You're Soaking In It, and It Is Us
Part 2
by Your Diva, Robin Pastorio-Newman

Life is full of surprises. Sometimes your friends' husbands hit the highway just as teenaged daughters threaten to make them grandparents. Sometimes, you're horrified that Buffy the Vampire Slayer's a riot. You despise people who live in the past, then great local bands whose members got restraining orders against each other ten years ago get together and play like masters. If *only* someone would surprise Your Darling, Your Diva, Your One True Love with a Sally Hanson Home Cold Fusion kit.

As we learned from yesterday's glamourous tirade, nostalgia is for losers. One minute you're wearing a poodle skirt, next thing you're hanging out at the VFW Hall, hoping that dreamy Roy Cohn pops by. My little gumdrop, the future's much cooler than the past ever was. Borrow if you must, pay homage if you will, but chassez ever forward. After "You can't fall OFF the floor," "Chassez ever forward" is your most interesting moral imperative.

Thus, Your Diva's mortified to inform you that Court Tavern anniversary shows have proven to be the most exciting ones she's seen in ages. The list: Blasés/Wooden Soldiers, Spiral Jetty/Tiny Lights, Smithereens, Bad Karma/the Selves, and the Blisters/Nudeswirl. Facing facts: we're reliving the twenties and thirties of people who moved on to SUVs and babysitters, or a rehab/addiction cycle. Since the last time you saw your drinking and dancing buddies, some of them hit the rocks on the way down. You can stew in your discomfort, or regard theirs as - say - a better view up your miniskirt.

Or at least up mine. Each show had its brilliant moment or moments, surprises that would've loomed large in memory, if you still had one. Distant house parties and lefty political events flavored the Blasés/Wooden Soldiers night, as in,

"I remember dancing with you. It was right before we marched on Washington."
"Really? Which time?"

And Spiral Jetty/Tiny Lights conjured images of two-guitar rock bonfire parties, only one of the guitars is a violin, and how does Donna get that sound out of it? Everyone moving in firelight, everyone watching and laughing. A conversation in the crowd annoys anyone listening to the words. When was the last time you saw that?

The Smithereens, surly and spontaneous, playing songs only some of the players knew. In protest, Jimmy upended his beer every time the band wandered off musically. Over the course of an hour and a half, they could've used a St. Bernard and Sherpa guide. It was fun and familiar between the band and the crowd:

"We played this here in 1982, but we barely remember because we were drunk."
"That's okay. We were drunk, too."

The only thing Your Darling can say about the Blisters/Nudeswirl show: You missed it. It was everything you wait and hope for when you bother tearing off the straightjacket, and you should be deeply, deeply ashamed you let anything short of catastrophic pet injuries deter you from shaking your groove thang. However, the basement was packed, the bartenders on Fast Forward and the bands in Overdrive. Go to Curmudgeon Music. Turn yourself in immediately. You've been naughty, and you need to be punished.

Finally, Your One True Love loves dancing, loves band banter, and losing herself in the moment - all of which Bad Karma/the Selves provided for an audience that had waited since long before bar closing time was shaved an hour (from 3 a.m. to 2) by our awkward chaperones, the City Council. Question of the night, "You got a babysitter, you got out of the house, but can you still dance?" It turns out you could and you did. It's been years since I registered that electric We Danced and Danced and Went Home Sweaty Glee all the next day.

And no, under no circumstances did Your Darling delicately wolf down an entire 40 oz. can of Chef Boyardi Beef Ravioli last night. Nope. Nuh unh. Didn't happen. Not that Adrenalin O.D. is playing this Saturday, not even if the Raging Lamos play November 17th, and a girl certainly needs her strength. No! Some things go way too far.

©2001 Robin Pastorio-Newman