I haven’t felt well lately, so Mrs. Figurehead and I sent Izzy Figurehead to my parents for the weekend. We spent a relatively quiet weekend at home and remembered how lonely it is not having a child in the house. The peace and quiet was welcomed, but being without your child is tough – even for a short period of time.
We actually watched a movie! That’s huge for us, because we never manage to find the time when Izzy is home. I spent hours with my nose in a book. We listened to some of the greatest music ever recorded. It was a quiet weekend.
The Movie: Blood Diamond
I’ve had war children on my heart for some time now, so I’ve been wanting to see this film. Blood Diamond takes you to 1999 Sierra Leone where a mercenary is looking for an enourmously valuable conflict diamond and a father desperately searchs for his son who has been abducted by the RUF (Revolutionary United Front) as a child soldier.
Mrs. Figurhead and I aren’t big jewelry people anyway, but this movie, combined with some research will likely keep us from purchasing diamonds. Although the G8 passed legislation in 2003 against the sale of conflict diamonds, there are still underground sources fueling bloody civil wars in Africa via the sale of these blood diamonds. Americans account for 2/3 of the worlds diamond consumption. There are still more than 300,000 children fighting wars. Are your diamonds worth it?
The book: Waking The Dead – The glory of a heart fully alive by John Eldredge
The Music: The Joshua Tree by U2 and Harvest Moon by Neil Young
Thanks to my super talented artist/writer/musician friend Nathan for turning me onto this band. He’s always ahead of the curve….so far ahead in this instance that I can’t even find any Rumble Strips on itunes or emusic. Here are a couple of vids to enjoy:
Gary Thorne says Doug Mirabelli told him some time ago that Curt Schilling’s heroic world series performance for the Red Sox in which Schilling’s surgically repaired ankle began bleeding through his sock was a hoax.
“We are excited to announce that Bono will be making an appearance Wednesday night on behalf of ONE urging the millions of Americans watching the show to join us in the fight against extreme poverty. Bono will meet with the Idol contestants to talk with them about ONE and the difference your advocacy is making in the lives of the world’s poorest people. The Idol contestants will also perform “American Prayer,” a song written by Bono and Dave Stewart about the AIDS emergency in Africa.
We need your help to make sure your friends and family are watching. Spread the word about tonight and tomorrow’s shows! This is a great way to introduce friends and family to ONE. Invite them to join you in the fight against extreme poverty.”
The Figurehead doesn’t watch American Idol. I’ll spare you reasons why, but I do think it’s a good vehicle for spreading the message about the One Campaign.
A couple of weeks ago my mom called me on Sunday afternoon wanting to know if I had ever heard of a guy named “Beau-no…Bono…Boe-no…Bono?” I laughed a little and said “Yes, mom, I’ve heard of Bono.” I explained that I had been listening to U2 and Mr. Bono for nearly 20 years. I didn’t go into detail with her about it, but U2 played a huge role in my teenage years. The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby, and The Unforgettable Fire in particular comforted me and kept me company during those hard times that every unsure of himself teenager goes through.
I wrote about those albums on a previous blog of mine. Click HERE if interested.
Apparently, my parent’s church watched a 30 minute video about Bono that Sunday in church. It sounded like the usual stuff…Bono talking about the One campaign and about social responsibility in general. I think it’s great that a man spent so many years building a platform and is now using his fame and resources to make a difference in a culture dominated by a “me-first” and “the rich get richer” mentality. Bono is using his voice to fight global poverty and AIDS. He’s bringing Africa to the attention of the rich with idle wealth. This is a poor kid from Ireland trying to change the world.
It’s not just my parents non denominational church that has taken notice of Bono and the music of U2. Episcopal churchs in particular are using the music of U2 to bring young people into the church. Is that a bad thing? Traditionalists might say yes. I believe its a good thing. However you can bring people to Jesus, short of bombing them into religious submission, you should do it. U2’s music has been overtly religious in a secular industry for decades. It’s nice that people are starting to take notice.
Read this interview with Bono for more on his view of Jesus Christ and religion.
You guys know I’m a sucker for quiet folky introspective artists and albums. So, this glowing review of the Great Lake Swimmers new album Ongiara should come as no surprise.
