our attention away from Mark's ferocious set was the antics of a (hopefully) drunk girl in front of the stage. Initially on the verge of making out with her sober female companion, she quickly made a new (near as we could tell) friend -- a male audience member whose calls she probably spent the rest of the weekend dodging. Dividing their time between rather violent dancing and even-more-violent making out, they kept the audience amused throughout the show -- though Mark countered with his best party piece, using inflated balloons to play a trumpet (you had to be there).

A few short songs later Mark and his crew exited stage left to the gleeful appreciation of all those in attendance.

Dancefloor jazz band cum organic drum and bass act Lake Trout was the evening’s headliner. While their latest album, Alone At Last, hints broadly at an interesting live performance, we were tired from a full day’s work, so we bolted for the door before seeing anybody we knew and didn’t want to talk to.

Crisis two: averted.

On this particular night, neither our timing, nor Money Mark’s performance could have been better. Now, if we could just score a cold beverage and figure out where we parked the damn car, we’ll be all set...

Article by Jason Jackowiak, with additional material by George Zahora. Photos by George Zahora.