Adam Green's Secret Show
5:20 PM
I wasn't going to answer the phone the first time that it rang, let alone the (supposed) seventeenth time. I wasn't being malicious, just oblivious, and it was fortunate that I got the solitary pleading text message at all.
'Jeremy wants you to call him'
A quick scroll of missed calls revealed a screen full of:
Lou's Records Jan 6, 4:34 p.m.
Lou's Records Jan 6, 4:35 p.m.
Lou's Records Jan 6, 4:38 p.m.
Lou's Records Jan 6, 4:40 p.m.
Lou's Records Jan 6, 4:45 p.m.
Lou's Records Jan 6, 4:48 p.m.
Lou's Records Jan 6, 4:57 p.m.
Lou's Records Jan 6, 5:07 p.m.
By the time that I got around to calling Jeremy his exasperated voice insisted,
"I tried calling you seventeen times."
"I couldn't hear the phone."
"Well, it doesn't matter. Two things: Sonic Youth tomorrow night."
"Right. Are we going with John?"
"Yeah. He dropped off the tickets today. I had completely forgotten."
"I didn't realize that it was tomorrow."
"Yeah-- so second thing. Adam Green is playing a secret show tonight."
Adam Green is playing a secret show tonight.
Adam Green is playing A secret show tonight.
ADAM GREEN IS PLAYING A SECRET SHOW TONIGHT!!!!!!!
Now, Adam Green is a big deal to me not only for his exceptional music but, also, because his is exactly one half of the Adam Green/Carl Barat documentary (he's the Adam Green half)-- one half of one of my favorite documentaries ever made.
(Carl Barat happens to be one of my favorite people ever made)
So the very idea of Adam Green being in my town to play a free secret show in a matter of hours sends me into a sort of heart racing hysteria akin to that of a thirteen year old girl stuck in an elevator with Robert Pattinson.
A short time later the troops were assembled. Aaron, Neil, Jeremy and I piled into the old green Hyundai that we'd borrowed from my mother and I gave the boys strict instructions: should the opportunity arise, no one is to speak to Adam Green and if they absolutely must, no one is to mention me or that I exist.This is not because Adam Green would know who I was or bear some sort of grudge towards me but because, given the chance under nervous circumstances, my mouth is prone to spewing forth the most embarrassing and stupid of ramblings. It's not exactly the kind of first impression that I'd care to make.
At the show, we were pleased to find that there were only about thirty people in the bar. Neil and I fixed ourselves with beer. Aaron fixed himself with beer and what I believed to be a shot of whisky (this is after he had already made short work of a small bottle of Jagermeister, a can of Sparks and, most likely, more beer before we left my apartment). I had learned in the course of the two short years that I had known Aaron to keep a watchful eye on him as he becomes particularly vocal and rowdy when he's got drink in him (i.e. The time that a security guard had to help him off of Neil's shoulders at the Honey Brothers show... talking t-shirts with Sam at the Deadbolt show... and I'm almost positive that some zaniness happened while we were dressed as Hall and Oates). The point being that if there is someone that you are trying NOT to talk to; Aaron on the firewater is not the best co-conspirator. Conversation or incident is imminent.
Enter Adam Green: a thin man standing about 5'10-ish with short dark hair and fashionably clad in blue jeans, striped shirt and leather jacket. Unassuming, he situates himself at the bar and the mere sight of him a few feet from me gives way to a nervous quaking as if I had been struck by some horrible muscular disorder.
I can already feel foam building incredibly stupid words in my mouth.
When Adam leaves the bar for the stage area, I make the unconscious decision to follow him but remain as far from him as space will allow and avoid so much as looking in his direction in case, by some strange coincidence, he happens to look up at a 37 degree angle at the exact moment that I looked up and he would, then, see me looking at him. But maybe he would misinterpret this and instead think that I had been staring at him even when I hadn't been, I had only been looking but not even looking only accidentally looking.
I decided it was best to play it cool and pretended that I had found my beer to be especially interesting by staring into it.
Unfortunately obliviousness left me shoulder to shoulder and sharing an ashtray with a certain leather jacketed New Yorker as I looked around at anything but who I came there to see. I mean, Jesus Christ, his name was on the flier!
