SHARING THE SHOWS
I can’t talk about Iron Maiden without delving into the origin story of how I became a fan. During my sophomore year of high school, I was pushing toward the “hard rock way,” listening to bands like Black Sabbath, AC/DC, and Aerosmith. My school friend Robert Fox made me a tape of Iron Maiden’s Fear of the Dark, and like so many other cassettes, I wore out the heads within a week. But upon hearing that album, I was a bona fide metalhead.
Fast-forward to 2017. I happened to be in Tampa, Florida for my first Advanced Placement reading, and they happened to be at the Amalie Arena for their Book of Souls tour. I walked a quick ten minutes from my hotel to get to and from the show. Having to be at the grading site at 8 a.m. the next day was rough, but I would have regretted not going. Fast-forward to 2022. They were playing again, this time at the Capital One Arena, a short Metro ride away from my apartment. My Mom and brother were also coming in that weekend, so this would be a good bonding opportunity for me and my bro (metal is far beyond my Mom’s musical tolerance). And he liked the show. The three of us walked around DC, and yesterday, we went to the Museum of American History, where I learned some things about historical eras I didn’t know (the Huey helicopters in Vietnam, for example). I saw a few people wearing Maiden T-shirts (good for you for making a day out of the experience, and not just blasting in for the show). Ultimately, what stuck out to me was that line in Dazed and Confused. So true. Another movie reference. When I saw a young woman wearing her Maiden shirt on the Metro, I had to open my flannel to bust out my Maiden colors as well. My brother offered me this iconic quote from PCU. A few other fans hopped on as well; one of my favorite things to do is walk around the venue before shows and feel united with the other fans sporting their show gear. Many Maiden shirts, a Motorhead one, a Slipknot, and a hockey jersey with the mascot’s name, “Eddie,” on the back. Someone also had “Revelations” playing loudly on their phone (a song I actually know how to play the opening for on my guitar). Jeremy and I walked around in the rain trying to find a pub that could serve us burgers, but the two we found were packed to the gills. The first one was an hour away, and when I asked the waitress at the second one if there were any tables, she replied, “If you can find one.” That was our cue to pick from one of the many Asian restaurants in Chinatown. We went to a place called Wok and Roll (Get it? Hahahahahahha). I enjoyed some wonton soup and Chicken Lo Mein, while Jeremy had some General Tso’s Chicken. Easy peasy. From there, we made our way to the nosebleeds, where we heard some of the opener, a Dutch metal band. I enjoyed them. It was about a 45-minute wait between acts, but totally worth it. The band opened with some tracks from Senjutsu, their new album. I got a skingasm during “The Writing on the Wall,” and it was a lot of fun making devil’s horns and fist pumping during, well, pretty much every song. I couldn’t not recite along with the preamble to “The Number of the Beast” and I had never heard “The Clansman” before, but that could easily become my favorite tune of theirs. The last time I saw Iron Maiden, I thought Bruce talked a bit too much. But this time, I was hearing what he said. He joked about DC as being “somewhere between the North and South Pole,” and in an apolitical statement, he said something to the effect of “People are trying to divide us up but I don’t give a fuck! We don’t care what your political views are, just as long as you’re here to rock! We are BROTHERS IN ARMS!” And they played “Blood Brothers.” Take notes, Roger Waters. We took off after “The Clansmen,” the second encore, to beat the crowds. Despite some bumps with the Metro, we blood brothers made it home. While I enjoy solo shows, my favorites are the ones with bros, especially an actual sibling. Love you, Jeremy.
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Introverted me now has to follow through on plans extroverted me made months ago. That’s the story behind my trip to Phil Lesh & Friends. I’d never seen him perform during his multiple residencies at the Capitol Theatre (the Cap for short), and indeed, the only band I’d ever seen perform there was String Cheese Incident (SCI). But, back in March, I decided I needed to check a Phil show at the Cap off my bucket list. Mark had raved about them, so I’d be missing out if I didn’t go. Seven months later, I’m in the middle of the semester, I’ve been going to a show nearly every weekend, I’m back teaching in person, and my social battery is constantly on 8%. But I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t, so I pulled myself up by my metaphorical bootstraps and took the serene train ride up to New York. After checking into my Airbnb, napping, and downing a couple of NY pizza slices, I got on the Metro-North to Port Chester, NY (the second part of which belongs to my cat/son Chester). As I sat on the train, one person who passed said, “All these tie-dyes on here; there must be a show at the Cap.” Another said, “So many smells on this train.” I inhaled the aromas of patchouli, marijuana, and McDonald’s French Fries in just two cars. Another asked me, “Is there a show at the Cap tonight?” I guess my tie-dye gave it away. The mass exodus from the train came when we hit Port Chester (first time I’d been since 5/28/19). There was a mini-shakedown just outside the parking lot of the train station, where vendors set up makeshift stations to sell T-shirts, jewelry, and bumper stickers, of which I purchased two for $5. Once in the venue, I made my way to the top, where I chatted a woman named Tammy and a dude named Bruce. The show started at around 8:15. Mark had told me about the light show they play on the walls of the Cap; there had been some displays during SCI, but it was on fire tonight: The band opened with “Alabama Getaway” and went into “Friend of the Devil,” to which Karl Denson’s saxophone added nicely. “They Love Each Other” is my least favorite Dead tune, but the heavy keyboards actually created a nice jam. “Loser” was next, the flute on the “Bird Song” had me tearing up, and “Jack Straw” was a nice first-set closer.
