Author: Ira

Nineteen years ago today, we open for one of our heroes, Doug Sahm and his Last Real Texas Blues Band, in Seattle, our final time-killing date awaiting the start of Lollapalooza.  We play in our acoustic guise, and close with “You’re Gonna Miss Me.”  What?!  Did we run that by the headliners, who had been known to do that number?  No risk of that five years earlier, when our Fakebook touring lineup featuring Kevin Salem and Wilbo Wright ends our set at the Paradise in Boston the same way.  I guess it goes over well–for the first and last time while opening for the Sundays, we play an encore.

 

Three years ago today, a benefit was held at Maxwell’s to generate money and support for Danny Amis, better known perhaps by his nom du wrestling mask, Daddy-O Grande.  Before relocating to Nashville, Danny was Georgia and my roommate in Hoboken; it was Danny who soundproofed our basement (not sure that would be the word our neighbors would choose), hoping to convince his band the Raybeats to rehearse there.  They declined that offer, but that’s where Georgia and I practiced, both in our pre-Yo La Tengo days and for the first three years of the band.  The benefit was a special night.  Jon Klages flew in from Los Angeles so that the Individuals could take part, and we invited him to sing “Now You’ll Never Know” with us, our first time playing that  together since the release of Jon’s In a Dream ep (Georgia and my first recording).  The Schramms were on the bill, so I played with them and Dave played with us on a few songs, including the Barbarians’ “Are You a Boy or Are You a Girl” (which we once coerced Danny into singing with us in our basement).  We closed our set with one more guest, Jody Harris of the Raybeats, on “The Kid with the Replaceable Head” and a mindblowing “Pass the Hatchet I Think I’m Goodkind.”

 

Between the Lyme disease and the bright lights of Kelowna, I’ve yet to mention our tour with My Bloody Valentine, nearly a week into it.  On this day 22 years ago Buffalo Tom and we could not be made to feel more welcome by the fine folks at the Gothic Theater in Denver.  Recollects Georgia: on the 1st day of our tour opening for MBV i remember deb googe asking me how old i was because when we were sound checking she thought i was a 14 yr old boy.  i think it was a compliment, at least that’s how i took it.  later on she revealed how cool it was that the members of YLT were about the same age as the members of MBV.  we got to be friends right away.  Unlike both opening acts, My Bloody Valentine were in a tour bus, which meant that they were driving while we slept, and that meant that we had a lot of catching up to do by day.  It seemed like the only time we were ever passed on the highway it was by Buffalo Tom’s van.  There was no better place to watch “You Made Me Realise” than the wings.  You got to see the audience response, which ranged from being completely enraptured to ear-plugging horror, sometimes from the same person a few minutes apart.  On the right night–and this was one of them–you had the bonus of terrified club personnel backstage, convinced that their p.a. was about to spontaneously combust.  And think about that marquee for a moment, and how much less insulting it would have been if they hadn’t bothered to include the ETC.

 

 

 

 

I’m not going to claim that Yo La Tengo’s the best band name anyone ever came up with, but once we decided on it, that was that.  On this day 28 years ago, we are the first band of three at Providence’s Living Room.  Also on the bill, the band formerly known as Rash of Stabbings, recently redubbed Rash.  Was that an improvement?  Both Rash and Down Avenue took advantage of the generous dimensions of the Living Room stage by leaving their equipment in place for us to set up in front of.  Both Rash and Down Avenue had drum sets that were entirely electric.  An ideal night for our Providence debut this may not have been.  When asked for the beer that our contract called for, the club informs us of its policy of providing it only after we played.  Seems logical to me–if the band is sober for their set, who cares how drunk they are for the drive home?  Believe it or not, it would be four years before we returned to the Living Room.  (Speaking of believe it or not–we’ve been to Calgary three times in 30 years, twice on this day, 1995 and 2008.  Really.)

 

June 26 is so eventful for us over the years that I don’t know which 930 Club appearance to start with.  Let’s go chronologically.  In 1990, we had just begun touring supporting the Sundays when I got Lyme disease.  Luckily, it was caught early, and we never missed a show, although I was pretty loopy for this one.  (I even neglected to note the setlist!)  Eight years later, and a brownout in D.C. keeps the club from opening while hundreds of people wait on line.  When it’s determined that the date will have to be postponed, we go outside with a Casio, an acoustic guitar and some percussion and play eight songs.  Of course, given the way we project, I suspect no one actually heard us, but it’s the thought that counts, right?  But my favorite memory of the day comes in 1995.  When we get offered the sidestage for the first two weeks of Lollapalooza, beginning in the northwest, we do some quick rerouting, resulting in three stops in western Canada, including this date in Kelowna.  As usual, our contract calls for some provision for dinner–most venues give us money to fend for ourselves, sometimes a meal is provided in-house.  Never before had we been invited to the promoter’s home where his dad would be grilling steaks.   At some point, the promoter’s little brother made a brief appearance, picked up some food and split–it was explained that he was in the doghouse, having recently been nailed for racking up an enormous long-distance phone bill for calls to an Asian sex line!

 

After a successful escape from Minneapolis, we arrive in Chicago for the Green Festival, three years ago today.  We’re in for the long haul–an outdoor show, after which the three of us play records deep deep into the night at Big Star.  The next day we’re playing a Wheel show at Subterranean, which naturally is on the second floor.  A couple of days earlier we received a really really nice email from M.E., suggesting we play “Sister Ray,” and somehow she is so persuasive, we’re willing to overlook that we don’t know “Sister Ray.”  Eleventh Dream Day’s Rick Rizzo and Mark Greenberg help us out on guitar and organ, and I use a few pages of cheat sheets.  “Sucking on my . . .”  Line!