Ongiara is my second GLS album. I bought Bodies and Minds a few months ago. Along with a couple of The Mountain Goats albums, Bodies and Minds has been my regular Saturday and Sunday morning fixing breakfast, making coffee, starring out the window, sketching pictures album. The things that make Bodies and Minds a perfect quiet time album are also present on Ongiara. That is to say, that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree on the new one. Tony Dekker’s voice still reverberates with hollowness that takes you to open landscapes where no one is in sight. There’s a bit more midtempo on Ongiara than on previous GLS releases, but don’t take that to mean this is a bright album by any means. There’s still bleakness afoot.
Great Lake Swimmers have always made habit of recording their albums in different settings – the first two albums recorded in an abandoned grain silo and a small lakeside church respectively. Oniagra carries on that tradition. The album title comes from the name of the boat the band took to Toronto Island for the recording of Ongiara.
Chris at Pourout “tagged” me to follow up on an exercise in self-edification started by some guy I don’t know at some blog I’ve never heard of or read. Can you tell this exercise caught me at a good time? I’ve been doing alot soul searching lately and I haven’t liked what I’ve found out about myself. So, in fact, this idea did catch me at the right time, maybe just not a good time.
Here’s the deal: I’m supposed to list 10, give or take a few, of my daily habits that make me “successful” and then tag some other bloggers to do the same. And we’re off….
1. I spend time with my daughter first thing every morning: This is both out of necessity and desire to spend time with her. Karen has to be at work 40 minutes from home at 7:30 am, so I get Izzy out of bed, pack her lunch, get her dressed, and to daycare everymorning. There’s nothing better than a hug from your little girl first thing in the morning – even when she’s screaming her head off as 3-year-olds are prone to do.
2. I do work that touches peoples lives in a positive way: I syndicate a national talk radio program that reaches 3 million plus listeners. It’s information that actually helps people have better lives. That, in turn, is a blessing for me.
3. I exercise daily: I swim, bike, or run 6 days per week to keep my body strong. This is the only body I’ll ever have, so it’s my responsibility to be a good steward of God’s temple. This habit is easy to abuse, so I’m careful to maximize minimal “training” time.
4. I read: I’ll catch some grief for this one from more business and religious minded coworkers, but I read mostly fiction. It’s who I was made to be. With a few exceptions, I don’t appreciate spiritual advice from preachers supplementing their incomes with self help books. The exceptions: Rick Warren, John Eldredge, and James Dobson.
5. I write: Since adolescence I’ve dreamed of being a writer. I haven’t always worked to make that a reality, despite constant encouragement from teachers, professors, and loved ones. So, this is the one that bothers me most. Nights when I have written I fall asleep peacefully, nights when I haven’t I’m restless and full of regret.
6. I draw: There are sketch pads all over my house (in the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom). When ideas won’t come out through my writing they usually manifest themselves through pen and ink sketches.
7. I spend time with my wife and daughter in the evenings: I’ve posted several times wondering how people find time for tv at night. This is where my time goes. I’m not giving you a load of self-righteousness here. Spending time with my family at night doesn’t make me any better of a father or husband than anyone else; it’s just reality. It’s where my time goes at night and why I dont’ watch tv. I refuse to “record” tv programs; they just aren’t that important. We eat dinner – We give Izzy a bath – then we play/read books until bed time.
8. I compete: My father was special forces in the Nam, my brother a stud athlete in every sport imaginable. Competitiveness is another part of who I am, so I don’t suppress it, though sometimes I would like to. It would eat me alive inside If I didn’t test myself against others physically. These days I do 7-10 triathlons annually to get my competitive fix. If I didn’t, I would be nearly impossible to be around.
9. I Veg Out: Ok, so I admit it: I do watch some tv. I watch one sport or another every night almost as I’m falling asleep. Watching a sporting event is a mindless activity for me. I don’t have to be totally tuned into a Chipper Jones at bat in the 5th inning of a game in June. It’s okay if I fall off to sleep. The one exception to this rule is The Tour De France; my heart races throughout – with the exception of the flat stages.
10. I listen to music: Music is beauty. A good artist or band can inspire me to sit down and work on my writing/art; I’m constantly searching for new bands to reach me in some way.
So there you have it, my good habits that keep my head above the rising swells of adult life. Pour Out tagged most of the people I would have tagged. Here are a couple more:
When we come of age we all have visions of who we think we’ll be. At 20 I thought I would be a famous writer by my 30’s, the sort that swaggers into readings and signings. The kind that smells of alcohol and cigarettes – swooning, secretely beautiful, bookish girls in my wake. I suppose it’s how we see ourselves that matters most. Late in the evenings, pecking feverishly at a keyboard and lamenting “the forlorn rags of growing old,” I’m still Kerouac searching for that pearl that will be handed to me at the end of the road.
