Author: Ira

Day two of our swing state tour of 2004 starts with some rerouting.  Hurricane Ivan causes tremendous damage in Pittsburgh, washing out our show at Mr. Smalls.   Fred’s day job requires his return to New York, leaving Dave, Sue and the three of us to raise money for flood relief at a hastily organized in-store at Brave New World records.  More catastrophic weather last year in Boulder does not stop the Denver Riot Fest, but a torrential downpour begins seconds after our set.  Lightning necessitates a temporary shutdown of the proceedings, right in the middle of Flag’s set, and only some typically smooth talking by Joe Puleo gets us off the site.  Two nights ago I got caught in the rain biking home from seeing Robyn Hitchcock at the Eugene Mirman Comedy Festival, recalling a drier evening 25 years ago today at Maxwell’s, when the electric guitar duo of Georgia and I opened for Robyn.

 

 

 

I wonder if David from Philadelphia wrote all his book reports the night before they were due.  This email arrived yesterday: September 21, 2004 was when I finally saw you guys live, at the Chameleon Club on your swing state tour.  Sadly, it had been years since I knew anyone who would go out to a club to see a band anymore, and my wife was out of town (I still have the extra ticket).  I corralled my niece into staying with our two kids and I made the hour and a half drive from Philadelphia to Lancaster.  It was all I hoped it would be, and more (if it was a disaster for you, don’t tell me).  Fred Armisen as Saddam Hussein was one of the most wonderfully surreal things I’ve ever seen.  I have seen you several times since, always alone.  It’s become a thing.

(It was only a disaster in retrospect, on Election Day.)

This was the beginning of our swing state tour–we gathered musician and comedian friends, different ones on nearly every night, and caravaned around for three weeks.  Each show was long and loose, broken up twice by whoever was doing comedy.  In Lancaster, we had Dave Schramm, Sue Garner, and Fred Armisen along for our Lancaster PA debut.  Right around now is where I’d tell you some of the highlights, but I’m missing the set lists for this show and the next two, so if you happen to have one lying around, please let me know!  But yes, as David recalls, at one point Fred appeared as Saddam Hussein.  I never met the man, so this is only a guess, but I don’t think it was a spot-on impression.  First Fred borrowed one of our guitars and, backed by James and Georgia, played a Who-style instrumental; then he took questions from the audience, still in British rock star mode.  Had he ever been that character before?  I don’t have that written down either.

 

 

 

I don’t know how many times Jeff from New York has seen us play.  Maybe he does, but he left that out of his email letting us know that our set at Maxwell’s on this date in 1986, a benefit for Raybeats/Contortions/”Let It Blurt” guitarist Jody Harris was: my first (and the first time I recorded you).   And speaking of firsts, it was was also the one and only time we covered Neil Young’s “Bad News Beat.”  And speaking of benefits, 19 years later we took part in a fundraiser for victims of Hurricane Katrina at the Angel Orensanz Center on Norfolk Street.  What a lineup!  Steve Buscemi was the m.c.  Masada played first–completely unmiked (as I recall) and sounding incredible (for certain).  The Jazz Passengers were fronted by both Elvis Costello and Deborah Harry.  William Parker was all over the place, with the Little Huey big band and several small groups.  Including ours: We were an octet–joined by Other Dimensions in Music plus Sabir Mateen–for a wild ride beginning with “Our Way to Fall,” followed by Georgia’s rendition of “Ruler of My Heart,” “I Heard You Looking” and a climactic “Ooh Poo Pah Doo.”

Scott from Peachtree City, GA has a story to tell that–paging Richard Linklater!–takes place over nine years: 3/19/00 – I host a YLT rarities radio special on WREK in advance of their show in Atlanta the following week. As I announce a ticket giveaway all lines light up until I say, “passes to the first who can answer this: James McNew has a sticker of a well-known independent comic book series on his bass cabinet as seen live or in videos.  What is it?” at which point every caller immediately drops off.

3/25/00 – I attend said show and in advance compose a fan letter to James based on above story and other things that make me see him as a (more talented) kindred spirit.  Alas, I am a total naïf at communicating and as I rabidly wave my letter as the band hits the stage, a roadie grabs the message and runs away, presumably to destroy it with the local fire squad.

5/27/05 – YLT are in a Tokyo to do a Sounds of Science show.  By coincidence I am also in Tokyo.  My wife and I are shopping in Greatest Toy Store On Planet Earth Kiddy Land when James strolls in.  My wife ribs me but I’m too shy to say anything and stay away.  Later, we ride the tiny elevator in the store and James steps in as well.  My frustrated wife initiates conversation and I have so much I could say but instead say “oh, I love your band.”  A nice awkward end as the elevator door opens.

9/19/09 – YLT play an instore at Atlanta’s Criminal Records.  I am inadvertently shopping next to James.  I bite the bullet and say, “Do you remember shopping in the Harajuku Kiddy Land a few years back and getting sighted in the elevator?  That was me.”  He says, “oh yeah, I think so” (which is always the most polite way to say no).  I say “cool, looking forward to the set!” and walk away — a pretty mundane chat to most, but to initiates I knew I just found a new secret best friend.

Glad it had a happy ending!  I’ll just pipe up to say that Criminal was only one of three different record stores we’ve played on this day over the years.  Other September 19 memories are Karl Precoda sitting in on “Halloween” at the 9:30 in 1998, and loading out while an AC/DC cover band played the late show at Louisville’s notorious (now closed) Toy Tiger.

 

On tour with the Aislers Set, we arrived on this date in 2003 at Tipitina’s in New Orleans to find the Arkestra’s Michael Ray offering to sit in.  We had recently played with Michael for the first time at the previous summer’s Fuji Rock, and I’m pretty sure none of us realized he was living in New Orleans.  Naturally, our answer was yes–he ended up playing  a bunch during our set, as well as the entire three-song second encore (I’m confident we performed the strangest version of “It Ain’t My Fault” heard in the city that night), and it’s possible that one or more members of the Aislers Set have yet to stop blushing from his backstage repartee.

 

On September 16, 1990 we opened for the Sundays in Cleveland, and for a while it was like any other show.  And then late in the set, “What Can I Say” started–when Georgia opened her mouth to sing, nothing came out, forcing me to jump in for an impromptu lead vocal.  By the next day, she had completely lost her voice, to an extent I thought only possible in cartoons.  As anyone familiar with the Fakebook lp can imagine, this put quite the crimp in our performance 24 years ago today in Ann Arbor.  Mary Lorson sang harmony on “Tried So Hard,” but otherwise it was the Me Show.  Very strange.  Eight years later, Georgia is in fine fettle at Maxwell’s.  In retrospect it looks like a rehearsal for Hanukkah: four nights in a row, with lots of interaction with the other bands on the bill.  Playing with the Mad Scene on this, the final night of the run, our set opens with a verse of “I Got You Babe,” referencing the five-years-old-but-still-topical Groundhog Day, and features an encore of “A Day in the Life of a Tree,” which despite Scott Schinder’s kibitzing will not be heard from again until we record it in 2013 for the “Super Kiwi” 45.