Calling all half-wits, blockheads, imbeciles, clods, simpletons, goons and ignorami: The
Queers are coming! Since this writer's teenage punk band opened for the Queers at the old Bastille's in St. Louis in 1993, the much-loved New Hampshire trio has changed members repeatedly without altering its primordial sound — snotty, catchy pop-punk ("Fuck the World," "Janelle, Janelle") cut with snotty-snotty punk-punk ("No Tit," "I Can't Stop Farting"). Although the Queers' best records are a decade behind them now (1993's
Love Songs for the Retarded and 1996's
Don't Back Down), frontman Joe King still has enough momentum that he'll be groaning flawless two-minute pop smears about beer and genitals in his nursing home. See him now before you have to wait for visiting hours.
