It was a jam night. Me and the woman I consider a sister were there with me. The part of a gospel family I mentioned before was there and ran the jam nights. The music was great, it was already like getting to see an all star show for free.You never knew who was going to come in, but it was usually someone local and unknown. Te bar was pretty damn empty, I guess that is what makes this night a little more special.

 

   There is this woman that I have never seen before or since  with a guy to dressed up to be walking into this place. Next thing I know word gets around that she used to sing with Bob Seger’s band. He is a chump compared to her. Someone talked her into signing something. They hit the stage. Me and my sister were at the closest table to the cutout, if I remember right we actually moved it closer. Had beers in hands, then we hear a voice so powerful and beautiful it can bring someone to tears. I know her tickets were going for around $30.00 a pop a few years back. I am guessing they are still that expensive.

 

This is the brighter side of those old days

   At some points we all wish we could go back to the old days. We know how to act, what to expect even if it was the unexpected. I do not wish to go back I am fine knowing those days can never and will never be repeated.

 

   This is one of those kind of situations. A band was changing in the back room of the bar which at this point was also uncle Donnie’s bedroom. I had no knowledge of the band and am not the one that booked them. The singer comes out in a bike helmet with a dildo mohawk, elbow pads and knee pads with dildos hanging off them, holding an electric bull horn that had a loud siren sound, and a large codpeice. The rest of the band was wearing baby masks and diapers. This was my introduction to shat. The music was fast and brutal sounding, each song under a minute long, each more sexual than the last. The place was pretty packed but the area in front of the cut out was pretty empty. The singer announced that they were playing a song called show me your tits, he had a flashlight in his hand. The only person to flash them was a friend of mine, a slim black man. Come to find out those are not the kind of tits they were talking about. I couldn’t stop laughing.

 

   I was in some kind of alcohol fueled state. By now that should be no surprise. Uncle Donnie was standing somewhere further back with his arm at the bar with a look on his face like I have seen it all but never this. He was a veteran so that is saying something.

 

   If I remember right they were stuck with a spot somewhere in the middle of the show, like most first timers were.

 

   The usual suspects were around for the most part. Some were missing as far as I remember. For some reason shat never played there again, I do not know if they have broke up or not. I don’t think any women talked to them that night besides the one that they stayed with for a night and they supposedly stuck some coke from.

   There was somebody playing at one of the two pool tables by the bathrooms, front door, and door to the back room. He was hustling for drinks like he did everytime he was there. It was kind of a right of passage, if you played lost and got him some drinks you would gain a certain level of respect.

 

   This story is not about him, but about someone that actually lived in the bar and called it his home. He slept in the back room and was a janitor as a form of paying his rent. Always wearing a red hat, drinking vodka out of a plastic glass, Didn’t always smile but his would light up a room. I called him uncle Donnie. This is basically background about him. He was a fixture after a certain point, I can’t remember exactly when. He was until the day he died. Cheerful enough, easy going, but also in pain and it showed even if he didn’t want it to.

 

   I only saw him sing once, it was to an afroman song when he was doing something behind the bar. Before that he told me he doesn’t sing.

 

   I will just put a bunch of stories in this one, because they are to short to do individually.

 

   There was a night where he was passed out on the couch he called his bed. Me and the guy I booked shows with turned his couch around so it faced the wall, we gave it some space though. We left. He got up to take a piss and walked into the wall. When me and the other booker walked in I saw uncle Donnie looking at us, and yelling the word fucker, fucker one and fucker two. It was followed by a smile. As of that day we were both called fucker.

 

   There was another night when some people were being loud and doing some stupid shit. I walk up to the bar and cop a lean next to Donnie. Without missing a beat he said Welcome to our nightly services. How can I help you my son?”. Had me laughing and caught me off guard.

 

   I never knew he was a veteran, but then again I do not think he really told anyone.

 

   Here is the part that still gets me. I was gone for a while, it is after I stepped away. He got an infection, gave away his antibiotics, and died. That is what I have been told.Honestly he is part of why I am writing all this shit.

 

There will be plenty of stories he is part of or was around during.

   Here is one of the many Stories involving Mike. There are going to be two Mikes in this story, one alive, one dead, so I am going to call the Dead one Coddington like I did when he was alive since it is his last name.

