Well, here it is, October 2000. With Cavestomp '99 nearly a full year back in the past, we note the large number of new friendships we collected at said event. A couple of which will loom large in this here story here. Here.

Of all the mind-bending things about Cavestomp '99, one thing stands out in a different way than all the others: the three young, semi-unknown bands (sorry, guys!) that OPENED the six-band lineup each night absolutely KILLED. Friday, the HATEBOMBS (from Orlando); Saturday, the MOONEY SUZUKI (from our own NYC and NJ); and, Sunday........Cincinnatti's GREENHORNES.

The Greenhornes were unlike any other band that played that weekend, and they knocked us all for a loop. Yeah, they were a garage-oriented band, but they had an unbelievably natural feel for that Memphis/Stax-Volt kind of thing...........kind of a Standells-meets-MGs sound. But with a touch of that undefinable Big-City Chicago/Philadelphia Soul-Boy feeling as well. The whole experience was just staggering. Younger folks at the show just took it in stride.....but those of us that were around in the Rufus-and-Carla days were staring, open-mouthed.......(especially since the stage lighting made them look like teenagers, which they are not).......going, "how do they DO that????"

Here's what I wrote at the time:

They look so f***ing YOUNG. This is a marvelous thing. I wish I could see another new band of twenty-year-olds playing music like this every night. I would suck up all the smoke in Kingdom Come for such an eventuality. I don't know how old these guys actually are but they do NOT look like they've been driving very long.

At any rate, the Greenhornes play Your Basic Garage but with a little dollop of Big City Soulboy Grit thrown in for good measure--now THAT'S a recipe. (Nobody else has been doing that this weekend.) 'Cause, frankly, most retro-garage music is just a little too white--which is weird considering its antecedents. I need a little touch of blue-eyed soul..... Rascals/Buckinghams/Soul Survivors in my Garage Band Soup every four or five bands, y'know?? The Greenhornes are not quite in the aforementioned area, but they're a step in that direction. They're from Cincinnatti, apparently. Why not? SOMEBODY has to be from Cincinnatti......

The singer/guitarist is a little bit somnambulent, and he looks out-of-place with the rest of them, who are palpably lunatics. The drummer is an analog to Mooney Suzuki's drummer--but this one looks like he's old enough to go to the prom, at least. Saw him at the sound check. Also saw the keyboard player--who looks uncannily like Ratliff from the Eyebeam comic strip.

After the show, (which included me singing with the Monks) as we were all milling about upstairs, THIS happened:

Suddenly I am encircled by Greenhornes. First, the drummer and the keyboard guy. The drummer is completely beside himself. Sputtering. "That was amazing!" he keeps saying. I tell him how great his OWN band was, and I try to convey some sense of what it's like for a guy my age to see guys HIS age playing that kind of music. I don't know if I made any sense or not. The singer then glides past, into the men's room. He looks as sleepy offstage as he does ONstage. He was great though. You really have to try and hear these guys if you get a chance.

Well, while researching for the Cavestomp '99 Diary, (from which the above quotes are taken) I looked in vain for a Greenhornes website. There wasn't one. There were plenty of newspaper articles and such, mainly from their hometown. It appeared as though, for all intents and purposes, they OWNED the Cincinnatti entertainment scene, whatever that might encompass.

Apparently they also had an album out.....called Gun For You. And good luck FINDING it. I never did.........more on that later. I found plenty of rave reviews, though..... most of which said the same thing about their sound that I said.

Gotta get more!

Well, shortly after that someone on the Cavestomp message board asked a question about the Greenhornes, and promptly received a reply from one "Patrick Keeler", who turns out to be the drummer. I e-mailed him, re-introducing myself in the faint hope he'd remember the Monks Incident. He wrote back saying "...seeing the Monks was the highlight of our tour!" Also, he mentioned having read what I wrote about them, as quoted above. Seemed like a nice fellow, and I saved his e-mail address for future reference.

We wrote back and forth a few times, and finally I saw something on The Mooney Suzuki's website that caught my eye:

April 8, 2000: CBGB's, NYC w/Swingin' Neckbreakers & Greenhornes

Yes please!

So, Patrick and I arranged to look for each other at the show......ditto Will and Sam from the Mooney Suzuki, who had likewise read the Cavestomp diary, and wanted to meet the guy who was moved to write about them in such glowing terms.

The bill was actually FOUR bands, with the Greenhornes on second. We got there pretty early, and staked out a spot along the left-hand wall. Jon Weiss and Alex were there. Jon was all abuzz because he had just scored the enviable coup of engineering a reunion of Richard And The Young Lions for a show at Maxwell's in July. Pretty neat.

Saw a couple of Greenhornes milling about. The bass player waved. The singer walked back and forth a couple of times. And finally, here comes Patrick, bounding across the room right for us. We exchanged pleasantries, he promised to send me the CD (which I had had no luck at all in locating) and talked about the NEW album they were going to start on the following week.

By that time the first band was onstage, (well, I've been bluffing so far, but I CANNOT remember who it was. I HATE when that happens!) and we spent most of the set talking to Jon about the Young Lions. ALL the original members, apparently. Wow.

Finally, the Greenhornes hit the stage.......oh, yeah. It was easy to tell that this was mainly a Mooney/Neckbreakers audience, and many of them had not yet heard the Greenhornes. WHY it was obvious was the way they stood open-mouthed, staring at the band in disbelief, the same way WE had a few months prior.

