By Rachel Nichols  |  Send to Friend

Walking down the steps and into the basement of the First Unitarian Church I could hear the spastic banging of Randy Randall’s drums as Dean Spunt let it rip on guitar. The two members of No Age were setting up their equipment, playing thirty second bits of their noisy rock songs, then goofing off, then back to playing. It was early and hardly anyone had arrived, just a few fans lingering in the back, along with touring mates Abe Vigoda and High Places. They played on their Powerbooks -- most likely crusing Myspace or reading about themselves on the latest music blog. I walked up the stage, stuck my hand out and introduced myself to Randy who I had been text messaging earlier that day about setting up an interview.
“We’re gonna do something a little different guys, I think you might like it.” I felt like a whore once the words fell out of my mouth. The two bounced off stage and let me upstairs into the sanctuary of the church where I sat them down and explained that we were going to play a game.