So, let’s say I have this friend. Okay? This guy has always had the same favorite band…as long as he can remember liking music (not counting when he loved Bon Jovi in elementary school). This guy, my friend, is wondering at what point does it become okay to have feelings for another band. Maybe even “those kind of feelings”; you know what I’m saying. If a guy has liked one band for nearly 20 years as his sole favorite how does he reconcile himself to the fact that another band might be just as good as his long time favorite? Should he categorize them as such: 1. my favorite band until age 30 2. My favorite band since? Which becomes the proverbial “all time favorite”?
Help. My friend is really struggling with this question.
ps. You know what? I’ve already answered this question for myself. Just hang for a minute and listen to the crowd sing along on the first imbedded link. Wow. It’s still an interesting question though.
In college I spent more than a few late nights with Kurt Vonnegut’s work. For a time, I wanted to be that sort of writer – a challenger of social norms, a thorn in the side of the establishment. Eventually my Jack Kerouac and Ernest Hemingway obsession took over. Though I haven’t personally continued to follow his work beyond Slaughter House Five and Cat’s Cradle, he will be missed as an icon of American Literature.
I’ll start this new feature with a Decemberists song since in some way I’m still paying my penance for having basically ignored the show last Thursday night.
This song is a perfect example of why I love the Decemberists. Colin Meloy writes songs that sweep you up into a story.
Mariners Revenge Song
We are two mariners
Our ships’ sole survivors
In this belly of a whale
Its ribs our ceiling beams
Its guts our carpeting
I guess we have some time to kill
You may not remember me
I was a child of three
And you, a lad of eighteen
But I remember you
And I will relate to you
How our histories interweave
At the time you were
A rake and a roustabout
Spending all your money
On the whores and hounds
Oh Ohhhhh
You had a charming air
All cheap and debonair
My widowed mother found so sweet
And so she took you in
Her sheets still warm with him
Now filled with filth and foul disease
As time wore on you proved
A debt-ridden drunken mess
Leaving my mother
A poor consumptive wretch
Oh Ohhhhh
And then you disappeared
Your gambling arrears
The only thing you left behind
And then the magistrate
Reclaimed our small estate
And my poor mother lost her mind
Then one day in spring
My dear sweet mother died
But before she did
I took her hand as she, dying, cried:
Oh Ohhhhh
“Find him, bind him
Tie him to a pole and break
His fingers to splinters
Drag him to a hole until he
Wakes up naked
Clawing at the ceiling
Of his grave
*sigh*”
It took me fifteen years
To swallow all my tears
Among the urchins in the street
Until a priory
Took pity and hired me
To keep their vestry nice and neat
But never once in the employ
Of these holy men
Did I ever once turn my mind
From the thought of revenge
Oh Ohhhhh
One night I overheard
The Prior exchanging words
With a penitent whaler from the sea
The captain of his ship
Who matched you toe to tip
Was known for wanton cruelty
The following day
I shipped to sea
With a privateer
And in the whistle
Of the wind
I could almost hear…
Oh Ohhhhh
“Find him, bind him
Tie him to a pole and break
His fingers to splinters
Drag him to a hole until he
Wakes up naked
Clawing at the ceiling
Of his grave“There is one thing I must say to you
As you sail across the sea
Always, your mother will watch over you
As you avenge this wicked deed”
[haunting, sailor-esque musical interlude lead by mandolin, accordion and tuba]
And then that fateful night
We had you in eye sight
After twenty months at sea
Your starboard flank abeam
I was getting my muskets clean
When came this rumbling from beneath
The ocean shook
The sky went black
And the captain quailed
And before us grew
The angry jaws
Of a giant whale
The last few days have strengthened my dislike for 24/7 “news” channels. I’ve always felt that channels like Fox, CNN, MSNBC, etc serve only to highlight the world’s suffering. Do you really believe that the world is getting worse every day? That all of a sudden war is hell? The fact is, as humans we’ve always been a slimely law breaking bunch. Before 24/7 news though, you only got to hear about it for one hour every night at 6:00pm while you ate dinner. Now we can wallow in our own filth around the clock. So why are YOU watching? Are we gluttons for this garbage? Does seeing others suffer makes us feel better because it’s not us? You get the idea: I don’t watch news channels.