They're kind of squeezed together on the small-but-deep stage, leaving Patrick wayyyyy back behind the others. This renders their already-minor penchant-for-moving-around even MORE minor. But oh, what a noise they make.

Suddenly I realize who the singer reminds me of. He's an unassuming-looking guy, and you would never in a million years imagine the VOICE that comes out of him.......it's rough, raw, and untamed, and seems to come from down in his FEET somewhere. And, when he sings, and scrunches his face up, he bears an uncanny resemblance to the way they drew Peter Lorre in the Bugs Bunny cartoons.

The keyboard player no longer looks like Ratliff--he's let his hair grow out a little bit,and it's all curled up. He plays that thing like a 50-year-old man from Memphis, and that's no joke. Where did these kids LEARN this stuff? I'm quite sure there's no SCHOOL for it. I'd be working there. (Sweeping up, maybe.)

The bass player stands like a statue, but he certainly do gots The Boogie In His Socks. He plays without a pick, and could have been perfectly at home at a Motown session in 1965. And, to continue the cartoon metaphor, he looks like he could have been a character on Scooby Doo.

The lead guitarist is the heart-throb type, like Patrick. He sings also, but mainly in the background. This is another thing about this band--they LOOK GREAT. Each of them has his own distinct little thing going, and you never get bored watching them. I imagine the girls in the audience would have even more to say about this subject than I do.

You'll have surmised, by now, that I as yet do not know any of their names. I have GOT to get that album! Someone, somewhere, must be selling it. But I sure can't find 'em.

Well, they wowed the hell out of the CBGB audience, which is not an easy thing to do. I noticed Will from the Mooney Suzuki staring at them in mute respect. And finally they beat it off the stage, and left a rather large crowd with their mouths hanging open. Us too. Jon says, "These guys are the real deal." Couldn't agree more.

I've spoken elsewhere about the Mooney Suzuki's set that night, (oh.......look it up) so I won't go over that again. It was a heck of a bill for CBGB, to say the least. Suffice to say we were blown away twice in one night, and how often do you get THAT??

After it was all over, we spoke to Patrick again, briefly, and went home. When I finally got my pictures back, I e-mailed him some of the best ones and he went nuts over them. He assembled them into a collage and sent it back, and asked if he could use it for the next album. Well, DUH!

Skip ahead to September........and there's some mention of the Greenhornes on the BOMP list. Something to do with Jared, the keyboard player (ah! Now I know TWO names!) getting married shortly, and also about the Greenhornes tearing up the USA on a short tour and leaving dazed punters wherever they go..........from these posts, we also find out that they're not originally from Cincinnatti, but from Indiana.

Finally, one day here's an envelope from an "Umbrella Artists Management" in Cincinnatti.......ooooh, what could THIS be? I pulled out the CD, stuck it in the player, hit "repeat"...........

......and, about two hours later, I fired off the following e-mail to Patrick:

....got home tonight, saw your Gun For You package, ripped it open, tossed it in the CD player, hit "repeat" and it's now on its third spin. Fabulous. Me and the Mrs. are dancing around the house like injured buffalo. It's not pretty.

Honestly, I never expected it to sound this good......I knew it'd be great, but I figured it was probably a pale shadow of your live show.......wrong again. SOUNDS really good for a self-produced thing, too. If I have one tiny complaint, it's that you really can't hear the drums.......cymbals are good but there's no THUNK. Still, doesn't matter. The recording really captured you guys and it's great. Please convey our tremendous satisfaction to the rest of your redoubtable ensemble.

And, at last, we got NAMES. And pictures. The singer/Peter Lorre guy is Craig Fox. The lead guitarist/second singer is Brian Olive. The bass player is Jack Lawrence, and the keyboard guy is Jared McKinney.

So, shortly after this, Patrick writes back with confirmed Greenhornes dates for NYC, on October 21 and 22, Saturday/Sunday. Wait a minute.....SOMETHING is going on on the 21st....what was that? DAMN.....it's the same night as the Mooney Suzuki show; their first date in New York since May. Well, we can't miss that. Besides, we've already committed to it.

Suddenly I realize exactly what's going on......it's CMJ week. The week when actual FANS have serious trouble getting into the shows they want to see, because each venue will be choked to the rafters with Music Business Types and--worse--Music Business Wannabes. It's easy to tell THOSE people......they're the ones who STILL think we're impressed to see them talking on a cell phone. Hey--bonehead--my DOG has THREE cell phones, okay? You wanna impress me, part the Red Sea. Your precious little PHONE is not gonna make you special. Put it BACK in your pocket and WATCH THE SHOW, or haul your sad sorry pony-tailed fat ass back out into the street and let some FANS come in. Okay???

Well, that never works. But I thought I'd SHARE.

Anyway. I write back and ask Patrick when their set-time is on Saturday. In the back of my head is the concept that we may be able to catch BOTH shows. The Greenhornes are at the Continental, which is on 3rd Avenue at 8th Street.....and the Mooneys are at the Mercury Lounge, which is on Houston at Avenue A. It's not that far. Maybe a 10-to-15 minute walk. Patrick writes back...the Greenhornes hit the stage at 10:30. The Mooneys are on at midnight. This could work.

Kinda tight, though. The Greenhornes are the fourth band out of SEVEN. The Mooneys are the headliner over FIVE. So who knows how reliable these start-times are?

Down at the bottom of that last e-mail from Patrick, there's an interesting question: do we know anybody that can put up a travelling band of Brigands from Ohio for the weekend?

