Mental Housecleaning, Part 1

Everyone would probably agree that the action around here has been pretty limited for the last several weeks. While I'm thrilled to have returned to the working life, the degree to which it's stunted my blogging time has been more than a little bit alarming. Furthermore, since I'm going to become a father in early 2010 (!!!), I've spent many of my recent days clearing junk out of the house for the coming avalanche of ridiculous baby gear. My wife and I have made a big pile of stuff to unload at a stoop sale (date TBD), and another (smaller) pile for eBay.

In the spirit of over-reaching, I have ambitiously chosen to extend this extreme housecleaning to include my own mental storage locker. There's a ton of Daddy-centric knowledge I need to pack into my brain before January, so the time has never been better to move out old information that no longer demands regular upkeep. But as is the case with the tacky Christmas gifts, punk 45s, and piles of outdated cultural studies books soon to be making their departure, it's a little bit sad to think about ridding my brain of monuments from a past that once defined me.

Fortunately, there is the internet. Also known as: the External Hard Drive to the Stars.

Prior to any proper housecleaning endeavor, it's critical to examine all the available bounty in order to effectively free up the most real estate. It makes sense to begin unloading what one has the most of, especially if it takes up a lot of space in the attic, basement, or in this case, the cranium. So after unscrewing the plate in my head to survey the flotsam, the decision was easy: I've chosen to unload stories and anecdotes pertaining to many of the live music events I've witnessed since... 1987. Let's face it, thanks to the usual transmogrification that most of us endure at the end of our thirties, not too many new entries are being made in that department anyway. Like many of my peers, the idea of enduring an hour long subway ride to some bunghole squat in Bushwick for a six band bill with a gaggle of hipsters isn't something I enjoy as much as I used to. Quite happily, I've arrived at a point where I'm very comfortable calling regular rock show attendance a component of my past, and as such, I'll be unloading a number of posts like the one that follows in the coming weeks. If you were there with me—and a lot of you were—and feel that I've mismanaged the details, gotten names wrong, confused one sleazy promoter with another, or in any way screwed up the facts, you are welcome and encouraged to set me straight in the comments. Shows will be posted in whichever order I end up remembering them. Chronology, as I have recently learned, is a luxury for someone who already knows which brand and model of diaper pail to add to their baby registry. 

1. The Ramones: City Gardens, 1987. Technically the first show I ever attended, unless you count the two high school thrash bands who played in my community's park for the local BMX/burnout population. City Gardens was different -- there were skinheads, dirtbags, and criminals everywhere, and also a guy who had painstakingly re-created elaborate GBH album artwork on the back of his leather jacket with white and silver paint pen. Part of me was expecting a bubblegummy event like the Ramones concert depicted in Rock & Roll High School, but what I got was a tribal slaughter punctuated by someone hurling a bar stool into the seething moshpit. (Several years before the infamous Geraldo TV brawl.) My buddies and I were too young to drive, so someone's older brother and his date dropped us off and picked us up sometime around 2 AM. His car was pulled over by the cops somewhere outside of Trenton on the way home. I sat in the back seat, and as cliched as it sounds, I definitely had the sense that I was onto something that would play a heavy hand in blazing my trail out of adolescence.
[Listen to the Ramones perform "Don't Come Close"]

2. Rednecks in Pain: ABC no RIO, 1989. Not to get all O.G. on you, but the Lower East Side was still pretty sketchy at this time. Giuliani's New York was several years away, and the rotted and broken condition of the city was especially evident down on the L.E.S. An older friend who'd graduated high school ahead of me was now an art student in the city, and she and I navigated our way through the demilitarized zone to find this new venue, alleged to be home to one of the best and brightest art scenes the city had birthed in eons. I was penpals with Rednecks in Pain's bass player, who did a great zine in Nashville, and I was happy to finally meet him following their set of spazzy, southern fried hardcore. I bought a 40 oz. bottle of malt liquor at a nearby bodega, which, in an idiotic display of youthful ignorance, I drank while walking back up Rivington St. to the Bowery. When I got to the West Village and said a sozzled goodbye to my art school pal, I decided to rouse another friend whose window could be banged upon by means of a standpipe outside his apartment on Waverly Street. He wasn't home. A sharp corner of the standpipe penetrated the sole of my combat boot and sliced a neat gash in the bottom of my foot, which bled profusely on the train ride home from Penn Station. When I disembarked the train, there was a small bloody spot on the floor where I'd been sitting. To this day, I can't believe the wound didn't blossom into a wicked infection, let alone something much worse.

