<p>I love music threads–they’re so visceral and transporting. Someone makes a reference, and the next thing you know, you’re sixteen again, in a steamed-up car by the lake and melting in the arms of someone you haven’t thought about for decades–who’s probably a fat bald old man by now, anyway–with B.W. Stevenson or The Looking Glass or Chicago singing on the A.M. radio. [wipes a tear away–youth isn’t really wasted on the young…I don’t care what they say.]</p>
<p>Anyway, here’s where this thread has taken me: It’s 1979 or so, which makes me about Ariesathena’s current age, I guess–early twenties. I’m out of college. Haven’t yet met my husband. I get a call from a guy I know who was a pretty hot musician in that day (and is still what I would call a second or third-tier rock star–you’ve heard his songs on the radio, even if you don’t know his name). He wants me to meet him at Stars, a club at the corner of Third and Bainbridge in Philly. There’s a band playing that I simply must hear. Pearl Harbor and the Explosions. Fronted by the amazing Pearl E. Gates. </p>
<p>I’ve never heard of them, but I really want to hang out with this guy. I hop into my '65 Rambler and drive into town. The traffic report tells me that there is to be a major, unexpected snowstorm that night. Really major. The newspeople on all channels are panicking about it. With a few flakes dropping on my windshield, I put a tape in the deck–The Specials…I’ve recently become a huge ska fan. [It is totally cracking me up to be thinking of this!]</p>
<p>Anyway, I swagger into Stars, resplendent in my best black leather. There’s no one there. Not even the bartender. I give a tentative “Hello?” and the bartender shows up and asks me “Haven’t you heard about the storm?” I order a Mai-Tai. The guy I want to hook up with hasn’t shown up, and I’m trying to decide if I’ve been stood up, or if he’s just a snow-wussy. This was before cell phones, and he turned out to be a snow-wussy. Finally the band shows up, but there’s no one there but me, sitting at the bar, and the band’s assorted “significant others” sitting at a table. It’s hard to tell who’s who, but they invite me over, and I accept.</p>
<p>The snow is really coming down now, and I’m getting that festive sense you get when you’re about to get a snow day at school. Drinks are on the house. The band proceeds to play as if they are playing to a packed house–but it’s just me and the band’s boyfriend/girlfriends. But they absolutely killed. The six of us drew them out for several encores, which I will never forget. The first one was “Right Back Where We Started From” (Maxine Waters) an unbelievable send-up, and they closed with an old Faces tune–“I Can Feel the Fire.” It was one of the most memorable concerts I’ve ever seen. Then they brought out the cocaine. (kidding).</p>