Author: Ira

In 1998, we toured Australia for the first time, wrapping things up on this night at the Annandale Hotel in Sydney.  We purchase a Casio keyboard up the street (if you saw us at the Sydney Opera House yesterday?  last week?  a month from now?–I can’t make head or tail of this time zone–you heard that very organ in action).   The tour’s been a success by the only meaningful yardstick: we’re nearly out of t-shirts.  When it’s time for our set, we announce that we’ve got about a dozen shirts left, come to the front of the stage and buy one from us if you care to, and I hope you do, because we’re not playing till they’re gone.  Business is brisk.  We encore with “Always Something,” requested by our promoter Aaron, “Time Fades Away” for co-promoter Dave, and the Saints’ “Know Your Product.”

When WFMU announced that their 2013 fundraising marathon would take place while we were touring Europe, it appeared that our string of consecutive years of taking part would end at 17.   Bruce Bennett had another idea.  What if he flew over to meet us–was there any way we could do the show from Europe?  Turned out there was, in Berlin to be precise, thanks in no small measure to our German pals Christof Ellinghaus and Martin Wenk, not to mention Schneider TM, who donated his studio and expertise.  Danke schoen to one and all.

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile, back in Austin, the South by Southwest film festival has given way to music, and Lou Reed is in town to give the keynote speech.   We agree to play two of his songs at an afternoon tribute show six years ago today.  All we need to do is show up with guitars, pedals and drumsticks, everything else is provided.  No soundcheck, of course; the goal is to follow the previous band as quickly as possible.  Known far and wide as team players, Georgia is willing to stand up front with a minimal drum set, even though this evocation of Maureen Tucker risks putting a little too much tribute into the tribute.  The stage manager says no–all drummers are sharing the kit in its traditional upstage position.  We clarify that Georgia’s left-handed, and the time it takes to reset the drums for her, and then re-reset them for the next right-handed drummer, will mess up their schedule.   Georgia’s up front.  We’ve decided to play “She’s My Best Friend” and “I Heard Her Call My Name.”  Word circulates that Lou is in fact at the event somewhere, but I’m not looking for him.  Seems like a lose-lose proposition: for obvious reasons, if he’s snubbing us; but if he’s watching, that’s only going to make me self-conscious.   We sing our songs, pack up and head for our car–we’re opening for My Morning Jacket later that night.   Up walks Lou Reed!  He compliments me on the “energy” of my guitar solo, and I ask him questions I’ve always had about Metal Machine Music and the Surfsiders and . . .  No, not even close.  I say thanks, James says thanks.  Georgia missed the whole thing.

 

Twenty-six years ago today, we open for the Volcano Suns at Maxwell’s, and perform their song “Cover” as part of our three-song encore.   I’ll repeat that: Three.  Song.  Encore.   That seems so another-era that I would not be surprised to see that photos of that night reveal us to be wearing spats.  In any case, I’m sure our doing their song happened with their encouragement, and it’s possible that they did it in their set too, with me joining in.  Or did I play bongos on “Greasy Spine“?   Twelve years later, we conclude our engagement at the Great American Music Hall.  Barbara Manning sings along on “Billy Two” and we end the shebang with a Lambchop-aided rendition of “Love Power” (Lorenzo St. DuBois‘s, not the Sandpebbles‘).   Lambchop also on board earlier in the day as Luc Suer records our soundcheck version of the Bonzo Dog Band’s “Ready-Mades” live to two-track, later to be released as the b-side of “You Can Have It All.”