Well, CMJ week. No point in even ASKING any of the Usual Crash-Pad Proprietors....they're all bound to have two bands EACH.

Hmmmmmm........

Subj: Where does a transplanted Hoosier sleep during CMJ week?
Date: 10/4/00 8:19:40 PM Eastern Daylight Time
From: [me]
To:     [patrick]

.......well, pretty much nowhere. With hungry young rock and rollers pouring into NYC from all over the map, cheap accomodations are at a real premium. And all the usual "Sure you can crash here while yer in town" places are at an even worse premium.

So we had to come up with another idea........and it's quite fortuitous that Wendy loves your band as much as I do. I tried to call you tonight but you weren't in.....so here's what we have for you, pro and con:

The basement of Chateau Mike 'n' Wendy is available to you guys....I'm assuming we're talking about a party of five? It's a finished basement with three rooms.....one of which is a snazzy little rehearsal studio with a ton of vintage equipment you can amuse yourselves on....another of which contains the computer I'm typing this on, and also about 10,000 LPs......and the other room has a pull-out bed that'll fit two of you (your choice) and plenty of room on the floor (lavishly carpeted)..... we have an extra mattress we can throw down and a couple of thousand blankets. And we'd love to have ya's. Downside: we only have one bathroom.......so you'll have to stand in line for showers....also both Wendy and I are highly allergic to smoke (which is how we ended up together) so any cigarette slaves will have to go OUTSIDE........

If this doesn't sound like your idea of fun, that's fine......but I imagine you've probably done much worse, and paid for it to boot. Up to you....talk it over and let me know.

Northeast NJ, about 30 minutes from NYC, so it's certainly convenient enough.

I'll try and call you during the day Friday..........

Mike

And THIS came back, in the middle of the night:

Date: 10/5/00 3:46:42 AM Eastern Daylight Time
From: [patrick]
To:     [me]

Dear Mike and Wendy,

There once were five young lads going to a distant land with no shelter. Upon preparing for their quest they met met two innkeepers, who said they would put them up. This made the merry travelers very, very happy....

You guys are theeeee coolest people I've ever met. Thank you. There are NO CONS in the accommodations you've offered. I do think it would be fun if we stayed up all night playing the board game of your collective choice, US vs. YOU. Or, jumping rope double dutch to your favorite Shirley Ellis album.

Thank You again. And if the opportunity ever comes up in which you find your self stuck in Cincinnatti, please allow me to host an enchanting evening of fine wine, delightful music and warm pillows.

Sincerely,
Patrick Keeler

I didn't bother telling him that Wendy would kick all five of their asses in Double Dutch, because I figured it was not so very likely to come up.

Wendy quickly decides that the sleeping arrangements I have proposed will never do, and runs out and purchases two inflatable beds. And, much cleaning (read: HIDING stuff behind other stuff) will need to be done before they get here. Luckily, I have already (by coincidence) scheduled the week ending 10/21 as a vacation week. So, much cleaning. Reorganizing. We attempt to designate ONE day during this week for an outing of some sort but it never happens. We have a lot of half-finished projects and they needs finishin'.

I send Patrick directions to the house, and a picture thereof. It's remarkably easy to get here from the West. From other directions, not so much. And now, it's time to talk to BLAIR.

Blair Buscareno is King Of New York. That's not on PAPER anywhere, mind you.....but if there's a rock-and-roll band in town that's at all worth seeing--Blair knows about the show, Blair is planning to attend the show, Blair knows the band, Blair knows the band's shoe-sizes, the band played at Blair's birthday party. He is an endless, bottomless resource. And if there is anyone who can do a quick feasibility study on our proposed Gig-Hopping on 10/21--not only will that person BE Blair, but Blair has probably already made plans to do so HIMSELF.

This, of course, turns out to be correct. We will meet him at the Greenhornes show, and the three of us will storm into the Mooneys' gig at the last possible second, guns blazing. Or something. And it turns out, of course, that this weekend Blair is ALSO hosting a visiting rock and roll band......in this case, the Woggles, who are playing right after the Greenhornes. And he's skipping out on the Woggles to go see the Mooneys......which is your best indicator of the regard in which we all hold THEM. Sam had told me to remind him a few days before the show, and he'd make sure we were on the Mooneys' guest list. But then, on Thursday, Will (the drummer) popped in on me while I was online, and I asked HIM to take care of it. There. NOW we will not have any trouble getting in, CMJ or no CMJ.

By this time, the Yankees and Mets have both won their league championships, and the ENTIRE WORLD SERIES WILL BE PLAYED IN NEW YORK. This is a wonderful thing, thinks I; UNLESS, that is, you're trying to get into New York from Jersey on game night. And, sure enough, Game One is set for Yankee Stadium on Saturday. Well, this will either be a complete mess, OR, all the baseball people (60K of them) will already BE at the stadium when we leave the house, and the streets and highways will be deserted.

Now, here's a new wrinkle. The idea was for the Greenhornes' lavishly appointed transport (duh, "van") to lope into our driveway on Saturday afternoon.........giving them a little time to relax before we all head into NYC. This, it turns out, does not happen. They ended up coming into town a day early, on Friday, and barged in on Todd, the redoubtable TODD, from Maxwell's in Hoboken. Todd is a very amiable sort, and he loves the Greenhornes. So, they stayed with Todd Friday night, and went straight from there to NYC on Saturday afternoon......and Patrick called me at about 1:30 and said we should just meet them at the show. This turns what was a mildly intricate campaign into a labyrinthine web of sound, or a full spoon of Seedy Blues, or SOMEBODY STOP ME PLEASE. There. I'm okay. Following the Mooneys' set, we will have to beat it, quickly, back to the Continental--ALL of us--because Blair will have to rendezvouski with his Woggles, and we will have to pick up the Greenhornes so they can follow us home. Not yet having been to the house, they will NEVER be able to find it in the dark--especially coming from the NYC side.

