2008-04-27
"Dealing with the Faith Healer..."
Lindy called it: last night's Big Dipper reunion was a pup-perfect portrait of a little something called "revertigo." When something brings you back to a particular time in your life, which in this case was my discovery of "local music," or even just music worth getting genuinely psyched about.
When I was still in high school it was brought to my attention that all kinds of great music could be had by taking a bus ride, and then a subway trip into Boston, or Cambridge. I was a sporadic contributor to a friend's local music 'zine, and as a result I wound up spending a lot of Saturday afternoons, and some school nights, in clubs watching bands. The Blake Babies. Galaxie 500. Throwing Muses (a band which blew my tiny teenaged mind and broke my heart to pieces from the second I heard them...they still do to this day). Big Dipper.
About that time, a crazy, passionate scenester named Billy Ruane had convinced the Lebanese restaurant in Central Square to start hosting bands. I would be in the audience during some of the afternoon shows Billy would assemble at the Middle East, agog and slightly frightened as he'd bound over and throw little packets of Fun Fruits (usually stapled to a flier promoting the next show, but sometimes not) at me.
In homeroom at my tony suburban high school on mornings after seeing some show or another (my mother and I had an understanding that I could go do what I wanted, as late as I wanted, but no matter what time I came in I was expected to get up and go to school) I would be fairly reeling from lack of sleep -- and more to the point -- sheer smugness. While my classmates were drinking wine coolers and Bud Lites and groping one another in the woods, I was getting dehydrated fruit thrown at me by Billy Ruane and hearing all kinds of great music. I was no longer merely conspicuously out of it. I had finally found something better.
As I grew older, and was able to see more shows by virtue of age and ability to legally drink, I found even more to be psyched about. It was my great good fortune to meet and befriend Mikey Dee, a veritable musical mystagogue who turned me onto so many great bands, and who was one of the kindest, funniest spirits I have ever known. And there were the Drop Nineteens (whose impish, doe-eyed guitarist would become my best friend and vulgar muse several years later), Morphine, and Scarce. And a charming little pop band by the name of Miles Dethmuffen, which boasted some of the sharpest, smartest lyrics I'd ever heard, not to mention some really great guitar playing.
(We all know how that story ended by now. If you don't, buy me a frappe someday and I'll tell you.)
I don't get out to nearly as many shows as I used to. Not really wanting to spend 5-6 nights a week around people who are drinking, additional responsibilities both at home and at work, and an increasing inability to function on less than 8 hours of sleep have led to this. The band I myself played in for many years kind of ran its course, a number of my friends moved to the west coast, or settled down. But some continue to play music, and I remain plugged in enough to tell you that there are still plenty of bands here to be genuinely psyched about now, like A.K.A.C.O.D. and Rooftop Suicide Club.
Last night's show brought a lot of stuff back. There I was with Linda, Ad, Michael and Diane, Mick and Eleanor, all of us grinning like crazy and just happy as hell to be there. Mary Lou Lord brushed by me, and dear sweet Billy Ruane was still running around like a madman. This time, though, I was sober. This time, I would periodically look up from my Big Dipper-induced reverie and see people texting, or taking pictures with their cellphones. It seemed jarring somehow, both being not-drunk and being surrounded by technology that just didn't seem to fit in. I knew that in a matter of days, clips of this very show would likely wind up on YouTube, and the thought was momentarily just so bizarre to be having, even as I made a mental note to check online later this week.
But what I took away from that show was just a big bunch of happy. Revertigo. Being in the middle of the music, feeling a part of it again, hooting and dancing and laughing. I loves me my friends, and I still loves me some Big Dippah.
And, oh God, Scarce is playing in June at TT's. I better take a nap now and get myself ready for it.
lisamcc at 6:12 p.m.
4 comments so far
Marty Barrett
2008-04-28 17:03:39
Thanks for writing this, Lisa.
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Spooney
2008-04-28 18:12:44
Shit! I wish I had been there. I loves The Dippah!
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scurvyann
2008-04-30 10:16:41
AAAA! That was so much fun at the DIPPAH show!!!! I couldn't stop smiling or dancin'. I love this post! The music just GETS ya, doesntit? (ha. i wrote "tit"!) I really dig your music player too - great selection! I recently was on a Blake Babies kick. LOVE'em! Thanks for the heads up on the Scarce show. I can't miss this one!!!
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Mike Burchett
2008-04-30 12:29:45
What!?! No Pixies in the playlist? Having Throwing Muses but no Pixies is an outright shock. The rest of it is quite, quite good.
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