Ask and ye shall receive. Despite Chris’ bellyaching about the lack of throw-downs or even some gentle shoving and “hey, bro”s after accidental beer brushes, I saw some honest-to-goodness body slamming, full nelson beatdowns go down in the pit at Interpol. Yeah, I know, it’s not the place you’d expect to see this level of violence. In fact, it’s kind of like a backrub circle breaking out at a Bal-Sagoth gig, but it happened and someone is going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow and bruises for days.

The action began about 10 feet from the stage, where, out of nowhere, a guy started barreling through the crowd holding another dude in a full nelson. After the women they mowed down were helped back up, it became clear the two guys knew each other and the nelson giver was holding the nelson recipient up against a fence and pinning the guy’s hands to the top of a post to stop him from doing any more damage. At this point, security was nowhere to be found, despite four or five guards standing less than a foot away on the other side of the fence.

The red-faced lunatic broke free and lunged back into the crowd, mowing about a dozen people down like bowling pins. Now, I don’t know why this dude was so jacked about Interpol because, frankly, most of their set was like that old joke about reggae (“I love that song … reggae”), but the steakhead had a plan in mind and he was not to be deterred — until …

See, that monstrous guy in the painted-on NIN sleeveless T-shirt and the bald head that was gleaming like Barry Bonds’ enormo-dome had had enough. He lifted this wack job up, carried him 15 feet and did a pile driver on the kid that looked like it might have lodged him three feet in the ground. Yet, here he came again, forcing his by-now frantic pal to just lie down on top of him and hold on for dear life while an apparent case of ‘roid rage ran its course. Which is when security finally got its act together, though it took three of them to subdue this lunatic. The guy standing next to me shot a look that could only mean, “I won’t have what that guy’s having!”

There wasn’t any blood, but we soon got that too. The shirtless wonder next to me decided to crowd surf just a foot away from the barrier up front. He asked his girlfriend and her female companion to help hoist him up (not a good look, broham, since it looked like you were pushing 210 and these girls couldn’t have weighed 110 a piece soaking wet, which they were). With a little help from a few other guys, he managed to surf his way about two feet before being dumped on his bald head. There was blood. Well deserved, I might add, since he was trying to crowd surf … during a freakin’ ballad … at an Interpol show!

Read more about Interpol and all of Saturday’s performances on MTVNews.com …