Somebody's watch in' you

Somebody's watch in' you

Tony Reay

You know what I saw the other day? A membership card to the Crow’s Nest East. I was there when it closed. The crowd tore the place apart while the Savage Grace and All the Lonely People played. It was, in many ways, the epitome of what has happened in the last 18 months in this town.

New groups, last year’s young kids who used to play anywhere for almost anything just to play their music, don’t do that anymore. Most of them have records out and their prices went up.

Now I can see the validity in charging $750 at the Eastown but to ask the same price from Silverbell is ridiculous. The Hideouts used to book groups. The Crows Nests. Something Different. Silverbell. The Grande. The high schools. All share the praise for keeping the second-wave bands alive.

The groups charge more, clubs have to raise their admission prices andTthe kids can’t support them. The result; the clubs go under, groups find themselves with no gigs and kids don’t got no music!

And that’s not all. Booking agencies make money by booking groups. No jobs — no bookings. No bookings — no booking agencies. The casualties are disastrous and the fatality rate keeps rising.

The Palladium is now only open one night a week instead of two. The Eastown claims to be floundering. Groups are having to go back to the bars but if you’re not 21 how do you support them?

Remember “Support”? “Support” was the ‘in’ word last year. Every d.j. and singer and writer was into “We gotta support the Detroit scene ’cos our bands are better’n’most.” Some fuckin’ scene we ended up with. No clubs, hundreds and I mean hundreds of starving musicians, starving booking agents; makes ya wanna puke! Course it doesn’t show through the tinsel that much.

With a clear head and conscience we can still rush off to support the Mike Quatro ‘n’ Russ Gibb V friends Goose Lake party. Hell take your chick — it’s only $15 a shot. That’s a big golden egg that that goose is gonna lay.

Some kids in Warren re-opened the old Chatterbox and called it the “Chicago Underground.” In Ann Arbor, there’s “Big Steele”. “The Factory Ballroom” in Waterford. But they need help. The third wave of bands is coming up fast: Julius Victor, Mr. Clean, Magpie, Julia, Shakey Jake — all of them possess monster talent and potential. You trusted us last year when we told you how good the Grace and 3rd Power and All the Lonely People were. You believed us the year before when we first heard the Frost. We didn’t let you down with Catfish or the Sky. So do it again. Every one of those groups got recording contracts, some good, some better. They can work out of state now. They’ll stay alive although it isn’t easy when you have to support yourself and your wife and a kid by doing sessions for commercials or playing the Driftwood Lounge or renting out your P.A.

Which is not a put down on the Driftwood Lounge because it’s good that they and the other bars in town are getting into rock but it shouldn’t be compulsory to play there. I mean there should be a choice. But there isn’t.

I tend to hang a lot of the blame on Festivals. Not all the blame, mind you, but a lot of it. I mean, how many Cincinnati rock and roll rip-offs do we need? Wow! Goose-fuckin’-lake at $15 a time man. I wouldn’t pay $15 for the second coming of the MC5 much less for a long drive to sit in the rain with hundreds of smashed kids to see and maybe hear good ole Ten Years After and Joe Cocker and Savoy Brown and whoever else probably won’t show up. I mean there’s only one Woodstock and it was nice but there’s nothing new about collecting top acts and charging $5 to $50 a head; that’s not a festival, it’s just another summer re-run and just another angry township and just another well-lined pocket. And who wants another Altamont?

But festivals — real festivals — are very valid and we’ve had them and I’d like more. But not repeats. The Rock and Roll Revival really made it. All the rain and sun and thunderin’ music that you couldn’t only hear but feel and the real MC5 and Dr. John and Bonzo Dog and even Sun Ra were all too real for nightmares and so on but nobody needed Robin Seymour to come along and do it again at Cobo Hall without the realness.

On a Wednesday night 5,000 came, in summer, to see 5 small local acts — relatively unknown except maybe to a few and Meadowbrook was beautiful. Hell, the Hudson’s parking lot at the Oakland Mall was beautiful for 20,000 people at the free concert. For local acts — fuckin’ Michigan Music. No Capone cops; no cancelled bands, just people bein people and bands bein’ bands and both bein’ happy enough and close enough to dig everything and that’s a festival.

None of the “mile from the stage” busted for Boone’s Farm shit. I couldn’t help thinking how many people would have gone to Cincinnati if it had been one week after the — dare I say it — Black Arts Festival. But off you go to Goose Lake. I may be wrong but in this business you get to play by ear a lot and Goose Lake sounds like a dischord, although 1 hope for the sake of all who go that it isn’t. But $15 is three albums anywhere and seven if you know where to go and that’s a lot of music to play anywhere for ever and ever. Amen.

TIMOTHY LEARY "YOU CAN BE ANYONE THIS TIME AROUND" DOUGLAS #1