My life is full of regret. Here's one of my all-time favorite regrets: in May 1998, my friends Jesse and Sam and I put on a 30-band nightmare called Jersey Fest that nearly ruined Sam and Jesse's friendship. (Seriously, you try to put on a festival while your two partners don't speak for two months -- except through you -- while you're in high school.) The redemption was that Los Crudos headlined. If you don't know Los Crudos, know this: there are four great punk bands of the 1990s. Bikini Kill, Rancid, The Refused, and Los Crudos. Proof is here. (Born Against doesn't count because they formed in the 80s.)

Anyway, finally, Crudos played, they ruled, the fest was over at long last. We were hanging out with Martin, Crudos' singer, as we cleaned up the VFW, while soundman Jon Hiltz played some Portishead or something. I turned around to pick up a stray bit of trash -- just for a second -- and when I came back to my friends, their jaws were gaping open and Martin was walking away. What happened? Martin had just just just started breakdancing like whoa. And I missed it.

Los Crudos broke up that year. It was a calamity. Martin, who in addition to revolutionizing punk rock by singing in Spanish revolutionized it even further by proving that the singer for your favorite brutal punk band could be gay, started Limp Wrist, the greatest of all queercore bands. But now, on May 17, Crudos returns. Oh. My. Fucking. God. Los Crudos will play Prank Records' Chaos in Tejas festival with fucking Tragedy!

You know what's fun about not being in high school anymore? I can go to Austin to see Los Crudos if I fucking feel like it. And I fucking feel like it. That's it. It's settled. My trip to the Afghanistan-Pakistan border (you read that right) is hereby rescheduled on account of Los Crudos reforming. All good punk-rock road trips require traveling partners. Who's with me? I'm serious. I just bought my ticket. There is no turning back. Holler at supportthesurge-at-gmail-dot-com. Do not e-mail if you do not intend to go.