In the last few days it’s gotten worse. Two examples:
1. When did the news become “the news”? Why do I care about Geraldo and Bill O’Reilly having a spat over imagration? This was more than a little self-important in my eyes. Fox has covered their argument adnauseum.
2. Don Imus said some REALLY stupid things. There’s no way around that. He should lose his job. Yes, I know this statement will get me slammed by folks who loathe political correctness. This goes beyond that though. It wasn’t just insensitive. It was offensive. All a two week “vacation” for Imus will result in is a huge ratings boost when he returns. After all, we’re a voyeuristic society, so why shouldn’t tv news joing the ranks of reality television.
Here’s my question: Why did I need to see a press conference with the Rutgers coach? More than that, why in the world did I need to see the players themselves read personal statements about how their lives are now permanently scarred because of this? That’s laughable. That my friends is the definition of melodrama; bogus overly sentimental camera face time. Those 18-21 year old girls were clueless about who Don Imus is before this happened. Everyone they know was probably clueless about who Don Imus is. I was offended when I passed through the room in which my wife was watching some news channel who was airing their “statements”. I’m sorry they dreamed up that this old guy in a cowboy hat and sunglasses statements ruined their “great season”. 24/7 News has apparently taught them that they needed to react, in a big way. By the way….GO LADY VOLS. Rutgers you were out of place in that championship to begin with.
Those of you who have been reading the Figurehead for awhile know how I came to appreciate Mr. Leo’s band. For those who don’t know here’s a brief synopsis: went to ATL to see Death Cab for Cutie, hung out too long before the show and missed the opener comletely – Ted Leo + R/X, got home from the show and bought Shake the Sheets to find out what I missed, issued an open letter to Ted in apology on the Figurehead. Since then I’ve worn Shake The Sheets out. I love it. It’s pure Irish sounding punky pop. My wife says it sounds like 80’s soundtrack rock – that’s a good thing. So it was with much anticipation that I awaited Living With the Living.
I expected it to be one of my favorites of 2007. Sometimes in life though, there are disappointments – some minor some huge. Living With the Living qualifies as a minor disappointment. It’s good. I expected great. It has it’s moments as Ted is highly politically charged on this album. Son’s of Cain is Shake The Sheets material along with a few other tracks. The real difference between this and the previous release is that LWTL has a few real duds on it: Bomb.Repeat.Bomb is horrible. Memo to Ted: You guys aren’t Rage Against the Machine.
The final verdict:Living With the Living is better than the garbage you’ll hear on the radio. Hampton, get this album today and throw that Fall Out Boy rubbish out with the trash. Ted Leo is musical genius (of sorts). Don’t go into this album expected to be blown away though (unless you’ve been listening to Fall Out Boy). Remember this: GOOD NOT GREAT and in spots BAD (compared to previous work).
I watched golf for the first time this weekend. I mean, seriously watched it. I’ve caught 5 minutes here or five minutes there over the years while falling asleep, but this Masters tournament I actually watched. I’ve always been curious how people can watch golf on television.
Golf is a hobby that I just don’t have time for. It’s not that I don’t want to play. I have other hobbies that take my time on the weekends. It’s that simple. When I retire to Seabrook I’ll pick up golf.
I enjoyed watching this masters, because the players seemed so human. Nothing was going right for them and it was anyone’s tournament to win. I found myself rooting for Jerry Kelly and Vaughn Taylor, because of their easy-going demeanors. I also found myself rooting against Tiger. Why? The guy is FILTHY rich already and strikes me as a crybaby.
In the end, I was happy to see Joaquin Phoenix….I mean Zach Johnson hold on for the win.
I saw the Decemberists thursday night at City Hall in Nashville. I love the Decemberists. Theirs is a style of music that not everyone gets. That’s part of the reason why I like them so much. It feels like indie rock made by English majors for English majors. Each of their albums is like reading a old Dickens novel.
I met up with a group of buddies at 6:00 pm at Judge Beans for dinner. If you’ve never been to JB’s you’re missing out. It’s the best Texas style brisket this side of Texas itself. The concert doors opened at 7:00. Our plan was to get to the show by 9:00; assuming the Decemberists wouldn’t hit the stage until about 10:00. We hung out and spent most of the night recalling old high school and college stories. By 8:00 we were at 12th and Porter smoking cigars, still laughing about the old days. By this point I’m sure all of us would have just as soon stayed where we were and hung out. The show was losing it’s priority. We did make it though by about 9:15. The opening act was still on stage, so we made our way to the bar area. Surprisingly this was the only area of the room where there was any standing room. It was a young crowd.
