Much love for The Hate at Larimer Lounge

A frigid draft blew through the Larimer Lounge on Friday night as the opening act, The Hacks, took the stage. In no time at all, upbeat punk riffs filled the house as eager fans topped off their glasses at the bar, preparing for an alcohol-fueled punk lash merrymaking with Denver’s The Hate and the California trio Agent Orange.

A peculiar crowd began to file into the small venue and a small circle soon formed around a light-up hoola hoop dancer. Sporting a freshly picked afro and a tight leather vest, one particularly energetic fan performed his own interpretative dance to the hard rock rhythms. Despite criticism from the peanut gallery and one memorable Bob Ross jab, the man continued to dance freely as the show went on.

Denver’s own Truckasaurus took the stage next and brought the house down with a sly combination of humor and fast melodies on the mic. Drunken loons began hugging, stumbling, and swinging around the dance floor with no regard.

A minimal, yet shockingly malicious, mosh session broke out at the Larimer Lounge, and the filthy floor was now slippery with PBR. This is when it really started looking like a punk show. By the time the lead singer’s beer had spilled twice, it was apparent that the crowd was nothing like before.

Elbows commenced to fly and a few wrestling matches broke out as the second set came to a close. Microphones and monitors started getting knocked over by those intoxicated enough to leap from the stage directly onto their faces. With no security guards in sight, it seemed that things were going to descend into badass punk rock anarchy until The Hate took the stage.

“Where are you from?” shouted an anonymous voice to the lead singer.

“We are from Denver, and we are going to be playing here for a long time,” front man Dan Aid replied as the group picked up their instruments.

Aid grew up playing acoustic guitar with his father. Unfortunately, he suffered a freak accident as a child that left him with an amputated right forearm.

After recovery, Aid was determined not to give up guitar, but rather design his own contraption to enable him to continue playing. Now, years later, Aid rocks a sweatband at the end of his tattooed strumming arm with a pick attached to it for optimum amplitude.

Following a few punk jams that shook every mohawk and spiked stud in the joint, Aid busted out a heartfelt anthem entitled “Stronghold,” silencing even the most rambunctious of fans. Once it had the attention of the mob, The Hate continued with the catchy songs “The Axe” and “I Knew Me.”

Throughout the night, members from all three opening acts raised the hype for old school California power-trio Agent Orange. As the last distorted chord rang from the amps, the entire venue was overflowing. Once midnight rolled around the main event finally began, and mayhem ensued until the early morning.