With a Little Help from my Friends

     Whack ol' Ladies have a persistent problem- finding other WOL willing to stay up late enough to go out and hear live music.  It is a recurring dilemma- drag an unwilling companion or go alone and run the risk of looking silly and the avoidance of looking silly is one of the major tenets of the Whack ol' Lady credo.

     This WOL  recently took along her not so  terribly unwilling husband to see Dawes. Normally not one to go out to a music venue late at night, Dawes' gentle, 1970's Southern California sound was enough of an enticement to get him out the door.  It helped that my WOL friend had her husband in tow as well. Now, as mentioned before, certain WOL concerts have better WOL/young folk ratios than others.  There was a lot of gray hair and denim in the Dawes crowd. Some of the criticism I have read about Dawes' musical style centers on their seemingly recycled 1970's, Jackson Brown era sound. This trait is precisely why many gray hairs were out in force.  It's a new twist on a familiar sound.  Given that  many of the Dawes fans at First Avenue that night were over 40, there really were no outrageously inebriated fans milling about (Drunk-o-Meter rating=1).  We all stood around drinking beer and behaving ourselves.  Whack ol' Ladies do like to sit down every once and a while and a good chair is hard to come by at most venues. We like our balconies and those with chairs are extra rare.  While waiting for the band to take the stage I was stretching my back  while leaning on the second floor railing. A kind First Ave employee mistook my stretching for feeling queasy and was a little worried I was going to hurl off the top balcony into the stairwell below.  I would have liked to have overheard that employee training session .."and keep your eyes open for patrons who lean over the railings..it could get messy."

   Although I never did barf in public when I was young enough for that tendency, I did help a few friends who weren't so lucky.  The barf test is a sign of true friendship.  I was unwillingly dragged along to an REO Speedwagon concert with my best friend Marilyn because her boyfriend bought a bunch of tickets and she begged me not to abandon her. Although I don't remember how she got drunk, I was definitely the one sitting next to her in the car on the way home. Not only did I have to get her quietly into her house, I somehow needed to clean myself off before my parents  caught a whiff of me when I got home.  Marilyn died from cancer 2 years ago and this is one of the many memories I cherish of her- barf and all.

   

"Hope I Die Before I Get Old!"

      I imagine that strangers harass Roger Daltry on a daily basis with this line and it must take a bit of restraint on his part not to haul out and punch someone.  He was in town recently singing the rock opera "Tommy" and it got me to thinking about when rock musicians make that final decision to stop touring. I didn't have a driving desire to see Roger  this time although I remember a very fine Clash/Who concert in Philadelphia in the early 80's when I thought the Who were ready to retire and it was going to be my last chance to see these rock legends. I guess I was wrong about it being their last concert but after watching their Super Bowl performance a couple of years ago, I think I made the right decision to stop at the 80's. I did get a chance to see Wanda Jackson recently when she opened for Adele, though. Wanda is older than Roger and even though she admitted to having a "senior moment" when she couldn't remember what song she was about to sing, she was strutting around like  it was 1957 or something. Maybe recording a song with Jack White and touring with Adele has kept her feeling spry. Miss Wanda was inspirational.
     X was coming to town this month and I was really conflicted about going to see them. They are my absolute favorite punk band from the 80's and I couldn't decide whether to keep them in a time capsule in my mind or hear them again. The geezer 60's rocker image has been around awhile but I just wasn't sure how aging punk rockers held up. The list of aging musicians is long, but I hadn't revisited any that I had seen in the 80's yet. X was the first. I almost didn't go at all because none of my whack ol' lady friends liked X as much as I had. 2 hours before the doors opened my not so old but possibly slightly whack friend Michelle decided she could leave her 4 kids at home with her husband and venture out. 

   Instead of an opening band, they started the night with a documentary film about X. Now I am not sure that a music venue with a limited number of chairs is the best place to show a movie to a bunch of 40-ish year olds but the diehard fans stood the whole time. We needed to sit for a spell and watched half of the movie from the balcony (a favorite spot for WOL). The ratio of youngins' to WOL was the inverse of Soundset and except for the 40-ish year old couple wildly making out at the bar, I would say we all acted our age. 