 

   I had no idea Mike was a drummer, or was in a band like the queers but only better in my opinion. Songs like “I have tourettes”, “tits”, “don’t kill me” still make me laugh. I forget exactly how they got booked or who else was on the show that night because they stole the show. I had never seen them before. This is before the day where that asshole Coddington gave me a tape that had the band name wrote on it but was blank, which I am sure the lovable cocksucker laughed about later.

 

   To see them live Was a treat. Coddington scooting his ass across the floor while singing my ass is on fire. The love you could tell was there strong. The lyrics, the drums. Mike told me a story about how he got snuck out of a hospital with an iv attached played a show on drums and snuck back in which knowing the crazy bastard like I do I never question for a second.

 

   You may have seen party bands before but you haven’t seen one like this. Their name was the idiots and the name fit all to well. Hard drinking, some of them anyway, hard smoking pot heads. Each show of theirs was like a party, and this was my introduction. Think trailer park boys the band and you might start to have some semblance of a clue.

This night I do not clearly remember. I was standing guard outside for a reason I can not tell you now accurately, I was partially bouncer at the time with a lot of other shit. That night I was out back though in the parking lot by the door. When a woman I consider an aunt even if I have not seen her in years. She ran out of the door trying to find me to come inside. I thought there was some kind of trouble, when I came in I saw her husband holding an acoustic guitar which I never remember seeing him hold before that night. He dedicated a song to me which was a cover of unknown hinson which he knows I love called foggy windows which is a song about stalking which I don’t do but the song is awesome but hilarious to me. Once the song started my aunt asked me to dance which I do not do with anyone and I said yes. We slow danced to a song that I cannot emphasize enough which is about stalking.

I wish I could tell you a lot more, or say my uncle sounded like an angel which he never has. I can tell you that moment sticks out, they may have not fit on the bill. I was used to Raven doing vocals to songs based on horror movies , but that moment alone changed me. They never fit the bill honestly, but they did at the same time. Same cloth similar mindset, and so much more. I love them both to this day. I do not remember what happened that night before or after on that date. I can’t remember the year even but I think that is how it goes with important moments.

I know there were harder bands on the bill. I know I was drinking heavy, that was normal, I know it was an amazing time. I wish there was a recording of him covering that song as well. It is something I will never do again.

   The woman I mentioned before that still looks under age was turning 21or 22 if I remember right. We decided to throw a birthday show for her. This is back in the days where everyone was using myspace. It was one of the ways I found bands to book, when I did it this time I had no idea what we were getting into. There was a band from Howell called the petafylers, I had no idea who they were and knew they were based about an hour away. They agreed to come out to play. I have heard from them that they didn’t think it was a good fit when they got there but by the time they were done playing they were proven wrong. Think if gg allin was more well adjusted. The band was a collection of scumbags, but also a pedophile watch group. I do not remember who else played that night, if you did and are reading this I am not trying to slight you at all. It is just a defining moment that changed things.

 

Those ugly, drunk, drug addled, borderline insane fucks became family quick. I have seen them live at least 30 times. As of that night they basically became the house band. They played there at least once a week. They actually played two sets that night. The singer at the time always looked like he was ready attack and could possible die any second. The guitar player would slit your throat or buy you a beer, already a three time felon by that point, the drummer had an anger problem but you knew where you stood or at the very least thought you did. And the bass player was his own beast completely, didn’t fit with the rest but did all to well.

 

I could go on about all the guys but I want to bring up someone that came with them. I do not use real names unless they are dead and unfortunately I am using this magnificent assholes real name, Mikey Doran.  Me and the guy that was booking with me called him the spud eating mic. He made a huge impact just like all of them did in their own ways. You knew what he meant always but he would fuck with you every chance he got, at least me anyway I am not putting my experience on the ones that knew him longer and better. He knew life was to short. Living on borrowed time always like we all are but he knew it better than most of us do. I could go on about this cocksucker for days but knowing him was something special. If you did not know him I do not want you to feel like you do, will, or ever could.

 

Back to the shit you might actually care about. The music was loud, ugly, raw, and made me laugh like a non functioning retard stuck in a fully manic state. Fuck, when did I start reviewing music again, like a advocate for the scumbag lifestyle. The music is hard to find and the times can not be duplicated. I know my life changed that night, I think my sister, the woman I mentioned did as well for better and worse depending on time period.

 

Songs like old enough to pee old enough for me, shake your baby, don’t steal from the dead, heroin blues filled the air attacked the sense and got the blood pumping probably quicker than it should be like audio cocaine.

