While others plot the fate of nations
We spent afternoons in an embrace
Who the F*CK kept screaming HUGO! HUGO! HUGO! HEW-GO! at the end of the second encore, after the always last song, Damaged Goods? Oh, right.
But fuck, man, that drummer is f*ckin' hot!
And don't get on me about him being str8, and married, and all that - the chances that man and I would ever meet are, well, anyway, he's hot. I want to do it with him, and my legs are still wobbly from last night. (those are two separate thoughts, mind you; don't know why they are in the same sentence) I wonder if he prefers to be called Professor Burnham? I've always had a thing for men who teach. (Hugo, 1979) Anyway, as you probably can tell, it was fanfuckintastic, and I wouldn't know how to begin describing it. I was somewhat nervous that there would be no way in hell these men could possibly do as good a job as 20+ years ago when I saw them last (Ritz, NYC) or back in Chicago in '82. And I will admit that during the first song it seemed a bit shaky (good, but living up to BEST LIVE BAND EVER is tough, ya know?), but by At Home He's A Tourist the place went f*ckin mad! Or maybe it was just me; I do remember wondering why, with all my hop-thrash-"dancing", I wasn't bumping into the people around me much - maybe they were steering clear. And what song was that where Jon was baseball-batting the microwave oven? And he still has the most incredible stage presence - that caged animal pacing and screaming and bizarre-crazed-restraint in some of the singing.... I could go on (and to the first 5 or 6 men I spoke to at BIG LUG last night after the show, my apologies for going on, and on, and on...). Not Great Men made me giggle. It's my sister's fault. Back in the early 80's, when we'd go to EXIT in Chicago, they'd play all sorts of cool shit - but for some reason, my sister wouldn't hear the actual lyrics "It's not made by great men, It's not made by great men.." she'd hear: "It's my favorite breakfast..." which I inadvertently started singling aloud! Fortunately, know one would hear me. And of course, just like any teenager going to see his favorite band, I had hoped and hoped they'd play my favorite song, but knew I couldn't actually wish for it out loud, or tell anyone, then it wouldn't happen, right? And it's tough to pick a favorite song, especially when you turn on one of their albums, and each successive song you turn the volume up louder, thinking "this is their best song." But the one that would always, ALWAYS get me running to the dancefloor at EXIT, just those first few guitar notes, they did near the end of the set, and it COULD NOT HAVE BEEN BETTER - not even on one of their albums, but on their (2nd, 3rd?) E.P. - Another Day, Another Dollar - To Hell With Poverty (1982) - and the crowd, and me, more than anyone, went wild - and it's one of those great songs that you not only don't mind everyone singing along, you give dirty looks to the one's who aren't, ya know?
In this land right now
some are insane, and they're in charge
I wonder if I have time to make a I LOVE HUGO t-shirt before tonight's show?