THOUSAND WORDS
A Thousand Words: Have You Seen My Head?LOS ANGELES 07 July 2009 |
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After one of the first Die Princess Die shows I attended, Pete, the guitarist and co-frontman, asked what I thought. I allowed that the show was pretty good, except I wished the band would break more stuff.
He considered that a lame reaction—or “stupid” is the adjective I believe he used. I was surprised, since we’d initially bonded over our shared enthusiasm for …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, a band notorious at the time for breaking stuff.
Over the next couple of years, however, Die Princess Die evolved into perhaps the most destructive, if not out-and-out violent, band in Southern California. They scared people, and I think that partly accounts for the large following they deserved but never acquired, despite having not just one but two frontmen with movie-star looks.
There was the show at the Echo, during which Danny, the drummer, hurled a cymbal that brained Bryce, the other guitarist/frontman. Bleeding like a diced pomegranate, Bryce was driven to the emergency room, where the gash on his skull was stapled shut.
There was the show at a downtown warehouse, during which Pete threw a tom that hit my hand and cut and nearly broke a finger. I nursed it with ice from the beer bin.
I was routinely one of Pete’s targets. At another show at the Echo, he leapt off the stage and tackled me, and we wrestled on the floor as the crowd backed away. I won that bout but lost the rematch a few weeks later, when I realized my pants were falling off and let Pete pin me before I mooned the bar. Strangers didn’t realize Pete and I were friends. They thought it was a fight in earnest—which, in terms of effort, it was—and some were undoubtedly afraid of being attacked themselves.
But hipsters are a timid lot, for all their haughty airs, and that’s especially true of the L.A. subspecies. It was different in San Diego, where DPD was formed; and one Friday night in the spring of 2005, I caught a ride to San Diego to see DPD play on its native turf, at a place called Scolari’s Office.
It was, I noted immediately, a strange crowd: a mix of hipsters, hardcore punks, frat boys, longhairs, and even a few button-downed types who seemed to have wandered in for a nightcap. Pete was already half drunk at the bar, and we tossed back shots of whiskey as the first band played—a band featuring a wheelchair-bound paraplegic on guitar. That was a first, though I’d once caught a band with a one-legged guitarist who performed without a stool or crutches. Then, as our friend Dylan’s band, the Great Escape, played its first show ever, I noticed that Ely, the DPD bass player, was behaving oddly. I asked somebody what was wrong with him and was told he’d been slipped a pill—a sedative of some kind. (San Diego has an inordinate amount of contraband pharmaceuticals, due to its proximity to Tijuana.) Ely could barely stand by the time DPD was about to go on, and he ended up playing on his back with his head hanging off the side of the stage. Except for his moving hands, he appeared to be unconscious.
Bottles were lobbed back and forth, some smashing near the bartender, who remained curiously indifferent. Soon the floor of the stage was covered with shards of glass, and Pete, cut, unwittingly splattered blood on the audience. A pair of longhairs, heads bobbing, called for further frenzy. They knew it was inevitable. They knew that DPD shows invariably ended in demolition, and they participated when the end came, heaving drums and guitars. Bryce, not to be outdone, picked up a chair and hoisted it overhead, aiming for a table where the paraplegic was having a beer. I intervened, grabbing the chair before Bryce could throw it, finally managing to pry it loose as we circled round and round, both tugging.
It was over. Scolari’s was spectacularly a mess, with cables looped everywhere, knotted around chairs and stools and even, I seem to recall, a light hanging low from the ceiling. Pete was missing a guitar. Bryce was missing a head. For a second, when he approached me and said as much, I thought he meant his head, but, no, he was referring to an amp head. I searched the bar, trying to help him find it, and saw a kid outside tapping on a traffic sign with Danny’s stolen drumsticks. A girl was proudly displaying Pete’s blood on her shirt. A homeless man was masturbating in the parking lot as people snapped photos on their phones.
I’m still amazed that we found our way to the prearranged crash pad. Only Pete knew the directions, and he’d all but passed out in the backseat.