Well, World Series game-time is 8:00........the Greenhornes go on at 10:30........and they're THERE already.......hey! This is actually GOOD. Although we sorta lost a day we could have used (since we were ready for 'em Saturday morning) we will have NO TROUBLE getting into New York. And, this turns out to be accurate. Went zippin' in there with the greatest of ease. No traffic jams at all.

BUT.......no place to park, either. It is, after all, CMJ. We had plenty of time, no need to panic, so we drove around and around and AROUND--and ended up all the way down on First street, just in from Second Avenue........putting us just about exactly midway between the two venues. Well, this is not exactly convienient, in fact it's a pain in the ass. But we survive.

We make it to the Continental, and it's $10 to get in. And the fellow at the door is quite clear about there being NO RE-ENTRY. Sure, sure, I think to myself. Hey, pal, we will be with BLAIR when we come back. Do not underestimate the force.

Inside, we quickly locate Evan Davies, he of the BOMP list. He is here mainly to see the Woggles, whom he rates toppermost. Onstage are Huevos Rancheros, from Canada. Hmmm.....looks like the evening is running right on schedule, improbably.

And here's Patrick. We exchange pleasantries as best we can. I can't hear to save my soul when there's loud music on in the background. If you're ever talking to me at a show, and you notice me nodding and grinning vacantly, do us both a favor and don't push it! But he manages to make himself understood. The Greenhornes are on next. We push on up to the front.

And here's Blair. Wendy hasn't met him yet, so I do the intros. We need a flashback here, if you'll bear with me--it involves some very bizarre coincidental weirdness.

There was an interview with the Mooney Suzuki online, at a site called I-94 Bar. The interview was by one Ken Shimamoto, and it was from a while ago--but I only saw it this past spring, around the same time that I first started reading the on-line writings of one Blair Buscareno, who also was a major touter of the Mooneys.

So, in July, I get an e-mail from this Ken Shimamoto. He's read MY piece, and knows that I've read his. We write back and forth, and suddenly we realize, against the hugest odds, that we KNOW each other--from work. He works in my company's corporate office in Fort Worth, TX, and we had run into each other via phone a couple of years ago. So THAT was pretty weird.

THEN, literally the NEXT EVENING, I am at Maxwell's, with Jon Weiss, doing a live recording of the aforementioned Richard And The Young Lions reunion show. I had just carried my 16-track through a POUNDING thunderstorm, and sat down in the bar/restaurant area, and Jon says, "Oh, I want you to meet Blair." Ah, the infamous Blair. No sooner have the howdys ended than he asks me, "Do you have a cousin named Anthony?", which in fact I do. He has just graduated high school. But I am not at all ready for this question at this time from this guy, and it freezes my little brain. Turns out Blair teaches high school, and Anthony was one of his students--but what Blair does not realize is that he teaches at MY ALMA MATER and RIGHT DOWN THE STREET FROM WHERE I WORK. This wouldn't be so very weird in New York City, but in Bergen County NJ it's statistically impossible. And ONE DAY after this Shimamoto business. So that was pretty weird.

So, we're back at the Continental. They, of course, have the game on the TV over the bar, with the sound off. It becomes quite clear quite quickly that Blair and Evan are Mets fans. I tolerate this. They're nice people, after all, and most of us have at least ONE annoying habit. Me, I have six. But I can't remember what they are. (Oh--that's SEVEN, then.)

Blair says there was a monstrous line outside the Mercury Lounge earlier. This does not bode well. But, allegedly, we're on the list, right? As we're milling around we run into Jon. His wife Kitty has just given birth to Io Dunnaha Overton Weiss, and she's home recuperating.....and Jon is HERE, passing out Cavestomp leaflets, and HAS NO PICTURES. Don't they send these New Dads to SCHOOL for this? "1) Be supportive. 2) Change your share of diapers. 3) CARRY SOME F***ING PICTURES OF THE BABY!!!!!"

Anyway--Jon has been past the Mercury Lounge on his way here, and he says that they are ALREADY turning people away at the door. Oh oh. What if we can't get in? They're not gonna let us back in HERE, they got a sign and everything. It says something like "Sure you can go out and come back in, unless your name is Mike, Wendy, or Blair." It does NOT mention Evan, of course. Figures. He's STAYING.

Well, let's worry about that LATER, 'cause.......hee dey is........The Greenhornes.

Greenhornes, FOURTH band of the evening, went onstage RIGHT ON TIME (wow!) and were brilliant as usual. Mainly new material of course, which figures, doesn't it? We finally HAVE the first album, finally KNOW their songs, and they're playing all NEW stuff. But it's all great. The new album, apparently, will be out in February or thereabouts. Also: they did a really sparky cover of I Can Only Give You Everything--no, don't cringe, I know EVERYONE has done it to death but they really kicked it.

Patrick Keeler has got to be the most inventive drummer in any garage or garage/soul/beat-oriented group I have ever seen. He syncopates like a jazzer, which is unusual enough--but he plays a real banging fatback kind of thing at the same time. You just don't expect it.