     The band took to the stage with little fanfare, said hello, told us all they were going to play the whole "Los Angeles" album from start to finish and jumped right in. Billy Zoom used all the same moves he had 29 year ago. He stood perfectly still with a glazed look on his face and smiled. That was his schtick and he was sticking to it. When they launched into "Nausea" I wasn't sure how that song was going to hold up..."Today you're gonna be sick so sick. You'll prop your forehead on the sink. Say oh Christ oh Jesus  Christ. My head's gonna break like a bank." Instead of singing the "Christ oh Jesus Christ,"part Exene sang "Oh no, Oh no, Oh no" and it just didn't pack the same wallop. 
  We stayed until the last encore, Billy Zoom took some photos of the audience and we all went home. I don't know what I expected- more flailing less contentment?  There were a few people getting tossed around in a makeshift mosh pit and one angry, drunk dude who kept hitting on all the women in the front row and then flipping them off after they moved away from him. 
  "This must be the new world.."

Summer Music Festivals

    Summer is slipping away and the Whack ol Ladies will try to squeeze in one more show before all the music has to move indoors. Outdoor concerts can be a big, fun party especially if there is a solid line up of WOL favorites.   Now Woodstock is the gold standard of outdoor music festivals but even this Whack ol Lady is too young to have hung out at Yasgur's farm with Jimi Hendrix and a whole lot of mud.

   The Whack ol Ladies began the summer music festival season at  Soundset - the hip hop/rap extravaganza in late May. The ratio of youngsters to WOL was so much that we were simply invisible. Our invisibility may have been enhanced by their glassy eyed inebriation. However-if there had been a "name that tune" contest while the DJ's did their  music sampling we would have crushed our younger opponents since most of the music sampled was from before all them were born.

    Rock The Garden had a much better youngster to WOL ratio. It may have been influenced by the fact that the tickets sold out to public radio and Walker Museum members first. The rainy weather may have helped to keep the weak ones away. There was a little bit of mud but no one was ripping of their clothes and rolling around in it. Everyone was having a good time, getting a little wet, drinking a few beers and visiting.  In the past I plunked my blanket down and hung out with my friends. This year since the ground was so wet, I decided to take it all in from the stage area.It was like one big backyard party with thousands of your closet buddies. 

     Although most of the shows at the Minnesota Zoo seemed to target older and less whack musical tastes (The Monkees, Dave Mason), we did get out to see hometown favorites Jeremy Messersmith and Rogue Valley.  The snow monkeys were happy to have a few late night visitors and we all could have listened to the bands play on into the night. I have seen Jeremy Messersmith sing 3 times this year and by far the zoo concert was the most enjoyable by WOL standards: no drunken hecklers, lots of fans and a diversity of ages. Rupert the random dancing man helped to get even the stiffest grandpa to smile.

   I am not sure that the Whack ol Ladies want to venture out to Bonnaroo or Coachella in the near future but the line ups are always so tempting. We may have to think about packing a tent for next year.

Peace man.

The Drunk-O-Meter Rating System

Tonight after an annoying drunk almost ruined a perfectly lovely concert by Fleet Foxes, I've decided to start a "drunk-o-meter" rating system for the concerts attended by the Whack ol' Ladies.  The drunkenness of other concert goers has been a recurring theme for the Whack ol' Ladies. We don't go out very often and when we do, we would much rather listen to the musicians than some drunken smart ass shouting one liners at the band. I'm not really sure what makes someone feel that an entire concert hall wants to hear his insights, but an abundance of alcohol seems to always be a contributing factor. I have thought of suggesting to the music venues that there should be some sort of "fan test" before people are allowed in- "can you sing more than one song by the artist or are you only here only to drink the beer?"
     In the WOL drunk-o-meter rating system, a 1 is a concert that is enjoyable and not affected by the intoxication of others. A concert with a 5 rating is completely ruined by the drunks. 
Fleet Foxes is at 4, since the shouting drunks really bummed out the band and they didn't really feel like talking for awhile. I thought at one point they were just going to walk off stage. Whack ol' Ladies get very motherly at these moments and want to march right over to the offending jerks and give them a piece of their minds.