“Which way?” we’d ask. “Pete? Left or right?”
“Left,” he’d say, never raising his head.
“Are you sure?”
“Left, left. Go left.”
He later threw up, and without having brought a change of clothes, he spent the next day sightseeing with his L.A. guests in puke-stained trousers.
I am writing at a moment when a great many people strike me as numbed to the point of catatonia. We live in a world of screens, hiding behind them, and we opt for mildly amusing “entertainment” over music or words or images that might cause us to feel something acute and therefore enduring. I’m guilty of the same. I’ve vegged in front of the TV and teared up over commercials while loathing myself for doing it, because I’m only human, and that’s precisely what’s exploited by marketing execs and the social scientists they hire to help them better apply the so-called human touch. This kind of cynicism breeds still more. It creates a kind of psychic plaque; a pollution of the soul.
Hence Die Princess Die and bands like them. There was poetry in what some might dismiss as puerile nihilism. They expressed, through actes gratuits, what many felt without knowing it, and still don’t.
It’s my honor to have been their friend.
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Original comment thread:
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 11:47:20
I’d like to give credit for the above photograph. It was taken by Dylan Gordon, of the Great Escape, among other bands. Other photos by Dylan, including more of Die Princess Die, can be found at his websites: http://www.d-m-a-x.com and http://www.dirtysnapshots.net.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-07-07 11:48:35
I heard that after Dig! came out, people went to see the Brian Jonestown Massacre in hopes of seeing a fight break out, and not to actually enjoy (God forbid) live music.
You’re right about the numbing, anaesthetic effect of being plugged in 24/7. I’m not sure that chaotic music brawls are my particular medicine of choice, but I can see what you’re getting at.
Is Scolari’s Office the name of the venue? Because that, I can respect. I mean, it’s no Nevermore, but still…
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 11:51:16
I don’t know if Scolari’s is still around, but that was for sure the name of the place.
Of course, Nevermore is the best bar name of all.
And it’s true that people went to see BJM in hopes of seeing a fight. They’d actually try to provoke fights. Anton’s reputation as an asshole preceded him, but he was extremely nice to me. I have nothing bad to say about the guy.
Comment by Matt
2009-07-07 12:16:23
Nope, Scolari’s closed it’s doors for good a few years ago. Which is too bad, because it was a great place to see a show.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 12:18:46
I had a feeling. My friend Gream used to book shows there.
What a pity.
Thanks, Matt, for the confirmation.
Comment by Matt
2009-07-07 12:27:33
Wish I had better news. I miss the place. Had the perfect “dive bar” feel to it.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 12:33:11
Absolutely. Though I only went there once. But the kind of shit I observed at Scolari’s would get you kicked out of a bar in L.A. immediately.
The Casbah, on the other hand, was more tightly policed. I almost got thrown out of the Casbah. But I have to say this: after the bouncer threatened me, a couple of strangers came up and said, “Don’t worry, dude. We’ve got your back if that fucker tries anything.”
Comment by Irwin
2009-07-07 11:59:08
Modern entertainment is becoming ever more mainstream/inoffensive, mass appealing.
You know the music they play in malls is designed specifically to provoke emotions/desires that will make you want whatever it is that is they’re selling?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 12:07:28
Oh, yes. Of course.
In Vegas, I’ve been told, they play largely eighties music in casinos (though never, of course, the truly good stuff), since market research has shown that eighties music is appreciated across generation and gender divides.
It’s sickening.
Comment by N.L. Belardes
2009-07-07 12:34:10
Vegas has a bit of everything. Some casinos have glam rock bands. Others enjoy touring bands. Then you have your bar band scene like the Double Down, which hosts bands from everywhere. Vegas is like any other town. It has its share of garage bands and more…
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 13:02:51
I knew that Vegas has an underground-music scene. It would have to. All towns that size have them. I was only referring to the music that plays in the casinos — music that’s played to hopefully keep you gambling. But, hey, it was secondhand information anyway.
