FANTASTIC article on the remarkable life of Television's classic album, Marquee Moon:
Legacy is a difficult thing to parse. Musically and aesthetically, Television created more than their share of contemporary culture from whole cloth, but Marquee Moon can sometimes feel like a fading signal. Blondie’s hits still blast from the speakers of classic rock radio, and the Ramones’ “Blitzkrieg Bop” is a get-pumped staple of stadium events the world over. Talking Heads and David Byrne did indeed fill the art-punk vacuum left by Television and took it all the way to cultural ubiquity.
Really, this is one of my favorites articles I can remember in a long time. And while I've never loved the album other than the great singles, its originality, talent and influence is unrelenting.
The Lou Reed tape recorder story is amazing thought exercise. Also, this is great note about CBGB's itself:
A professional gambler once said: “You can make more money in New York City by accident than you can anywhere else on purpose.” That’s the short version of CBGB. Kristal’s ad hoc punk gambit made him a millionaire. He died in 2007 at the age of 75 and he was wealthier than he ever could have possibly imagined, and CBGB was to rock iconography what Coca-Cola is to soda.
"But Xmastime", you say in the voice of Craig “Ironhead” Heyward from those soap commercials (RIP), “didn't you totally blow the roof off CB/s back in 1999?"
Sigh. Yes I did, faithful readers, YES I did:
Having grown up worshiping the place as a punk rock Mecca, ie where The Ramones began, of course I was thrilled to play at CB's back in 1999. It didn't matter to me that oh, approximately 9,000 bands played there every night. A few things I remember from that night:
1. Earlier in the day, the booker had called to ask what time we wanted to sound-check. This being the first time a band of my status (ie, slightly above a loaf of bread)(okay I'm lying, no higher than a loaf of bread) had even been afforded the luxury of one, I replied "Do we have to?", which seemed to startle the person on the other end.
2. The sound, it turns out, was fantastic. Far better than anything I'd experienced before or since. Of course, we had just played a show the previous week throughout which I never realized I hadn't turned my amp on, so.
3. During our set I started seeing a flash going off from the back. "Ohmygod," I thought, someone's taking our pictures!" This was 1999 of course, before iPhones, and I was pretty sure that the handful of friends I'd bribed/blackmailed/nagged/guilted into coming didn't bring cameras. I couldn't believe it, we were rocking so hard that total strangers were taking our pictures!!
4. It turned out to be my friends Rylo and The Gnat, who'd driven all the way up from Virginia to surprise me, knowing what playing at CBGB meant to myself, and them. As bummed as I was that it wasn't a new fan, I was even more thrilled by what they'd done.
5. After blowing the roof off of the place with what, if I'm being honest, was probably the single greatest set in club history, I was dragging my amp offstage when my roommate Larry, somewhat known for having a rather casual relationship with the concept of time, came walking up to fistbump me, asking "you ready to rock, dude?" To which I replied "dude, we just got done rocking. 7:30 means 7:30, bro."
6. We actually got PAID. $25. This was just before things went to "if you bring in 100 fans who each spend $300 on beer then yeah, you can play here" throughout the city. I can remember clear as a bell going there the next day, and the lady reached under the cash register and handed the $25 to me, clipped to a Xerox of that night's lineup. Of course I still have that copy. I can remember the next band practice when I ceremoniously handed everybody their $5 (I think Keith laughed it off and let me have his: thanks, K-Rot!), and I made some joke about "hoo boy, now it's gonna be all about lawyers and accountants, people!!"
Aaaaaaand here's that very Xerox I got. You're welcome, Earf!
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