Nephew Ned Said:
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I saw the Violent Femmes at the University of Scranton, I think it was 1996. I got quite high on marijuana in the parking lot beforehand and enjoyed the show very much. I think it would have been a very good show even had I been straight, but the buzz was a nice little touch.
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OK. This topic has just
got to be a retread, but since someone else sorta' brought it up ... what the hell.
Anyone else got a similar story? Let's hear it.
For my part it would have to be:
Ride at The Trocadero in Philadelphia. "Going Blank Again" Tour. My friends and I were h-i-g-h HIGH! We missed Pale Saints because our "ride" was a tardy f**ker! Curse his name!
How to put it delicately? It was a
lysergic evening. What's that? Ride NOT drug music? At the time,
everything was drug music.
There were all sorts of incredible sounds bouncing off the walls and ceiling of the place, and I could swear that I was hearing tones that just could not have been there. Almost hearing the sounds before they came spewing out of the amps. To paraphrase Bill Hicks:
"Our third eyes were WELL SQUEEGEED!"
I don't exactly remember which song it was during (it might have been "Polar Bear"), but I happened to look over at the fellow standing by the pillar a few spaces to the left of me.
Drug-addled memory paints him a bit like Chris Farley with a few days worth of stubble. He was husky. His hair was unkempt and greasy. He might have been wearing coveralls. The overall impression was that of a garbage man or a janitor. But there he was at this Ride gig. He was lip-synching. That, or really singing along. It was too loud to hear him if he was actually singing. The entire time I watched him he was weeping. Tears were streaming down his face. He knew every single word.
He. Had. Every. Last. Nuance. Down.
He was in the moment. He didn't just
like this music. He had been snuggling up with it for weeks. He had made it breakfast. He had lent it money and given it it's own key. He had a pair of it's underwear in his dresser!
I have never seen anything like it ... before or since. Totally unexpected. Finding out that Emeril Lagasse digs on Spacemen 3 would be no more bizarre to me.
I hope he does, now that I think on it.
:::iris in:::
Emeril at his dressing table. His head is nodding to unheard music. He is wearing shades.
"Mmph mmphons Mmph Mmphmmph!"
"What?"
"Mmph mmphons Mmph Mmphmmph!"
"WHAT???"
:::headphones come off. Music is blaringly loud:::
"Five minutes, Mr. Lagasse!"
"Yeah man, OK!"
:::headphones slip back over curly black head:::
(Now. Where was I?)
"Oh yeah. Ahem. Bam!"
(Nope)
"BAM!"
(Almost ... I need to really nail it tonight. C'mon Em! DIG DEEP!)
"Ba-AAAAAAM!"
(Aaaaaaah! Still got it!)
:::iris out to "Losing Touch With My Mind":::
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Where the hell was I?
Oh yeah! Drugs. Music.
Ride was really good. The drummer was like an octopus. What's-His-Name and The-Other-Guy-That-Ended-Up-In-Oasis were in fine form. Nonchalant and pale. The bass player was standing around doing what bass players (Flea excepted) are supposed to do.
"The introverts stared at
their shoes. The extroverts stared at
yours."
Who am I parroting there? I know I've heard that line (or one like it) somewhere. Can't recall just now. Don't want to.
No wait! It was NPR!