Comment by N.L. Belardes
2009-07-07 13:16:54
Oh, not live music? I think it depends on the casino, where, and who they cater too. There are many tiers: poor casinos, high-end casinos, edge of town dives, on the Strip, off the Strip, etc, etc.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 13:24:13
I’d be very curious to attend an underground show in Vegas. Maybe I’ll have the chance one day. I have a soft spot for that town. I used to hate it, but something about it now appeals to me. I had a great time when last there.
Comment by N.L. Belardes
2009-07-07 12:32:41
Now that’s rock and roll!
I’ve never seen anything like that (And kinda hope I never will).
I was pretty happy at a recent tame Wilco show. And happy a few weeks before that listening to Latino ska band Mento Buru.
I just wonder how that band paid for busted equipment. That stuff ain’t cheap!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 12:38:41
Yeah, that show was probably the most fucked-up I’ve ever seen. I can’t begin to convey how weird it was. My meager talents fail me.
DPD was routinely asked to pay for damages to the venue. They were banned from one place in Hollywood, though someone influential with the manager later put in a good word and they were allowed to play there again. And, of course, there was always the need to replace equipment. But there always is. Stuff is always breaking, even when you’re not trying to break it.
Comment by Zara
2009-07-07 12:35:06
Great post as usual, Duke.
I remember my first concert when I was seven. ‘The Specials’ in Leicester in 1979 and it was mad.
Jerry Dammers jumped into the crowd which had been crashed by National Front skinheads and ended up having a brawl. He got back onstage bleeding from the head and continued the show.
It was great and I still have a soft spot for ska because of it…
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 12:45:11
Thanks, angel.
You’ve got to love it when people don’t let injuries get in the way of a show. It really endears them to you.
My friend Jason from Trail of the Dead was always getting injured. And he picked a fight with a bunch of skinheads when ToD opened for a Sex Pistols reunion in the UK a few years ago, though fortunately they were unable to get at him. But he’s a ballsy guy.
Comment by Megan DiLullo
2009-07-07 13:07:11
Ya know, there is something so satisfying about smashed stuff. It makes you feel like you got your moneys worth, got to see the last one. It’s like hockey fights. The games are good, but if there is blood on the ice, well… Bonus.
Great post and great picture. It’s kind of sweet in a way.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 13:17:23
Thanks for the read, but especially for the “sweet” part. I secretly feel the same way, but I didn’t think anyone else would see it as I did. I’m so glad you did.
Oh, and I am completely in agreement about hockey fights. I’m not much on hockey, not having grown up with it in Virginia, but I LOVE the fights. I used to attend Rangers game with friends in NYC, and I would jump out of my seat every time the gloves came off.
Then, too, I love boxing.
Comment by jmb
2009-07-07 13:09:06
Good art
all has the
underlying sense
of chaos
and danger.
Gwar, for example.
Best fight I ever saw at a concert was
David Allen Coe at a biker bar in Texas.
Comment by Megan DiLullo
2009-07-07 13:18:00
I love David Allen Coe! Somehow that doesn’t surprise me one tiny bit. And Gwar, well. I’ve always had a secret fantasy about them playing on a float at Mardi Gras. I don’t know why.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 13:25:40
They’re from Richmond, aren’t they? I’m almost positive they are. But they’re very theatrical, which is why I can easily understand your Mardi Gras fantasy.
Isn’t it funny how we speak of “secrets” when we’re making them public?
Comment by D.R. Haney |
2009-07-07 13:21:40
I am so mofo down with all you say. Also, my friend Wade is going to flip when he reads your remark about DAC. He’s probably going to ask for details. He’s a huge DAC fan. He plays his stuff constantly.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 13:27:41
Oh, shit. Comments out of order again.
Hey, JMB, the one above is meant for you.
Now I’m going to run over to Facebook and inform my friend Wade about your having seen DAC in a barfight. That’ll make him love DAC even more.
