Remembering pt. 2

[Dano]

I'm at the Ranch Bowl for the first time. I'm 14, and I snuck out with a friend of mine and his older sister to see a show.

Three bands sharing the stage that night, all ages show. I'm sitting on the tile floor with about 40 other kids, waiting for 9pm, showtime. Most of us are wearing Chuck Taylor's, the predominant color being black, although a lot of the girls have different colors. I've got on my Chicago Cubs cap, turned backwards for the occasion. My buddy's sister has on a Smithereen's t-shirt.

Across the way is the bar, occupied by the parents of different band members, and a few bored-looking bouncers stopping us from going up. There's a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke, making me gag from time to time. I see a kid I know from church walk in, and we do that stupid backwards-nod "wassup" thing.

Over the PA, they're playing something I don't recognize as warmup music. It's cool, a little edgier than I'm used to at that time. I find out later it's Fugazi's Repeater album. I look up at the stage, set about 5 feet off the ground, and smaller than it seems like it should be.

I see a couple of older kids (in high school, or maybe college), a boy and a girl, standing by the pay phone, making out. The flagrant PDA is more than my early adolecent mind is capable of processing, and I look away, blushing and embarassed.

Three bands playing that night. Glass Bottom Isle, the FeverTrees and Secret Skin. Glass Bottom Isle are from Wayne, NE, a college town out in the middle of the state. FeverTrees's drummer is dating my buddy's sister. Secret Skin are the equivalent of local rock stars.

Five guys walk onstage and start messing around with the equipment. Next thing I know, they start fiddling around. None of us even knew they were starting. We get up and cluster in small groups, too cool and awkward to get close to the stage. A woman at the bar "woo-hoo's" and brings a video camera up to her face.

A guy in his early 20s with a skater-flip and Vision Street Wear t-shirt mumbles, "Hey, we're Glass Bottom Isle." I can feel butterflies in my stomach, and I can't hardly believe I'm actually here at the Ranch Bowl watching a rock band play.

The first chord hits me like a body shot, I feel it in my chest and oh my God is it loud. Once I adjust to the volume, I start watching the band.

(Now then, as an aside, at shows, I do not rock out. I never have, even at really loudfastrules shows. I've always gone to see the band, to WATCH the musicians. I am there for the music.)

Some dude in a sleeveless Run-DMC t-shirt tries to start a mosh pit. First of all, there's too few kids and too much space. Second of all, this is a pretty mellow band, despite the volume. Typical pre-Nevermind sadboy college rock. It's not going to work. People edge away from him, looking at him like he's crazy.

A security guard comes out to stop the kid, and we collectively breathe a sigh of relief. I edge up to the lip of the stage, right in front of the guitar player. He's short, stocky, with an Abe Lincoln beard and shoulder-length whiteboy dreads. He is the coolest human being I've ever seen up close.

The show procedes. FeverTrees were a reasonably good funk/ska band (not that I knew what ska was then), and they actually had a few kids there to see them, singing along with the songs. They had a horn section and their bass player was slapping at it, making all sorts of cool sounds I wasn't used to. My buddy's sister sang along with every song, and screamed loudly when her boyfriend had a short drum solo.

A girl caught my eye. She was cute. Redhed, short, with glasses. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, but I had no idea what to do. Then, she did something so traumatic, I can hardly even think about it without wincing. She took a can of Kodiak out of her pocket and took a dip. Good Lord, I've been scarred for life.

Secret Skin, I'd heard of. The had been written about in the paper a few times, and had been on the cover of the local free entertainment rag. They rocked pretty hard, sorta like a glammed-up Pixies. Definite college rock, but with an utter lack of edge. But, at 14, I didn't know that. All I knew was they rocked.

We walked out into the cool night air after midnight, our ears ringing. My buddy and I horsed around some in the parking lot while his sister talked to the Little Drummer Boy by the band's van. I was so full of energy, so pumped up, so excited to be alive. All the stupid crap I had on my mind then had melted away, and rock'n'roll took over for one night.

Glass Bottom Isle and FeverTrees were selling tapes (tapes!) out of their cars, and I got one of each for a total of $8. I still have those tapes, and am listening to the Glass Bottom Isle one as I write this.

"Yesterday I asked you for a favor
You scratch my back, and baby I'll scratch yours
Wine and dine would have done me fine
But you had something, something else in mind
80% I've got your number, 100% sorta makes you wonder
Dinner and a show, how was I to know
That after all of that, you'd be good to go?"


[This message has been edited by Dano (edited May 25, 2001).]

[Poets]

you seem to be experimenting with mood and tempo in your stories.. and I liked this peice because it filled my head with music and made me think of notes I've never heard. I suppose that's what they call inspiration.