Eventually the silence from the stage was broken (after the opener stopped), by the old Soviet National Athem. The entire room snapped to attention. “Is that the Soviet anthem?” someone said.
My buddy Tyler called my cell.
“Hey, you wanna know the set list?” he asked. Tyler is a talented photographer and was bellied up to the stage. Check out Tyler’s picks from the show by clicking the link above.
“Heck yes!,” I said. Tyler yelled through the cell phone. All I could make out was the opener: California One. Great song.
A couple of songs in one of my buddies spotted a familar face at the bar. It was a guy we lived with in the dorms – Shawn. We all went berserk. We hadn’t seen each other since 1995. Shawn apparently works for a beverage distributor. Bad/Good news. I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear another Decemberists song – other than as background noise the rest of the night. We spent the entire night reliving the past through more stories. After the show we went to a few more night spots before finally giving it up. I was home by 1:30am. That’s not that late, right? It’s all relative I suppose. I used to stay out until 3:30am when venues would turn all the lights on and force people to leave. These days 1:30am felt like 4:30am.
A night that was originally about seeing one of the few bands of this generation that matters, turned into a night more about old friends. The whole group were old MTSU guys from the early 90’s. I went to high school with a few of them too. The lessons: friends are important. Duh! Staying out late is for kids. Becoming more evident every day. The Decemberists are great – I think.
The Set List: California One, Crane Wife 3, The Island, Los Angeles I’m Yours, Legionnaires Lament, Crane Wife 1 & 2, As I Rise, O’Valencia, The Perfect Crime #2, Eli The Barrow Boy, The Mariners Revenge Song.
You guys know how shattered I was to hear that the mastermind of my favorite band of all time, The Cure, will be collaborating with Ashlee Simpson. Thanks to a few good friends I’ve been talked down from the “proverbial ledge”. Here’s how the email intervention went:
Figurehead:
WHY?????!!!!!!! WHY????!!!!!!!!!!
Colbey, we need a PUNK night!
Jim Bob (yes that’s his real name):
What the CRAP??!!
The Figurehead:
Seriously!!!!! I’m done with them. First they play with KORN and now Ashlee Simpson. I knew the writing was on the wall with “Friday I’m in Love” years ago.
I should have put Joshua Tree as my #1 album of all time! At least Bono isn’t performing with Ashlee Simpson.
Jim Bob:
Done with them??? You need to check it fo’ you wreck it. Bono might as well bring a pulpit on stage with him these days..lest we also forget that he (not in collaboration) came up with Discotechque and other lovely tunes. So, pee on your “should have put Joshua Tree..blah blah blah.” Sometimes in a marriage,
Figurehead, your spouse will do something out of character and crazy. Consider this Robert’s midlife crisis. Also consider the punk fundamentalist soapbox you have been on the last couple of weeks and at least admit that you could be overreacting a bit.
Figurehead:Bobby, c’mon dude…ASHLEE SIMPSON!!!!!!!!!!! Just think about that for a minute: ASHLEE SIMPSON. I’ll remember the good times with Robert and with Bono too for that matter. Let’s just hope that someday Ben Gibbard (Death Cab) and Colin Meloy (Decemberists) don’t go that direction with their music. You know what scares the crap out of me? What would Kurt be doing musically these days if he were alive??? Would he suck? Who knows. Is Michael Stipe still cool?
The Cure needs to release a “Disentegration”-esque album to redeem themselves in my mind.
BT:
I felt the same way when Michael Stipe (and REM) teamed up with KRS -1 to do “Radio Song” and to open up one of the greatest albums of all time (Out of Time) with it none the least!
Plus…Michael teamed up with Mandy Moore a few years back for the Brian Wilson classic “God Only Knows”.
Jim Bob:
Finally a voice of reason coming from the vicinity of
Nashville. Why don’t we wait and judge the merits of the collaboration before we start proclaiming that certain artist aren’t our favorites anymore. Yes, I get it. It’s Ashlee Simpson. That sucks big ones, but how do you know that Ashlee didn’t promise to get Jason Cooper a date with Jessica if they do it? Slow your roll before it’s too late
Figurehead:
True. I panic when it comes to The Cure.
