Author: Ira

I don’t think we ever played with a group who inspired the pandemonium of the Sundays in 1990.  The shows were hopelessly sold out, and only our unimpeachable integrity kept us from a lucrative sideline in backstage pass and guestlist sales.  Given the nature of tour routing, this date 24 years ago and this date only was earmarked for Minneapolis.  Problem was the desired venue, First Avenue, was not available, having already been booked for Loudon Wainright III.  First Avenue’s small room, the Seventh Street Entry, had Big Dipper and the Sneetches that night.  I think most any promoter other than Steve McClellan would have found some way to get the Sundays, a guaranteed sellout, into the big room.  Instead, he honored his commitment to Loudon Wainright, and shoehorned the Sundays onto the top of the Entry’s bill.  In so doing, Steve inconvenienced the Sundays (playing to one-third the audience with lesser production), Big Dipper and the Sneetches (forced down the bill), and us (our opening set for Loudon Wainright had a fraction of the audience that we would have had if the Sundays were headlining), not to mention him and his clubs (lost revenue and disgruntled bands).  Even at the time, I thought it was an incredibly un-weasel-ly move, and my admiration has only increased in the ensuing years.  Apropos of nothing, Steve McClellan would later attempt to emulate Fred Flintstone’s windmill bowling technique at a charity event and break his arm.  One of a kind.

Heading south, Daniel F. from Melbourne (Australia, not Florida) writes about this day: In July 2008 my friend Lynsze bought me the Nuclear War 12″ for my birthday.  (She then became my girlfriend, and is now my best friend). 

 

On this day in 1990, our acoustic lineup opens for the Sundays at Chicago’s Cabaret Metro, and then we dash over to the Rainbo, and play two more sets.  Two years earlier, we perform “Drug Test” for the first time, at the Mitternacht in Hamburg.  And speaking of drug tests, and in the spirit of the World Cup, international competition has captured our attention right now.  In 1992, our tour with My Bloody Valentine concludes at the Palace in Hollywood, former home of, what else, the Hollywood Palace tv show.  At a post-concert soiree, Kevin Shields rolls a joint and then asks our tour manager Joe Puleo if he should roll another.  Little realizing the import of his words, Joe replies that if Kevin keeps rolling, he’ll keep smoking.  Some time later, most of us are ready to call it a night, and since we do everything as a group, we tell Joe it’s time to go.  He says his goodbyes, to which Kevin answers, “I win.”  Joe of course had forgotten about the challenge, if he ever took note of it in the first place,  smoking pot out of sheer love of the game.

 

In New York’s Battery Park nine years ago today, on a bill with Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks and Laura Cantrell, we get into the holiday spirit by opening with “We’re an American Band” from I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One, followed by “We’re an American Band” by Grand Funk.  Both “The Weakest Part” and “The Story of Yo La Tango” are played for the first time.  And did you know that Sanjay from Los Angeles has the same birthday as Rick Rizzo, Eva Marie Saint and my dad?  He writes:  My wife, then my girlfriend, bought me And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out for my 27th birthday (July 4, 2001); I knew then she was the girl for me.

 

 

 

Eighteen years ago today, we are in Denmark for the Roskilde festival, and have a pretty good time.  Our set goes well, and features a guest appearance by 18th Dye’s Sebastian Buttrich in his adopted home town.  We see Stereolab and Elvis Costello & the Attractions–one of which ends with the lead singer screaming at his band.  Not that we’re regulars on the festival circuit, but this is the mellowest one we’ve ever seen, depending on your feelings about rampant public urination.  Our take is that it could be worse, so long as it doesn’t get to the point when men are peeing where they stand while watching a band, beer in hand.  And when it does get to that point, during ZZ Top’s festival-concluding performance, we take our leave.  But nobody feels too bad about that–we liked them better when they were a four-piece.

 

Nothing all that noteworthy’s happened on this date, Yo La Tengoly speaking, over the years (that I recall, at least), so instead perhaps today’s the day for a non-date-specific spin through our life as a wedding band.  Without naming names, I’ll say that we’ve participated in about a dozen weddings over the years (and that list does not include two bills with the Wedding Present).  We have never played “Hava Nagila” (though we’ve been asked) and never been asked to play “My Girl” (so we haven’t).  We did deem “He’s a Whore” to be appropriate once, and it turned out that Tom Petersson was in attendance.  When he didn’t seem too miffed, we realized we had a keeper, and trotted it out twice more, once in the prelude to the actual ceremony, an instrumental version with Georgia on the church organ.  “Eye of the Tiger” has proven another staple of the repertoire, perfect for guest singers.  Borrowing a couple of songs from Georgia and my wedding party, musical accompaniment by Will Rigby, his band including Dave Schramm and Sue Garner, our setlist usually includes “Mother-in-Law” and “Gloria” relettered to the bride’s first name.   And I don’t want to leave the impression that we don’t take requests; once-and-only-once selections over the years have included “Karma Chameleon,” “Could You Be Loved” and “Here Comes Your Man.”

 

 

Two memories of this day, and our music has nothing to do with either of them.  While we are inside the Living Room, opening for the Sundays on this day in 1990, it is pouring rain outside.  When we go to leave, we discover the downpour has washed out access to Winchester Street.  Faced with a gaping hole that threatens to prevent our departure, two heavy-duty boards, each barely wider than a tire, are put in place.  Georgia, with no margin for error, navigates the van to safety.  James McNew, in attendance that night and a witness to this Wages of Fear-worthy maneuver vows then and there to ride in any vehicle Georgia is at the wheel of.  Two years later, something perhaps more unlikely occurs in Vancouver.  Establishing what remains to this day my personal benchmark for fatigue, Georgia and I somehow fall asleep backstage at the Commodore Ballroom, mere feet from My Bloody Valentine in full “You Made Me Realise” roar.

Meanwhile, Claus and Ariel write from Eugene:  “A Worrying Thing” really played an important part in the birth of the relationship of my wife and I.  Me being a Dane in Denmark and my wife being an American in America.  For some reason Yo La Tengo to me represents dreaming big and whenever I listen to Painful I get this intense feeling that no matter what – if you want something badly enough – you can make it happen.  On July 1st 2011 I sent my wife a playlist with the intent of subtly declaring my having fallen in love with her despite the Atlantic being between us.  Song no. 3 was “A Worrying Thing” and this song made me fail in my subtlety and my wife figuring out what I was trying to say.  We spent our honeymoon at Primavera in Barcelona in June 2012 for two reasons: the Big Star tribute show and the Yo La Tengo concert.