Craig and Brian play in lockstep, a real Keith-and-Woody thing, but in a greasy R&B sort of way.......hard to describe, you have to hear it.

Jack is do damned solid you almost don't even notice him.......but when you do, it's a treat. Very meat-and-potatoes but very fluid and inventive too.

And Jared, I will swear, has been playing combo organ since 1945. He has the oldest soul I have ever seen on a stage...and I've seen Gatemouth Brown. These guys amaze me.

There's precedent for this Soulboy Garage kind of thing, of course. Like I said, you just don't EXPECT it. It's not part of THE BOOK on garage bands anymore. But for the best example, you need look no further than the Standells--who are pretty much the first place to look for ANYTHING, as far as I'm concerned--they wrote the standard-issue garage-band blueprint we still adhere to, with songs like Riot On Sunset Strip and Medication and Rari. But for a good Ancestral Map for the Greenhornes and any other garage-style band who cuts in that heaping serving of City-Boy White-Boy SOUL.........you need remember the Standells of Can't Help But Love You, ("......SO-cial-izin' woman.......") and of course There's A Storm Comin', on which they Out-Box-Tops the Box Tops. My heroes, them Standells.

Well, this audience, who have already stood through THREE bands, with no end in sight, (and who are probably here MAINLY to see the Swinging Neckbreakers and/or Woggles) are, once again, blown away by mine boys. They file off the stage in triumph.

We buttonhook Patrick and tell him we're off to the Mercury. He had been entertaining the idea of coming with us, but he elected to stay. We grab Blair, who is standing morosely in front of the mute TV set, behind Evan, who is similarly-grimaced. The Mets, who had earlier dominated the game, are still in the lead but are slipping dangerously. I say nothing. Never razz a sports fan when he's down.

And we're off, down Third Avenue/Bowery, towards Houston. Wendy and Blair get acquainted. We briefly discuss ANOTHER small coincidence we have shared:

You'll have noted that most of these tomes of mine contain photos. And you'll also notice that said photos sometimes contain sneaky little captions, that you can see when you "mouse-over" the picture. So anyway.......in my Mooney Suzuki piece, I closed off with a great shot of Sam and Tyler, in which Sam is staring out into the audience with his mouth wide open. You can see a goodly swath of Audience Back-Of-Heads, and smack in the middle, right where Sam is looking, is a guy with a considerable amount of scalp on top. Perfect! So the caption has Sam singing, "There's a BAAAAAALLLD guy inna audience..........I say there's a BAAAAAAAALLLLLD guy........."

.....to which Blair responds by E-mail--good-humored but somewhat chagrined--for the Hapless Audience Member was he. Oh well. Sometimes these jokes pop outta the ether and you HAVE TO USE THEM. Besides, I didn't recognize the back of his head. Y'know, even looking at it NOW.....I still don't see it. Must be the angle or something. Anyway.

Also, something ELSE......when Blair was discussing having met Anthony's Cousin Mike with some of his students, he happened to mention me to one Ryan Dunnigan........whose FATHER I went to high school with. Now, I hardly know Ryan, mind you, but here's what he said to Blair: "Oh. Yeah. It FIGURES that YOU'D know Mike."

"Wow...." I said, "I think somehow he managed to insult us BOTH." We all agreed on this as we moved ever-closer to the Mercury Lounge and our Date With Some Excellent Noise.

Well, I smell trouble. The front door is closed, and two bouncer-types are standing in front of it with a sad-looking bunch of punters. I turn to Blair and say, "Alright, YOU first." He declines. So I step up, smiling, and say, "Well, okay.......do we get in or not?"

See, it is my intention--as is my wont--to pay my way in ("Pay my way-hey-hey...") and use the Guest List dodge purely as a last resort. I like to support the arts. So does Wendy, and so, it turns out, does Blair.

The Bouncer Guy, who is being MUCH more amiable than he needs to be under the circumstances, says, "If you're on the LIST, you get in." He tells me to see the lady inside the door.

There really is a sense of impending dread, suddenly. I step into the little foyer by the bar. Wendy and Blair wait outside. There's no band on......so that means the Mooneys are up next. I see the Lady With The List, and we peruse it together. All I see are Mooney band-member family names and a Showbiz Type or three. Not us.

Well, I have two options at this point, I think, as my heart is caving in. I could be a big Prima Donna Shitpot, and loudly demand to See Sam Immediately, Since There Must Be Some Mistake......this IS, after all, CMJ weekend, and the poor List Lady is probably EXPECTING as much--indeed, has probably already ENDURED as much at least twelve times in the past hour.........

OR, I could do what I actually DID........turn tail, hang my head and walk back out. And here's Wendy and Blair, looking like kids on Christmas morning who are about to find out that Santa did NOT HAVE THEM ON HIS LIST, nor did he "check it twice"................

Well, it was a LOOOONNNNG walk back to the Continental. Much disappointment all around. And not only that........this could still get worse. The Continental Guy might not let us back in.

But he does. He tries to stop us but I told him I have to pick up the Greenhornes.......Blair tells him he has to pick up the Woggles.........and we're in. And I didn't even have to say "Oh, uh, yah, I'm with them. I'm Ringo's sister."

So, we see half the Woggles' set. They're really very good. Hadn't seen or heard them before. Evan was right about 'em. Then we go downstairs for a while......the bathrooms are down there, like in CBGB, and the "dressing room" is also down there, quite a large space actually. Slowly, one by one, the rest of the Greenhornes drift in and out, and we finally meet most of them. Patrick says they have to wait till the end of the night before they can leave......they don't get paid till then. Doesn't that figure? Had we gotten in at the Mercury, we would've gotten back to the Continental at just the right time. It was the perfect campaign.........oh well.