Set Two opened with a tease of “Dark Star,” but went into a jam that led into “Box of Rain.” “Help on the Way” and “Slipknot” came yet, but the group took an unconventional route to “Franklin’s Tower”: Let it Grow Unbroken Chain (a rarity, but a lovely one) Jam (sat down) Stella Blue (I stayed seated) Franklin’s Tower (I got up and danced) After the second set, I took a strategy I picked up from Pete (thanks, man) and headed toward the main area near the entrance so I could beat the crowd out. “Sugar Magnolia” jammed. As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary, because I had a 28-minute wait for the train going back to Grand Central, during which I went to the “International Mart,” which had a nice array of Latinx snacks and beverages. I just got a seltzer water and Tums (the pizza I ate preshow had me fighting a wicked heartburn throughout most of the night; when the f**k did I get so old?). I got to order in Spanish; the clerks were impressed. Bien. Not so bien was the nitrous mafia with that “TZZZZZZZZ’ sound of the balloons ; they just seem to swarm down like vultures after these shows, especially in New York. A guy next to me on the train platform inhaled from two (how he’s still alive I’ll never know). Afterwards, he puked his guts out, and I thought, there but for God’s grace go I. Still, the ride home was packed but peaceful, as we all winded down from the show. After two subway trains and a walk down Eighth Avenue, I winded down in my room with a pair of Hostess Cupcakes and an episode of Derry Girls, that hilarious, true-to-life show about teenage girls in 1990s Ireland. Introverted me got some nourishment. I love three-day weekends. And what better way to spend it than with friends. Dan and Maggie came up for the Women’s March. I would have gone, but I’m in a busy season with grading, and Saturday is a good day to do it. But we did have this show. After enjoying some sushi at a sparsely populated Spices, we headed downtown. We had about an hour to kill, so we walked around the area. We happened upon a march for Mahsa Amini, a young woman who was beaten to death by police in Iran just because she didn’t have her hijab on tightly enough. The world is a messed-up place, but DC is a great city in which one can speak out against injustice; protests are common here, as they should be.
We got to the venue at around 7:30, where Dan and Maggie bought some merch, and we found some stools at the top. The Hamilton is a small venue (by DC standards), so the dance floor was already packed by the time I got down there. I’m not super-familiar with the band’s repertoire; I had gotten their Prayer for Peace album when I went with Gary on 4/4/19 (I really do miss the Boathouse). But they did refer to Mavis Staples, the iconic R&B singer. When I hear her name, I think of this video from the classic 80s football flick, Wildcats. Very 80s, but it’s inspired me. Songs I recognized included “Deep Elem Blues,” often played by the Dead, and “Spoonful,” originally played by Howlin’ Wolf (though I’ll always associate it with Cream). Whilst on the floor, I spoke with a guy who was Mark’s doppelganger (same facial expressions, laugh, and smile). After a while, I guess we all fit into archetypes. I admired the group for being able to play a straight two-hour set with no breaks (though the musicians did take individual breaks in shifts). I also appreciated the fact that they ended early (10:30), which this introvert ALWAYS appreciates. Now that I’m teaching in-person again, much of my “extroverting energy” has been sapped, so I was beyond exhausted by the time the show starts. But once the music plays, the light switch goes on. Once I got home, it turned back off. I tried to watch an episode of the new season of Derry Girls on Netflix, but my eyes kept shutting. But I was able to focus on Sunday, my “me” day. Good times with better friends are always appreciated; thanks for coming, Maggie and Dan! Love you! This post is dedicated to Pete, whom I met before the Trey show one year ago tonight, and he's been my biggest show buddy thus far in my time in DC. One thing I love about Washington, DC is the multitude of Dead cover bands. Hampton Roads had Blind and Dirty and Last Fair Deal, and if you felt like making the trek to Richmond, Suggesting Rhythm. Thus far, I’ve seen ten different ones in the DMV. And tonight was the second-best Dead tribute I’ve seen, #1 being Tampa’s Uncle John’s Band (again, I don’t count DSO or JRAD; they’re concepts). I got to the venue at 8:06, and Free Flowing Musical Experience (FFME), the opener, was finishing up “Jack-a-Roe.” This group plays mostly originals, but some lyrics