20TH CENTURY BOY

Waiting out in front of 9:30 for brain coral and his brother, I noticed a guy slip out the door for a smoke with a group of four or five others.

He was short and slightly built, with straight-leg skinny jeans and a haystack of hair on his head.

He bantered with his friends for a few minutes, and when the group broke apart he headed back toward the front door of the club. He stopped mid stride and spun on his heel. “Can I have a kiss, honey?” he said very gently to one of the women in the group, and she complied.

I saw him smile and enter the club, noting for the first time the laminate attached to his shirt.

So when this fun, unremarkable trio named the 1990’s opened the show, and I saw that he was the singer/guitarist, I liked the band just a little bit more than I probably would have otherwise…

FREEZE, MAN, FREEZE

Multiple choice quiz.

Place the following description: “Whipped up fluffy chocolate-on-chocolate taste!”

(1) From the liner notes for One Nation Under a Groove
(2) From the poster for Sweet Sweetback's Baadaassss Song
(3) From the wrapper of my fun-size 3 Musketeers bar

If you said (1) or (2), you're probably right. If you said (3), you're right for sure-- I have the wrapper right here in front of me...

ET TU, BRUT?

So as my buddy brain coral will happily attest, Art Brut ruled the night at 9:30.

Eddie Argos was all louche charm, with a loose flannel shirt draped over a pillowy gut.

His greatest innovation? Referring to the band by name at every opportunity.

“Art Brut, are you ready?” he’d bellow, and I’d feel a giddy little tug at my heart.

You had me at Art Brut, Eddie…

RUNAWAY AMERICAN DREAM

Nature does not spit out Bruce Springsteens casually.

I was reminded of this the other night watching Craig Finn of The Hold Steady flail around the 9:30 stage looking like your eighth-grade social studies teacher infected with the rage virus.

The boy’s got lyrical faculties for sure, the kind where it wouldn’t at all surprise you to hear him break into Blinded by the Light at any given moment.

He’s vulnerable to the same traps as early Bruce as well, e.g., the tendency to drop in syllables where silence would do, and a hella blind spot regarding real, actual women. Sandy, meet Holly. Holly, meet Sandy…

But Craig is a zero-charisma guy, whereas 70s Bruce dripped the stuff. And sex, too—I remember one dirtbag who passed first-year Spanish just because Ms. Krebs thought he looked like Bruce.

And I’d imagine that Bruce never used his encore as an opportunity to tell the audience what a sincere joy it was to be onstage performing for them.

I’m pretty sure he just let the encore(s) do the talking…

HEY, KIDS, ROCK AND ROLL

I took the kids to a friend's house last month, and there was a big old trampoline in the backyard, encircled by a thick wire-mesh enclosure.

The kids bounced around for an hour like radical ions.

A couple of weeks later, I saw The Go! Team at 9:30, and the experience was much the same.

I liked the Sonic Youth-y moments the best, and I was crushing on Kaori Tsuchida for sure.

Tomorrow night: Art Brut and the Hold Steady.

Ooh, my soul...

CODA

There was actually one more session, several days later.

We invited our friend Howie, who was assuming the role of "manager."

And yes, we were po-mo enough to say it with air quotes.

However, with Howie sitting in, we became paralyzed by self-consciousness. We abandoned anything we attempted.

Howie was our Yoko.

ONE MORE SONG

Mike, Larry, and I would soon find ourselves moving in different orbits.

I started to see less and less of Mike, and rumors of him wearing outrageous makeup in NYC clubs gained quick currency. The rumors accreted until it was said that he was living in the village with his boyfriend.

The last time I saw him was on the day of our 10th high school reunion, in a local pizza place with a girl I did not know. He wore a drab flannel shirt and jeans, with nothing on his face except a bit of dark stubble.

I lost track of Larry at around the same time I lost Mike. Folks said that he was living with a 40-year-old woman and her 10-year-old daughter, and I eventually heard a rumor that he had been institutionalized.

I have not seen Larry again.

I retreated to my poetry and to my books, and I am sure there was a surfeit of colorful rumors about me as well.

But before all that, there was time for one more song.

Just one more song…

Listen for: 0:38, Mike bringing the backup vocals. 1:33, as we get together one more time…

WE CAN'T HAVE THAT

I thought about leaving this one out.

The first half at least is just ugly and vituperative.

Well, except for Larry's drum solo at the start, which is pretty sweet.

I give teenage me a little credit for locating the anger more properly in the second half of the song, and yeah, “I can't have that/We can't have that” gets at the spirit of 17.

Listen for: theatricality masking pain, pain masking theatricality, throughout...

FLASH

Rumor had it that a flasher had been spotted on the grounds of JFK High School.

So this was our trenchant commentary on the situation.

Listen for: 1:48, a lesson learned from the Dolls on the simple glory of the word "trash"...

I LOVE YOU

And this one goes out to all the lovely ladies of Plainview!

Listen for: 2:09, where, for the love of Paul McCartney, I sing "But I can't let me go on like this." Well, at least I was just making it up as I went along...

TWIST

Now it can be told: I invented emo.

Listen for: me inventing emo.