Comment by jmb
2009-07-07 17:40:51
Here’s a secret
Coe once asked me to join his band, no joke.
That reference was to a fight at a Coe concert
But I have another story about DAC himself
getting into a barfight.
I should write a TNB story about Coe.
Crazy stories.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-08 01:53:09
Ah, I misread, in my eagerness to believe that you’d seen Coe in a barfight. However, it turns out that you really did.
Yes, you SHOULD write about Coe on TNB. Soon, please.
He asked you to join his band?!
Comment by jmb
2009-07-08 10:31:08
He did indeed and I was a little scared I might get shanked
when I turned him down.
Takes big balls to sing “I’ve won every fight I’ve ever fought”
in biker bars and bucket of blood dives throughout the South
night after night.
He’s bad-ass brother, no joke.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-08 12:39:01
And how about that great tune, “Cum Stains on My Pillow”? Or “Fuckin’ in the Butt”? I imagine those were met with great cheers when he sang them at dives everywhere.
There used to be really funny clip of David Allen Coe on YouTube being interviewed by Al Goldstein of Screw magazine. Unfortunately, having just gone to look, it’s now been taken down. But Goldstein asks him point-blank in his Bronx accent: “You a good fuck?” I forget DAC’s response, but he answers without a pause –something to do with exploding as soon as he’s inside a woman. You’ve got to tip your hat to the guy for his honesty.
Comment by jmb
2009-07-08 17:07:46
Coe would not sing the X rated songs at bars and for the longest would not even acknowledge that he had recorded such a thing - I’d say until maybe seven or 8 years ago when he wised up and started selling them on a 2-fer CD.
Far as I know he still wont sing those songs live.
I’m not a prude but I thought both of those CDs were just awful, as in not smart or clever or anything.
Except for “Call my Woman Coffee” and “Panhead”
those were cool.
Oops, we turned your comment board into a Coe exchange.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-08 19:14:38
Hey, what else is it good for?
I don’t have a high opinion of those songs as songs, but I love the idea of his having written them. I mean that’s punk rock, you know? Though denying that he wrote them till he could turn a profit is not punk rock.
I’m making myself sound like the arbiter of all things punk, when I very definitely am not, despite having written a novel that deals with the subject. But my definitions are very flexible, to the point where many hardcore punks would reject them outright.
It’s only just coming back to me now that my friend Wade, who unfortunately never weighed in before this piece vanishes in a day from the front page, bought a couple of Coe albums in my company and quickly decided they sucked. So Coe must have been inconsistent, despite flashes of brilliance and a bravura personality.
Comment by jmb
2009-07-09 08:48:33
Coe is very punk rock.
I always thought of him as everything
GG Alin was trying to be.
Then again Coe is also a raging
Schizophrenic who never takes
his meds consistently.
This guy used to park a hearse
in front of the Ryman on Opry nights
that said “Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy”
down the side.
He would put on this shiny mask
sit on the hood and sing his songs.
I should ape that stunt
for the TNB live show.
His records are awful
cept for the hit collections.
Tell your buddy
to go to Wolfgang’s Vault
and check out Coe’s live show
Maybe we should just
put this up as a joint post
“Haney & Blaine talk Coe.”
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-09 10:30:27
Or: maybe we can do something even more in depth. The longer it’s gone on, the more fascinating I’ve found it. That bit about singing on the hood of a hearse in a shiny mask is surreal, like the act of a lunatic superhero.
I will indeed pass on your suggestion to my friend. Interestingly, he’s also into G.G. Allin. This, for me, confirms the connection.
I’m sorry to see this post disappear so quickly, if only because I’ve enjoyed the thread about Coe.
Comment by jmb
2009-07-09 19:12:39
I’ll see if I can tell the story about the time
DAC asked me to join his band.
And then the story
about him beating the hell
out of a heckler in a dive.
Cash, Waylon, Hank Jr. and the bunch were
bad in their own way
but they were all afraid of Coe.
