2004-04-27 - 3:09 p.m.
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WRI TTEN AT WORK
I wouldn't�t even know what to tell you. In all honesty, I really
don�t
know what to say to myself and I saw it all, all of it. There were
photographs taken and things were said and still, I have no idea what
to
make out of any of it.
But I can try.
The place was washed in red. They usually are. If not red, then
blacklights or really low track lighting. There was a cage for dancing
by
the back door, a brief call back to the place I�m usually used to
seeing
these things happen. It�s weird that there needs to be some way to
entice
someone�s sexuality in these places and they usually all involved metal
poles of some sort.
There was random music playing, one song trying to out trump the last
in
complete obscurity with a fan favorite thrown in to keep people
interested.
I could tell something was going to go down here tonight, because the
math
added up to it. I looked at the people and I looked at the situation
and
crazy plus crazy meant nuts. This was going to be so much fun, even if
it
was a complete disaster.
They started setting up immediately. The same 4 people I�ve seen
collide
into their music time and time again, me screaming back at them, a
whole
room there taking it all in. It was relative�s face familiar. There
was
nothing alien about this.
The entire show seemed doomed to start. We were in the middle of
Suffolk
County, 30 miles from anyone giving a damn. Our friends must have
cursed
themselves as they climbed in their cars and drove a good 45 minute �
hour
long drive out to a hallway with Depeche Mode album covers hanging as
enormous banners on the wall. The bar had Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap �
one of
the first times I�d seen such a thing � and the jukebox had nothing.
It was
turned off anyway. The DJ provided all of the music.
All of the music, that is, until they started playing. It was a rush
to
hear everything in a new room, in front of a few new faces. They were
playing amazing that night too; fucking tight like suit shoes. No one
really moved and I was pissed about that but I couldn�t contain myself
and I
had to jump around a little. I was reserving energy for later, but I
needed
to do something or I�d explode. I was given a camera at one point and
asked
to take photos of this, so I did so repeatedly, every 3 minutes a flash
because it was a digital camera and I knew they wouldn�t mind 100 shots
of
the back of their heads or someone�s guitar because they could delete
them
if they sucked. Flashes like a war; explosions in the air.
I got to sing too. I got to get up on the �stage�, which was really an
opened area on the floor that no one dared come close to. And I let
them
all have it. Not full force, but I let them all have it as much as Iwould allow myself to
muster.
The music died away and I listened to the bass drum heartbeat as it
thump-thump thump-thumped and I just yelled to it, unaware if I was
doing
anything worthwhile or just making noise while someone was trying very
hard
to not be complete failures at music. It all came together well and I
could
see that at least some fun was had and that's all that mattered.
They finished up their noise and got the fuck out of dodge, cleaning
the
stage in speeds people use when they've worn out their welcome. They
were
far from hated however. It was probably one of the best times I've
seen
them, probably one of the best times I've had watching them. I got a
few
minutes to catch my breath and then it was my turn, my turn to bring
the
noise. My turn to really turn things up. I had been talking a lot of
mess
to people for a while now, hyping up a lot of nothing really. I had
nothing
to show for my words. They were words. Sure, I had moved around to
other
people's songs. I had jumped up and down. I had screamed and yelled
and
carried on, carried away by the music being shot at me. But this was
different. There would be no crowd to back into now. If I was tired,
I
couldn't turn around and stand behind someone else and try not to be
seen
catching my breath. All eyes would be on me now and I knew it. I knew
it.
Not just on me - on the band. I was just an appendage of the band.
The arm
or the leg or the head. Well, certainly not the head. That was
someone
else's job. He didn't need any help with that. What he did need was
backup
and he needed it bad. Putting yourself out there in song and word is
the
single most glorious and at the same time obtrusive thing. You're
opening
your brain and heart up. You're holding the hole open and letting all
look
inside - giving a glimpse to the truth behind the wall of lies we cover
ourselves in in common conversation just to get by. No one gives 100%
of
themselves except in song and word.
The stage was cleared off and it was all ready to go. I stood there
alone,
my shitty bass hanging off of my body. It would later fall apart, the
wood
giving under the strain of me whipping the thing about my body like
nunchucks in a 70s kung fu movie. I swung my arms around, stretching
them
out so that I wouldn't feel it later in the night, twisting my body to
squeeze the cracks and snaps out of my joints and furthering along my
arthritis by a few months. It all seemed so unreal. There was a room
full
of people chattering, trying to clear that tinnitus ring out of their
ears
from before and I just quietly danced the dance of stretching in front
of
them, a lone light circling me as random music began spinning from a DJ
next
to me. Eventually, things came together, the guitar amp was turned on,
the
drums were tuned up and we all started into it.
Don't ask me a thing about it. Don't even bother. I wouldn't be able
to
tell you. I can remember clips. Faces. Eyes. I saw a nose. A smile.
Someone stuck a lollipop in my mouth and I sucked on it for 3 songs
before
destroying it with my teeth and continuing on. I broke my bass and
remember
trying my hardest not to break the replacement, trying my damnedest to
respect the replacement I was given for the rest of the show. I
remember
turning to someone who had knocked into me (or me into them - whatever)
and
I ran after them biting their shoulder like a dog. I don't know why.
I
really really don't. I don't remember much.
I remember smiling and knowing I said what I'd do and I did what I
said.
I can continue this another time.
Just know, things that start well usually only get better.
BMC
What did you just say? - What's he gonna say next?
