Steve Reynolds Program - Greyhound
hello
Went for a low-key greeting this time. Feels weird to do the lowercase thing. I’m not Daria, for emo’s sakes. It’s just that I try to start these issues with a different phrase. So I’m now resorting to “hello,” the timid man’s U Up? text.
I just doubted myself calling these emails “issues” so I double checked Substack and they call these things “posts,” which is a less affected term than”issues,” which should be reserved for magazines with different articles and features. But hey, Taylor Swift is on her Eras tour and for her, an “era” is one of her albums. So it’s trendy to upsell these days.
(Sidenote: “The 121 Eras of Robert Pollard” would be a good band name or short story title.)
Song #30
Greyhound
by Jon Spencer Blues Explosion
I won’t dig deep in on the song “Greyhound” itself. It’s a burst of great rock music, no vocals and Russell Simmins’s drumming on this track still amazes me. Instead, I’m going to write about seeing Jon Spencer Blues Explosion on April 23, 1995.
On April 19, 1995, Timothy McVeigh lit a long fuse on a truck bomb and took off from downtown Oklahoma City in a yellow 1977 Mercury Marquis. By the time he was stopped by a highway patrolman less than 90 minutes later, Oklahoma City had changed forever. The truck bomb McVeigh detonated killed dozens of people .
Shock, sadness and nervous energy crackled around Oklahoma in the days after. Our place was such an outlier to anything on the world’s stage, why would a terrorist act be committed here? Plus the immensity of the destruction stunned into a shocked silence. An entire building destroyed, toddlers killed, bizarre politics all thrown into our faces. All seemed uncertain and grief for the loss of normalcy (a minor concern in relation to the victims and survivors, but for those directly not affected a major one).
The night of the bombing. Poster Children, one of those oxymoronic major label indie bands of the time, played downtown Norman, less than a half hour’s drive from the still-smoking Murrah Federal Building. My roommate’s band opened up, so me and the other roommate went to cheer him on. Less than a dozen people were there and, besides music, nothing penetrated the funereal atmosphere.
Poster Children played with the strategy of not acknowledging anything different or monumental was going on. Years later, I read their bassist’s tour diary online where she complained that terrible stuff always happened at/near places they played. Sorry to inconvenience you, buddy. It does illuminate that weird insularity that festers among bands and crews as they spend hours and days and weeks and months in tight quarters with each other. It didn’t occur to them to extend even a muttered “I’m sorry” to stressed-out people who came out to see them in spite of the worst domestic terrorist act committed hours earlier.
That show had me concerned about the scheduled appearance of the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion in Oklahoma City four days later. I loved seeing JSBX live twice before. Their shtick was noisy punk performed like a James Brown concert, with lots of yelling their own band name and bragging of their prowess (“The Blues are number one!”). But the trio, two guitars (with a theremin played like a sugared out three year-old ) and drums, had a little more subtext and style to keep it from getting too silly.
On the Sunday the band drove in, Oklahoma City was media ground zero. Spotlights shone on the vertical crater of the Murrah building as they fruitlessly looked for survivors. This is what we drove by on the way to the club they played.
People felt a sympathy for the band. Jon Spencer was known to yell “Blues Explosion!” during and between songs. Was he going to avoid that? People were almost apologetic about the timing. Still, this OKC club was full of people ready to be together and to be diverted.
The band was great that night. Loud, fast and entertaining. It was so great and necessary to dance and rock out, like it was a statement. And during the last song, during an extended simple jam, Jon Spencer finally spoke to what this city had just experienced.
If you haven’t seen JSBX, imagine the hottest dude in the East Village speaking in a kind of Elvis Presley “thankyouverymuch” voice:
You know, Oklahoma City, I want you to know. The Blues Explosion FEELS for you!
Everyone who works for The Blues Explosion FEELS for you!
Everyone at the record label of The Blues Explosion FEELS for you!
We love you, Oklahoma City! YEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHH!
They then finished the last song in a blast. To see Jon Spencer express a true sentiment, still in the guise of Rock and Roll Revue Front Man, from the heart was even more touching than a sappy, maudlin “let’s get real” moment could have been. The blues was number one.
goodbye
This issue’s Song I’m Mad I Forgot To Put On The List is “The Boss” by James Brown. Great song made even better in the film Black Caesar. No one is more badass than Fred Williamson walking through 1972 Harlem to this song.
I’m thinking of doing something special for the 33rd post of this series (33 1/3 being music related and all). I’ll let you know soon.