The Night I Lost My Words | Puddle of Mudd Live Review w/ Mastodon | Kink Fest 2014 | Orlando | November 8 2014

by Mitch Foster • December 5, 2014

I write down a lot of personal shit. Some call it a Moleskin, which is just a brand, but what I often carry around with me is a small notebook. Small enough to fit in your back pocket. Large enough to write a few paragraphs at a time at a show or bar without having to flip the page. I lost that the night of this show. And it was crushing.

I started my day by gathering my friend Martin and I, and rolling a couple of smokes for the trip. After some Pho and a smoke, we Uber-ed it to Central Florida Fairgrounds for the fest with a couple of other friends.

Kink Festival featured a car show, a tattoo convention with live artists and multiple body suspension shows (see photos below), and a full lineup of bands on two different stages. The festival headliners were the almighty Mastodon and Puddle Of Mudd. We wanted to experience the entire day at Kink Festival 2014 in addition to catching Puddle Of Mudd and Mastodon, but didn’t make it out until about 6pm. Puddle of Mudd went on around 7pm.

They began their set with “Control.” Here’s a fun fact: Yes, I used to sing the words to Puddle Of Mudd’s career launching song, “Control,” when I was alone, or driving. Especially the part where he says “I love the way you smack my ass.” C’mon, I can’t be alone in this guilty pleasure, surely some of you have done the same?

The video for that song was directed by Fred Durst. Durst discovered this band after the lead singer, Wes Scantlin, snuck backstage at a Limp Bizkit show in 1999, and handed his demo tape to Durst’s security. Durst actually received and listened to the thing, dug it, contacted the band, and signed them. (Sounds like a fucking fairy tale to me.)

I’ve always been a fan of the drummer in the “Control” video. And growing up in Jacksonville, FL for a few years, the video is semi-nostalgic because it features familiar roads that I used to drive on with my parents when I was a kid. And as a teen, that angsty expressiveness Scantlin pushes out was exactly what I wanted at the time. Needless to say, it was good to finally see this band live.

During the bridge of “Control” the band broke into a cover of “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath. “Alright, now you’ve got my attention!” The guy next to me, who appeared to be in his late 40s, yelled to his friends and all those within an earshot. What a brilliant move. Puddle Of Mudd knew their audience, what they were looking for, and catered their set to them. It seemed like they knew exactly what they were doing. Not to mention, the cover fucking rocked.

Once the crowd was in the right mood, Puddle of Mudd rolled through their radio singles. Most notably, “Psycho,” which took most of the audience off of their feet then back to the ground, repetitively. I’m going to go out on a limb here, but I think Wes Scantlin’s character is misunderstood. He often gets filed under “butt rock,” but I don’t believe he’s going for that at all. Just look in his eyes. See that stoicism behind the passion? Just because this mother fucker doesn’t have all of the words in the english language down, doesn’t mean he can’t communicate better than most.

Watching Scantlin live taught me that his music is his best friend and his arch nemesis. People are shitty and say shitty things about the music he plays. But, it’s pretty clear that he loves what he’s doing and he really believes in it. He’s started out as a kid with a dream. Looking up to his idols, like Cobain. Is that really a sin? Keep it going, Wes. That’s my two cents.

Puddle of Mudd closed their set and I walked away to beat the line at the $7 PBR tent (I don’t want to talk about it). I was a little bummed the band didn’t perform “Blurry,” which is my favorite PoM song, but I think they cut it due to time constraints.

After a shot with my friends, we went into the expo hall where they were getting the final round of body suspension underway. This time is was two heavy-set dudes. And that shit was crazy. Cringefully crazy (Martin took some pics below).

After that, we met these pinup models representing the Florida chapter of The Luscious Ladies. There was four of them. There was four of us. All was going well until one of my friends stopped mid conversation, turned his head to the right, projectile vomited, and continued conversation, not skipping a beat. Impressive, but it put a little damper on things. So, I went and caught Mastodon close out the night and we left the festival.

This is where it gets a little blurry (no pun intended).

We took our cab to Wally’s on Mill’s Avenue. If you’ve ever been to Wally’s, you know not to order a double because they’ll laugh in your face. Every single liquor drink there is a double. Wally’s is one of Orlando’s oldest bars. It fucking opens at 7am for Christ’s sake, because it’s been there so long that it’s grandfathered into the alcohol sales time laws. After a couple drinks and some heavy writing in my Moleskin, we left to bar hop in The Milk District. This is the last picture I have of my notebook:

We arrived at Barley & Vine Biergarten (which fucking rules), for a beer, and then went to good ol Whiskey Lou’s and then I remember seeing Dainon at Sportstown.

This is where I black out.

My credit card statement says Sandwich Bar $26.00, Barley & Vine $13.00, and all my $60 of cash was gone. What. The. Fuck. I woke up on a recliner at my friend’s house in the MIlk District at 9am, with no recollection of how I got there, and drove home. Still drunk, more than likely. It was a rough day, preceding by a rough night. The night I lost my words. R.I.P. Moleskin. R.I.P Liver.

Puddle of Mudd Live Review by Mitch Foster.

Puddle of Mudd Live Photos by Martin Cardenas.