Mr. Yeats
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Nothing beats fun for a good time.
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Fun stories, as usual, SheRat.
Apropos of not much, the first time I saw the Clash in September '79, the David Johansen Group opened (preceded by the wonderful Undertones from Belfast, who I hadn't heard yet).
This was a big deal gig for me and my bro ($7 US!), only my second big gig as a pretty hip 15 year old (guess who the first was, in late '78; no, not the Stones).
So we sit in our assigned seats through the Undertones and David Jo (when the Clash came on we were right down stage-right in front of Mick's mic stand; almost got a bump from his pint of gin that he passed out after taking a bump and making a face. Almost got a bump, but peeps were all grabbing for it. It was Gilbeys too, my brand then!).
After David Jo's wonderful set, as the DJ music starts, we hear two really loud dudes behind us saying "...yeah, the Pistols are great, but the Dolls could have cleaned up the floor with them". I turn around and it's too huge biker looking dudes - leather vests, mustaches and enormous bellies. I sort of keep listening to their banter as the between set music gets louder; they must have seen this little mulleted jerk tring to listen to their rapping, without fear (rock n' roll was still pretty tribal back then), and they seemed to start talking kinda like they were including me in their loud convo. Always remember that - it seemed so unlikely and so cool and sorta sweet that these big ass roughnecks not only had GREAT musical tastes, but also seemed like they wanted to include this little 15 year old creep in their pontificating.
Don't know if they stayed for the Clash (I would assume they did) cause my bro and I bum rushed the stage as soon as we heard Sam Cookes "Chain Gang" start up and the lights go down. Maybe the single best, and influential for me, show I've ever seen.
Fook stereotypes!
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