Music So Far as I Could Tell
It’s Friday. I do not feel like writing about the viaduct or Mike McGavick or Maria Cantwell or Greg Nickels or net neutrality or even Linnea Noreen. At all.
What I feel like Slogging about, or at least sharing, is this Village Voice rock review from 1984. It’s a review of a Meat Puppets gig. I’m not sure what the bizarre suggestion to Henry Rollins is about—although, it seems well stated. Anyway, this far-flung bit of alternative paper poĂ©sie made my week.
Here are the last two paragraphs:
The crowd, of course, was there for headliners Black Flag, and gave the openers a respectable-at-least reception—but the makeup of the audience itself made a much better analogy for the Meat Puppets’ declaration of the twists in everybody’s roots than for Black Flag’s newly bombastic dirges (suggested lyric for Henry Rollins: `I want to speak French but I don’t know how/Gonna beat my head in’). The crowd was a likably eclectic bunch, unideological even about (their) alienation—not only hardcore fans, but flannel-shirt types, college kids, a surprising number of women, aging counter-culturists, somebody’s mom. There we all were, a hopeless residue on the periphery of a culture that had made losers of us all, and liking it. When the Meat Puppets ended their set with `Tumblin’ Tumbleweeds,’ it didn’t sound like a gag, it sounded like a bedraggled anthem for what we all had in common, and I didn’t even care that so far as I could tell nobody else in the room thought so at all. —Tom Carson, Village Voice, 4/24/84