We go upstairs to check out the Swinging Neckbreakers, who are headlining. When they played CBGB last spring, between the Greenhornes and the Mooneys, they were excruciatingly loud.

And tonight they are headlining.

Well, it's more than I can handle. And WAY more than Wendy can handle. She decides that she is going to go WAIT IN THE CAR. What?? It's gonna be at least an hour........probably worse.....but that's what she's gonna do. So now I spend the next hour alternately coming up the stairs, to check out the score.......and back down the stairs, when my eyes start getting wind-burned by the sound coming off the stage.

At one point, I'm sitting in the dressing room and Craig walks in, and sits down next to me. This is my first opportunity to tell him how great his band is, and I ask him how they go about writing songs that sound 35 years old. I ask specifically about So Cold, which is a ballad that just flabbergasts me. From the way he answers I can tell that these guys are for real.......it's no cut-and-paste history lesson for them, they have this stuff in their bones. I thought so, but now I KNOW it.

Back upstairs, and staring at the TV set, on which the game is STILL in progress, and has gone into some very unexpected extra innings. Wow. In spite of this, I must be wearing an extremely Glum Face........Jon comes over, surmising that we didn't get in at the Merc, listens to the whole story, and says "You're really bummed out about that, aren't you?" I just nod like a whipped puppy. My wife is sitting in a cold car in an ugly neighborhood.......well, it isn't even really a NEIGHBORHOOD. I'm in here watching a baseball game with the sound off, surrounded by Mets fans, in an ocean of cigarette smoke, and the Swinging Neckbreakers are playing at a volume that's warping the plastic lenses in my glasses. What's not to be happy about????

What I SHOULD do is go sit in the pizza place next door or something....better yet, go collect Wendy and BOTH of us sit there. Or go for a walk. SOMETHING. But....I've already gotten back inside this place once more than I should have, and I don't wanna press my luck.

So, I figure, I'll just focus ahead to when we bring Los Hornes back to the house. THAT will be fun. If the car hasn't been stolen with Wendy inside it.

Well, guess what? The Neckbreakers played for TWO HOURS, and after blood stopped pouring out my ears DUST started coming out in its place.

During this time, though, two interesting things happen: number one, the Yankees win. Evan has a fit. Blair is more stoic, but doesn't look like he can handle much more disappointment tonight. Footnote: let me apologize to everyone outside the NYC area...........not only did we steal the entire World Series from all the rest of you this year, we have the nerve to go to these concert events instead of sitting at home WATCHING IT........instead we watch it on the TV behind the bar with the sound off.......just an observation, mind you. Wasn't MY idea.

[Revision/Codicil/Or Something, 11/17/00] Evan's "fit", I should point out (since he asked) consisted of him throwing his arms up in the air and saying, I quote, "AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!"--which, for the remarkably even-keeled Evan, qualifies as a "fit"--at least to this observer.]

The second interesting thing: at about quarter to two, I see Sam and Tyler (from Mooney Suzuki) come bursting into the room, looking all around them like they hear gunshots or something........they see Blair first, who's up front, and they talk to him in a very animated way for several seconds, then come back through the crowd craning their necks till they see ME.......and they're all apologetic and so forth, as if it was THEIR fault........and of course, I can't have a real conversation with them 'cause I can't HEAR them.......but I do hear Tyler's oddly-phrased, almost Shakespearean opening: "Could you not get in?" I don't even know WHY that was funny. But it helped. Sam says someone had told him that we were stopped at the door, and then he went outside to try and find us and sweep us inside, but we were already gone. Now he wants me to come outside and have a slice of pizza and talk, but--as I said before--I'm worried that I may be pushing my luck trying to get back inside a SECOND time. So I tell him I have to wait in here for the Greenhornes, and I realize he will probably think I'm annoyed at HIM. I'll have to reassure them later. But how cool was it that they finished their set and--instead of leaning against the bar receiving their adoring public--they beat it all the way over to the Continental to find me and Blair?

Well, maybe in this case there WAS no adoring public. They couldn't get in. There was just those guys with the ponytails and cell phones. Still.....at this stage of their career, they should be talking to those guys instead of me. So it was very cool that they came over looking for us.

Well, the Neckbreakers finally wrap it up. Thank goodness. Y'know, the sad thing is.....they're a great band. The singer/bass player is positively brilliant. And no one in the room seems to be bugged by the volume except me. So I dunno.

Various Greenhornes have been sliding back and forth throughout the latter part of the evening.....but I notice I haven't seen Brian since we got back. Patrick says that Brian went off to some other CMJ venue to see the Lilys, and is going to stay with whomever he went with.

So, eventually they get paid, and I head out down the road to see if my wife is still alive. Always a good thing to check. She's there, and I drive back up to the Continental, and park very illegally right in front of The Woggles' van, which is right in front of the Greenhornes' van. Wendy sits in the car as I help 'em load up, and FINALLY we're outta there.

I immediately screw up and make a wrong turn on 14th street, but once this is cleared up we make it home without incident. It's pretty late but the full House Tour is undertaken. The basement studio meets with their approval. Jared says, "Good! We're making an album here tomorrow!" They seem quite happy with the accommodations, and with the Small Faces album which is playing. Another good guess. A couple of beers later it's bedtime.