The only outlaw who wasnt scared of Coe
was Paycheck.
we should just keep it going until you have about 500 comments
so it would be number one on the comment board
and then Listi would look and see it was a whole
load of small talk about, of all people,
David Allan Coe.
Then we’ll cut and paste the whole thing into Word
and pitch it as a paperback to every frickin’
agent and publisher in the free world.
Overground, underground, underworld. All of em.
And everytime we get a no
I’m gonna just start throwing furniture out the windows
and into the yard.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-10 18:59:02
Hey, JMB, I hope you read this. If I don’t hear from you in a couple of days, I’ll try to dig up a direct address for you. The post has obviously now disappeared off the front page.
In any case, I’ll have to think of an approach for such a piece. Maybe an interview? Maybe I could write a few questions, which you’d then answer, and I could build on your answers by asking questions taken from them. That way the piece would have a more conversational, more improvisational feel rather than the standard Q&A format.
Again, hope you see this.
Comment by jmblaine
2009-07-11 11:47:04
Sounds like fun
Email me
write1159@yahoo.com
David Allan Coe once tried to sue Glen Campbell, asserting that he was the one true Rhinestone Cowboy. The case never went to court.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-14 00:49:49
I will indeed email you, my friend. Sorry to be so late in responding! I’m snowed under with my many online duties.
Comment by Irene Zion (Lenore’s Mom) |
2009-07-07 13:56:24
Duke
Imagine Ely being able to play on a drug he didn’t know he ingested, lying down with his head off the stage.
That there is a trouper!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 14:02:28
He was for a fact. I couldn’t believe he continued to play.
It’s a pity there are no photos of Ely at that show. Or maybe there are, but I’m simply unaware of them. That would’ve been the photo to go with this essay, for sure.
Comment by Lenore Zion
2009-07-07 14:11:09
dude, that sounds like the most awesome show ever in the history of shows. i fucking WISH that shows would end in blood like that. most of the time no one even moves when the band is playing.
this was badass. a perfect 1000 words piece. and it makes me wish i wasn’t finished with Banned For Life, because i did so want it to go on forever. I’ll probably read it again in a year.
what commercials make you tear up? i wanna know.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 14:28:29
That’s the problem with L.A. shows: people generally stand as if frozen. Also, frankly, the bands in this town are a bunch of fucking pussies. These people seriously need to learn how to rock. DPD rocked like motherfuckers. Here’s a link to a clip:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNv9S5WrUm0
I’m glad you think it worked as a 1000-word piece. It was a tough assignment — surprisingly so. I earlier started pieces on my dad and my grandmother, among others, but there was too much I wanted to say. Then I realized that the photo didn’t necessarily have to be one from my personal archive.
What commercials make me tear up? Well, I know the famous Nick Drake/Volkswagen ad had that effect, even though I hated that Nick Drake’s music was being used in a commercial, and I personally knew two of the people in the car. In fact, Justin, who’s driving, was in a band with Bryce of DPD. Here’s a link to that commercial, if you don’t immediately remember it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIOW9fLT9eY
Comment by Lenore Zion
2009-07-07 14:46:35
that video was fucking awesome. and hot as hell. why don’t they make men like that anymore? men should be breaking things!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 14:52:19
Well, those particular guys are still breaking things, or they are in some cases. Bryce and Danny have a new band called Memory. I’ll be sure to let you know when they next play.
I would love for DPD to play again, but it seems they’re on what may or may not turn out to be a permanent hiatus.
I want to start a band called On Hiatus. Because so many bands are.
Glad you liked the clip. Oh, and thanks belatedly for the kind words about Banned.
Comment by Lenore Zion
2009-07-07 15:00:33
you have to take me to their next show. i promise to dress really pretty so that i look hot and you don’t have to be embarrassed of the weird girl you brought with you.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 15:05:16
Wear what you want, doll. And you are one, you know.
You’d easily get on with the guys, even though you seriously outclass them, as they’d be the first to admit.
