Wednesday night I walked into the bar for little rock and roll. “Dude, you got that kill?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said.
Darryl and “Joe” were there. Not Joe Frew; Joe Frew is on his honeymoon, having just gotten married Saturday. “Joe” is just a nick for a fellow who doesn't want to be famous among his fellow geeks, and if I'm wrong, Joe, say something and I'll use your real name here.
MoJo's was busier than a bar has a right to be on a Wednesday night. But that's expected, as The Station is still the house band there. If you've never heard them, you're missing some of the most original rock and roll music I've heard so far this century. If you're nowhere near the American Midwest, you can hear some of their 1993 shows in lossless .shn format at Archive.org. I pray the record companies don't discover them and fuck them up like they did to Reel Big Fish, whose latest CD, produced by Brittney Spears' label, sucks elephant ass.
The Station has one CD out, All That Lies Betweenl, and is working on another one.
“We can't go in the alley to smoke, Rier's dad is here tonight.” Alleys are America's 21st century smoking parlors. Were we able to use the alley we could sneak our drinks out the back. But as it was, we would have to time it so everybody's drinks were gone at the same time. Tricky.
Somehow it was managed. Darryl said he was just going to sit there and hold the couch. Yes, now there are two bars in Springfield with couches. Is that a New York thing, a west coast thing, or a European thing? Or is it, like eating horseshoes, a strictly Springfield thing?
We walked out, across the street to the Illinois State Library; excuse me, the Gwendolyn Brooks Illinois State Library, where Levi had lost his car.
“Oh, here it is” he said.
“Where's Joe?” I asked. Levi looked around. “Guess he changed his mind.” We got in the car and Levi drove off. I lit up.
Back at the bar and Joe was really, really disappointed. “Didn't you see me chasing you?”
“No. But then, I wasn't driving and I guess Levi wasn't watching his mirrors.”
“I chased you all the way down Capitol Street!”
Joe looks sort of like The Three Stooges' “Curly,” only without actually looking stupid. Joe's your typical computer geek; overweight, with stubble on chin and head. The picture of him running down Capitol street, on foot, after Levi's car was amusing as hell to me.
We went out to Joe's car and I burned another one.
Back in MoJo's, someone asked what the date was. “December 8th,” I said. “It's the anniversary of John Lennon's murder.”
“Yeah, the day after Pearl Harbor day.” Which was the only reason I knew what day it was. I'd watched the news the day before, and remembered Lennon's death vividly. Lennon's death had come during a particularly bad year in my life.
While we were in the bar discussing John Lennon's murder, another murder was taking place.
The Alrosa Villa is a bar some 500 or so miles away from MoJo's, in Columbus Ohio. Damageplan was playing good old fashioned rock and roll (also known as “Metal”) when a nut case named Nathan Gale went on stage and fired multiple rounds into “Dimebag Darryl” Abbot, Damageplan's guitarist and the former guitarist for Pantera. Also murdered were Dimebag's bodyguard and two other people, including another band member. Police shot and killed the murderer.
Last night at Boone's, Dimebag's murder and Joe Frew's wedding were all anybody was talking about.
I hadn't expected there to be any music at Boone's, and planned on driving past just to be sure before going to MoJo's. I'm not going back to the Firehouse until somebody cleans the fucking rest room; the whole God damned bar smells like stale piss. I almost puked the last time I was there, and I'd only drank one beer. I guess that's what they get for marking the men's room “hose” and the ladies' room “no hose”.
But the Posabus was parked in front of Boones. I parked in front of the bus.
Inside was half of Posamist, Jeff and Jeff, and half of The Station, Dave and Dave.
Damn, but it was a great show, despite the fact that they had never played together before. Tim did a little guitar work, Levi did a little singing. In fact, he did some of the best singing I've heard him do. On one blues number especially, he made Johnny Lang look bad.
I almost got up there myself, but didn't. I haven't played in front of more than a handful of people at once in years. Maybe it's time to start back up?
I hated having to leave and go home. Does anybody have a few spare million I can borrow for a few decades so I don't have to work any more?
Somebody had a laptop wired up to the sound board, so there's a chance you might get to hear it. Lets hope so, last night's once in a lifetime show, “The Statiomist's” only performance, was killer.