3. Stereolab: Terrace Club dining room, early 90s. Then as now, my primary comment about Stereolab concerns their unparalleled ability to get an ungodly amount of mileage from a single note. On the sexual escapade front, a fellow WPRB DJ was rumored to have swapped fluids with one of the members of the band later on in the evening. This may or may not have been discussed in roundtable forum during somebody's graveyard show later on that week.
[Listen to Stereolab perform "Wow & Flutter"]

4. The Cure: At the Philadelphia Spectrum. I think it was the Kiss Me x3 tour. Regardless, they totally sucked. I went with a guy from around town whom I barely knew, but who'd offered me a free ticket in exchange for a ride. (His '74 BMW was out of commission. Poor chap.) Anyway, he danced like a ninny for the duration of their set and also scammed on girls who were perhaps five years his junior (we were in our late teens at the time). I slouched down low in my seat and thought about killing myself.
[Listen to the Cure perform "A Letter to Elise"]

5. The Melvins: Knitting Factory, late 90s, with the Cosmic Psychos. Like the Rednecks in Pain show, this one also concludes with me bleeding from my lower extremities. I was apartment sitting for friends on 125th St, and decided to head downtown to see the show. I stopped at Sonali (East Village) for dinner, and then made an impulse purchase of expensive new shoes somewhere on 8th Street. My old shoes were in tatters, so I threw them away and just wore the new ones out of the store. I then made the mistake of walking from the E.V. all the way down to club in Tribeca, and by the time I got there, the backs of my ankles were bleeding painfully from the ill-fitting shoes. I limped my way into the club, watched the bands from a safe distance (King Buzzo rules, ok?), and then rode the subway back up to Harlem in only my socks. I got back to the apartment at around 2 AM, and the weather turned incredibly cold and blustery. I slept on a strange couch with the TV on while the wind made terrifying sounds outside and the building swayed and shuddered in the gales. The next morning, I awoke to frigid temperatures, made my way downtown with no jacket, and ate the most satisfying oatmeal of my life at the Waverly Diner. [Image courtesy of Antiparticle.]
[Listen to the Melvins perform "The Kicking Machine"]

6. Youth Tsunami: Hardcore matinee at JC Dobbs, Philadelphia, 1991. I'm amazed that I remember such a short lived and forgettable band. Aside from the name, all I can recall is that they featured a guy who had previously been in some big NYHC act. Maybe Token Entry? I had wound up alone in Philly on a random Saturday afternoon, and tagged along to the show with some friendly guy with a mohawk, his 2 foot tall girlfriend who sported the skinhead-girl fringe hairstyle, and their punky poet pal who wore a tweed blazer with a Crass patch stitched to the lapel. (I'd first noticed him standing on top of a trash bin on South Street reading his poetry out loud.) Keep in mind, I met these people only that day, but they were incredibly nice, invited me to dinner at their communal house/squat, and insisted on paying for the parking ticket I got. I never saw or spoke with any of them again, but I think the girl's name was Crystal.

7. A.P.P.L.E.: Tompkins Square Park, with a few other bands. Lots of people who smell bad on purpose hanging around eating disgusting vegan "pizza". Also, an astonishing array of malnourished dogs (maybe they were also vegan?) held on knotted leashes made of dirty rope. A.P.P.L.E.'s music was folk-punk-anarchy. I was never into them, yet somehow, I managed to acquire a bunch of their records in the years that followed.

8. The 3Ds: Terrace Club, Princeton, 1993. I sat outside for most of their set, tending to a drunk girl who eventually vomited on my leg. The first couple of songs were really good, but any further memories are clouded by my sudden need for a fresh pair of trousers.

9. Sister Carol: When going to shows was new and exciting, I'd go see anything. That included the periodic reggae bills that City Gardens would host, where I saw Toots & the Maytals, King Yellowman, Eek-a-Mouse, and Sister Carol. I don't recall much beyond being one of the youngest people there and that the show was MC'd by the host of WTSR's weekly reggae show, who spoke on-air with a heavy patois accent, yet disappointingly turned out to be a white dude from suburban Trenton. In the crowd were lots of well dressed black people in their 40s, rasta dudes with 50 pounds of dreadlocks spilling from their woven crowns, some local skins doing their best to emulate the London Rude Boy style, and me, wondering if the money I'd just unloaded at the door was a wise investment in my future.

10. Gaunt: CBGB's, 1992—the now legendary "Ohio Invasion" show. Totally electrifying, though the circumstances were fairly crap. I think this was during either CMJ or the New Music Seminar, and a special "surprise" band had been added to the bill. No one knew who they were, but they were billed as "Move Right In". They turned out to be The Rollins Band, the name a lyrical reference to one of his songs. Anyway, what I had hoped would be a short (I was leaving for Europe early the next morning) and entertaining night turned into a multi-hour hellfest and by the time we left the club at 2:30 AM, there were still three bands to play before the New Bomb Turks. As such, this was the night I vowed never to return to CBGB's—a sentiment I renewed by appreciation for when the club closed for good several years ago. If you were ever a Gaunt fan, do the universe a favor and read this. [Listen to Gaunt perform "Spine"]

11. Run DMC: Outside in New Jersey. By the time I finally got to see one of the first bands that helped me define myself as a kid and who were the catalyst for extreme parental anxiety, they totally sucked rocks. Not surprisingly, a little piece of my soul died that day.

