Airing The Old Gal Out

I kinda wasn't really totally planning on attending tonight's "Not Dead Yet Tour" at the Norva, not exactly up to my full energy potential right after work. Besides, with the exception of one band, most of these former 80's local bands were slightly before my time, mostly from the late 70's/early 80's punk era that I had missed out on since I only turned 18 in 1987. But Rachel came by my work Wednesday and asked if I was going, since she was going to be there taking pictures for the local paper. Then Diane Harrison, whom I haven't seen since the Bayou Boogaloo two summers ago, came by today and asked if I was going, since she was working security night. And when I got home Alvin was already calling me screaming "YOU ARE COMING TONIGHT AREN'T YOU??!!" to which I finally capitulated, threw off some clothes, threw on some more, and carried my draggy ass out to Norfolk to relive my pre-teen years again surrounded by people who were considerably older than me at the time. And well, still are. Lots of sweet old grey heads, but a lot of old friends from the old music scene, including Leonard and Ted, both of whom I only had a chance to hug once before they disappeared into the swarm. But I managed to snap a lot of us from my brunch club. Christ, we see each other enough as it is!

Lots of loud music and shouting over each other as some guy (John, I think, with his back to us) gets David, Anthony (formerly of Antic Hay) and Hunter to giggling (well maybe not Dave). I would just like to point out that I couldn't stop petting Hunter's vest the entire night. And I wasn't even drunk.

Jeff (in the green T-shirt) has been to one of our brunches, so it was nice to see him again. Although he spent the entire night leaning against that railing in that exact same pose looking bored out of his mind. Alvin helps alleviate the monotony.

Mike Connolly was the only person that showed up that night in Mod gear, skinny tie and buttons and all those new wave bells and whistles. As a result his wife Donna and Mike Williams (foreground) appear to pretend they don't know him.

Hunter and Mike W. were about to pose for a lovely photo together until Mike C. ran up and yelled in Mike's ear "I'M THE ONLY ONE TONIGHT THAT'S DRESSED LIKE I BELONG HERE!" which caused them both to break out into laughter at once. Luckily I caught the precious moment as it happened.

Lovely German model Kiki managed to make it into town this week to spend Weihnachten with her mother, who lives nearby. Kiki is quite the famous disc jockey back in Hamburg. She even hosted the German MTV Awards. Al has been quite smitten with her for some time. Al is also about four sheets to the wind in Copenhagen and probably won't even remember this picture come morning.

Yeah... this was pretty much Drunk Al all night shouting over the music, "HEY! HEY YOU! HEY! HEY HEY HEEEEY HEYHEYHEY HEEEEEY C'MERE C'MEREC'MERE'CMEREC'MEEEEEERE... *burp*" to everyone he knew, or thought he knew. Or didn't know. Or the waitress. Or anyone who who looked like they weren't going to finish their beer.

I haven't seen little Pamela Jo in ages! And I had to almost get down on both knees to get in the picture with her. Just like old times!

After the Sex Pistols/Modern Lovers cover band, these guys took the stage. I think they were the X-Raves, or I think that's what Mike Williams told me, and he's probably the only guy old enough to remember. Drunk Al grabbed me and bellowed "IS THAT THE ALARM?? ARE THEY GONNA DO THAT FUCKING '68 GUNS' SHIT?!!" I told him no, it was really The Lords Of The New Church and he busted out laughing. They were actually pretty darn tight, but possessed every possible old glam punk cliche you'd be embarrassed to witness in men pushing 60 years old. Honestly, our group could hardly remember who was on stage at any time. We just kept referring to them as either The Receding Hairlines to The Male Pattern Baldness ("Woo, MPB in da howze!" screams Mike).

You know Drunk Al is drunk when he can't stop kissing Mike. And you know Mike is getting there himself when he stops fighting it so much.

I left shortly after the X-Raves last song, a cover of Jim Carroll's "People Who Died" while old local scensters (including my friend Rose, far right) parades across the back of the stage with giant B&W posters of local scene-makers from that era who have since passed away. It was actually a nice tribute, and it was, uh, informative seeing as how I was wondering what happened to some of those people over the years. Shows how long I've been out of the loop.

I'm whipped. It was a nutty post-Christmas shopping day at the store. Oh, and Christmas was a pleasant enough laid-back affair with my family. Ate some food that I haven't allowed myself to have all month, and my father TiVo'ed the Blackadder Christmas special off BBC America so we sat around and watched that, much to my enjoyment. By the time my insulin resistance kicked in I was passing out during the supremely creepy The Polar Express so I knew it was time to bail. More of my haul later. I must hit the hay.