A brief drunk-o-meter rating for the last year:

Spoon-2 (annoying guy moved on)

Cloud Cult,Mason Jennings, Peter Wolf Crier-3 (barfing brothers)

Cloud Cult at First Avenue-1 (CD release party brought out the fans)

Andrew Bird-1 (maybe the violin kept the drunks away)

Dessa-1 (MPR was filming)

Kings Go Forth-2 (beer dropped on my feet)

Les Nubiens-1(everyone having fun)

Pert Near Sandstone-2 (harmless guys in baseball hats)

Raphael Saadiq-2 (dancing drunken guy waving arms and blocking view)

Soundset-5 (maybe I won't go next year-plethora of the impaired)

Rock the Garden-1 ( Tickets sold out to MPR and Walker Art Center members first- and it was raining)
Jeremey Messersmith at the Varsity -5 (drunken hecklers galore)
Jeremey Messersmith, Chan Polling etc at the Fitzgerald-1 (MPR event)

School of Rock

    The Whack ol Ladies have been busy being moms and trying to get out to shows whenever possible. Blogging about all that has fallen by the wayside of late but since I have a few minutes to myself with no one breathing down my neck begging to use the computer I'll take a little time to ruminate.
    It's no secret that I like to talk about music but I have absolutely no background in music theory or  even the history of music. It's just  a nerdy fascination akin to collecting stamps . I don't pretend to know anything about the technical aspects of music making, either - I just know what I like to listen to.
      My oldest daughter and I share a very similar taste in music and it has been fun to watch her musical interests evolve over time.  I didn't want to be didactic and only play classical music  because I thought it would increase her brain capacity.  When she was fussy,  we listened to Arlo Guthrie, Jonathan Richman, Bob Dylan, The Beatles or Simon and Garfunkel.  All of my old Jonathan Richman records made perfect kid music. All 3 of my kids think that every child knows the words to "Dodge Vegematic" and "Abominable Snowman in the Market." In the early days of musical child rearing I only refused to listen to or buy any of the "Wee Sing"  or "Barney" recordings. As a matter of fact we were a Barney -free household even though all the other moms kept telling me how their children were mesmerized by the purple fellow. I just couldn't go there. We danced around to David Bowie instead.
     As my oldest daughter grew, she began to have an opinion about what she wanted to hear. If there was a long car ride in our future, we could travel a long way with recordings from old Disney movies or Danny Kaye's "Hans Christian Anderson." After I got tired of Disney we moved into the recordings from kid friendly Broadway tunes.

 

      I would like to take this opportunity to thank Baz Luhrmann for his vision in the movie, Moulin Rouge. That movie helped introduce another generation to David Bowie and Elton John.  My girls were surprised to find out that most of the songs in the movie were actually "old!" I guess the Shrek movies and Gossip Girl have helped to educate another generation in the oldies from the 1980's too.
    Now my big girl and I go out to hear music together and talk all nerdy about it. 


    

The More Things Change....

I don't know what I expected. Somehow I thought that the music venue drinking scene would have changed more in the 10+ years  I had been away from it.  Public intoxication seems to have no shelf life. I freely admit my fondness for a good Surly or two, but still find sloppy drunks who shout at musicians really annoying- and don't get me started on the public barfing.
Last summer my oldest daughter and I went to hear a wonderful line up of musicians at an outdoor concert.  I will admit that I did take the opportunity to point out the hazards  of public drunkenness. Twin brothers "thing one and thing two" were having a great time until they had to make a run for it. Sloppy drunk man behind us asked whether we liked Cloud Cult and then wondered if the band on stage was Cloud Cult ( um yeah, it was dude)

This weekend I actually almost told someone to "shush" when he was talking loudly while Jeremy Messersmith was singing. Granted, Jeremy came on at 11 and the crowd was well on its way to that happy place but I really wanted to hear the music. The Whack ol' Ladies  found a nice spot on the upper balcony and enjoyed the rest of the show from there.

Puzzled Looks

I have to admit that I forget that I am getting older most days. My 15 year old does her best to remind me that--in fact I am no longer young and  moms of a certain age should not be singing along to the radio or dancing around the house.

However on more than one occasion when I have been engaged in a conversation about music with someone born in  the latter half of the last century, I get a confused look. I hear them saying to themselves--"who is this strange woman-child and why does she speak like one of my peers?" I am usually a bit demur and apologetic about my interest in new music- like I can't help myself. "Um yeah I do think Jack White is a crazy genius."

Last week I was getting my hair cut and highlighted by the most charming 20ish stylist with many fabulous tattoos peeking out from his sleeves. We talked the usual small talk about celebrities and current events until I heard a Mason Jennings on their music mix. When I proceeded to tell him about the fabulous concert I went to last summer with Mason Jennings and Cloud Cult he stopped and stared  at me with the "wait- aren't you too old for that?" look. Luckily I really am too old to care what he thinks.

