I went to see X the other night at Slim's, as another couple had tickets and wanted to revisit their youth. I'm not a big reunion guy, but I took the bullet for the team and went to the bank for babysitter money. We were supposed to meet at a bar called Wish south of market, a district with its own nostaligic value that has closed the great haunts of my youth- 20 Tank, Paradise, Hamburger Mary's. So we follow the street numbers and it becomes clear we're headed to the changed name of an old standby- El Bobo. I lost my t-shirt but retain the memories. Good times. The place is browner now, in decor, and the music guitarless dance. The bartender had the requisite naify chic, and my drink was served with the proper disdain. We made our chitchat and headed over, the line outside for ticketholders a block down 11th. The girls went for smokes and I tried to recall the few shows I'd attended at Boz's place- Monoshock opening for Mudhoney, Jack Logan, the Dragons, Uncle Tupelo- a shaky list at best, which did not bode well for the next hour. We snaked our way in, and it was packed tighter than my lower back. Two minutes after getting our drinks, they raised the video screen and all four original members of your early LA punk heroes appeared looking remarkably spright. John Doe seemed to have come directly from makeup at a movie set. Billy Zoom's hairline had taken some sliding steps back, but his impish smirk delivered all of its intended contempt. DJ Bonebrake was grey and hatted and Exene wore the appropriate ridiculous getup, a hairdo that matches my two-year old daughter's who can't sit still in a barber's chair, and 50's lady girth. And they sounded exactly like they did when I saw them all those other times 20-25 years ago, and again I was bored. I appreciate the dueling harmonic vocals, but I don't love 'em, and the songs never hit past the eardrum. I can see why folks dig these guys, and I can see why they would hold a particular place in people's memories if they grew up in that time and place. They just never made their way inside my shriveled heart. But hey, let's face it- there ain't a lot of room in there.
02 January 2008
I went to see X the other night at Slim's, as another couple had tickets and wanted to revisit their youth. I'm not a big reunion guy, but I took the bullet for the team and went to the bank for babysitter money. We were supposed to meet at a bar called Wish south of market, a district with its own nostaligic value that has closed the great haunts of my youth- 20 Tank, Paradise, Hamburger Mary's. So we follow the street numbers and it becomes clear we're headed to the changed name of an old standby- El Bobo. I lost my t-shirt but retain the memories. Good times. The place is browner now, in decor, and the music guitarless dance. The bartender had the requisite naify chic, and my drink was served with the proper disdain. We made our chitchat and headed over, the line outside for ticketholders a block down 11th. The girls went for smokes and I tried to recall the few shows I'd attended at Boz's place- Monoshock opening for Mudhoney, Jack Logan, the Dragons, Uncle Tupelo- a shaky list at best, which did not bode well for the next hour. We snaked our way in, and it was packed tighter than my lower back. Two minutes after getting our drinks, they raised the video screen and all four original members of your early LA punk heroes appeared looking remarkably spright. John Doe seemed to have come directly from makeup at a movie set. Billy Zoom's hairline had taken some sliding steps back, but his impish smirk delivered all of its intended contempt. DJ Bonebrake was grey and hatted and Exene wore the appropriate ridiculous getup, a hairdo that matches my two-year old daughter's who can't sit still in a barber's chair, and 50's lady girth. And they sounded exactly like they did when I saw them all those other times 20-25 years ago, and again I was bored. I appreciate the dueling harmonic vocals, but I don't love 'em, and the songs never hit past the eardrum. I can see why folks dig these guys, and I can see why they would hold a particular place in people's memories if they grew up in that time and place. They just never made their way inside my shriveled heart. But hey, let's face it- there ain't a lot of room in there.
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