Colbey R (the Zombie):
At least we have this:
Danzig Digs Into Archives for “Lost Tracks”
(actual text witheld by the Figurehead)
This might make you feel better (streaming video and audio):
It’s true. It’s true. I’ve seen this coming since “Friday I’m in Love”. I can’t even express how embarrassed I feel for my former favorite band of all time. Why Robert? WHY???
Way back in 1985 a wise man named Dave Gahan dropped some serious knowledge on us when he said “people are people.” Darn right, Dave! And that’s exactly why most people are so stinking weird.
As most of my loyal readers know, I’ve been in a bit of a mood lately. Maybe it’s the constant barrage of hard core I’ve been listening to or maybe it’s just that as I get older I start to realize more and more how stupid adults can be. Remember when you were kid? You thought adults knew everything and were always right. At 32 years old there are still days when I want to be 17. I’m sure at 82 years old there will still be days when I want to be 17. Here are a few things that have caught my attention over the last few days and caused to think “wow, that’s pathetic/stupid.”
1. I needed to put gas in my Explorer over the weekend. When I pulled up to the pumps at Kroger the place was buzzing with activity. There were cars going in all directions and lines were forming behind each pump. I watched cars cutting each other off in this frenzy to get gas on a Sunday night. Drivers were glaring at each other with anger they would never dare act upon in their eyes. Something in me thought the scene was disgusting. Soccer moms and what-passes-as-men-these-days were sending king of the jungle body language to each other. All this malice just to be first to pay $2.50 a gallon. I don’t even know who to be mad at, but I was mad nonetheless.
2. Yesterday at the YMCA I’m getting dressed after my workout. I walk into the dressing room and there is a grown man standing there butt naked. Nothing unusual in a locker room, right? Right…except this guy was naked with the exception of his white socks. He was standing in his socks on top of his Reeboks. He carefully removed one sock at a time, being careful only to put his feet back down on top of his shoes – never touching the carpeted floor. I guess the tops of his shoes are completely and totally sanitary. Only once he had his regular socks back on did he sit down and proceed to get dressed. I wondered how a “man” becomes such a wimp that the thought of touching the floor with his feet causes him such fear. Wuss! Be a man. Deal with the athlete’s foot when and if you get it.
3. Driving home last night I was sitting at an intersection near my neighborhood. There’s lots of traffic at this particular intersection so I sat for several minutes. A blur passed by me. As I made it out I realized that it was some sort of motorcycle (not a cool Harley or something tough, but one of those crotch rockets). It was flying. Perched on the back holding on for dear life was a little girl, probably no older than 6 or 7 years old. Her father, the driver presumably, should be beaten.
I love sports – all of them. Apart from wrestling though, nothing holds a dearer spot in my heart than baseball. I was never a great player. I played as a kid, but never excelled. I was the sort of kid that hit first in the batting order, because I could run. The problem was actually getting on base.
There’s something so apple pie and momma lovin’ about our national past time. If you don’t love baseball you’re downright un-american. I can hear the nay-sayers now and their constant whining about steroids in the game. Performance enhancing drugs are in every sport. The NFL is just as guilty. So why do we ignore it? Nevermind that guys like Shawn Merriman are 6′4 275 pounds and run faster than Jerry Rice. That’s natural, right? Don’t get me wrong, I love me some football, but let’s get real. Baseball is still our crown jewel.
I love THIS Ken Burns documentary about our games heritage.
I promise I’m almost done with my recent binge of punk/hardcore/straight-edge posts, but I have to share (at least) one more. I found this vid today for the first time.
Fugazi in 1991, the same year I saw them in Nashville, playing at what appears to be a rally ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE WHITE HOUSE. Love it. Where are the bands that matter today? There’s something more powerful about an underground band challenging the government than when pop bands do it (see Green Day, Dixie Chicks, etc.)
I went to see Fugazi wearing a tshirt, ripped blue jeans, and combat boots. I left with one leg of those blue jeans completely missing from the thigh down, no shirt, and the boots. I got to see my buddy Nathan go swinging into a crowd of skinheads. He took a beating (left with a boot print on his chest), but it was darn funny.
This vid looks more like the show I was at. I actually thought it WAS my show at first – very similar set up. I’m remember thinking how cool it was to be onstage beside Ian MacKaye, even if it was just for a few seconds before diving head first into the melee again. It’s a great memory! I felt like I was a part of something serious and real. The kind of stuff the regular kids had no idea about. No worries mom and dad, I made home alright that night.