Still hoping one of the lazy fucks will read this shit and comment. (This omits you, Danny. You aren’t lazy, and you aren’t a fuck.) I mean, it’s like a goddamned love letter, for Christ’s sake.
Comment by Soloman Grundy
2009-07-07 15:04:06
what a badass show. Mainstream music can’t touch that. I remember my first concert, my car broke down and i never made it, then someone rear ended me. Oh wait, that means I never got there b/c of my crappy car and bad drivers. I haven’t got a new car since then, and I read this article recently and it’s freaking me out more about getting a car: http://lawblog.legalmatch.com/2009/07/07/the-real-cost-of-owning-a-car/
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 15:10:44
Alas, that piece has it about right in terms of the figures. I’m barely driving at the moment, because of a complicated situation involving my registration and our lovely local police, who’ve threatened to impound my car if they catch me driving it.
Thanks much for reading and commenting, my friend. I hope you find a way the next time there’s a show worth seeing. I hope, in fact, there’s a show worth seeing!
Comment by Greg Olear
2009-07-07 15:28:13
There was some sort of music show — maybe the MTV awards? — in the early 90s. Nirvana played, and when they were done, the bass player tried to smash his bass, but he fucked up and wound up clocking himself with it. The next act was Elton John…when he finished playing, he smashed his piano stool…successfully.
Somehow, I don’t think DPD would be outclassed by Elton John.
Great post, as usual, Duke. And for those of you who have not yet read BANNED FOR LIFE, it’s not possible for me to recommend it more highly.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 21:04:49
Thanks as always, Greg. You’re really doing a number on my book’s head. It has expanded greatly, and continues to do so.
That’s a great anecdote about Nirvana and Elton John. I actually recall something about it. But, yes, I don’t think EJ would ever be upstaged by DPD — not in the destruction department. I think they’d probably scare him shitless. And EJ seems, to me anyway, like he’d have a great deal of shit to spare.
Comment by Ben Loory
2009-07-08 14:31:21
he wasn’t actually trying to smash his bass; he’d thrown it up in the air and was trying to catch it. which he did. sorta. with his face.
i’d like to see elton john catch his piano with his face.
no, really. that’d be great.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-08 14:46:43
As I said yesterday, you scare me, Ben.
Meantime, I’m giggling like a girl at boarding school.
Hey, Elton! Catch!
Comment by Ben Loory
2009-07-08 16:04:03
can’t be scared of me, i’m kindly and harmless! and sometimes i even believe in the existence of other people!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-08 19:03:52
I know, Ben. You’re a great guy. It’s just funny for me to see the occasional display of black humor, which perfectly mirrors my own.
I’ll believe in your existence if you believe in mine. We’ll will ourselves to life.
Comment by Rich Ferguson
2009-07-07 15:41:28
D.R.
Great pic, and great post, my friend.
Rock on.
Comment by Stefan Kiesbye
2009-07-07 16:20:05
Yes, absolutely! And yes, where are the times when outrageous behavior wasn’t frowned upon yet?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 21:00:29
The comment below this one was meant for Rich. The sequence thing again.
I absolutely think, Stefan, that things have gotten more rigid in recent years. But I don’t think it’s simply due to greater control by authority; I think people overall have grown more rigid in their thinking.
I’m reminded of the brouhaha that surrounded the Dixie Chicks when one of them made a crack about Bush at a London concert. People ran right out and organized record burnings and so on. I read a comment around that time by a Russian who’d lived through the USSR years. He said: “In Russia, when the authorities wanted us to boycott somebody, we’d all run out and buy their books or records. In America, the authorities don’t even have to disapprove. People willingly boycott their stuff without anybody telling them to do it. That’s how well the authorities have got people trained here.”
I’m not saying he’s right or he isn’t. But it does kind of buttress the point I was trying to make about rigidity.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 20:50:53
Glad the picture worked for you. It was hard to select a picture, since DPD was an unusually photogenic band. Funny; in the end, I went with a picture that didn’t even feature the band. It seemed more interesting to keep them in shadow, as it were.