We assume they'll be up and about by 1PM, so we start making breakfast around noon. Right on time. They look as though they were not expecting breakfast. ANOTHER good guess! We mercilessly pick through their personal lives. Patrick is a bartender, Jared works in a record store. They all moved to Cincinnatti from Indiana, except for Jack--who is from Kentucky and still lives there.

And finally, I DEMAND to know how old they are! I can't help it. Patrick is the only volunteer. He's 25. The rest of them just nod. So I'll take that as a consensus, or at least an average. I still marvel at their affinity for the DEEPER parts of a culture that's 35 years old. It's easy to pick up the TRAPPINGS of a bygone age, but not its real arcana. They've done it, and it fits 'em like a glove.

Nothing I put on the stereo stumps them. Not that that was the idea. UNTIL I put on Damnation of Adam Blessing. Which knocks them all for a loop. Back To The River sends Jared in from the back porch, asking "What IS that???" So somebody tell Damnation they have at least four brand-new fans.

One of them--I forget which--goes out front to have a cigarette, looks back at the house and laughs. When he comes back in he says, "Yeah, that's the house!" and opens up Patrick's folder, which contains a printout of the picture of the house.

Eventually, or I should say INEVITABLY, a few of us end up down in the studio. Craig's still in the shower, so I pick up the guitar. (Well, it's MINE.) Jared leads. They lock in very solidly and we're off. I just sort of hang back and riff around whatever Jack plays. Sometimes I play it safe and just DOUBLE what Jack plays.

Eventually Craig comes down and I hand the guitar to him. I'd rather listen. But eventually we both end up playing. I also find out that these guys trade off instruments quite effectively, and I'm impressed AGAIN. I should have run tape, but I didn't.

In the late afternoon, they decide to take off for NYC. Their gig tonight is at a place called "13." I've never heard of it. Apparently it's a club that holds a regular "Sixties Night", but they typically don't have bands, just a DJ. Brrr. Shiver. Shriek. This will be weird, I think.

Well, I have to write some quick e-mails. Specifically to Sam and Tyler. Also Will, the drummer, whom I now realize probably got stuck with the whole tear-down after they played, when Tyler and Sam came looking for US. Basically, just "hope you guys don't think I was mad at YOU...." etc. etc. Also:

Tonight the Greenhornes are at some place called "13"......you probably know of it but I don't. Some sort of sixties-disco-DJ-white go-go-boots kind of place apparently? It's at 35 E. 13th st........they're playing at about 11 or so, if you see this before then and have nothing better to do..........then they're staying here again tonight and heading off in the morning...... they play in West Virginia tomorrow night......I think they must book tours with a map and a set of darts.

If I don't see you before you hit the road again (and I probably won't, [sigh]...) then please do leave a couple of flesh wounds on America for me.........

Sam answered pretty quickly, sounding somewhat relieved. As I'd suspected, they had taken my monosyllabic conversation as meaning I was annoyed at them. Nope. Just annoyed. Really very respectful of them and really glad they took that large extra step of coming to the Continental. Didn't get a chance to talk to Blair about it but I'm sure he felt the same. And, Sam also says that yes, he's quite familiar with "13." He says it in a way that makes it sound like a Guilty Pleasure.

Will, on the other hand, wears his heart on his sleeve. He had been very unhappy about fans in general not getting into the show, and US in particular, and the sound man watching the baseball game, and all sorts of other things.........I would LOVE to quote his e-mail for you but it's mainly unprintable........the gist of it is: by the time they hit the stage they were so angry that they played probably their best show ever........he claims to have completely trashed his drums "a la The Who at Monterey."

I will quote this one part though:

Well, the Bowery show will be specially dedicated to you and Blair and all the people who actually just love rocknroll. Sorry that between me & Sam, both of us were too retarded to remember to put you on the list. But half the people ON the list weren't let in either!

p.s. If it makes you feel any better, Liv Tyler didn't get in either!

Ha. Well, yes, in a way.

Well, we roll up outside "13" at about 10:30. Looks like a warehouse or something. "13" is on the second floor. We walk into this very nicely-furnished room, with a bar right inside the door.....which looks like nothing so much as a rich kid's rumpus room. Turns out, that's pretty much what it is. As the clientele start arriving, it's pretty clear what we have here. These are Neighborhood Rich Kids trying desperately not to look like Neighborhood Rich Kids. Everyone smokes. EVERYONE. Not a beer in sight......except in the hands of the Greenhornes. Mixed drinks abound. Very odd place, but kind of neat in a way. And you can tell that they are NOT expecting to find live musicians in their little nest.

The DJ, who looks to be younger than the Greenhornes, keeps surprising me. Finally he slings out the Guess Who's Bus Rider and I have to laugh out loud. I'm actually having fun here.

And finally the Greenhornes take the stage. I've brought my camera, but honestly it's almost pitch-dark in here. There's a dopey little liquid-light show playing across the band's faces, and I decide to take one picture just to see what I'll get. And this, as you see, is what I got.

The clientele obviously love the band, but they do not dance. They do not move. They applaud politely. They look as if they're not quite sure what to do......not quite sure what they're ALLOWED to do. They look like they've never seen live musicians before. And this is a heck of a band to start with. The girls sitting next to me, on my left, are dividing up the band amongst themselves, much to the chagrin and disappointment of several wet little boys (with cell phones) who plainly would rather the girls entertain themselves LOCALLY. Nothing, I am quite sure, comes of any of this.

