Ten Years Gone

WARNING: If you are offended by strong language, please don’t read this. There will be several f-bombs dropped throughout while quoting a few of the characters I encountered during the living of this story.

Last night I saw Wilco at the Fabulous Fox Theater in St. Louis. Our seats were pretty good. Further to the left than I would have preferred sonically, but we were damn close to the stage. Close enough to see Jeff Tweedy twitch in time to the music, but not so close that we could inspect his nose hair.

After having some drinks with family and friends, we arrived at the theater a little later than I had hoped and missed most of the Calexico. Though we arrived late we were able to hear their amazing version of Love’s “Alone Again Or”.

Behind us were a few generic college boys, whom I will call “Generic College Boy 1” and “Generic College Boy 2”. In the middle of Calexico’s set, particularly during “Alone Again Or”, Generic College Boy 1 commented, “This music is really gay.” As if the statement weren’t enough, Generic College Boy 2 yelled it out.

Wilco hit the stage in a cloud of reverb and atonal noise. It was great. They played the majority of their new album, a favorite from the Australian EP and even dusted off one of their Guthrie tunes. Not a single song from Summerteeth [CORRECTION: I forgot about "Shot in the Arm", so the previous statement was incorrect.] was played, a bare minimum from Being There and, most surprisingly, one Uncle Tupelo tune and “Casino Queen”, which I still don’t like.

Here’s where I realized I was ten years gone. Half way through the concert my knees started to hurt from standing. My left knee, due to an old injury, seemed to be showing the signs of arthritis. And, worse, my ears started to hurt from our proximity to the monitors. Once I could have stuck my head inside the reverb tank of Eddie Van Halen’s Marshall stack. Now I was wondering how I was going to be able to conduct a conference call the next day with raging tinnitus.

About the Generic College boys. I should note that they were not the only ones in the audience. The place was crawling with them. They all wore their uniform, shorts, white t-shirt, ball cap and flip flops. Each sported the same haircut and none seemed to have the personal sense of self to realize they were in a public place. Off to our right was an androgynous man/woman who apparently took enough Ecstasy to make her not only love everyone, but to spur Germany to reunify for a second time.

All through the concert, GCB 1 and 2 kept pleading to hear “Heavy Metal Drummer.” They begged, they pleaded, they called upon a higher power, and they discussed loudly how it was their supreme wish that Wilco play “Heavy Metal Drummer”. From what I understand, if Wilco played “Heavy Metal Drummer” they would not only die happy, but several species that have been extinct for millennia would miraculously come back to life.

A sample conversation:GCB 1: I hope they play “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 2: Me too. That would totally rock.
GCB 1: Totally.

As we approached the final song of the first set, the GCBs desires grew to a fever pitch. All of a sudden “Heavy Metal Drummer” became not only their deepest desire and primary focus, but it became their sole purpose for life.

As a song would wind down and the band would prepare for the next song, the GCBs would start to freak out.

GCB 1: Oh my God. He’s getting an electric guitar. A fucking electric guitar.
GCB 2: Holy fuck. This is fucking it. They’re going to play “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 1: Let’s yell out the title in case they forgot about it.
GCB 2: Good idea. Let me adjust the toe strap in my flip flop first. Okay.
GCB 1 & 2: “Heavy Metal Drummer”! “Heavy Metal Drummer”!
GCB 1: Wait. What song is that? Is it “Heavy Metal Drummer”?
GCB 2: Dude. No. It’s fucking “Spiders”. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

They were so worked up that they could no longer speak without saying the word “fuck”.

Then the band left the stage. Anyone who has been to a concert knows the routine. Band leaves, you cheer, band comes back. Better still, due to where we were sitting, we could see the band standing off stage waiting and chatting before coming back. The GCBs were oblivious to this fact.

GCB 1: Dude. Are they done?GCB 2: I guess so.
GCB 1: They didn’t fucking play “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 2: How could they fucking forget?
GCB 1: Holy fuck. Holy fuck! They’re coming back! They’re going to play more songs!
GCB 2: Fucking awesome.

Wilco’s encores were the highlight of the night. They drug out some of their older work, and they trotted out the poppier side of Wilco, where the heavier side was playing for the entire first set. But, there was no “Heavy Metal Drummer”. They did not play the song at all. The GCBs were so wrapped up in their “Heavy Metal Drummer” hysteria, that they did not hear the highlight of the evening, for me at least, a cover of the obscure Bill Faye song “Be Not So Fearful.” I was so excited by this, as a matter of fact, that when Tweedy announced it, I whooped. I was the only one in the theater to do so. A fact that did not go unnoticed by my companions and they teased me relentlessly.

Having seen some previous set lists, when the opening chords of “The Lonely 1” started to play, I knew the evening was over. Alas, the GCBs were in chaos.

GCB 1: Dude. What song is this?
GCB 2: I don’t know. It’s not fucking “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 1: It’s fucking not.
GCB 2: I haven’t heard this song before. What is it?

I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned around and had to inform them. It’s “The Lonely 1”, I told them. They hadn’t heard of it. I told them it was on Being There. They hadn’t heard of it. I told them the previous song was “New Madrid” and was originally done by Uncle Tupelo. They hadn’t heard of them.

By the time the lights came up, the GCBs were gone. They were probably in their car tearfully listening to “Heavy Metal Drummer”, thinking of what could have been.