 

Would you mind if today’s dispatch was a long one?  Hope not!  When we got asked to open for Sonic Youth at a pro-choice benefit in Boston, on this date in 1990, we had only one small hesitation: We had no bassist.  Tearing a page from our Clint Conley playbook, we turned to Gene Holder, dB’s bassist and guitarist and more importantly (for the purposes of our story) producer of President Yo La Tengo and Fakebook, if he’d help us out.  Even today, I’m kinda shocked he said yes.  Every aspect of the date made it a big big deal, including that we were the last of four openers spread across a two shows (in our slot at the matinee was James’s first appearance on bass with Christmas), which made it especially worrisome when our set-closing “Mushroom Cloud of Hiss” didn’t go precisely as planned.  As that long, loud song reached its climax, Georgia would leave the drums and add to the cacophony on a second electric guitar.  Our pal Phil Morrison wisely picked that moment to shore up the floor tom legs that had been collapsing on Georgia all set, while I crossed the Paradise stage to entreat Georgia to make this section extra long (it ended when she decided to return to the drums).  A few steps in, I realized my guitar had gone silent.  I looked behind me and saw pedals strewn everywhere (I was years away from actually having a pedal board to anchor them).  Luckily, I don’t think Georgia knew she was no longer part of a noise duet.  I frantically tried to repatch everything, to no avail.   In what was probably a matter of seconds, but felt more like my entire life, I remembered that the light that indicated my amp was on wasn’t working–if the amp had somehow gone off, I would have no way of knowing by looking at it.  Screaming at the top of my lungs to be heard, I was able to get Phil’s attention to let him know that not only had  he disconnected my amp, but he was kneeling on the cable, cutting off my access.  He plugged me back in, and the song continued.  Georgia returned to the drums, at which point Gene was supposed to restart the two-note bass pattern bringing us into the end of the song.   But it was only the third time Gene had played this song with us, and he forgot, so Georgia tried and failed to get his attention, finally taking a drum stick and winging it at him.   The look on Gene’s face suggested that Will Rigby rarely communicated with him that way, but the message was delivered.   We left the stage, horrified at the utter disaster that had just unfolded, till someone told us that the audience was actually clapping for an encore (the only non-Sonic Youth one of the day).  Georgia and I went back out and played Christmas’s “Junk.”

Before I go, I also want to return to the Great American Music Hall in 2000, where Lambchop’s Marky Nevers plays three Ramones songs with us during the matinee encore, and pay a quick visit to Murcia during our tour of Spain, Portugal and (you probably saw this coming) Israel of 2010.  If you bet we didn’t play a New York Dolls cover, you lose.

 

The highlight of our 2000 tour with David Kilgour, Mac McCaughan and Lambchop was the four shows in three days at San Francisco’s Great American Music Hall, a run that started 14 years ago today.   By now, Lambchop have pretty much an open invitation to join in on the second encore, which on this night means covers by the MC5 and Devo, and a concluding ba-da-da-da chorus of “Ripple.”  Eight years earlier we weren’t having quite so much fun.  I understand how working at a rock club can make one fear for their hearing, so I hate to be judgmental.  Nevertheless I don’t think it set a good tone for our date at Northampton’s Iron Horse when the stage crew put in ear plugs . . . for our load-in.   Suffice to say, there was no second encore.

 

On this the final day of the 2014 WFMU marathon, we both encourage one and all to help bring this year’s fundraiser to a successful conclusion and  recall 1996’s edition.   Georgia, James and I got it into our heads that it would be a good idea to go on Gaylord Fields’s show and, in return for pledges to FMU, attempt to play any song that was asked of us, and somehow convinced Bruce Bennett to join in.   From the moment we desecrated “In the Year 2525,” it was clear we were in over our heads, or were we?  We never entertained the notion that we were capable of fulfilling the requests, we just counted on our failure making for good radio, and inspiring the hoped-for rubberneckers to dig a little deeper.   I wouldn’t say we had fun–win or lose, does a prizefighter have “fun”?–but we were ready to try again the following year.    And every year after that to the present day.  In 2007, Bruce got stranded at South by Southwest, in 2008 Georgia was out of action with the flu, and last year we were in Europe for the whole marathon, none of which kept us from our appointed rounds.  If you’ve ever tuned in, you know there’s no reason to thank us!