included “lucy in the sky with diamonds” and “people pushing, people shoving,” so we know who’s influenced them. One song went, “Let’s eat the acid, let’s eat the shrooms.” Another told the true story of how following the road of the Dead led to conflict with his family (“Get over that Dead stuff”). In covers, there was “Jack Straw” and Stephen Stills’s “Love the One You’re With.” As the song played, I wondered if the song was talking about self-love if you’re not partnered. Upon research, I learned it was inspired by a remark by musician Billy Preston, whose relationships were fraught with chaos. So yeah, I’ll take that as a pro-single message. After the band ended, I went for a walk around the Waterfront. Here, I saw the sign for the sold-out B-52s show at the Anthem, which made me think of Jonna and Dani, who I’d talked about those shows with. Between On the Bus’s sets, I took another walk, and the show was exiting. There was pink hair everywhere, and I saw a woman wearing a pair of those 80s-style hoop earrings. Another said the word “totally” in a conversation with her friend, complete with that 80s Valley Girl intonation. This marked On the Bus’s 20th Anniversary Show, and they sound like they’ve playing for that long; they play songs one rarely hears from Dead tributes. My new friend Shana went to see a band called Lovelight at a church called Positively 4th Street (yep, like the Dylan song) in Gloucester City, NJ, and we agreed to exchange setlists. Ours included:
Set 1 Alabama Getaway Greatest Story Ever Told Golden Road (to Unlimited Devotion) Loose Lucy Cassidy Cryptical Envelopment The Other One Death Don’t Have No Mercy Let It Grow Set 2 Samson and Delilah Next Time You See Me Weather Report Suite Terrapin Station Playing in the Band Uncle John’s Band Drums (done in a Gene Krupa-like jazzy style) Space Wharf Rat At “Wharf Rat,” I was pretty spent, and these days, I time my exits by the Metro’s last departure time. I see so many shows; I don’t need to stay until the very end. I’ve gotten my money’s worth. I wore the Weather Report T-shirt I obtained from Shakedown at the D&C Bristow show in 2017. This is the shirt I oughta wear whenever I go to a Dead cover band solo, and I’m not sure if I’ll know anyone. It’s a natural conversation-starter. I got several compliments on it, and it led to some good conversations. Some names I got were Will, Mark, and Eli (who had just moved from Chicago and jumped right into the scene; he was flashing his Cubs T-shirt with the Dead stealie in the middle). Some more meaningful conversations. While dancing in the back of the room, I met a woman named Maggie. When she said her name, I had to tell her, “When I lived in Newport News, my best friend who I went to shows with is named Maggie.” She was stoked to hear that, and I was psyched when she said she lived in my neighborhood and owns a hot yoga studio in Tenleytown. I hope I run into her on Van Ness Street. The best conversation of the night. I met a dude named Harvey, a bartender from Alexandria. Before my setbreak walk, he and I talked, and he shared about an upcoming trip to Peru to engage in a Native American spiritual cleansing. So he wouldn’t be at JRAD. And that got me thinking I’ll aim to cut back on shows and save money for some international travel. I’m thinking India. My friend Ketaki’s out there and informed me of a community of diehard Singles at Heart. I’d love to spend my vacation there. But that’s another story. Harvey asked me if I had a family, and I responded with my usual, “Childfree by choice, happily solo!” “Me too!” he exclaimed, and we exchanged a hand slap/handshake combo. When I went to shows in my 20s, I encountered older philosophical heads who would philosophize, while I’d just nod my head. Now, I’m one of those. I was going on about how the government and media forces this “how to live a normal life” message down our throats, and I included marriage as part of that message. To Harvey’s credit, he added to the conversation, but I suddenly felt my upcoming role at these shows: weird older philosopher type who might have the occasional conspiracy theory. On a lighter note, the interaction and the dancing brought out my goofy side, and I photobombed a few videos. I didn’t apologize, as per Alan’s advice from when I did so during the Slayer show on 5/25/18. The Metro ride home was uneventful, save for a rat that scurried on the tracks. I hope he got out of the way in time for the Metro. If he had made it to the Wharf, he’d be a “Wharf Rat.” Hahahahhahahah…I kill me. |
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April 2024
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