You really do get the impression that this place is their entire LIFE. That this is the ONLY place they ever go when they leave the house. Well, maybe here AND Monte Carlo. But that's IT.

Well, the band is great. They play much the same set as at the Continental, but they do toss in one incredibly courageous monkey-wrench: Brian, singing a cover of Inside Looking Out. It's not the Animals' version, and CERTAINLY not the Grand Funk version......but something in between these. Really brave, I thought. They shoulda played it LAST night too.

Well, anyway. They finish their set, to appreciative applause, and then the DJ kicks in. LOUDER than the band was. He's playing some very obscure 60s R&B, rock and roll, Stax/Volt....you name it. And, as if shot from a cannon, they all get up and start DANCING their little asses off. How very weird.

We sit and observe this phenomenon for a while, but frankly the smoke is getting very oppressive. And we're wondering why the Greenhornes haven't started breaking down their stage, as I assumed we'd help 'em do so.

The dance floor is now so loaded with humans that it would be a bit of a chore to get the equipment OFF the stage. Patrick says they're going to have to wait till the end.

How weird. Well, the "end" is a few hours away. I don't know if it was the BAND's idea to wait, or if the management insisted. But the smoke has really gotten unbearable. Patrick says they can find their own way back to the house without any trouble. So out we go.

Jack is standing outside, smoking, not looking very happy. We explain and get in the car.

We get home, Wendy goes to bed, I stay up and wait. ("Oh, I.......I'm waitin' for my VAN....") I get on the computer at about 4AM and right away Will pops in on me, saying "Go to bed!!" I explain my circumstances. Today (Monday, when the sun comes up) will be Mooney Suzuki's last day home before heading out on tour. They're playing tonight at some sort of private affair. He explains it's a launch party for some dot-com thing. He asks if I feel like going if he can get me in. Yes, please! But that's the last I hear about it, so I guess he couldn't swing it.

We discuss the Greenhornes. He loves them. He mentions, almost embarrassed, that at the moment his stereo is blaring Rockin' the Fillmore by Humble Pie. To which I respond by citing a few lines from the intro to I'm Ready from said LP. He's very happy. Apparently he takes a considerable amount of crap for being a Humble Pie fan. I point out that this only means nothing's changed in thirty years.

Finally I hear the van in the driveway, so I go out. It's just before 5AM. They all file slowly into the house--except one. What, again? Well, no, not quite. An un-named Greenhorne has decided that he will sleep in the van. I send Jack out to bring him inside so he won't get sick. Jack is unsuccessful. So I go out. What I suspect to be true is in fact true.....The Unnamed Greenhorne has had too much to drink and "not moving" sounds much better to him than "staying warm" does. I convince him he'd be better off in the house, and he gets up, holding a pillow to the side of his head, and wanders off towards our neighbors' house.

Yay! Frat party!

I point him toward the correct house and tell him to follow Jack, which he dutifully does. We get 'em to sleep without further incident.

We haven't discussed what time to roust 'em in the morning, or afternoon, but they have a gig in West Virginia tonight.....so they certainly can't sleep till 4. We get up and start making breakfast at about 11:45 or so, figuring they'll smell it, and get up when they want.

And, as is always the case, who's the first one up? The one you would have expected to sleep till Thursday. The others follow about half-an-hour later.

After breakfast, the mail comes, and here's where it gets interesting again. A bunch of stuff I just got from eBay has arrived, including......a Hagstrom 1 guitar. To replace my very first electric, whose neck--about 20 years ago--took on the shape of a boomerang. I had put Stratocaster pickups in it and it sounded great. But it couldn't be repaired any further. So I got me this one, which looks just like it. And as I took it out of the carton, Craig said, "Wow! I used to have one of those!"......which was pretty neat. THEN, I open the NEXT package.....

Now I've told you a few times, these guys have a knowledge of 60s and 70s music that is truly encyclopedic. But I wasn't ready for THIS at all.......the next package contained an obscure German live album by obscure Dutchman Herman Brood. And Craig says, "Wasn't he in that band 'Cubby and the Blizzards'?"

I was so floored by that that I didn't even bother to correct his pronunciation (It's 'Cuby', like 'Kyooby'.) These guys KEEP surprising me........

Well, dat's about it. We all sat around and decompressed a little longer, and then we grabbed a quick Photo Opportunity on the front porch. I have a couple of shots of them looking suitably rock-and-roll, but I really like THIS one......they're all smiling. (I also got one shot each of the band with me and with Wendy. But you certainly don't need to see THAT.) Following this exercise, we got in the car and had them follow us up to the Garden State Parkway, and away they fled into the Great Untamed West, six-guns a-blazin'. Or something.

We capped off the day (and the last day of my vacation) by driving to Livingston NJ and the Nettie Ochs Cider Mill, the Family Bidness of Tyler from the Mooney Suzuki. We had promised his mom we'd make it down there at some point.......well, she had left for the day, and so had Tyler, but we were given a tour of the environs (and the apple press) by his sister Julia. We're fascinated by that kind of stuff. (Organic vegetable grower, me.) Neat place. With a couple of Mooney Suzuki newspaper clippings proudly displayed in the store, as well they should be. And I'll strongly recommend this place to anyone in the NJ area who's used to Supermarket Cider like we were.

So, then....the final score: Greenhornes/Yankees 1, Mets/Mooney Suzuki 0. A pleasant time was had by all. Even Blair and Evan, on balance. And thanks to the Greenhornes and the Mooneys, there is still hope. And don't forget the Hatebombs.