I thanked the Lord for sweet relief as Adam Green and the Dead Trees took the stage, knowing then that the only thing that I had to worry about myself doing was nodding my head and tapping my foot. I mean, surely none of my friends would do anything to draw attention to me or themselves while the band was onstage.
Right-- no, these are my friends that I'm talking about.
Two minutes into the first song (maybe second), Aaron had managed to acquire the microphone from Adam (not once but twice) and sang a song which he did not know the words to-- so the whole thing sounded like this:
"WHOA--OAAAAAHHHHOOOOOOO---WA!"
Then at one point he manages to convince Adam that if he jumps from the stage he will be caught by one Mr. Aaron (approximate height: 5'6 approximate weight: a fit 140 lbs, maybe) but really such an action only sends both men tumbling first into a table then crashing to the floor. Thankfully, Aaron helped to cushion Adam's fall and Jeremy was close by to help lift Adam off of Aaron and back onto the stage.
I took a moment to bury my face in the crook of my elbow in both horror and laughter.
Here's the truth about Adam Green, without padding or nonsense, he is quite simply put one of the most phenomenal showmen of our time. It does not matter whether you have heard his music or even like his music, to see him perform is to love him. His performances are both sincere and energetic but "performance" is the wrong word. He is not "performing". His is existing and nothing is more important than what is happening on that stage at that moment. He thrashes his body about with abandon, eats roses, arches his back and knocks over mic stands. He crowd surfs when there are, in reality, only five people involved in the process so that the whole thing results in an odd sort of carrying back and forth across the floor until he requests to be set back on stage.
By the end of the show, no matter how much pain he has inflicted upon himself as though he were impervious to it, no matter how much of himself that he has left on that stage or given to the audience, there is only one thing that anyone wants to see from Adam Green-- they want him to succeed.
If anyone in this world deserves to succeed at what they try to do, in my book, it should be Adam Green.
I once saw this documentary on Pete Doherty in which the only thing that people seemed to spew at him when they met him was,
"You're a legend!"
and I kept trying to figure out what that meant. I mean, if you met Pete Doherty (someone who had greatly altered or influenced your outlook on life) you'd think that you might say something a little more heartfelt and thought provoking than,
"You're a legend!"
Wrong, wrong, wrong! It turns out that the people who spout off,
"You're a legend!"
are the most brilliant people alive in comparison to yours truly. For, within thirty seconds of Jeremy having a pleasant conversation with Adam Green, I managed to butt in (breaking every pact that I had made with myself earlier in the evening) and let fall from my lips the very words that I dreaded myself saying,
"I've watched that documentary of you and Carl Barat about a million times. The Libertines are my favorite band."
Ouch! I said that? I regretted the words before they finished becoming audible.
I had just met one of the greatest performers--ever! and I wanted to talk about The Libertines?! Seriously?!
That's like meeting Iggy Pop only to tell him how much that you enjoyed David Bowie's Hunky Dory (it is a great album, isn't it?).
It was decided then that the most graceful thing that I could do would be to bow out of the conversation.
I managed to get a handshake and a hug in then bid my farewell.
Aaron managed to get an even longer hug in with the insistence that Adam find his way back to town within two weeks.
The outlook for this, of course, is not so good but the thought is a pleasant one.
Later... the car broke down and Neil, Jeremy and I had to push it the remaining mile home in the crisp 3 a.m. air beneath a blanket of stars and constellations. Neil and I both drunk.
It was a fitting ending to a memorable night.
Tonight is Sonic Youth with the same cast of characters (less Neil).
Let's see if we can't get Aaron to buddy up to Lee Renaldo.
(Hey, Erik Varga: "There are two things that I know for sure. One: C.O.C.O is not a punk band and Two: Thurston Moore is a pretty cool guy.")
3 comments
Hurrah for good story telling. Perhaps you should go out of your way and be as assertive as possible when talking to your idols. That might relieve some of the anxiety.
ReplyDeleteMy friend met Iggy Pop and asked him about The Iguanas. The Fucking Iguanas? That one is unnacceptable.
I love that you got to meet Adam. Now, if you need someone to help you stalk Carl, i'm with ya!!
ReplyDeletescary good story telling for sure... and now im running for the hills...
ReplyDelete