 

This is going to be the last of the stories in order, I can not remember when the rest happened.

   I am breaking one of my rules for this one. The name of someone still alive will be mentioned. He will be in a lot of these stories I am sure. He asked me to use his name, and who am I to turn down a brothers request.  

 

   Still early days, still far from innocent but young and stupid. Not much has changed between then and now. Still stupid, still not innocent, but I digress. The scumbag saloon was still pretty empty. I met a man that is like a brother to me.I didn’t recognize him but saw him limping behind the bar with a cane, working his ass off and not taking shit from anyone not even his own body. The kind of man that demands respect without even opening his mouth at least in my eyes at the time. Long haired and ugly, seemed to fit the place perfectly. I thought he was the owner, I didn’t say that, just asked if I could try to put concerts on there. He said yes, I didn’t meet the actual owner for months. I do not know if she knew what was going on in the beginning. Found out his name is Mike. He helped set it up and change it all.

 

   It was a start, a chance at something. we were doing shows on a donation basis passing around a cigar box, no money was being made but it was something. I wish I could say I remember who played, the people that were around, but I don’t and am not going to start bullshitting. I have heard of how it was in days past, but I would like to think that this is the beginning of something that could match those days. The foundation was there, had part of legendary gospel family, a drummer for a one of the bigger if not biggest funk bands, an actor that has been in tv and movies, and a lot of other people that were doing things on that big of a scale but maybe not fully legally. I can’t say there was a feeling of what was coming, I don’t think any of us could see what would happen, and honestly I was expecting failure. The nights that wreckless fate came through and the singer was trying to do high kicks like a drunken david lee roth tucked away in a small cutout by the front door with the vocals being ran through a shotty p.a.

 

   The fucked up thing is it was already feeling like home. You could say and do whatever you felt like but, had to know your actions could come back to haunt you. I was taken right away and I have no fucking clue why. I have seen others taken in the same way. I think the place and people call to certain types. The outcasts, rednecks, one’s looking to escape or drink away everything and let it all hang out good, bad, and horrible. It set the tone to debauchery, drunken nights, drug use other peoples not mine I stick with tobacco and alcohol, and brotherhood.

 

   As far as setups go this will be the last of them, going to skip ahead to the day that really started it all.

     It was in the summer sometime, I was in my early twenties. Finally found out where this magical place was, magic to me at least because in my town there is nothing to do really besides drink or eat. I read its name in a local free paper growing up, in the concert section. Never knew the address or the fact that it was less than four miles from where I lived. I forget how I found out where, I think it was from running into someone that used to book there, we ended up booking and running shows there together but I am getting ahead of myself. It was early at least for a bar. There was the bartender and maybe two other people there. I had two friends with me, I forget if either of them was old enough to drink. One of them is in their early 30’s now and still looks young enough to get carded. There was a skinhead behind the bar, not racist so get that stereotype bullshit out of your head. Maybe that is the reason we got free drinks all night, maybe it was something different honestly I never asked or thought to. A free drink was a free drink, all I know is none of us got carded or payed a penny that night.  I was an ugly young man being treated like a beautiful woman on her 21st birthday.I hadn’t been drinking long at that point and took it easy, only if I would have kept it at that pace and not started drinking beer and tequila like it was water a lot of these stories may have not happened. I am guessing they still would have somehow.

 

     Their booze selection was not the best or biggest, but if it was it wouldn’t have been the same.

 

     I talked to the bartender, come to find out we knew some of the same people throughout the years and I learned a little more about the history of the place. I had been wanting to book shows for years. I even tried a few times at my parents church growing up. This was completely different, freedom, I had no idea to what extent. When I started putting shows together there I thought I got the ok from the owner which I didn’t. I didn’t meet her for probably at least three months and honestly I think she could have cared less what I was doing until later on. No money was ever kept by me but I never had a bar tab, I still thank the bartenders for the hospitality to this day. We looked after each other like mutual parasites.

 

     Out of the friends that were with me that night, one became a bartender there at one point, I honestly have no fucking clue what happened to the other. I think he is still breathing but do not quote me on that. The one that became a bartender plays a huge roll in the story of my time there and a lot of other people’s stories as well I am sure. I will be let it be known that the person is a she, her name will not be mentioned unless she dies. It is out of respect and love that I do this. I will not run anyone’s name through the mud, I preserve stories not spread peoples shit.