In a feeble attempt to combat my constant homesickness, I compile tales of New York City rock & roll landmarks, most of 'em long gone. Moronic musings on various other enthusiasms are also thrown in for good measure.
City Gardens: We always got lost, turned around, hopelessly lost. And always, at a stop sign, while we argued furiously about which way to turn, invariably, someone would approach the car: "Either you're lost or looking for that punk rock club." (And unspoken: "Or drugs, but while you may be lost you don't look that dumb.") And we'd at least be pointed in the right direction.
Best memory: the Replacements, after which the Princeton radio station had a call-in show where the band got torn to shreds. The band, however, were listening to the station, stopped the van, found a pay phone, and called in and threatened to break up.
There is more to this story. But for your imaginations.
Oh, finally: who could forget that Peter Buck claims that "Perfect Circle" was inspired by watching a touch football game in a field next to City Gardens, in the magic hour at twilight, while Buck stood in the doorway watching, road-glazed with exhaustion, thinking it was beautiful.
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City Gardens: We always got lost, turned around, hopelessly lost. And always, at a stop sign, while we argued furiously about which way to turn, invariably, someone would approach the car: "Either you're lost or looking for that punk rock club." (And unspoken: "Or drugs, but while you may be lost you don't look that dumb.") And we'd at least be pointed in the right direction.
Best memory: the Replacements, after which the Princeton radio station had a call-in show where the band got torn to shreds. The band, however, were listening to the station, stopped the van, found a pay phone, and called in and threatened to break up.
There is more to this story. But for your imaginations.
Oh, finally: who could forget that Peter Buck claims that "Perfect Circle" was inspired by watching a touch football game in a field next to City Gardens, in the magic hour at twilight, while Buck stood in the doorway watching, road-glazed with exhaustion, thinking it was beautiful.
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