It's been a while but the Whack ol Ladies are going out tomorrow. Jeremy Messersmith will be singing at the Varsity.

Playin' With the Queen of Hearts

My little brother tortured me with a cassette tape player when he was about 8 years old. He chased me around the house playing the song "Playin with the Queen of Hearts" over and over and over  again. It was brutal but somehow our relationship grew into the  supportive one it is today. I like to remind him of his awful taste in music back then- but I guess I was the one who listened to the Partridge Family when I was 8 .  I will admit that I tried to influence his musical choices after that period. I was worried that he was headed down the wrong  path.  The first tape I ever made for him had the Boomtown Rats on one side and The Jam on the other. He listened to it on our very modern Sony Walkman. The following year I got him Big Country's "The Crossing."  I am  pretty sure he was the only kid in his grade that had a Big Country album. He was that cool.
Happy Birthday, little brother. I think I'll make you a "mix tape" from the bottom of my heart.

Canary in A Coma

When my best friend Marilyn & I first heard The Police's "Canary in a Coal Mine" we misheard a critical word for the comprehension of the song.  We thought the canary was not in a “coal mine” but rather in a “coma.” This was 1981 and The Police was one of the few “new wave” bands sandwiched between Rush and Bob Seeger on the commercial radio stations of western Massachusetts.  The nonsensical image of a little canary in coma fit right in with our burgeoning appreciation for the new music we were slowly learning about via our friends’ older siblings or from reading Rolling Stone. That semester our art teacher was on sabbatical and we had a very laid back substitute who let us use all the art supplies. No more line drawings with charcoal pencils; we were allowed to break out the oil paints and canvas!   Marilyn, who went on to study art at RISD was inspired to paint a canary with little "x" over its eyes. Once we learned the real title of the song, it just didn't carry the same amount whimsy.

Marilyn continued to be a gifted visual artist until her death from cancer in 2009.

Music and Memory

     I can't hear Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" or "Sweet Sixteen in Leather Boots" without being transported to my best friend  Marilyn's family room circa 1980- dark paneling, overstuffed couch and a big stereo. I think I even hear her mom giving us dating advice- but that's another story. February 22nd would have been her 47th birthday if she had not been snatched away by cancer  a year ago. 
Not all songs I hear from the past have such a visceral effect, but Iggy can really bring me back. We bought that album at a used record store without knowing anything about Mr. Pop. We listened to it at top volume flailing around the room any time her parents were gone. Marilyn was fearless and so much more confident than any other 16 year old I knew. She had these skin tight red corduroys that she called her "rock star jeans" and only she was brave enough to wear them to school. These 2 songs have that incredible power over my brain. It automatically switches into flashback mode. I wish I could  as easily remember all that philosophy I studied in college. But then again, David Hume wasn't my best friend.



 

A little background

Once upon a time I devoted a large portion of my thought process to thinking and talking about music with friends. The first record I consciously remember buying was a 45 of the Archie's singing "Sugar Sugar." My musical tastes followed along with the times and my age- Partridge Family, Donny Osmond, Jackson 5 until I was 10. John Denver and The Beatles til 13. 7th grade seemed to be the time when what you listened to defined who you were.  Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith and Jethro Tull meant you were cool. John Denver was out.

  Most people I talk to who love music seem to always remember these "wake up moments" in their own musical history.  Saturday Night Live is one of those cultural windows for many teenagers. First you have to stay up late and that automatically makes you older and cooler.  I saw Devo for the first time on SNL and they kind of freaked me out a bit until I realized that I actually liked how completely different they were from everything I had ever seen before.  When I saw the B52's I was convinced I wanted to put those Grateful Dead and Neil Young records aside for awhile and see what else was out there. They were kind of the gateway band for my upcoming obsession. I went out and got a used copy of the Sex Pistol's  "Never Mind the Bullocks" and began a new adventure.

Whack ol Ladies Maiden voyage

In lieu of starting a band of 40ish women singing old X and Clash songs, I decided to start a blog instead.

"I'm not dead yet" is a recurring phrase in  my head  as I venture out with the young folks who share my love of music.

You can find us whack ol ladies in the back of your local music venue tapping our feet and trying not to look silly.