Comment by JB
2009-07-07 17:11:39
I have to admit, it always breaks my heart to see a band trash their own equipment. But I suppose it’s their mess to clean up once the houselights turn on.
I once witnessed Man or Astroman? trash their faux-high tech stage set-up and that was a stunning exception. It was like watching a mad scientist destroy his lab. A big mess of blinking lights and monitors and flashing tubes. Words cannot describe the energy in the air after the band abandoned the stage. Well, mine can’t.
Helluva read.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 20:43:59
Thanks, Justin. I was actually hoping you’d weigh in, since I know you’re a music guy.
Tonight I got a ride with Ben Loory to a meeting with our fellow TNBers about our forthcoming LA event, and he mentioned that he’d read this piece and that it reminded him, as someone who used to be in a band, of what happens when a show doesn’t come off. It’s like, “Fuck it, might as well trash the place.” I think there was in fact a certain amount of frustration that led DPD down this path. Also, with Pete, I think there was some boredom with playing music at all. The performance aspect was the thing that more and more interested him — but I say this with the disclaimer that it isn’t something he and I have discussed in a while.
What this piece doesn’t convey is how good a band they really were, as hopefully the clip link I posted above indicates. But musical taste is obviously varied and highly specific.
Comment by Kimberly M. Wetherell
2009-07-07 18:57:26
Oh dear. Now I REALLY must read your book - if this is any indication of what’s to come.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-07 20:49:16
The funny thing is, DPD is very much like some of the bands I wrote about in the book, but it was written before I’d even heard of DPD — or the first draft of it was, and everything after that was polish.
But, yeah, there really is stuff like this in the book. I hope that increases your desire to read it. Not to apply any pressure or anything.
By the way, your name came up a number of times during the TNB meeting tonight — in the best of ways, obviously. It was: “Well, Kimberly did this, and it really worked.” I hope your ears were burning.
Comment by Brad Listi
2009-07-08 14:07:22
Actes gratuits.
Maybe that should be our name if we ever launch a French edition.
Psychic plaque indeed.
Let us scrub.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-08 14:49:58
I would be honored, sir, to have suggested the name.
Or maybe I’ll start a band and call it Psychic Plaque, with Actes Gratuits as the name of our first album.
Comment by Robin Slick
2009-07-09 04:03:20
Oh, this is an awesome, awesome essay. What great writing! I am not only right there with you in the club, but every single one of my senses is involved. This is just one of many killer lines: “Bleeding like a diced pomegranate, Bryce was driven to the emergency room, where the gash on his skull was stapled shut.”
I totally agree with the sentiments of this piece. When I was 17, I hung out with The Who and Keith Moon right before he died. No one could trash a stage or a hotel room back in the day like that. Such art they made! It was a thing of beauty.
And now, like you, I hide behind my computer screen with television on in the background and weep. The last commercial that made me cry was one for a retirement account that had what was once a classic rock rebellion anthem as its jingle.
I think at least for today, I’m gonna blast me some raunchy music and (on paper, anyway) bash me a few heads.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-07-09 10:42:27
You’ve permanently endeared yourself to me with the shout-out on the promegranate line. I took a moment with that one, not wanting to draw on the usual stuck pigs, motherfuckers, or nobody’s business.
I envy you for having hung out with Keith Moon. He’s truly one of the all-time greats. I gasp when I see footage of him back in the day. The guy pretty much reinvented rock & roll drumming, which had previously been limited to backbeat.
I once had dinner at a restaurant here in L.A. on a slow night in which John Entwistle and his family were eating at a nearby table. It amused me, how quickly it all seemed very normal. Which, you know, it was. Just an English guy and his wife eating and chasing their toddler around.
I hope you did indeed bash heads on paper today, and we’ll soon see the results. Because I really did love your piece about the briefcase and Barbie and Ken. Meanwhile, I expect to hear from you soon on the subject of Billie Holiday.
– Duke