12. Lunachicks: 1991, at Rutgers. A benefit for the local LGBT Chapter. This was a great night, made better by the fact that it competed directly with two other shows that kept the idiots away. Elsewhere on campus, Mojo Nixon performed for douchebaggy college kids with backwards baseball caps. Meanwhile, down in Trenton, Murphy's Law performed for the troglodytes and violent skinhead crowd. Coincidentally, in 1991, if any slices of the population were going to start trouble at a show with a socio-political subtext like an LGBT benefit, it would be jocks and skinheads. But mercifully, they left the weirdo artists, loners, and the entire LGBT campus community to rock out full throttle to the Lunachicks who were fabulous as always! One of the best and most unique NYC bands ever, no doubt about it. A lot of other local bands played, but now I can't remember any besides Sticks and Stones. All told, this was a great night to be a freak in Jersey. [Listen to the Lunachicks perform "Brickface & Stucco"]

Click here to go to part 2.

Comments

[Ethan]

Nice post! And good luck with impending fatherhood, that's great news. My son just turned 3 and we may have another one on the way too (still pretty early, but keeping fingers crossed).

[mr mike]

First: Congratulations and good luck with the kid, Mike!

Actually, that's all I got besides sighing and saying good times, good times. City Gardens was really somethin' else, huh?

[jen]

Holy crap, I was talking about that Gaunt/Ohio show YESTERDAY. Oddly, I completely forgot about "Move Right In" (not much of an impression, apparently), and I swear we left there at 4am, but I definitely recall griping about the 452 filler bands (I'm still angry about that); being wildly entertained by a surprisingly talented street comedian (I think it was at that show?); that you were flying out for the family Euro-tour the next (same) day; and that we swore up and down never to go back to CBGB again. (Though didn't we break that with a Jawbox show later, when Joan Jett showed up? Or was that earlier?)

I, for one, didn't feel that bad when it closed.

Here's one for the next round: Frodus causing weather turbulence at that weird hotel in...where the hell was that? The Poconos?

Btw, please expect a CBGB onesie (or 12) for your rocker-to-be. I believe it has to be done.

[Chris Mohr]

Congrats on the baby! And thanks for the admission about not going to shows much any more... it's comforting to us 43-year-olds.

I think I was at that Ramones show. It was absolutely one of the loudest shows I ever saw. I regularly bounced around in the moshpit at City Gardens but I was out of my league at that show. Too tall and way too skinny!

My first show at City Gardens was Flipper. Also left indelible late adolescent impressions, including a right ear that never worked quite as well thereafter because the darn bass was so frickin' loud and monotone.

[Brian Frickert]

Congratulations, Mike!

[r:m:b]

Jen: Right you are about the filler bands. I wouldn't be surprised if Shirley Temple of Doom and Pope Salad also made appearances on that bill. In recent years, I've mentioned that show to Eric from the NBT and he swears they went on stage at 2:30 AM, so maybe it just *felt* like 4 AM after enduring Rollins. Indeed, the homeless guy outside on the Bowery "took our picture" with a camera made of Evian and Poland Spring bottles, then yelled at some less talented guy who simply walked up to us and grunted with an outstretched cup. And finally, I believe the Joan Jett show was earlier -- I wasn't around for that, anyway. As far as I recall, I did not return to CBs again until a few weeks ago, when I walked in to the stupid fashion joint it's been turned into to have a look around. Efforts to pee in a corner and write "Cro Mags" on the wall in paint pen were quickly thwarted by security.

[Jon Solomon]

I would give you $1 if you could find the full bill for that CBGB show.

[Jon Solomon]

Could this have been it?!

http://www.gbvdb.com/album.asp?albumid=2027

[r:m:b]

Jon: Yep, that's it. I still have that poster! But the fact that it neglects to mention the presence of the Rollins Band on the bill nullifies its value, as far as I'm concerned. -mike

[Bela Koe-Krompecher]

Zipgun and Gorilla played Columbus two nights prior, with Gaunt if I am correct. You all have better memories than me, I was at that CGGB show and all I remember is being horrified at the bathroom.
-Bela, from Columbus

[r:m:b]

Bela: Don't worry... Short of getting beaten up, you got the quintessential CBGBs experience by taking a leak there. -mike

[Tom Sarago]

http://belakoekrompecher.wordpress.com/

No kidding about this blog. I used to shop in Used Kids all the time (circa 1996-1998) and remember Jerry quite well. We taped each other a couple records; I remember giving him a swell Jawbreaker mix. Gaunt live was something else.

Anyways, it's this (and Bela's) blogs are outstanding reads. Thanks.